A Step In Time. Kerry Barrett
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didn’t. There are bombs dropping, and guns, and all sorts of horrible things. Anything can happen to anyone and I don’t want to regret not doing something when I had the chance.’
Afterwards we lay curled up together, under one of the scratchy blankets.
‘No regrets?’ Donnie said to me, his face close to mine.
‘Never,’ I said. ‘I will never regret today as long as I live.’
A shout from outside made us jump and I suddenly remembered where we were and what a risk we were taking.
‘I have to go,’ I said, kissing Donnie and then wriggling out from under the blanket. ‘Audrey will cover for me, but she can’t keep pretending I’m in the privy.’
I pulled on my skirt and buttoned up my shirt, while Donnie watched me, smiling.
‘What?’ I said.
‘You’re beautiful.’
I threw my hat at him, then had to retrieve it.
‘You soppy old so-and-so,’ I laughed.
‘I love you,’ he said.
I blew him a kiss.
‘I love you, too,’ I said.
For the next three days we met up in the tent whenever we could. We couldn’t get enough of each other. I wanted the smell of Donnie on my skin, the feel of his breath on my face. I just wanted to be near him all the time.
I knew that emotions were heightened because of the war, and that in peacetime our romance probably would have taken months, or even years, to get to this stage, but I didn’t care. Gene’s death had shown us how important it was to live in the moment and to make the most of every single day.
Our unit was going to London after Christmas – we had a six-month stint entertaining troops in the capital and I was looking forward to settling in one place for a while. But Donnie knew he’d be leaving for France soon. I tried not to think about how he’d be forced to live. The things he’d see and do. The danger he’d be in.
As Audrey and I were packing up our costumes and getting ready to hit the road, Donnie came to find me.
‘I have some good news,’ he said, grinning widely.
‘The war’s over?’ Audrey said, putting a feathery headdress into a box.
Donnie chuckled.
‘Not that good,’ he admitted. ‘But good for me. We’re going to be in London for a couple of nights before we leave for France in the spring.’
I was delighted.
‘Really?’ I said, throwing my arms round him. ‘So we can meet?’
Donnie looked down at me and kissed the end of my nose.
‘Oh, better than that,’ he said. ‘I thought we could get married.’
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 realize 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