Dancing Daze (19 page)

“About what?”

“Well, we want to congratulate you on your engagement, don’t we, Amy?” Clover looks at me pointedly.

“Oh, yes, of course,” I say. “Congratulations, Pauline. I hope you and Dean will be very happy together.”

Pauline’s eyes soften a little. “It is rather wonderful. Look!” She holds up her ring finger proudly. A massive diamond twinkles in the light.

“And you must be excited about going back to Portugal,” Clover continues.

“Yes,” Pauline says. “I can’t wait. Dublin can be dreadfully wet and gray. I miss the sun so much.”

“And I believe Shelly is considering joining you,” Clover says carefully. “With Gracie. Do you really think that’s such a good idea?”

Pauline shrugs. “If it’s what my daughter wants, I can’t stop her. Art’s hardly much help, and she does need backup with Grace.”

“He wants to help more,” I say. “He’s just not a baby person. Mum said he was exactly the same when I was little. As Gracie gets older, he’ll get better.”

Pauline snorts. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that? Art Green is selfish to the core. He’s always working late or playing golf.”

“Because he wants to get out of the house,” I say with force. “He hates coming home because you’re here.”

Pauline gasps. “You can’t talk to me like that. And that’s not true.”

“It is true,” I say. “You’re always picking holes in him in front of Shelly. He’s been working late to avoid you. And they can’t do stuff together like they used to ’cause you’re always hanging around.”

“I never meant to get in the way.” Pauline sniffs. “But it’s too late now. Shelly’s made her decision, and that’s that.”

“You can’t let this happen,” I say. “Pauline, please listen to me. It’s not right. Gracie deserves a full-time dad, and he really does love her. Gracie and Shelly are his life — he said that himself. OK, so he’s not a baby person, but when Gracie is older, he’ll be brilliant. From when I was about four until, well, until he left, he used to take me to the zoo or swimming or to the movies every Saturday afternoon. ‘Amy-and-Daddy time,’ we used to call it. We had so much fun together. And I still love him, even though I don’t see him all that much. And what about Gracie, doesn’t she count? It feels like I’m the only one sticking up for what she needs. And she needs her mum and her dad.”

“Amy’s right,” Clover says. “Gracie needs both her parents. And Shelly is crazy about Art, you know she is. Leaving him will break her heart. And I’ve never seen Art so distraught about anything before. I think he genuinely loves Shelly. You have to do something, Pauline. Shelly will listen to you. Please?”

Pauline is quiet for a few moments, just standing there, staring down at her engagement ring and twisting it around and around on her finger. “Shelly was mad about her dad,” she says finally. “He was a lovely man. Really lovely. He died when Shelly was eight. Heart attack. Dreadfully sad. I think she still misses him. Amy, your father is lucky to have you. I’m sorry if I’ve given you a hard time. But you don’t make it easy to like you. You can be quite rude, you know. Quite the little madam.”

I’m dying to say something back to this, but I bite my tongue.

“But it’s obvious that you love your dad and your little half sister,” Pauline continues.

“Sister!” I say.

“Sorry, sister. I’ll talk to Shelly, but I’m not promising anything. And in exchange you have to do something for me, both of you. My Shelly can be a bit of a worrywart sometimes and a bit ditzy. If she decides to stay in Dublin, I’d like you to keep an eye on her for me. Will you do that?”

Clover looks at me and I nod.

“Of course,” I say. “Tell Shelly to ring me if she’s worried about Gracie. I’m good with babies. And she can always ask Dave for advice too. Dave’s a nurse — remember? You met him at Gracie’s christening — and I’m sure he’d be happy to help. I can give Shelly his mobile number.”

“That’s a brilliant idea, Beanie,” Clover says. “You have such smarts sometimes.”

“That would be reassuring for Shelly, I’m sure,” Pauline says, and she actually smiles at me, a proper smile that makes her eyes twinkle.

When we go back downstairs, leaving Pauline to try to talk Shelly around, Dad is sitting at the kitchen table, Gracie cradled in his lap. I realize with a start that it’s the first time I’ve seen him holding Gracie on his knee.

“Well?” he says as soon as we walk in.

“Pauline’s talking to Shelly,” I say. “Now we just have to wait. Where’s Dean?”

