A Brambleberry Manor Christmas - Rosie Green Page 0,27

in.

‘Absolutely. I’ll only be twenty minutes behind you.’

‘Thanks, Jenny. And I promise I will be.’

I smile. ‘What?’

She stifles a yawn. ‘Bright-tailed and bushy-eyed tomorrow.’

I look at her and laugh. And then she realises what she just said and groans. ‘I can’t believe I said that. You’re right. I need my bed.’

We exchange a grin, she collects her bag and coat, and a minute later, I hear her engine starting. I glance out of the window, hoping she’s not stuck in the snow. But the car glides away with no problem.

I’m just coming out of the kitchen myself ten minutes later, carrying a box, my bag over my shoulder, when I hear music and laughter, and I notice light flooding out of the ballroom.

As a ballroom dancing fan, I’ve been longing to look into this grand room ever since I first arrived, but the door has always been firmly closed, so I haven’t even had a chance to peer through the gap. But now, maybe I could have just a little peek?

I set the box down to the side of the main door, ready to take it out to the car. Then I walk softly along by the main staircase and the glowing Christmas tree – breathing in its glorious woody scent – in the direction of the music and the laughter.

The door is wide open. I stand on the threshold and catch my breath in awe.

The room is enormous and very grand, and it makes me think of Blackpool’s gorgeous Tower Ballroom, which features each year on Strictly. The lighting is soft and warm, with two spectacular crystal chandeliers glittering overhead. The music filling my ears is evocative of days gone by – the Big Band sound – Frank Sinatra singing ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin’.

One couple – Rhoda and Bob – are dancing beneath the lights and I stand in the doorway, transfixed, watching them. They’re sweeping across the floor so elegantly, doing what I recognise as the quickstep – my favourite dance to watch – and I’m swept away instantly, living it all. The music, the romance, the delicious atmosphere of the ballroom.

Harvey would never dance with me. He always said he had two left feet, so at the grand events we’d attend, I’d be standing there, watching all the couples spinning around the floor and wishing we could be one of them…

Rhoda and Bob are moving so beautifully together, and I’m swaying in time to the music now, unaware of anything that might be happening around me – I’m just totally immersed in the glamour and the romance. So when someone touches my shoulder, I practically leap into next week.

I turn to find Noah standing there, a lazy smile crinkling the corners of his lovely blue eyes.

‘You’ve got some good moves there,’ he says. ‘And so have they.’ He nods at Rhoda and Bob, who are still twirling and quickstepping around the floor like ballroom champions.

‘They’re brilliant, aren’t they?’ I smile in agreement, as my heart starts doing an energetic dance of its very own. (Less ‘elegant ballroom’ and rather more ‘disco ball with flashing lights’.) ‘I’ve always wanted to be able to dance like that.’

‘Why haven’t you?’

I shrug. ‘Never really had the opportunity.’ Harvey hated dancing.

He moves a step closer, accidentally brushing against me, and a funny little tingle fizzes along my arm and right to the core of me, making me catch my breath. My heart is jumping about like a manic frog, so I force myself to concentrate on Rhoda and Bob, who are still tripping the light fantastic with great sophistication.

Rhoda suddenly looks over and catches my eye. She gives us a little wave and says something to Bob. And then he’s spinning his wife around and around on the spot, until the music stops and she falls into his arms with a little shriek.

‘Oh, my goodness, I’m worn out now!’ she laughs, beckoning us over. ‘Come on, you two. It’s a waltz next.’

I laugh nervously and call over to Rhoda, ‘I don’t dance.’ I glance awkwardly at Noah. ‘At least, not in public.’

‘Then it’s time you did, isn’t it?’

Before I have a chance to object, I feel his hand on my waist, and he’s propelling me gently forwards, over to where Rhoda and Bob are waiting.

‘You don’t dance?’ Rhoda frowns. Then her eyes light up. ‘Then I think you need a little lesson from an expert.’ She twinkles at her husband and he laughs.

‘I’m no expert.’

‘No, but you’re good. You can