Chapter 10

I follow Florencio into the ballroom. I’d thought it a lofty name for a room, but now I see why. It’s a large rectangular room with high ceilings. Several doors open out onto the terrace that runs the length of the house. The wooden floor is beautiful, inlaid with different types of wood to form patterns, and the upkeep of that alone must be a full-time job. Couches from another era, a more decadent one, sit at intervals along the wall opposite the terrace. At one end, Constantin is seated at a grand piano playing a beautiful tune. Estrella is on a nearby couch while Juana is placing coffee cups on a table.

Just for a moment, I can imagine another time when this room might have been filled with people, the high society of Barcelona, all in their finest clothes. Estrella moving among them as the glamorous host, encouraging them to dance, to drink and have fun. Couples breaking out to take a rest on the terrace, standing under the moonlight, gazing at the city or each other .

The vision fades and I become all too aware of Florencio as he steps closer to me. A nervous flush creeps up my skin, making me feel both hot and cold at the same time. I wipe my hands down my thighs in a vain effort to dispel the clammy feeling. My heart beats a staccato rhythm on my ribs. It’s just a dance . I push the thought through my head. Except I can’t dance. I have no clue what to do. Florencio is going to despair at how bad I’m going to be. It shouldn’t matter what Florencio thinks, but for some inexplicable reason, it does. I catch a trace of a scent. It’s both floral and darkly indulgent, like a forbidden flower drifting on a hot desert wind. I breathe it in, using it to anchor myself to the now and not let myself catastrophise about what will happen next.

“Are you all right?” Florencio’s close whisper brings me sharply out of my head.

“Err, yes. Sorry.” I’m not all right, but I don’t want to admit it. “I just want to warn you that I have no idea what I’m doing, so I might step on your toes.”

“Just relax.” His smile is soft. “This is my job. I’ve seen it all. But everyone can dance, trust me.”

He moves so he’s standing next to me.

“Shouldn’t we be, um, facing each other or something?” I mumble, confused. I’ve seen people dance the tango, they definitely aren’t side by side. They’re close, very close, and it’s this part that has me jittery. I’ve never really been that close to another guy. I don’t come from a family of huggers either. Constantin’s hands on my arms while we were outside was the most physical contact I’ve had with a guy for, well, as long as I can remember. But that didn’t make me feel like my skin was charged with electricity. It was soothing and calming, and I didn’t even think about it, it just was. Huh, even that acceptance makes me wonder.

“I want to teach you the basic steps by your side first.” Again, Florencio breaks my train of spiralling thoughts, and I breathe deeply, reaching for that heady, warm scent. I focus on what he’s saying. “Then, once you’ve mastered the basic steps, we can try it together.” I risk a glance at him, and I can see that he looks relaxed, easy with himself, a professional. Of course he is. I know he’s a dance teacher. I’m reading far too much into this and acting like a real jerk. If he can put the effort into teaching me, the least I can do is listen and learn.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I say, because this time I am.

“Step forward with your left foot, then step to the right. Step backwards with your left foot, backwards with your right.” He pauses. “With me so far?”

“I think so.” I nod. It seems easy so far, but many more steps, and I might not remember.

“Good, now cross your left foot over your right and shift the weight to your left. Step back with your right foot and then step to the left. And that’s it.”

“That’s it?” That surely can’t be it.

“Well, those are the basic eight steps. Once you can do that without thinking, we can add more. Shall we try again?”

He takes me through the pattern a few more times, at least until I no longer have to look at my feet. Then he turns to face me.

“We’ll do it again, but I’m going to be here this time,” he says, but doesn’t make any move to come closer.

“Aren’t we supposed to be touching?” I blurt out and the corners of his mouth twitch.

“All in good time. This way, you can get an idea of where I’ll be, but I’m less likely to get my toes trodden on.” He delivers the last with a grin. That’s fair, I suppose. So we run through it again, this time with him mirroring my movements, or rather, me mirroring his as he’s leading. After going through it a few more times, I start to relax, a bit more confident in where my feet are going.

“You’re doing well,” Florencio says as we come to the end of the steps and he calls for a halt. “I find that the longer you take to really learn the basics, so they become second nature, the quicker you’ll progress with some of the other steps. There is no point learning the fancy parts if you’re still thinking through counting to eight in your head.”

“I think I’ve got the idea,” I reply, but I don’t think there was any need. He’d known when I was ready. It’s then that I appreciate how good a teacher Florencio really is, because up until the last couple of times, I had been counting the steps in my mind.

“Are you ready to try together?” he asks and I nod. I think that after seeing the state I was in, he'd given me time to not only learn the steps but also to get comfortable being close to him, so this time when he steps close, I don't jump out of my skin at his touch.

He instructs me on where to put my hands, and with a quick check that I’m comfortable we’re moving together. I do count for the first couple of times as I don’t want to mess it up, but then I drop my shoulders and let out a deep breath. Florencio mutters a low “ bien” and warmth spreads through my chest from the praise. But I’m not given time to enjoy it. Up until now, we’ve been fairly static in the centre of the large room, dancing the steps in a square. Florencio turns slightly, opening up his shoulder, and I find myself following. Suddenly, we’re doing the same steps but moving round the dance floor. It feels like I’m gliding around, and it’s like nothing like I’ve ever experienced before. It feels effortless and I feel graceful, which is not a word I’ve ever attributed to myself. I can’t help a wide smile from breaking free, and when I look at Florencio he’s grinning back at me. I tip my head back and laugh, euphoria making me feel giddy. A couple of times I glance over to Constantin, who keeps up an accompaniment on the piano. Every time I do, he’s looking at us with an intense expression on his face. For some reason, it makes me want to try harder.

I’m exhausted when I finally hit the sheets. It’s been a roller coaster of a day. It seems crazy that it was only earlier today I learned about Loretta and Sloan. I peer at my watch. Well, yesterday, but if I haven’t gone to sleep yet, it’s still the same day. Now, though, I don’t feel the same stabbing pain of hurt and betrayal that I did earlier. In fact, I find I don’t care so much at all, and that worries me more. Am I as shallow as Loretta? Can I forget about her as quickly as she has about me? Did I really love her? I thought so, but then listening to Constantin talk about love, I realised I don’t know anything about it, really.

My thoughts meander back to what was a strange but rather magical evening. I can’t believe I met one of the mainstays of the European society set of the sixties and seventies and she’s invited us to dinner again in a couple of days. I realise I don’t want to go back to England next week.

Did I just think “England” and not “home?” Huh, that is curious. I think it’s just because I need to get some sleep... that’s definitely it. I’m obviously too tired to think straight. I close my eyes and allow sleep to overtake me. I drift off to the feeling of gliding round the dance floor with Florencio’s hand at my back and Constantin’s eyes boring into me.