“Taking a phone call in the sitting room.” Dad strokes Gracie’s soft baby hair. “Oh, Gracie, if your mum gives me a second chance, I’m going to be the best dad ever, I swear.”

Ten minutes later, Pauline walks into the kitchen and we all look at her hopefully.

“Shelly says she’ll stay as long as you help out more, Art,” she says to Dad. “A lot more. And I’ve told her that I’ll stay in Dublin for another two weeks and help her to find a part-time nanny so that she gets a break from Gracie when you’re at work. And she’d love Dave’s mobile number, if that’s OK, Amy. She said that would really put her mind at rest.”

“Dave?” Dad says, looking a little surprised.

“If Gracie is sick and Shelly’s worried, she can ring him for advice,” I explain.

Dad smiles at me. “Amy, you’re one smart cookie. And Pauline, I, er, well, I’m, uh . . .”

“I think the word is ‘thanks,’ Dad,” I say.

Dad looks sheepish. “I was actually going to say I’m sorry. I know we’ve had our differences, Pauline, but I hope we can put them all behind us now and be one big happy family.”

Pauline doesn’t look convinced. “If you mess up or upset my daughter in any way, Art Green, I’ll be on the next flight back from Portugal. Understand?”

Dad gulps. “Yes, Pauline.”

A tall, burly man with a mahogany tan walks into the room. It’s Dean. I recognize him from the Facebook photos. His tattoos, swirling Celtic patterns like black snakes on both lower arms, are even more impressive in real life. He’s completely bald, with a big beer belly stretching against his Manchester United top — not at all the kind of guy I would have pictured Pauline going for, but it just goes to show, wrinklies are very odd, indeed. As soon as she spots him, Pauline’s eyes light up.

“Dean, I’d like you to meet Amy and Clover,” she says, still beaming at him. “Amy is Art’s eldest daughter and Grace’s sister. Clover is Amy’s aunt.”

“Pleased to meet you both.” Dean grins and shakes our hands warmly, and, boy, does he have a firm handshake!

Gracie starts to fuss. Her cheeks have gone bright red and she’s dribbling a lot. Dad looks a little nervous. “Will you hold her, Amy? I think there’s something wrong with her.”

“It’s just her teeth, Dad, remember? Mum keeps special soothers in the fridge for Evie to chew on. You could buy some at the pharmacy.”

“OK, I’ll do that. I’ll just go up and see Shelly first. Will one of you take Gracie for me?” He looks around the room.

“No, Dad,” I say. “Take Gracie with you. It will show Shelly that you mean what you’ve promised about helping out with her more.”

Dad nods. “Good idea. And I know it’s silly, Amy, but I’m kind of nervous. What should I say to her?”

“Just tell her what you told me, about how much you love her and Gracie. And that you’ll try to help more and stuff. You’ll be fine.”

His eyes well up. “Thank you, Amy. I don’t deserve you.”

Clover rolls her eyes. “Holy Moly, guys, it’s all getting a bit
Oprah
in here. I, for one, am starving. I could murder a pepperoni pizza. Let’s get takeout. Oh, and it’s on you, Art. Hand over your credit card.”

“It’s the least you can do, Art,” Pauline adds firmly. “Hand it over.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dad jokes, clicking his heels together.

I look at Pauline, hoping that she won’t take offense, but she just laughs. Clover and I dissolve into fits of giggles. And after the last few hours, boy, does it feel good to be laughing again!

On Wednesday evening, Mum calls up the stairs, “Amy, surprise visitor for you.”

I think for a second. It can’t be Mills, as she’s still not talking to me, and it’s unlikely that Seth would stop in at nine p.m., so it must be Clover. I bound down the stairs. Clover always cheers me up, no matter how rotten I’m feeling, and as I’ve had a lousy day at school, I could really do with a pick-me-up. But halfway down the stairs I see that it isn’t Clover standing in the hall with Mum. It’s Claire Starr!

“Hi, stranger,” she calls up at me. “Long time no see — not.” She gives a big, happy laugh.

“Claire! What are you doing here?” I ask as, to my surprise, she gives me a warm hug. Her hair smells of chocolate muffins. Her mum’s obviously been baking in honor of her homecoming.

“Why don’t you guys go into the sitting room?” Mum suggests. “That way you won’t wake up the babies.”

