Granddad's Special School of Dance

 

Inspired by Behind the Nebulas Fog - By Graeme Piper - This story was written whilst listening to Behind the Nebulas Fog as written and performed by Graeme Piper. Depending on the speed you read this story can be read in the time it takes that tune to play.

If you would like to listen to the tune as you read it can be downloaded from the link below

Behind the nebulas fog

I sit in the room as the lights go down and the parents, grandparents and siblings of my dancers fall silent in anticipation.

The music starts and before the curtain has time to rise I am cast back to the first time I ever heard this tune.

I was eight and it was about the time when dance schools start selecting the children who can dance for their Christmas shows rather than kids who just love to dance. Jessica Paige had been given the lead and I had been set aside to possibly join in the group number but only if Andrew Burton couldn't make it. I had kept up my best brave face but as soon as I got into the car I had burst into tears.

Why wasn't I allowed to dance. I loved to dance. It made me feel free. It made me feel beautiful.

'What did the teacher say sweetheart?' my granddad asked as I wept on the drive home.

'She said dancers have to flow and be delicate. She said I was a little on the large side to be a true dancer.' I whispered through my tears.

'Well that's just silly,' he said. 'Anyone can dance. Me and your grandma still dance and we aren't graceful.'

A week later when he came to collect me for dance class I had refused to get ready. I didn't want to go.

'That's okay sweetie but I need you to help me,' he said as he pulled me up onto his knee.

'Help you?'

'Yes. I am making a new dance for your grandma and she mustn't know. But I need a partner so will you help me?'

'But I'm not allowed to dance,' I cried jumping down off his knee and rushing to my room.

A few minutes later there was a knock on my door.

'Can I come in?' Granddad said.

I kept me head buried in the pillow but I heard the door slowly open and then the end of my bed dip as he sat down.

'I think your dance teacher is a ninny but if I promise not to tell her  you are dancing will you help me?'

'She said I was no good.'

'This is different from the dancing she does. She doesn't know about this kind of dancing.' He smiled and I wiped my eyes, sitting up on the end of the bed next to him.

'But where will we go?'

'I have cleared a space in the front room and the piano is in there already.'

'Piano? We have tapes in dance class.'

'Not this time. That is why I need your help.'

'Okay,' I nodded.

He held my hand as we walked together done the stairs and into the front room. All the furniture had been removed except for the piano.

'First we need to warm up.'

'Warm up?'

'Don't you do that in dance classes?'

'No.'

'That dance teacher knows nothing. Right stand facing me and raise you arms in the air.'

I did as he said.

'Now shake them out.'

I looked at him as if he was an idiot.

'Come on follow me and shake those arms.'

For the next ten minutes I copied him exactly as he shook his arms and his legs and his head and his hands and his feet and finally his bottom. By the time we had finished I couldn't stop giggling.

'Right now for the dance.' He sat at the piano.

'What are the steps?'

'I don't know.'

'But you have to tell me what to do. Teacher always shows us what to do and we follow.'

'I told you that teacher was a ninny. What we do at Granddad's Special School of Dance is let the music show us what to do.'

'Don't be silly the music can't show us what to do,' I giggled. 'You're the ninny.'

'Just you see. Stand in the middle of the room and close your eyes.'

I did as he said.

'Now listen to the music and move when you want to however you want to.'

I stood staring at him. This was silly.

'Ready? Eyes closed.'

He stood looking at me with his fingers poised over the keys waiting for me to close my eyes.

When I finally did he started to play. After a few seconds I felt the music wash over me and I started to move. The first time it wasn't much more than a sway but we practiced each week and by the time of the Christmas show I had my own dance that I performed in the front room to a standing ovation from the whole family.

I open my eyes and the first bars of that very same tune start to play for the first Christmas show of 'Granddad's Special School of Dance' .

