The Waltz
It was a hot summer's night before the war and my parents were throwing a ball – it was something to do with keeping up appearances during such an unsteady period in our lives. Of course if we had known the extent of what was ahead we might not have been as blasé.
Everyone was their in their finest tuxedos and gowns. We all looked like royalty – even the people Fiona invited from the theatre her father sponsored. That brings me to Vivienne Hannigan. I remember she was standing at the side of the dance floor, her hair tipped over to one side like Veronica Lake but I think she may have started the trend before her. Anyway there she was in a red gown looking intensely preoccupied. It was my duty to say hello to the guests so I forced myself – forced might not even be the word for it but that's what I told Fiona afterwards – to approach her and as always she grimaced.
"And there I was having a nice evening," she quipped, avoiding eye contact. "Tom Stewart, your place is marvellous; just what I imagined."
"I assure you it wouldn't be anything without the exploitation of the proletariat," I replied and she smirked. She tried to hide it, but I could see it on her face. "How are you this evening, Vivienne?"
"I could be a lot worse I suppose," she shrugged, but I think she was having a Cinderella moment, but I would never tell her that, because she wouldn't take it as a compliment. She turned everything into an argument. "And you? Have you finished mingling with the elite?"
"Yes and that's why I came over to you," she slapped my arm in reply to that and we laughed for the first time. You see, all of our previous conversations – in fact that's not even the word, our arguments – had been about the government failing to contain Hitler. I look back now and wish I had taken her side so we could have both been right.
At that moment the band started playing a waltz and it seemed as though the whole room found a dance partner. I looked around for Fiona, but she was in the arms of my friend George having a splendid time so I looked at Vivienne.
"Isn't that a shame?" She giggled. "You're stuck with me. I suppose we better start dancing before they all realise it's a façade."
I still don't know what she meant when she said that. Was she talking about the ball? Was she talking about us? Was she talking about the government's policy of appeasement? Anyway, I took her hand and led her onto the dance floor.
You're going to think this is odd, but I said I'd tell the truth. When we held each other close as you do when it's a waltz the first thing I noticed was how glorious she smelled. I remember thinking I hadn't smelled anything so beautiful. I don't know why, but after that I started noticing the little things like the scar on her shoulder and the line of lipstick straying away from her bottom lip. I don't imagine it would have been noticeable to the naked eye.
"You're a pretty good dancer," she admitted, her voice so close to my ear I felt the tingling sensation of her breath.
"Thank you," I replied, a shy smile coming to my face. I was surprised we had managed a polite word to the other when she told me I was a disgusting bourgeois merchant. "So are you."
"Are you surprised the poor girl is a lady?" She sneered. I knew we couldn't escape the dance without a subtle dig at the other. "When I was a child there was a beggar woman in the street who traded dance lessons for food so my mother gave her bread in exchange for dance lessons."
"Is that true?"
"No, but I wish it was," she laughed and I found myself laughing with her. I noticed how pretty she looked when she smiled sincerely. "My mother is a wonderful dancer and I guess I inherited those genes."
There was a silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. I didn't know what she was doing, but I found myself drifting away from the world. It felt like it was only us and the band. I couldn't see Fiona; instead all I could see were Vivienne's emerald eyes and fair skin. I really hadn't noticed how pale she was. It's funny, but I hadn't noticed much about her before that evening; only that she could be truly insufferable. Fiona never argued with anyone and you could have pleasant conversations with her, but with Vivienne you were left red faced and hoarse.
I thought about this and it dawned on me; I really wanted to know more about Vivienne. I wanted to discover the things I'd noticed that night despite how truly annoying she could be. Her expression was as serious as mine and I wonder if she was thinking the same things I was. She didn't say anything and neither did I; instead we smiled at the other when our eyes met and I realised I didn't want the song to end.
But everything comes to an end. It felt as though the song had only begun when people started applauding around us. That was when I was brought back to earth and back to the realisation that Fiona was in the same room. Vivienne and I looked at each other intently and for just one second our lips almost touched before we broke apart. She smiled at me in a strange way and I tried to return it. We said nothing and instead walked in different directions. I kept looking past my shoulder, catching glimpses of her shoulders and her bare back, hoping to meet her eyes again.
And that was it.
That was the moment I fell in love for the first time.