“Sorry, Sylvie, I know it’s late to visit.” Claire looks a bit embarrassed.

“Not at all,” Mum reassures her. “You’re always welcome here, Claire, honest. But if Alex hears you, he’ll be down like a shot. He’s one very nosy toddler.”

“I get you,” Claire says. “And I’d love to meet the kids at some stage.”

“Anytime, Claire,” Mum says. “But wear clothes you can wipe clean.”

Claire laughs again, probably thinking Mum’s joking, and Mum goes off into the kitchen.

“Your mum looks well,” Claire says as we sit down on the sofa in the living room.

“I guess. When did you get here?”

“This afternoon. The rest of the company is flying in tomorrow, but I wanted to spend some time with Mum and Dad before the show kicks off and things start to get really hectic. I’m going to try to get back more often from now on too. I know I’ve been neglecting everyone in Dublin. Hanging out with you and Clover in Budapest was so much fun. It made me realize how much I’ve missed home. And thanks for hooking me up with Ethel. She rang me to say good luck with the show, and we chatted for ages. Olga Varga wished
me
luck — well,
merde,
actually. Imagine. I’m going to dance my socks off, for her and for myself. In fact, I’m dying to get on that stage and show everyone what I can do. I’m going to be the best Juliet the critics have ever seen.”

I laugh. “And you’re so modest too, Claire.”

“Modesty’s for losers,” she says. “I’m going to
smash
it. Péter thinks so too. He’s such a sweet guy. I’ve told him about Zsuzsanna and what has been going on. He wanted to kill her, of course, but he knows that getting angry is not the answer. So everything’s good, Amy, thanks to you and Clover.”

I grin to myself. Maybe reading back over her old diary entries helped, or maybe meeting Ethel and realizing that she wasn’t alone — that even the great Olga Varga was bullied once — gave Claire the confidence boost she needed, or maybe she would have bounced back anyway. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. All I care about is that the old Claire Starr is totally and absolutely back!

“Anyway, I know Mills still isn’t speaking to you,” she continues. “She can be pretty stubborn, that sister of mine. I figured I owe you one, so I had a word with her, told her not to throw away everything you guys have because of a silly fight. She told me what happened, about reading your diary.”

I can feel myself blushing.

“I didn’t mean any of it. Not really,” I explain.

Claire smiles gently. “I know. I keep a diary too, remember? You never expect anyone else to read it, do you?”

“No,” I murmur. Even though I’ve deleted Claire’s diary from my memory stick and will take her secrets to the grave, I still feel guilty. I’ll just have to live with it, I guess. And I’ll never,
ever,
read anyone’s diary again, that’s for certain.

“When Mills realized what it was, she should have stopped reading immediately,” Claire adds strongly. “It was wrong, and she sees that now. We had a bit of a chat about boys too. The problem is, that thing you wrote about her wanting to be a cheerleader just because of Bailey was the truth, and she doesn’t want to admit it to herself, let alone to anyone else. I hope you guys
can
work things out. You’re very lucky to have each other.”

“Thanks,” I say, a faint glimmer of hope starting to dance in my stomach. “For talking to Mills, I mean.”

“No, thank you, Amy. I’m not sure I would have made it this far without you and Clover. Meeting Ethel has changed my life. And she was right about Madame Pongor. She is a sweetheart under that gruff exterior.”

“How are things with Zsuzsanna?” I ask.

“OK. I told her I’d report her if she didn’t stop picking on me. She didn’t like that one little bit, but she’s just ignoring me now, which is a big improvement.”

“Good for you.”

“Thanks. I was proud of myself, all right.” She pauses for a second and looks a little worried. “Amy, you won’t say anything to Mills or my folks about the bullying, will you? It would only upset them, and it’s under control now.”

“Of course not. I’m good at keeping secrets.” If only she knew how good!

On Thursday morning, I wait at the letter box for Mills. It’s where we usually meet to travel to school together, and I’m hoping that Mills’s mood has thawed. But she doesn’t show up.

On Friday morning, I try again, but again, no joy. Mills must still be leaving early to avoid me. She’s supposed to be coming to the ballet tonight with Clover, Mum, and me. I’ve texted her loads of times to ask if she’s still coming, but she hasn’t replied. I guess I know what that means. She still hates me.