Ten kids come running out on to the stage and moving to the music. They are all dressed in the costumes they chose so none of them match. Some kids are on the floor, some are running around with scarves floating out behind them and one small boy is standing alone on the edge of the stage. Just as I start to get up to go to him two of the other children walk over and take him by the hand. Cathy and Bill both has Downs and they were my first kids. Tommy only joined this summer and is partially sighted so fears the stage and the edge he can't see. Cathy takes Tommy's hand and slowly guides him out to the middle of the stage while Bill runs round herding all the children into the centre. As the music reaches its crescendo the boys gather round Tommy and with one massive effort lift him above their shoulders while the girls open their arms and point towards him.

Tommy looks so nervous I am terrified he will fall. They never did this in the dance classes that we laughingly called rehearsals.

As the music reaches it ending Tommy holds out his arms and smiles the biggest smile I have ever seen on his face.

The audience launches to its feet almost as one. Applause, whistling and cheering ring out around the hall.

The children stand at the front of the stage with Tommy in the middle and take their bow.

As parents rush to congratulate me I am in tears. I look to the heavens. 'Thank you Granddad.'

 

If you enjoyed this story please don't forget to download the tune that inspired it

Behind the nebulas fog

If you would like to know more about Jo Jenner and her writing why not check out her author page on Amazon

Jo Jenner's author page

Blog tour - The Writing Process

I very excited about joining this blog tour and would like to thank Dale Furse for asking me to participate.

Dale is the author of Curse Book 1of the Wexkia trilogy and it is available on Amazon now.

Why not pop over and read Dale’s answers to these questions here?

Here are the questions and my answers:

1. What are you working on right now?

I have finally finished my NaNoWriMo 2012 entry and am in the process of finalising the proof read for a launch on 3^rd August. The book is called ‘Stripper of the Yard’ and is the story of Jenny Cartwright and her friends. They are all strippers but when one of Jenny’s regulars collapses and dies, the girls must work out if there is anything suspicious about his death. When the girls start falling foul to a number of ‘accidents’ suspicions are aroused. Is it all linked to the fact the Jenny has been left shares in Charlie’s company in his will or is the culprit a little closer to home?

2. How does your writing differ from others in its genre?

This is a tricky one. Stripper of the Yard is a murder mystery but the main characters are all women, so it almost has a feel of chick lit about it.

I write from the heart and have many strong women in my stories. I also like to show people’s reasons for doing what they do. So even a murderer has a reason for doing what they do, and I want the reader to understand what that reason is.

In ‘Show the Feeling Shows’ I have written a collection of short stories that are all about why people do what they do.

3. Why do you write what you do?

I write the stories I do, to try and help myself and other people to understand humanity.

Stripper of the Yard is a story that has been running around in my head for the last six or seven years and I have written other stories to enable me to develop my craft to tell the best stories that I can.

I base a large number of my stories in places that I have lived in or are familiar with. I find that way that I can focus on the characters and not on their surroundings. I hope that by writing about places I know I don’t need to focus so much on trying to build an environment and can spend more time fleshing out my characters and look at their motivations.

4. How does your writing process work?

Unfortunately I am not a full time writer and so I have fit my writing in around my day job. I tend to find I work best in the early morning so I get up an hour before I need to and write. If I am really into a project I will write during my lunch hour and after work.

I tend to update my twitter feeds as I can but will spend longer working on that and my facebook page at the weekends.

I try to post on my blog weekly but have found that marketing and getting ‘Stripper’ ready for publication has taken up a lot of my writing time. I am looking forward to getting back to some new writing very soon.

 

Next week I’ll have my own guest from the Blog Tour answering the same questions. I’ll post the details as soon as possible.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post and if so why not sign up for my blog or follow me on Twitter @jojenner40 or on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/#!/jojennerauthor

Family ties

Billy stood looking out of the window. His three grand children had arrived as they did every Saturday morning. Mary jumped out of the front of the car and carefully pushed the door closed. Martin, the children’s father, was busy trying to release James from his child seat as Mary stood patiently waiting at the side of the car. Martin bent, kissed his children and then jumped back into the car and drove off.  

Mary turned and seeing her grandpa grabbed James’ hand and ran up the path.

‘Grandpa. Can we go to the beach?’ Mary shouted as she let go of the James and swung her arms around her grandpa’s neck.

Soon Billy was crushed under two small children both trying to give him a hug.

