Free Learning to Dance by Susan Sallis

obvious answer to that question was that he was with someone else. The other woman. She did not want to know that, either.
    So she clambered into the minibus and sat next to Sybil on the front seat. Martin had organized the seating so that they could ‘nip out quickly and avoid the traffic’ at Lynton. Luckily Sybil had nothing to say as they drove along the toll road, and the exclamations of delight from the others as views unrolled themselves made attempts at conversation useless. Judith concentrated so hard on not thinking about Jack that after half an hour she began to feel sick.
    Sybil’s voice was in her left ear. ‘Is it the bumpy road, Judith? Not very far now. You need the fresh air.’
    Judith nodded and put her hand over her mouth so that no speech was possible. Suddenly she could block Jack outno longer. He had said, ‘Death makes it so much worse – you can do nothing about death.’
    She could hear his voice speaking those words. And of course they were out of context, whatever that context had been. It need not mean he was contemplating suicide – in fact, obviously, it could not have meant any such thing. She half stood up and Sybil joined her. Martin Morris steered into a lay-by and pulled on the handbrake. Lynton might well be a bottleneck for traffic, but at that moment there was not another vehicle in sight.
    ‘Is this close enough for you, ladies?’
    ‘Fine,’ Sybil said. The doors folded themselves back and everyone said goodbye and promised to be in this same place at five pip emma. That got through to Judith, and she removed her hand from her mouth and gripped the handrail. Nathaniel was demanding reassurance from Sybil that they would manage all right on their own, and she was nodding and hanging on to the collar of Judith’s fleece. They stood on the sandy road, and Sybil waved the minibus on its way, then turned, suddenly anxious.
    ‘Something’s really wrong, Judith. Would you prefer to go into Lynton and sit in a cafe for a while?’
    ‘No. But thanks for stopping me falling out of the bus just then!’ Judith actually managed a laugh. ‘I did feel a bit odd.’
    ‘You did not have any breakfast.’
    ‘No. I sort of … forgot.’
    ‘Let’s sit on this bench for a few minutes. Get our bearings.’
    There was a bench just beneath the railway’s timetable. Judith managed a shadow of a smile. ‘Martin seemed worried about where we were.’
    ‘I think he was being ironic.’ Sybil smiled. ‘Any further and the bus would have been on the rails!’
    ‘Oh, I see.’ Judith felt foolish. She looked around her and drew some deep breaths. Her body settled itself, and she was conscious of the steady beat of her heart. She said, ‘This is marvellous. We’re so high up. It’s a sheer drop.’
    ‘Not quite. The railcars work on the weight of the water – they use the seawater, of course.’ Sybil tilted her head back, closed her eyes, took a deep breath. ‘I used to love going down the side of the cliff – we probably only came here twice – maybe three times – before we left Cardiff, but I’ve never forgotten it.’
    Judith felt suddenly better. She stood up and stared out to sea. ‘Strange you should say that – about the weight of water. I was wondering how on earth a painter can paint the sheer weight of water.’
    ‘Quite. Even more difficult is the fact that what works for one, doesn’t for another. I mean for the viewer. Yesterday I could see quite clearly that Robert had got all the properties of water in his seascapes. But I heard Sven say to Margaret that the one thing missing in the whole exhibition was a depiction of the sea.’
    ‘How pompous!’
    ‘It’s his slightly foreign English. He was genuinely regretful, I think.’
    The railcar appeared, roof first and then very slowly its full length, each seat making a flight of giant steps to match the sharp descent. The guard, green flag at the ready, ushered them in, and they moved to the front on Sybil’s