‘I don’t even know I’m wearing them. Sometimes I have to check I haven’t left the house in just my knickers when I’ve got these on, but listen, before we go in, I’ve some news to tell you.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Rosemary was all ears. She was as fond of a bit of harmless gossip as the next woman.
‘I had dinner with Donal last night.’
‘Maureen O’Mara, if you’re going to tell me something that will make me blush—'
‘No, not at all, although we did kiss and very nice it was too. It’s like riding a bike, Rosemary, once you’ve got the hang of it you never forget how to do it.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Rosemary said tartly.
‘But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. He’s only after asking me to sing along with him at a birthday bash in Clontarf. He needs me to be Sheena and Dolly.’
‘But you can’t sing,’ Rosemary said, looking as though someone had just squeezed lemon juice on a papercut.
‘I can so.’ Maureen was affronted although she wasn’t surprised, she’d expected a touch of the green eye from Rosemary given she always sang along to the music when they were line dancing, very annoying it was too. She could be an attention seeker could Rosemary. Still and all, maybe she should have a few lessons between now and then to ensure her vocal chords were in top form. There was a woman in town here who gave singing lessons, she’d seen her notice on the wall of the library. Yes, she decided, she’d call in at the library on the way home and get her number.
‘Well we can’t stand out here all day, best we get inside,’ Rosemary said snippily. Maureen followed behind her, pausing to make sure Pooh wasn’t going anywhere as she tethered him to the rail outside the entrance. ‘Now you behave yourself. Howth’s a small town and your reputation precedes you. There’s a doggy treat in it for you,’ she said, before heading inside the hall.
She took her place up the front of the class, smiling and greeting the twenty or so group of women. Word was spreading, she thought. There’d only been fifteen of them a few weeks back. It wasn’t just good from a physical exercise perspective either. Laura, their instructor, who was in her thirties and had young children at home, had told them line dancing was good for memory and exercising the brain as well. She was very good was Laura. Maureen liked the fact she always wore a white Stetson to match her white boots and she was young enough to get away with a short skirt unlike Joan Fairbrother down the back there. It was important to look the part, Maureen believed, if you wanted to be taken seriously.
Laura had spent time in America in cowboy country as she called it and had fallen in love with line dancing while she was there. Maureen would have liked to have asked her why she hadn’t fallen in love with a cowboy while she was over there. You know, like the ones you saw on the covers of those romance books. The fellas who fill out their open necked shirts and jeans in a way not many Irish sheep or beef farmers ever would. Instead she’d come home and married Ned Perkins, a local real estate agent, who looked like he’d topple over in a gusty breeze.
Laura was intent on getting them to master her three favourite dances, the Tush Push, the Slap Leather and the Boot Scootin Boogie. Maureen could see why Rosemary struggled with the Tush Push. Personally speaking, her favourite was the Boot Scootin Boogie.
Laura clapped her hands but the chatter carried on and Maureen turned around and put a finger to her lips to shush everyone. Good manners were next to godliness. They finally quietened down and Laura introduced herself and gave the new attendees a run-down on who she was and what her credentials were to teach this style of dance as well as touting its health benefits. Then, she clapped her hands and said they were good to go before pushing play on her portable stereo. Today, they were starting off with the Tush Push. Maureen side-eyed Rosemary, she wouldn’t be happy with all the gyrating they were in for. Served her right, she thought, concentrating on her heel, toe, heel. She liked the music, Laura had chosen. It was that Shania one, singing about wanting to feel a man.
The class was over quickly and Maureen thought the high-fiving that Nuala and Fidelma did at the end was a little over the top. As for Pooh, he’d been remarkably well behaved throughout the hour-long class and she wondered if it was the country music. It seemed to have a soothing effect on him. ‘Thank you, Laura,’ she called to the young woman who was packing her things away.
‘Great job today, Maureen, you were on fire.’
‘Thanks very much.’ Ha, take that, Rosemary, she thought, still annoyed by her earlier comment.
She felt a tap on the shoulder as she was heading out the door. It was Nuala. ‘Maureen, I was admiring your moves in there. You’re a natural, so you are. Those trousers you’re after wearing look grand on you, too especially around here.’ She slapped her own bottom. Yes, Maureen thought, Nuala was getting very caught up in the American side of line dancing. Still and all, a compliment was a compliment and she was nothing if not gracious.
‘Thank you, Nuala. It’s the shape of them you see, they can turn a pear into a peach. My Rosi put me on to them.’ She pulled the fabric away. ‘Feel how soft they are.’
Nuala rubbed the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. ‘Lovely and soft. Fidelma, feel this.’
Fidelma did so. ‘They are,’ she agreed before adding, ‘I’m not getting on