‘Of course we can, but how about some pancakes first?’ Billy called.

‘Yeh,’ the children chorused, climbing off their grandpa and rushing into the kitchen.

The children loved grandpa’s pancakes and especially when he had their favourite toppings. Mary always had maple syrup on hers, but James preferred beef paste.

‘You’re silly.’ Mary said to her brother. ‘Pancakes should be sweet.’

‘Not silly. You silly,’ James said and his eyes started to fill with tears.

‘Now Now. You can have what you want on your pancakes. There are no rules when you are here. You mother always had maple syrup.’

‘Really, Mary stared at her grandpa. ‘But Daddy says we have to eat properly.’

‘And we will but first we can have our little treat.’

                                    ***********************************

The beach was less busy than usual. Billy laid out a towel for the children to sit on and unpacked their buckets and spades.

‘Can we go for a swim grandpa?’ Mary said pointing at the calm sea.

‘Not today sweetheart. It’s too cold and James wouldn’t like it.’

‘That’s because James is a baby.’

‘Am not a baby.’

‘Of course you’re not a baby James.’ Billy said pulling the boy into a bear hug. ‘I’m sorry Mary but I have to look after you both so we have to do things together.’

‘Not fair.’ Mary folded her arms and dumped herself down on the sand.

‘Why don’t we build a castle? And when we’ve finished Mary can be the princess.’

The children started filling their buckets with sand and building a pile for Billy to work on. It reminded Billy of the time when Sarah had been small and they had gone to the beach together. It always seemed to help them forget. Sarah’s mother had died when she was six and Billy had been left to bring Sarah up on his own. He knew that he hadn’t always been there, he had needed to work and so a string of neighbours had been used to care for Sarah.

He wasn’t going to miss out on his grandkids growing up the way he had his own child. The three of them worked on the castle for over an hour. James section was just a pile of sand clumsily patted down, Mary’s was a collection of smaller castles tipped out using the mould of her bucket and Billy has built a moat round everything.

‘Now we need a few finishing touches.’ Billy said opening his holdall. He gave each child a small flag to put on their ramparts and he started to dig his moat in the direction of the sea. Within a few minutes the sea was running down the channel and filing the moat.

‘Am I the princess now?’ Mary asked.

‘Yes you are my sweetheart. Shall we get you a dress on the way back?’

‘Yes please.’

‘Me princess too?’ James called.

‘You will be a handsome prince,’ Billy laughed

                        *************************************************

That evening the children had been bathed and changed into pyjamas. The three of them sat together on the sofa looking at old photos.

‘That’s your grandma and me on the beach where we were today,’ Billy said.

‘Who’s the little girl?’ Mary asked.

‘That’s Sarah. I mean your mother.’

‘Can we see some more?’

‘Of course,’ Billy said as he heard a car horn in the street. ‘That’ll be Daddy, wait here.’

He opened the door and headed out. ‘Evening Martin.’

‘Billy.’ Martin nodded. ‘Are the children ready?’

‘I got them ready for bed. I thought they could stay another night.’

‘Billy. Why didn’t you ring? I could have saved a trip.’

‘I thought you might like to stay too. We could head over to the beach tomorrow. Mary wants to swim and I can’t watch James and swim with Mary.’

‘You know how busy I am. I don’t have time for days off and messing about on beaches. Can you just fetch the children? I need to go now.’ Martin turned and got back into the car.

                        ************************************************

Billy knew why Martin was working so hard. He had done the same thing. He needed to make Martin realise what he was missing. The following weekend the children arrived as usual and Martin drove off without even a wave or a nod. Mary was very excited that she would be able to wear her princess dress and they even took it to the beach so she could be a princess next to her castle. James has a foam sword and shield and was practicing defending the castle when he smacked Mary in the face. No real damage was done but by the time her father picked her up a bruise was starting to appear.

‘What have you done to her?’ Martin shouted as he carefully touched Mary’s face.

‘It is okay Daddy. James was defending the castle. It was an accident.’

‘If you can’t be trusted to look after two small children maybe they are better staying at home.’

‘Come on Martin. It was an accident. I’m sure you had lots when you were a child. I know Sarah did.’

