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“By that quaint expression, I assume you mean it’s doing well?” Venetia came to sit by Merry on the sofa.
“Yes Venetia.” Merry laughed and gave in. Her aunt was obviously in a mood to talk. “So why did you lure me over here?” She gestured to their surroundings. “Not that I’m complaining. This is heaven.”
Venetia smirked and Merry’s heart sank. She knew that look. It was the one when her aunt had A Plan.
“I’ve got A Plan,” Venetia said ominously.
Merry shifted uneasily. “I thought you might.”
“Do you watch Who Dares Dances, dear girl?”
Merry shrugged and shook her head. “What is it?”
Venetia tutted. “It’s a television programme.”
“Who Dares Dances? Sounds like something you have to paint your face green and wear camouflage gear for.”
Venetia looked mystified.
Merry waved her glass perilously. “SAS,” she explained somewhat obliquely. “Isn’t their motto, ‘Who Dares Wins’?”
“Very droll, my dear.” Venetia raised her eyebrows in an attempt to humour her great-niece. “It’s actually a sort of dance reality show.”
“Don’t watch much telly.” Merry yawned again. Her only thought was to get into the vast bed in her aunt’s spare room.
“Well, a weekly audience of three million viewers might disagree.”
Merry sat up and only just saved her glass of red from splashing onto the sofa. How many?”
“Three million. A week.” Venetia was satisfied she’d got her niece’s full attention now.
“F - I mean, blimey.”
“Quite. And just what is the capacity at dear Del’s club?”
“Two hundred and fifty – on a full night. About five, if they know it’s me on the bill. Three million though,” Meredith marvelled. “The power of TV, eh? But what’s it got to do with me?”
Venetia adopted an innocent tone. “I happen to know Bob Dandry who produces and directs the show. He rang me yesterday. One of their celebrity dancers has pulled out at the last moment, pregnant apparently.” She paused and then landed the final punch. “I rang him back this morning and suggested you.”
“What do you mean, you’ve suggested me?” Merry stared, slack-jawed, at her aunt.
“You are to report to Fizz TV Studios at ten o’clock on Monday next,” Venetia said, triumphant. “To do the ‘Big Meet,’ as I believe they so quaintly term it, with your dance partner.”
Merry tried to sit up straight, a difficult task on the slippery leather. “Venetia, what the hell have you done?”
“I’ve got you a job, darling. One even your parents won’t mind; they’re huge fans of the show.” Venetia raised her glass and then took a celebratory sip of wine.
Merry slid back down onto the leather. “Wha - what?” One word sank in.
Dance.
She was beginning to wish she hadn’t drunk so much. You needed a clear head to deal with Venetia in full sway. She sat back up again. “Dancing? Venetia I can’t dance!”
“My darling girl, if you ever got your head out from that Oxford scented cloud and into the real world, you’d realise that is precisely the point.”
“I don’t understand.”
Venetia looked down her long nose. “Patently.”
“I suppose it’s too much to expect you to explain?”
“Then I shall attempt to give you a potted history in popular culture,” she said and grinned malevolently. “More wine?”
After rising to pour another glass for each of them, Venetia settled back and launched into an explanation about the phenomenally successful Who Dares Dances, part reality show, part dance competition. She told a befuddled Merry that its last series, however, had been dogged by vote rigging scandals and a race row. How the new series was a much shorter one, a special six week run leading up to the annual comedy charity fundraising event in television, Jokes for Notes. Some contestants were to reappear, including winners of previous competitions. The emphasis, Venetia went on, with this series was to be on the money the show raised for its pet charity, Pennies for Pencils, by the public voting to keep in their favourite dancers.
“So I thought, with you being a comedian, you’d fit right into it all. Luckily, Bob agreed. He owed me a favour after the fiasco that was The Golden Egg.” Venetia referred to a doomed drama she’d been in a few years ago.
“Oh Lord,” Merry said, “This Bob fellow didn’t have a hand in that, did he?”
“He did, indeed,” her aunt replied, through thinned lips. “So, he owes me big time, as you young people say. Of course,” she added with her usual assurance, “I was wonderful in it. Just such a shame the leads were so awful.”
Merry laughed and then stopped short. “So, to get this right then, I’ve got to learn to dance?”
“Yes, but it shouldn’t be so hard; you had ballet lessons at school.”
“Venetia, that was years ago!”
