Читать книгу A Step In Time: A feel-good read, perfect for fans of Strictly Come Dancing! - Kerry Barrett - Страница 21

Chapter Ten

I was having fun. Lots of fun, actually, much to my surprise. It was my first day on Strictly Stars Dancing and so far it had been brilliant.

I’d arrived at the studios early that morning, bracing myself to face photographers but there was no one there.

‘We’ll do all the publicity shots today in costume,’ the director explained. ‘Then we’ll release your names to the press one by one, starting tomorrow. We’ve not confirmed anyone yet – it creates a buzz.’

I’d felt a shiver of excitement when she mentioned costumes. I may have had misgivings about Strictly Stars Dancing but the fabulous outfits weren’t one of them. And I definitely wasn’t disappointed. As soon as we arrived we were hurried into the enormous costume department, where there were rails and rails of frothy material in every colour of the rainbow, racks of shoes, and wonderful headdresses. I’d never seen so much glitter. I let out a small whimper of joy; it was absolutely amazing.

I was whisked away by a dresser who took me to a rail with a sign saying AMY. It was filled with lots of very sparkly, very small costumes. I swallowed.

‘There’s not much to them,’ I said.

She grinned.

‘There’s not much to you,’ she said. ‘You’ll wear long dresses for ballroom and whatnot, but for the pics we wanted to make the most of that gorgeous bod of yours.’

The outfit she chose was a gold mini skirt and fitted crop top. Both the top and the skirt were completely covered in fringing and shimmered under the lights.

‘Really?’ I said, holding up the tiny scraps of material.

‘You’ll look fabulous,’ she said. ‘Trust me.’

At the risk of sounding big headed, she was right. Good genes – my mum still had the figure of a twenty-one-year-old despite three kids and a fondness for sangria – combined with years of controlling my diet and working out every day had made sure I didn’t have an ounce of blubber. The costume showed off my tight abs and my toned legs.

The hairdresser kept my brunette locks loose and gently waved. Instead of having my extensions taken out like I’d planned to do if I went into the jungle, I’d had them redone and I was very pleased with them. My hair fell over my boobs and halfway down my back and it was thick and lush. The Strictly Stars Dancing make-up was way over the top, but it worked with the costume and all, in all, the final result was pretty good.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, turning from side to side to see every bit of the costume. I didn’t look like the normal me, but I quite liked the effect.

‘Smoking,’ said my dresser in admiration as she looked at me. ‘You look like the real deal.’

‘Except I can’t dance,’ I said, looking at my back view over my shoulder. ‘So as soon as I start to move, everyone will realise I’m not the real deal at all.’

She gave me a nudge.

‘Every single contestant I’ve ever dressed has said that,’ she said. ‘And they’ve all had a ball. The professional dancers are amazing – they’ll soon whip you into shape.’

Oh, God. I’d been trying to forget that, as well as having our photos done, we’d also be meeting our dance partners. I already felt sorry for whoever landed me. I was a lost cause.

I didn’t have long to wait. We gathered together in the main studio. I looked at the dance floor and imagined dancing there in front of millions of viewers and a lively audience and felt a bit sick.

‘Nervous?’ said one of my fellow competitors. He was a rugby player – absolutely enormous with broad shoulders and ripped abs.

‘So nervous I can’t even think about it,’ I confessed.

He laughed.

‘It’ll be fun, I reckon,’ he said.

‘Definitely,’ said the woman to my other side. She was a newsreader who must have been in her late forties but looked a lot younger.

‘You’ll be fine,’ she assured me. ‘You actors always do well. Didn’t you have dance training at drama school?’

‘I did,’ I admitted. ‘Until the day I made my dance teacher cry because I was so awful and she chucked me out of the lesson.’

‘Ah,’ said the newsreader.

The rugby player chuckled.

‘Stick with me,’ he said. ‘I’m so rubbish I’ll make anyone look good.’

I smiled widely. I was having such a lovely time my nerves were beginning to recede. All the other contestants seemed very nice. They were a mixture of celebs from all walks of life – I’d met the rugby player and the newsreader, of course, but I’d also said hello to an older actor who’d starred in a rival soap for years and who I knew from various awards ceremonies. He’d greeted me like a long-lost friend, and I realised everyone was just as nervous as I was. There was also a beautiful actress who’d been a model in the sixties, then moved into films and now made documentaries in which she travelled round the world. She was one of my heroes and I was too starstruck to even speak to her. There were a couple of pop stars, an Olympic swimmer who was wearing her gold medal round her neck, and a few TV presenters. Even if I got nowhere in the competition, I thought, it would be nice to meet all these people and find out more about them.

There was a buzz of chatter from the back of the studio and I turned to see the two presenters come in. They were both women and always amazingly, astonishingly glam when I saw them on TV. But today they were both wearing jeans and vest tops. The blonde one – who I knew was called Melissa – had her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and the other one – Vicky – had a blunt, dark, Mary Quant bob and wasn’t wearing any make-up.

‘Oh, God, you all look so beautiful,’ Melissa squealed. ‘Are you all raring to go?’

Vicky grinned.

‘The dancers are all out there,’ she said, pointing to the studio exit. ‘They can’t wait to find out which of you they’ve got to train.’

‘I pity whoever gets me,’ I muttered and the rugby player laughed again. He really was a lovely chap.

‘Right then,’ Melissa said. ‘Let’s get cracking.’

She and Vicky explained that we’d meet our partners now and do all the publicity shots and so on. Then later in the week we’d film the launch show, and be introduced all over again, pretending it was the first time we’d met. Then, we’d have a month or so of rehearsals with our partner before the first live dance show. They made it sound so much fun and so straightforward that I suddenly felt really excited about this new challenge I was taking on.

I watched and clapped as one by one the dancers filed in and met their partner. And then they called my name. I went up to the front and said hello to Melissa and Vicky.

‘Excited?’ Melissa asked.

I nodded.

‘You should be,’ Vicky said. ‘Your partner is gorgeous.’

Melissa gripped my arm.

‘Amy,’ she said. ‘Meet Patrick Walker.’

The doors opened and in came my partner, twirling and dancing his way towards me. He was definitely gorgeous – there was no doubt about that. But I’d met him already.

He stopped in front of me and our eyes met.

‘You,’ he said.

It was Surfer Dude.