‘Well we can’t ask her, can we?’ Martin strapped the children into the car and drove off.

                        ***************************************************

The following Saturday there was no sign of Martin at the usual time. Billy waited nearly an hour, staring out of the lounge window. Eventually he picked up the ‘phone and called Martin.

‘Martin Sommerfield.’

‘Martin, its Billy. I was worried something had happened.’

‘No everything’s fine.’

‘But where are the children.’

‘I told you last week if you can’t look after them I will leave them with Mrs Jones next door.’

‘Martin. It was an accident.’

‘Billy, I’m working I need to go.’

                        ****************************************************

For the next three weekends Billy sat looking out of his window but the car never pulled up and the children never jumped out. The fourth weekend was the anniversary of his wife’s death and knowing the children wouldn’t turn up he headed to the grave yard with a large bunch of daffodils.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ Billy sighed as he knelt at his wife’s grave tidying away dead leaves flowers. ‘He is making all the mistakes I made.’

He unwrapped the daffodils and placed half the flowers in the tub on top of the grave. He levered himself up and picking up the cellophane and the remaining flowers started to head up the hill. He bundled the packaging into a ball and threw it into the bin, as he heard a voice the other side of the large oak tree. Normally he would have moved away, not wanting to intrude, but he needed to get to the other side of the tree. Billy slowly walked towards the tree keeping it between himself and the talker.

‘Why does he have to interfere? They always come back so excited. I can’t settle them down and they think every day is a beach day. I don’t want to stop him seeing them but he undermines me.’

‘Martin.’ Billy said as he emerged from behind the tree.

‘What now. Can’t I even talk to my wife without you butting in.’ Martin stood up from where he had been kneeling.

‘I didn’t know you would be here. I bought her some flowers.’ Billy placed the flowers on the grave and turned to walk away.

‘Billy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. Can we talk?’

Billy sat on the bench next to Sarah’s grave, Martin sat next to him.

‘I know what you are going through you know.’ Billy said.

‘How can you?’

‘Because it happened to me. When I lost Evie I lost everything. I was so wound up in my own grief that I left Sarah to cope on her own. I threw myself into my work and left Sarah with anyone who would look after her.’ Billy stopped to blow his nose, and wipe his eyes. ‘I couldn’t believe it that Sarah turned out so great. When you got married and had the kids I was so proud.’

‘So you know I need to work. I need to provide for my children. When they come back from you it takes me a week to calm them down.’

‘Saturday’s are all I live for now. I don’t want to lose that. Please let me help.’

‘It is easier to know that you are there.’ Martin said.

‘Maybe I can help out some more, in the week?’ Billy smiled.

‘It would help, but I’m not sure I could cope with them being that excited all the time.’

‘If I get to see them more it will be less of an adventure. We could talk about what you want me to do with them. I could help with home work.’

‘It would be a help but I’m not so sure.’

‘The most important thing is that you get to spend time with your children. Why don’t we start by spending the day together and then we can see where we go from there.’

‘Billy I’ve explained this to you before. I need to work.’

‘No Martin, you need to look after your children. I know you don’t need the money and if you’re short I can help.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘Whatever you say goes. Those children mean the world to me and anything I can do to help them I will.’

‘Mary has been going on about some old photos you had of Sarah. She wants to see some more.’

‘Then let’s get the kids and head back to mine for pancakes and photos.’

‘Okay but there is one thing I need you to do for me.’

‘Anything. Name it.’

‘Can I have beef paste on my pancakes?’

The Stranger

Since Davey left I had taken to wandering the streets at night. I couldn’t sleep and I imagined all the terrible things that could have happened to him if I sat in the house, so I had started walking. The advantage of city living was that the streets are always busy even at three in the morning. I tried not to be about when the nightclubs kicked out but even then if you kept your head down no one noticed you. I had been walking like this for the last four weeks, at first trying to find Davey and then now for something to do.