“Oh, it’s better than nothing. And you have natural rhythm, after all. Inherited from me, of course.” Venetia waved Merry’s concerns away.
“Not sure about that,” Merry said gloomily.
“Merry, do you want this job or not?” her aunt asked with asperity. “I had to twist Bob’s arm most severely and the little weasel was very difficult. I think it’s about time you took something a little more seriously.”
“Oh aunty, don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m really grateful and so on, but I just simply don’t know if I’m up to it.”
“Merry, I know you and I know that underneath all that cheer and bravado is a mess of insecurity but I really think you can do this. I’m also assuming the thirty five thousand makes a difference?” her aunt added waspishly.
“What do you mean?”
Venetia gave an enormous sigh, “I feel as if I’m dealing with the hard of understanding. It’s your fee, Meredith.”
“You’re joking!”
“I assure you I’m not in the least. In fact, my humour is being stretched rather thinly in this conversation. You should know that I never, ever joke about money.”
“Thirty five thousand pounds!” Merry couldn’t compute being paid such a huge amount of money.
“That would pay off your student loan, I assume?”
“And the rest.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
Merry looked at her aunt and admitted total defeat. “I don’t have much choice do I?” she said in a mock humble tone and feeling the first stirrings of excitement. Despite what she’d said to her aunt (she didn’t want to give Venetia her victory too easily, after all) she was someone who rose gleefully to a new challenge.
Venetia beamed. “Not really, darling girl. And, do you know what? I think it might just be the making of you.”
Step Two.
In the intervening few days, before Merry had to report for duty, Venetia took her niece in hand. She provided a wardrobe of clothes to replace Merry’s student rags, as she disparaging called them, and put Merry through an intensive modelling and posture course. She then treated them both to a day at a spa, leaving them preened, smooth skinned and primed for action.
While having their hair done, Venetia also gave Merry a few more details about the programme and its dancers.
“Apparently, there are a total of eight couples,” she said, over the noise in the salon. “Celebrities partnered with professional dancers, as in the previous series. Each week there is going to be an elimination contest and there will be two couples in the final, in, I think, about two months’ time.”
“Well, the final’s not something that will worry me,” Merry said mischievously, in an attempt to wind up her aunt. She looked over to the next chair, where Venetia was giving imperious instructions to a harassed looking Alain, who was trying to wield a hair dryer.
“Nonsense Meredith. Have some faith in your ability. And it’s simply a matter of getting the right partner, you know. You’ll be fine if you get Daniel Cunningham. I knew his mother. She danced with the London Ballet at one point. No!” she cried and waved her hands at the hapless hairdresser. “I said quite clearly I do not want it looking too full. I told you to simply give it a little lift at the crown!”
Merry shared a sympathetic look with Alain and tried to distract her aunt. “Is there anyone you don’t know, Venetia?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” she replied smugly and bent forward to finger her fringe into the preferred style. “I remember Daniel as a little boy. Tall and gawky with lovely straw blond hair and unusual eyes. Now, Alain, please concentrate on what I’ve requested.” With that, Venetia turned her attention back to the matter in hand.
***
As Merry wandered around the television studio, on the following Monday, she felt, and looked, very different to the student-like comedian actor who had cycled so dispiritedly through Oxford a few days ago. Her hair had been given a treatment, which made the chestnut lights glow and gave it bounce and gloss. Her skin glowed from the facials and expert make-up lessons, and she held herself high after the posture training.
As she searched for the adult version of the gangly boy Venetia had described as being Daniel Cunningham, she felt excitement bubble inside once again. She might just enjoy this.
There were crowds of people in Fizz TV’s Studio One; a mix of press, family and friends, celebrities and dancers.
Merry recognised Harri Morgan from the photos of him in the gossip magazines that Venetia kept in piles in her apartment. He was even better looking in the flesh and she admired the boyish grin, which lit up his face as he laughed and joked around. He might be fun to get to know. Angie, an incredibly successful musical star (Venetia had prepped her) had won the last competition and was a hot favourite to win this special short series. Judging from the journalists flocking round her, the rumour-mill could be right. Angie was standing entwined with a sinewy man. Merry heard the name Scott mentioned and remembered Venetia saying to be wary of him, as he was foul tempered. She watched, amused, as the first meeting of Angie and Scott, who must be dance partners, was then stage managed by a small rotund man. He could only be Bob Dandry. She recognised the greasy ginger comb-over that Venetia had described in such cruel detail. Merry hid a smile as she saw the couple greet one another in apparent astonishment. It was a little strange, as she’d walked past them in the bar ten minutes ago. They’d been sharing a bottle of champagne and looking very chummy.
