Bertie’s varnished head stayed completely still while the rest of him writhed about underneath as though head and body were under the control of two entirely separate people. He was able to remember the steps, but executed them with a peculiar loose-limbed fluidity that failed to match the jolly precision intended by the dance’s creators.
Danny was shy and awkward. In an apparent attempt not to draw too much attention to himself, he kept his movements small and jerky. It suited him, thought Skins. He was all pointy elbows, pointy knees, pointy nose – his little pointy dance steps fitted him perfectly.
Ernie seemed to have the worst of it. He had Alfie’s poor memory for the steps combined with Danny’s jerky self-consciousness, and, worst of all, no feel for the music whatsoever. He looked like he was dancing to the beat of an altogether-different drummer. One who was playing at a different tempo. In a different time signature. In another world, where the Charleston had never been invented. Over the years, Skins had learned to spot the strugglers and had always tried to play a little louder, a little simpler, a little more precisely, to give them a clue as to where the beat was, but Ernie was beyond the help of even the most obvious percussive hints.
Only Charlie seemed to know what he was doing. Clearly, he had the advantage of having had some private tuition from his fiancée, but he had a modicum of natural ability, too.
Skins was disappointed that no one had taken his bet – he’d have cleaned up. The record for shortest performance so far was three bars before Millie shouted for them all to stop.
‘Gentlemen, please,’ she said, clearly struggling not to lose her temper. ‘How have you been dancing a Charleston all this time without being able to do this? Come on. One-and-two-and-three-and-four. Remember? Step-and-tap-and-step-and-tap. Swivel those heels inwards on the step. Stay up on your toes, Alfie – keep your heels up. From the top, please, Dizzies.’
Skins counted them in and laughed to himself as he watched the dance students nodding their heads along with him, trying to fix the tempo in their heads, readying themselves for that first step.
They made it all the way to the chorus this time before Millie called a halt.
‘Bobby, darling – I mean “Charlie” – would you be an absolute sweetheart and get someone to bring us some refreshment. I think it’s time we took a break.’
‘Right you are,’ said Charlie. ‘Beers all round?’
The other four cheered.
‘What about you chaps?’ he called to the band. ‘You lot deserve a drink and a sandwich after all that. A drink, a sandwich, and our humble apologies.’
The band cheered.
Charlie set off to find one of the club’s flunkeys while the four remaining Alphabets formed a conspiratorial huddle at the other end of the ballroom. Finding herself suddenly alone, Millie joined the band on stage. Mickey found her a chair.
‘You don’t mind if I sit up here for a moment, do you? I feel a bit exposed down there.’
The band offered a cheerful collective welcome.
‘I’m so sorry, where are my manners. Millicent Mitchell. Although everyone calls me Millie, obviously.’
Blanche gave her a friendly smile. ‘Millie Mitchell?’ she said, still smiling. ‘How lovely to meet you. I’d introduce everyone but we’re not as conveniently named as the Alphabet Gang. I’m Blanche. Blanche Adams.’
They shook hands.
‘You have the patience of saints,’ said Millie. ‘I had no idea what we were all letting ourselves in for when I agreed to this. Bobby . . . Charlie – I’ll never get the hang of that . . . Charlie said his pals wanted a bit of tuition before this stupid contest they’ve organized. “You know the sort of thing, old girl. Polish up the old skills.” He failed to mention that they couldn’t dance a step between them. They go to clubs. They go to dances. They go to parties. They even had a few lessons with another teacher before she ran off. Presumably screaming and vowing to give up dance teaching and become a nun. What on earth have they been doing all these years? They dance the Charleston like they’ve never even seen it before. It’s been about for a couple of years now. Surely everyone can Charleston.’
Skins put up his hand. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m always sitting down when it’s on.’
‘Well, at least you’ve got an excuse, darling,’ she said. ‘And I bet you could make a better fist of it than these duffers.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ said Dunn. ‘I’ve seen him dance.’
‘That’s a shame. Drummers often make such good dancers. Have you heard of that American chap Fred Astaire? He was on Broadway last year in Lady, Be Good. The papers say he’s a terrific dancer. And quite the drummer, too, apparently.’
Skins attempted a seated tap dance behind his drum set.
‘I’d stick to drumming if I were you, son,’ said Dunn.
Blanche smiled. ‘Do you teach full-time?’
‘Have to now,’ said Millie. She pointed to her leg. ‘Went over on the ankle a while back. Tore the ATFL quite badly and it never healed quite right. I was never destined for greatness – always the tall one in the chorus, me – but with a dodgy ankle I can’t even get a job as Third Hoofer from the Right. Teaching is all I have these days.’
Blanche frowned a little. ‘That’s a shame. But you’re terribly good at it. You think we’ve got the patience of saints, but all we have to do is start and stop at the right time. You’ve got to bite your tongue every time that Alfie character taps when he should step, and then swivels on his heel.’
‘I’m beginning to wish I’d brought a stick. Or one of those long whip things they use for training horses.’
‘A lunging whip,’ said Puddle.
‘Is that what it’s called? Alfie would be black and blue by the end, but he’d bloody well know how to Charleston. Ah, here comes my beloved and his booze-bearing . . . butler? He’s not a butler, is he? Ah well. Seconds out. Round two. I’ll make sure they tip you handsomely.’
She got up and returned to the side of the room where the flunkey had placed jugs of beer, several plates of sandwiches, and a large number of clean glasses.
The Alphabets improved only slightly as the evening wore on, but by the end of the lesson they were at least approaching a basic level of competence. Millie was able to congratulate them on their progress with genuine sincerity, which provoked a certain amount of embarrassed shuffling and ‘Well, I don’t know about that’-ing. She implored them to practise what they had learned before they met again, and they agreed enthusiastically when they realized that meant she would be returning the following week.
‘Thought we might have put you off,’ said Alfie.
‘Nothing of the sort, darling,’ she said. ‘You’ve come along in leaps and bounds in just one evening. Imagine what you could do after a few lessons more.’
‘It’s the leaping and bounding that’ll be our undoing,’ said Bertie.
‘We’ll knock that out of you,’ she replied. ‘The band suggested I bring a lunging whip next time. Keep you in order.’
The Alphabets laughed.
‘Not a bad idea, that,’ said Ernie. ‘I had an aunt who used to train horses. Never had any trouble once she had a whip in her hand.’