I had woken up one sunny Sunday morning to find Davey not there. I hadn’t worried. He sometimes needed to get away and I often woke to find him gone. Sometimes when he turned up again he would say it was work, but he never told me what he did or why he had to rush off, silently, in the dead of night. This time had been different. I had risen late and noticing him gone I had made myself some breakfast and sat watching some cooking programme. Eventually I decided to get dressed and after a long leisurely bubble bath I had gone to the wardrobe to pick out some comfy clothes. I didn’t have any easy clothes but there was an old sweat top of Davey’s in the bottom cupboard and I knew he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it. I opened the cupboard. It was empty. Not just the sweatshirt but Davey’s shoes, trainers and walking boots had all gone. I checked his draw and that was empty too. I closed my eyes and visualised the bathroom. I couldn’t remember seeing Davey’s toothbrush. I rushed back into the bathroom and saw my toothbrush standing upright, alone, in the mug. I threw open the cabinet and the half shelf that we have squeezed Davey’s razor and deodorant onto was empty too.

Where had he gone? What had happened? I turned the bedroom upside down looking for a note. Surely he would have the courtesy to leave me a note. I heard the telephone in the lounge ringing. I rushed from the bedroom and stumbled down the stairs. Nearly losing my footing I grabbed the hand rail and slowed myself down until I reached ground level.

I grabbed the ‘phone. ‘Davey, is that you?’

‘Is that Miss Jones?’ A sober voice asked.

‘Yes. Who’s this?’ I gasped. It wasn’t Davey.

‘Are you at 15 Somerset Close?’

‘Who is this? I’m not giving out my address to people who randomly call me.’

‘I’m sorry Miss but this is Huxtable police station and we have just found a bag that we think belongs to you. Can you come and collect it please?’

‘I haven’t lost a bag and I’m a bit busy at the moment.’

‘Well it had a note inside with your name and this ‘phone number on but it is full of men’s clothes.’

‘Davey.’

‘Sorry Miss what was that?’

‘Don’t worry I’m on my way.’

When I got to the police station there was a large holdall full of Davey’s clothes waiting for me. The note inside said he had had to go home and was sorry he couldn’t take me with him. The police weren’t interested when I explained things to them and after two hours of ranting and crying they told me I had to go home and stop wasting their time.

That had been four weeks ago. That first night I couldn’t sleep so I got up and gone for a walk. I had never been to Davey’s flat me he didn’t have a car so it couldn’t be too far from my house. I even hoped that I might see him at work, whatever that had been. But there had never been any sign of him. Now it was more of a habit and at least I slept for a few hours once I got home, knowing I had at least tried.

Now I looked up and saw the full moon, exactly the same as the night Davey went. I would have to stop this eventually but tonight would be special. I could feel it. I wandered around for a few hours and as I was starting to think about turning home I walked passed an alleyway up the side of an old nightclub. I had never noticed it before. I turned and entered. I thought I could see a light at the other end. Not a dead end then. I would give it a go.

I was half way down the alley when he stepped out of nowhere. A tall man, over six and a half feet tall, and he was wearing a cloak with a cowl hood. It covered him from head to foot. All I could see were his eyes. They sparkled blue in the moonlight and I felt a calmness descend over me. He wasn’t Davey, too tall, but I knew he could offer me hope.

‘We have been testing you human.’ He whispered. I didn’t see his lips move but his words washed over me.

‘Have I passed?’

‘Yes. You have kept the faith and shown great fortitude.’

‘What now?’

‘He cannot come back. You must go to him.’

‘Davey?’

‘Yes. The way is hard and you cannot come back.’

‘I must go. Let me go to him.’

The man put his hands to my neck and my vision clouded. My head became light and the darkness lifted as I saw the beam of light above. I was floating, floating away. Davey. I was going to see Davey again.

                                                ************************

The Huxtable Gazette

Police issued the name of the woman found murdered last night in the city centre. She was Imelda Jones. The Huxtable Gazette believe this is the third time the full moon killer has struck but the police have refused to comment on the chances that there is a serial killer loose in our city.

 

 

If you enjoyed this why not check out Jo’s other short stories on her blog http://jojenner.blogspot.co.uk/

Or treat yourself to ‘So the Feeling Shows’ short story anthology now available on Kindle

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00DOCK3S0

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DOCK3S0