A woman in a stunning crimson sari strolled past and Merry recognised her as Suni, the celebrated Indian chef. A man with a hand held camera walked alongside her and another meet of celeb and pro was carefully orchestrated. This time, the professional dancer was a neat dark-haired man. He picked up the diminutive cook and swung her round.
“Suni,” he said in a pronounced northern accent. “I’m made up that I’ve got you!”
“Warren,” the woman gasped, “it’ll be fun but put me down now, please.” He did and they posed smilingly for photographs.
Merry leaned against a giant bright pink cup and saucer, a prop, she assumed. She watched and absorbed, fascinated. So, this was to be her life for the next couple of months. It was like a pantomime; carefully choreographed and larger than life. Merry gazed up at the cup behind her. That was certainly enormous. What on earth was it used for? Everywhere she looked she saw over made-up women, with hair piled high and sparkling with glittery hairspray. Some of the men were hardly any more butch. They walked with a bouncing step, on the balls of their feet, gesturing and exclaiming.
Mr Comb-Over rushed up to her. “You must be Meredith,” he gushed. “How lovely to meet you. I can see the resemblance to your great-aunt, of course. If you would be so good as to come this way, I’d like to introduce you to your professional dancer.”
Bob Dandry barely came up to her shoulder. Merry looked down at him and smiled. He blushed an unbecoming puce and then, to her complete shock, put a sweaty hand on her bottom.
Merry pointedly removed it. Venetia was one hundred percent right about you, she seethed inwardly. “How kind,” she said aloud, through clenched teeth. “I’m dying to find out who I’ve got. This is such fun, isn’t it?” She gave him an especially warm smile, amused to see him simper and sweat even more. How Venetia would love to hear about this.
“We’re so thrilled you could join our happy band. Our family, as I like to think.” Bob leered some more. He looked around. “Ah! Your dancing partner is sitting on the steps over there. Daniel Cunningham – the one in the white jeans and leather jacket. Let me just organise the cameras. If you’ll forgive me Miss Denning, I’ll be right back.” He wiggled his fingers in a nauseatingly coy wave.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay right here. Hurry back.” Merry blew him a kiss and enjoyed the trembling hand across the brow it caused. “What a creep,” she murmured and then turned to meet a pair of the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.
***
Daniel lolled against the most famous steps in television and decided he would try his damndest to win Who Dares Dances this time round. He had a habit of not getting very far in the competition. Casey, the comely model, had gone out early a few years ago and last Christmas his partner, the weirdly eccentric but totally charming writer Lucy Everett, had been hospitalised. He didn’t seem to have much luck with his celebrity partners.
The production team had told them all that this was a special series which had been commissioned due to the show’s popularity. Daniel didn’t believe a word. He didn’t believe, either, the industry rumours about the new series trying to address the scandal of the last. He knew the viewing figures had shot up once the tabloids had an inkling of the race issue and the vote rigging row. Swimmer Max Parry, a contestant in the last series, had taken a payment to drop out of the competition early, to avoid leaving in just one black celebrity. Daniel was cynical enough to think the stories had been a carefully planted ruse to create publicity. Which it had done very successfully. He suspected any new scandal would be just as effective. He hated the way this business was making him so suspicious and disbelieving. Maybe it was time to get out?
At least some previous winners were making a return; that was good news. There was new blood too, in the form of some new pro dancers joining. Perhaps it would freshen things up. And he was really looking forward to having Harri back. It meant Julia would be a frequent visitor. His heart quickened at the thought and, as was his habit, he damped down on the feeling automatically. He couldn’t go there; she was Harri’s.
To distract himself, he pondered on what surprises were in store for this series. He felt sure Bob would have something characteristically evil to spring on them. In a previous series, he’d already made the contestants dance with each other and last year he’d made them learn each other’s skills. It had caused his friends, Lucy and Max, a few problems. Writer Lucy had been fine learning how to swim like a champion but writing a story had been torture for Olympic swimmer, Max. Still, it had all turned out alright in the end. Daniel smiled. He wondered why he did it sometimes. It certainly wasn’t for the money. The smile vanished. Thank God for the live shows; at least those padded out his meagre salary. No, the thing that drove him each time was the dancing. And this time he would win. It was his turn, surely?
