A Sister's War by Molly Green (the reading strategies book txt) 📕

a split second. Aware of Penelope’s malevolent gaze, she obediently extended her leg. Michael firmly took hold and pulled each boot off, placing them together at her side. She felt his fingertips briefly touch her skin above her ankles as he removed her socks. For some reason she couldn’t comprehend, the small gesture sent a quiver of excitement through her.

‘Right then, are you ready?’

‘Yes.’ She took his hand and tiptoed towards the dance floor, careful not to put her bare feet in the way of some enthusiastic couple not looking where they were treading.

From the first few steps she could tell that Michael was an accomplished dancer. She’d never managed a proper quickstep in her life so had scant experience to compare, but giving no more thought to Penelope and Wellington boots, she urged herself to concentrate. So much so that she felt her back stiffen.

‘Just relax and let me guide you,’ he whispered.

His breath was warm on her neck.

As she gave herself up to the music she felt her shoulders soften and her hand release its claw-like grip on Michael’s. She felt him pull her closer against him, their movements in perfect harmony as he changed direction, twirling her so she was almost dizzy, then danced her at top speed across the width of the floor. She was half conscious of other couples backing away, allowing them space.

She was on wings.

She never wanted it to end.

The music stopped. Michael looked down at her and smiled.

‘Did you enjoy it?’ he said.

She nodded. She couldn’t think of anything to say. The music started up again but he didn’t suggest they have a second dance. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as she had. Maybe he felt self-conscious dancing with a bare-footed partner. Maybe he’d rather have had the glamorous Penelope in his arms. She shrugged off the idea. If it were true, there was nothing she could do to alter it.

But as they approached Michael’s table her heart began to beat rapidly. She’d make her excuses to leave, hoping Jess would follow her. She would not put up with any more sarcasm from that ghastly Penelope. But there was no one sitting at their table. And she knew it was the right one because her boots were still there where she’d left them.

‘They must all be on the floor,’ Michael said, as though reading her thoughts. ‘Good. That’ll give us a chance to have a chat.’

He pulled out her chair and took the seat next to her.

‘What would you like to drink?’ he said, glancing towards her glass, barely touched. ‘And don’t say you haven’t finished your punch, if that’s what it is, as it’ll be warm by now.’

‘I shan’t be able to tell the difference,’ she said ruefully, picking it up and taking a sip. Michael was right. It wasn’t so good as when it was chilled, but it was something at least to wet her mouth, which had suddenly gone dry. ‘I really don’t want anything more. Jess and I’ll be going soon.’

‘You’ve only just come,’ he said, turning towards her.

‘How do you know?’

‘I saw you walk in.’

‘I suppose you recognised Jess.’

‘No. I’ve only met her that one time. But I was sure it was you, even though I admit I did a double take.’

‘Because I looked clean, for once?’

‘Because you looked so different,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget – I’ve never seen you in a dress which sets off those lovely dark curls.’ He paused. ‘I must say both really suit you.’

‘You mean you prefer me in a dress rather than my filthy old men’s clothes?’ she teased, enjoying their banter.

‘I like them, too,’ he chuckled, ‘when they’re on Ronnie. But tonight Ronnie’s gone and Véronique has taken her place.’ He brushed his finger along her jaw. ‘I know you don’t like your full name, but it’s beautiful. Like you.’

Ronnie blinked. Beautiful? Did he mean it? Or was he mocking her?

‘So it’s your birthday, Véronique.’ He studied her. ‘Would it be awfully rude of me if I asked how old you are today?’

She hesitated, then said, ‘Seventeen.’

‘Didn’t you have to be at least seventeen when you started working for the GUCC?’

Ronnie grinned. ‘That’s right.’

‘So you fibbed?’

‘I’m not admitting anything to a police officer.’

He laughed. ‘All right. I won’t hand you in. It’s just that I now feel positively old compared to you.’

‘How old are you, then?’

‘Twenty-one.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind. But you’re very nimble on your feet for someone so elderly,’ she teased.

He grinned. ‘And you dance like an angel.’ He put his hand over hers. ‘Don’t look like that … I never say anything I don’t mean. You can ask Kath.’

‘Good job I wasn’t wearing the boots then,’ she answered lightly, conscious of the touch of his skin.

‘Yes, it’s possible angels don’t wear boots,’ he grinned. ‘But I’m sure there’s a story behind them. So what really happened? Did you forget to bring your shoes?’

‘No, I had them with me, but I left them on the bus. It was because the driver had to brake sharply so he didn’t hit some poor woman who ran in front of him. But a mother and baby across the aisle from us fell into the front window. The baby hit its head and the conductor said we all had to get off so he could get them to hospital. So in the rush I forgot.’ She hesitated. She might as well tell him the rest. ‘The thing is … they’re Dora’s.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Dora’s? You mean you borrowed some dancing shoes from our Dora?’

‘The very one,’ Ronnie couldn’t help chuckling at his astonished expression. ‘The strange thing is that our feet are exactly the same size. She told me they were special.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to tell her I’ve lost them.’

Michael seemed about to say something when the others returned, Kathleen smiling at both of them as she sat down.

‘Gosh, it’s a while since I did any ballroom dancing,’ she said, sounding