The Last Dance

                                      THE LAST DANCE.

She lived alone in her dilapidated cottage forty metres up the lane from the main road. She had been living alone ever since her father had died on her twenty-eighth birthday, fifty years ago.

          It was a late summer’s night and she stood looking at herself in the flaking black-framed mirror that hung above the warped wooden mantelpiece. She smiled as she thought; it's getting near the time. Tightening her bunned grey hair with a plastic comb she hummed her favourite tune, their tune, hers and Joes. Rose sighed deeply as she thought about him then, and that first time he had asked her to dance with him.                                                               

                                                        *

          Every Saturday night, even during the long bleak winters, the young men and women of Killiecastra would head for the Silver Slipper Ballroom; ballroom for want of a better word. It was a hall. The old wooden building didn't have a sign to call it the Silver Slipper Ballroom. No one knew who had named it so, except that every summer the owner George Cummings, a stout saintly man painted it the same dull silver color. For weeks until after the first heavy shower of rain the 'Slipper' would reek of the smell of paint.

          The Saturday night Joe asked Rose for a dance was a wet, stormy night but as usual there was a big crowd at the ‘Slipper’. And as usual George was standing at the side of the bandstand watching out for any close dancing. On                                                       

spotting a 'sinful couple' he would jump lightly down onto the floor and nimbly dodge through the other dancers to the offending pair. A light tap on the male dancer's shoulder would be enough to separate them.                                                                                                                           

          Rose had been standing near the lemonade table with May McNutt a thin plain girl who had asked Rose one Saturday night if she could stand with her. Rose had been glad of May's company because her best friend and dancing companion had married in the spring and had gone to live in Killinchey. The few Saturday nights that she had stood alone waiting to be asked for a dance she had felt awkward and uneasy. She had almost made up her mind not to go to the dance at all.                                                               

                                                        *

          Blinking in the dull light to see herself more clearly Rose smoothed down her old dancing dress. It still fitted, except around the waist where it hung slack. She smiled again as she remembered the suit Joe had been wearing that night.

                                                        *

          It was a grey striped double-breasted suit and with his mop of curly greasy black hair he had looked like Rudolph Valentino when he smiled at her. Rose had noticed Joe at previous dances but he had never asked her to dance. Once she had caught him looking at her as he danced close to Maggie

Moran, a flirty red haired girl who had died the following winter giving birth in Killiecastra graveyard.                                                       

          Rose had felt May stiffen as Joe approached them and she turned.   

  'May I have this dance please?'

          She had smiled then. The other men had never said please, when they asked her to dance. Still smiling she had nodded and took his extended hand. As they whirled about the dance floor to the popular dance tunes of the late thirties she had trembled in his strong arms. The set of dances ended too soon and she had stood with Joe by the side of the floor not knowing what to do. He hadn't said thank you, and still stood by her side looking at the bandstand. It was then the bandleader announced it was the last dance of the evening and the music of a slow waltz, forever to be their song, soon filled the hall. The next thing Rose remembered was George looming over them and whispering as he tapped Joe on the shoulder, 'None o' that now. Behave yourselves.' Shocked she had shot away from Joe and with blazing faces they had finished the last dance straight-armed.

          Later, Joe bought her and May a lemonade and later still he had walked Rose the three and a half miles home in the heavy rain.                                                               

                                                        *

          She shivered now as the wind blew through the open half-door and turning she looked outside. It was getting dark. He'll be here soon, she thought. I'd better light the lamp. The ruby red glass oil lamp sat on the table by the door and with twisted fingers she pumped it until the wick was soaked in oil. Then going to the fireplace she tore a page from one of a pile of old Ireland's Own magazines that lay there. With a shaking hand she held it to the dying turf fire. When it ignited she quickly carried the burning paper to the lamp and lit it. As the lamp glowed into life she shook the paper out. Black pieces of charred paper floated to the floor as she carried the lamp over to the black dresser by the side of the bedroom door and left it down. As she stared down into the heart of the flame her thoughts went to Joe again.                                                               

                                                        *

          They had announced their engagement that following summer and Rose smiled as she remembered that day walking past the graveyard wall on the way back from Joe's house. The bucky roses were in full bloom and where bubbling over the greystone wall. She had remarked how lovely they were and Joe had suddenly pulled her to him whispering before kissing her, 'You're the loveliest rose of all.'

                                                        *

          Outside the echo of a barking dog from away down the valley brought her out of her reverie and she turned and looked out of the open door. Shuffling to it she took a long look out into the darkness. Standing there she stared up at the starry sky, her eyes misting over as she thought how quickly that memorable summer with Joe had gone. Shivering, she remembered that windy winter’s day on the way back with Joe from Maggie's funeral. It was then he had told her he was going to war with some of the men from the town. She had cried and begged him not to go. That spring she received his last letter.                                                       

          The dog barked again and with a heavy sigh she bolted out the night. He'll be waiting, she thought. I'd better hurry. Returning to the dresser she lifted the lamp. She smiled now, excited, the wrinkles unfolding from around her mouth and dark eyes. Then she began to hum and waltzed in a circle until she faced the bedroom door. Pushing it open she held up the lamp and looked inside, then, still humming she backed away from the room her face glowing.

          Joe, wearing his striped grey suit and with his black hair shining walked towards her one hand held out. 'Rose could I have this last dance please?' Smiling she nodded and placed the lamp on the table.           

          Outside the light wind soughed and music heard only by the night creatures came from the cottage as two silhouettes inside danced their last dance.                   

                                 

            1200 words