They opened the door into the lounge and the wall of sound hit them, along with the smell of patchouli oil and beer. The room was in darkness, the only light coming from dozens of tea lights in jam jars dotted on every surface. All the furniture had been pushed back to make place for dancing and in the centre of the room Tiger and Angie were twirling, arms raised high above their heads, shouting the words of the song. Romany was curled on the sofa, watching them with an amused expression on her face. When she saw Maggie and Leon she shook her head in despair.
‘Auntie Maggie! Thank God. Save me. They appear to have been possessed by a demon channelling the 1980s.’
‘The eighties are in right now,’ said Leon. ‘Or so my kids tell me.’
‘Not this bit of the eighties,’ said Romany. ‘They were playing Tiffany before. I mean, Tiffany!’
‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of Tiffany,’ shouted Angie over the noise. ‘Help yourselves to a drink,’ she added as she continued to spin.
Leon peeled off and went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a beer for himself and a glass of white wine for Maggie. He handed it to her and then sat on the sofa next to Romany. Maggie took a large drink, almost downing half the glass in one. She felt the alcohol hit her system at once, the lightness flooding into her head like ink in a glass of water. Then she drank the rest.
‘Hey, steady,’ said Leon, raising what might have been a disapproving eyebrow, but she ignored him. She put the empty glass on the windowsill and raised her arms, a little self-consciously, to start dancing with Angie and Tiger, at exactly the moment that the track came to an end. Maggie dropped her arms awkwardly, but no one seemed to notice. Next on the playlist was Tom Jones’s shockingly bad cover of Prince’s ‘Kiss’ and Maggie threw a questioning look at Angie. Surely they would skip over this one? But it appeared not. Tonight was, it seemed, all about full-on cheese.
Maggie began to swing her hips, conscious of Tiger to her left and Leon on the sofa. She needed another drink to really do justice to the track, but she would have to wait for a respectable amount of time to pass before she refilled her glass. Angie seemed to be managing just fine without any alcohol, but then Angie had always been able to dance as if no one was watching. It was a skill that Maggie envied, Angie’s disregard for the views of others. She was, Maggie thought, more comfortable in her own skin than anyone else she had ever met. And was she perhaps the least? Well, maybe not quite, but she still wished that she could let go as completely as Angie was able to do.
Maggie decided to make a conscious effort to be in this moment at least. What did it matter what she looked like? These three middle-aged people were her oldest friends. They didn’t care how she danced, and neither should she. She kicked off her heels and began to spin on the spot, swinging her hips. It did feel good to just abandon everything. She should do it more often, she realised. She closed her eyes and let the music, now ‘Ride on Time’， pulse through her.
Then she felt hands around her waist, and she was being spun round. When she opened her eyes she was face to face with Tiger, their noses just inches apart. She felt his hands slip down the silky fabric of the jumpsuit to her bottom whilst her heart rate soared. Her first reaction was to pull away, but he held her firm as he continued to move in time to the music. There was a respectable distance between them, and he was just playing and not flirting, but Maggie yearned to close the gap so that their bodies touched all the way down.
‘Hey! Put her down or you’ll have Leon to answer to,’ Angie said, grinning cheekily as she danced past them.
Tiger didn’t let her go at once, but something about the quality of his hold changed. He looked over to Leon for confirmation.
‘Hey, is this right, Leon? Did you stake a claim to the lovely Maggie when my back was turned?’ he shouted over the noise.
Maggie didn’t look to see how Leon responded. She didn’t care. She just wanted Tiger to keep holding her and never let her go. But Leon had obviously confirmed Angie’s words and suddenly Tiger’s hands were no longer on her and he was standing palms-up in apology to Leon.
‘Sorry, mate,’ he laughed. ‘Didn’t mean to trespass.’
The euphoria of a moment ago dissipated in an instant and was replaced by a mixture of disappointment and irritation. What was she, a possession? Maggie stalked off the makeshift dance floor, picked up her wine glass and went to refill it whilst she worked out what she was feeling, what she was supposed to be feeling.