The Time-Traveller's Choice

a pleasant, distant look on his face

There was a steady flow of people into the People's Palace. A banner over the door proclaimed that there was a social. On the door, some people were collecting an admission fee, which was going to some charity or other.

I went through and found myself in a hall of epic proportions. A great, arched ceiling above reminded me of a railway station. There was a stage at the far end, a bar, a parquetry dance floor, and a collection of tables around the edges. There were even galleries on upper levels, looking down at the dance floor.

On the stage, a woman was crooning, accompanied by a few instruments. Few people were out on the dance floor. Mostly they stood around in groups, nursing their drinks and looked around at the door in case they spied their friends. The scene was hilariously familiar from the early evenings I had spent at any one of a number of bars in Durham. I wondered how long it would take these East Enders to let their hair down and get dancing.

Charlie came up behind me. "My mates are over there," he said.

A couple of lads were waving from that direction. Charlie steered me towards them with a hand on my waist. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect him of letting his friends know that I was with him.

Of course, I wasn't.

So of course, Charlie wasn't warning his friends off.

"Hullo, luv," said the one nearest as we came up to them.

"This is Joe," said Charlie. "Joe, this is Emma Scott."

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"Drink?" said Joe to Charlie.

"Mm, beers for Emma and me. Right, odd 'un?"

I nodded. Sherry was fine, but I was a beer girl at heart. The others had all followed us over and taken chairs.

"Gawd, I wish they'd play some dancing music," said Enid.

We sat around drinking beer while the hall filled up. Amy vanished at some point, and I spotted her across the hall with Cathy and Sheila. Cathy had her arm around Amy's waist. Nobody paid them any attention. Then, while I watched, Tom arrived. Cathy's hand slid away, and her posture changed, reorienting towards the new arrival. Amy's smile slipped. She said something, and made her way over to us.

"Duckie, come and dance with me," she said, grabbing my wrists.

"I can't dance," I warned her as I allowed myself to be pulled upright.

"Let's give it a go anyway," said Amy, tugging me onto the floor. She began to move her feet in time to the music. I tried to copy her. She grabbed my waist and spun me around.

"Whoa," I said, stepping back before I lost my balance.

The song finished and another one started. This was more up tempo and jazzish. People started filtering onto the dance floor . I saw Cathy watching us and wrapped my arm around Amy's shoulder, kicking my feet in time with hers.

"Nice moves, duckie," she said, putting her arm on my waist.

"What do I do with my feet?"

"Copy me." We leaned forward so I could watch Amy's footwork. I tried to copy it and failed terribly.

"Keep practicing," said Amy, laughing.

Cathy looked at us both darkly.

Albie and Enid were dancing nearby, she holding her drink in one hand and her belly in the other as she quick-stepped in time to the music. Sheila was on the floor with a guy I thought might be the one from the pub. Charlie's friends had all found girls to dance with, but Charlie sat at the table with a pleasant, distant look on his face.

I went over to him. "Don't dance?" I said.

"Naw," he replied. "No good at it."

"So? Neither am I. Amy's been trying and failing to teach me. We could practice together."

"Better I didn't," said Charlie, but it didn't seem as if he really believed it.

I grabbed his wrist. "Come on," I said, "up you get."

He resisted for a moment, then pushed himself upwards. "Be gentle, odd 'un," he said.

"Sure, sure."

He followed me onto the dance floor and into place beside Fred and Joe. Joe punched him on the arm. "Good to see you getting up for a go, Charlie," he said.

Charlie pulled a face. We took hands and I started to do some terrible impression of the Charleston, which was the only 1920s-ish dance I knew.

"What the blooming heck is that?" said Charlie. He mimicked my knock-knee hand-waving attempts.

Whoops. Apparently the Charleston hadn't made it to Mile End. "Just a dance we do in Durham," I said. I attempted an innocent expression.

It was fun, dancing like this, surrounded by friends (almost) and family (sort of), and Charlie. His palms were rough and he gripped my fingers with a kind of restrained strength, as if avoiding using his full grip.

As he concentrated on the moves, his brow furrowed and he acquired an intent expression, like a cat stalking its prey.

I allowed myself to believe what this must have looked like to outsiders, allowed myself forget that I was the strangest kind of stranger here, that when I found the ring and disposed of it, this night and the ones before and after it would be removed from history and tied into a knot outside time, that existed for only me. That I would be the sole lonely rememberer of something that hadn't happened.

It worked. The next song was slower, and Charlie stilled. He looked at me, questioning, cocking his eyebrow and quirking his lip. Giving me the option to say, No, this isn't a good idea. And if I had, he would have agreed--You're right as always, odd 'un. Me dancing. Never a good idea. The moment would pass, smoothly and painlessly. We would remain friends.

Instead, I used our linked hands to pull him close. His hands settled on my hips.

Charlie kept a respectful distance between us. Leave space for Jesus. Wasn't that what people said?

My height put my eyes at the level of his nose. We were close enough that I saw him in disconnected pieces. The smile lines forming at the corner of his lips. The hint of a dimple on his cheek. The fine brown stubble. The strong jaw.

I put my hands over his shoulders. My thumb brushed the soft hair at his nape. Newly cut and a bit bristly. If I curled my hand around the back of his neck, I could draw myself up to him, line up our lips.

I felt his steady breaths. Felt my own slow down into sync. His hand tightened on my hip.

Then the song was over. I'd barely noticed the music, too preoccupied with the small shifts and adjustments as Charlie and I fitted our styles to each other.

Charlie sought around for and found a smile. "We did all right there, didn't we, odd 'un?" he said.

I nodded.

The music changed. Up-tempo again, and we were stepping away from each other. I felt a mixture of relief and loss as the world flowed back in--Amy bumping against me saying, "Another beer, duckie?", Joe and Fred and their girls giggling and throwing themselves around the dance floor.

"No thanks," I said. I already felt light-headed. Charlie shook his head too. Wanting to break the strange mood between us, I threw myself into the dance, copying what I saw the other girls doing. After a moment, Charlie joined in, wobbling his knees and shaking his hand, and grabbing me to swing me around.

Then he cried out and stumbled, falling to his knees on the floor. 

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