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CHAPTER THREE

MOLLIE HAD HAD a full twenty-four hours to obsess over the prospect of spending the evening ahead with Ben. That included several hours’ sorting through the entire contents of her wardrobe deciding on what to wear. From all those eighties’ dance movies she’d seen, the uniform for practice was supposedly a leotard and leg warmers, but that was a step too far out of her comfort zone and might have attracted more than a few curious glances on the Tube.

Instead, she’d opted for a pair of red Capri pants and a red and white checked shirt for ease of movement. She’d had the foresight to tie her hair up in a scarf tonight and donned a pair of rubber-soled baseball pumps in case she slipped, having seen how dusty the premises were last night. Outwardly, at least, she thought she looked the part, while the cha-cha-cha was going on in her stomach.

For anyone who didn’t know better, they could’ve been forgiven for thinking she’d been getting ready for a first date. She shrugged off the ridiculous notion, putting it down to the teasing she’d endured from her sister over the subject. In the short time she’d been at the hospital even she knew about Ben’s reputation as a ladies’ man and seemed to think that was a cue for Mollie to throw herself at him. As if some ill-advised affair orchestrated with a work colleague would erase all traces of her painful past.

It was silly to be thinking about this as anything more than a show-mance, a pretend partnership they were hoping would impress the dance judges and those willing to pay to see the spectacle. If only someone would tell that to her flip-flopping stomach and pounding heart, which were insisting this could be the beginning of some passionate love affair. That was as likely as this being the start of a glittering dance career, but sometimes it was nice to fantasise that the impossible could happen.