best dancer . . . I would love to dance . . . I feel nervous and excited all at once . . .’ Johan crooked his arm while her thoughts and mouth tried to catch up and she slipped hers through as they walked hip to hip towards the dance floor.
‘You know, Marvellous Molly, I should tell you now that if you don’t immediately say no to a dance, I will always assume it’s a yes.’
She smiled. Nerves and apprehension robbed her of the ability to speak clearly and openly the way she did each and every day. It was bonkers! She so wanted to present the best version of herself to this man, her smartest self. Molly coughed to clear her throat, as a new song began to play, ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ – the deep, melodic tones of Billie Holiday masked the crackles and scratches of the record.
Johan pulled her close to him and she trembled from top to toe. He raised her hand and she rocked slowly against him in time to the music, with her head coming to rest beneath his chin, the button still held tightly inside her hand, inside his.
‘Do you prefer Johan or Joe?’ she asked, having heard Geer call him by the shortened nickname.
‘If it’s coming from your lips, Marvellous Molly, I really couldn’t care less,’ he said, squeezing her hand.
‘Please don’t call me that; I’m not in the least bit marvellous.’
‘Are you calling my sister a liar?’
She heard rather than saw the smile softening the question, and felt an answering one on her own lips. ‘No.’ The mournful lyrics and soft harmony spun them inside a web on the dance floor . . . The words were haunting, carrying a message of love and hope. It seemed as though they were the only two in the room. Molly felt a heady and unexpected surge of sexual attraction for this man, a low, grumbling desire in her gut. It was a powerful force that left her weak at the knees. Curling her fingers tightly against his, she instinctively wanted to reach up and touch his face, although it seemed inappropriate, given they had only just met.
‘In that case, I shall call you M – and everyone will think it’s short for Molly, but you and I will know differently. M for “marvellous”.’
‘Johan . . .’ she whispered, too quietly for him or anyone else to hear, but simply for the joy of hearing his name leave her mouth.
Across the room, Geer held up three bottles of beer in her hands by the necks and, with a cigarette between her teeth, smiled, jigging up and down on the spot, as if she might be just as delighted with this turn of events as Molly herself.
Johan pulled her closer. ‘Don’t look at her, M, don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that for the first time in her life she’s done something I wholeheartedly approve of!’
‘Why, what’s she done?’ she asked, unashamedly fishing for the compliment.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he asked, pulling back just enough to hold her gaze. ‘She’s got us beer!’ And he laughed and she laughed too. This funny, handsome boy who had her all of a dither.
Molly put the key in the door and cringed at the sound of it closing loudly. She was certain the slam would wake her mother.
‘Is that you, Molly?’ her mother called out, bang on cue.
‘Go back to sleep, Mum!’
‘Surely you’re not just coming home? It’s after midnight!’
‘Of course not.’ Molly pushed her back against the front door and closed her eyes, dizzy with a little too much beer and the feel of her hand inside his as they danced. ‘I was just checking something.’
‘What were you checking?’ Her mother was irritatingly tenacious.
‘I thought I heard something – an animal.’ She shook her head. Was that the best she could come up with?
‘Well, make sure you throw the bolts top and bottom!’
‘I will, Mum. Night night.’
In her room, Molly washed her face and slipped into her nightgown, but then lay in bed, quite unable to sleep despite dancing for more hours than she cared to remember. She looked up at the sliver of moon visible through her window and wondered where Johan was at that very moment and whether he might be looking at the same moon.
She quietly hummed the tune they had danced to and it had the power to put her back in that moment, in his arms.