It would all depend upon his partner. The only thing Daniel had heard was that she was an actress or comedian. The actress bit sounded alright, as most had had some kind of dance training at drama school, but a comedian? A vision of some well-known ones rose unfairly in Daniel’s mind. And any hope of winning vanished.
He’d tried to interrogate Julia, but she’d been knee deep in cream tulle, bridesmaids’ dresses and place settings; she was immersed in planning her wedding to Harri.
“You’ll be fine,” was all she said. “You knock most of us into shape eventually.”
It hadn’t done much to reassure him.
And now, here he was, geared up for ‘The Big Meet’ with his new partner, after which would come the inevitable press call and then the circus that was Who Dares Dances would begin all over again.
Sitting idly, watching the shrieks and carefully orchestrated emotions which accompanied the pro dancers meeting with their celeb partners, he became aware of a tall woman striding towards him. She had that wide hipped, loose-limbed quality that, for some reason, he always associated with Italian women. He guessed it must be the new Italian pro dancer joining them for this special series.
The woman stopped in front of him and smiled. It was an attractively broad smile, with full kissable lips and white, even teeth. Daniel also liked the luxuriant auburn hair and almond shaped eyes. She was dressed in carefully distressed jeans, red espadrilles and a linen jacket. She looked very elegant, very European and very desirable.
“Adelina?”
“No,” the woman looked startled and then amused. “I’m Meredith Denning. Merry. I believe I’m your partner for this series.”
Daniel managed to stand up and greet this gorgeous creature. She was very tall, he realised, probably one reason why they had been paired up, he topped six feet by several inches himself.
“Daniel Cunningham. Erm, pleased to meet you.” He found himself stuttering and his lack of cool surprised him. Get a grip, he chastised himself silently.
“Likewise. Can’t say I’ve seen you in action but you come highly recommended,” came the crisp reply.
Daniel had the distinct impression he was being laughed at. Then, the moment passed, as Bob bustled over and began to direct the cameras, so they had to repeat the encounter all over again.
Watching the footage later on, Daniel was amused to see the camera had picked up every nuance of expression which had flickered across his face: shock, surprise, embarrassment – and pure unadulterated lust. It made for an interesting start to Series Ten of Who Dares Dances.
Step Three.
As it was such a short series, training got going immediately. Merry was the only one of the celebrities who hadn’t competed before, all the others had been involved in one series or another. But she soon got to know her fellow competitors and they made her feel very welcome. Suni she liked straight away, Callum a Scottish prop forward she could live without – she felt very sorry for Adelina, the gorgeous Italian professional dancer who had to put up with his ‘accidental’ gropings all day long. Harri proved to be as friendly and charming as she’d imagined and was partnered with Eva, a fierce looking Swedish dancer, who Harri explained he’d had to put up with when winning the eighth series. They seemed to have a love hate-relationship based on, as far as Merry could see, ferocious nagging on Eva’s part. This, in his easy going way, Harri took good naturedly. He was often visited by his fiancée, the actress Julia Cooper, who was feverishly trying to organise the last few details of their wedding in between filming the latest Davy Jones blockbuster. Merry liked her too.
She had less to do with the others. Angie and Scott seemed to be determined to win at any cost and spent all their time training. Merry was intrigued by Casey, a model who wanted to act, but found her huge Russian partner Jan unnecessarily aggressive. Casey however, seemed to enjoy it. Whatever floats your boat, was Merry’s opinion, who was nothing if not tolerant of other people’s foibles. It amused her to see the clever, calculating Casey turn into a simpering dumb blonde whenever there was a man around. It was also obvious that she and Callum were having a raging affair. Merry hoped that Casey wasn’t tempted by the idea of a threesome. She’d seen Casey flirt outrageously with both Callum and her Russian dance pro. She’d need a bed the size of an ocean to fit both men in. She reached for the tiny notebook she always had with her and jotted the thought down. There might be some material there. She licked her pencil and made some notes, giggling. She just wished other people found her jokes as funny as she did.
Merry was well aware she was at a distinct disadvantage in the competition, as the others all had months of training and some years of experience. But, what she lacked in ability, she made up for in enthusiasm and she intended to throw herself wholeheartedly into the competition. Merry was famous for her enthusiasm. It had got her into – and out of - all sorts of situations.
Early on, it had been decided they should all do a group dance and, after the first rehearsal of the merengue based number, it had become apparent that Merry’s lack of experience was going to be a problem.
