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Of Croquet and Dancing

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Brock was absolutely captivated by her.


He was, of course, convinced it could never work because of this. After all he was a handsome strapping lad and she was a beautiful and…. well beautiful woman.

He also found that he was very bad at finding other words to describe her, but that was just because words seemed to leave his head the minute he saw her.


But there was his commitment to sports to consider.


Was dancing a sport? He mused about it for a moment, forgetting that he was supposed to be practicing for his next match.

“Perhaps I can convince some of the other lads to come to this dance recital with me!” he exclaimed out loud, not realizing that he had missed the ball being thrown at him.


It didn’t matter. He was good at sports.


“Why yes, that is just the thing. We’ll all go! It’s just the way to get dates with the ladies!”


There was still the croquet match to consider. He would figure it out. Later.



Clara could not believe her luck. Brock was coming to her dance recital to watch her! She could barely contain her excitement.

In fact, Millie had informed her that she was going to “drive her absolutely bonkers” if she did not stop.

She couldn’t help herself though. Brock was so handsome and dashing and...well. She found that she couldn’t really describe him well. He was always doing things with sports and had such a gaggle of girls following him everywhere.


And he’d chosen HER.


Clara pushed the curls in her hair back once more, trying to tame them into submission. She had to look perfect. She wanted to look perfect. For him.


“Girls, 5 minutes! Fiona, Millie, Clara, stop staring at yourselves in the mirror. You need to get on stage!” Their dance mistress had arrived and was none too pleased with the girls not being ready to go on stage.

Clara squealed. It was almost time!

“I’m just going to take a quick peak! I want to see where he’s sitting so I know where to look!”

Their dance mistress rolled her eyes. “There are no boys in the audience. No teenage boys whatsoever.”

“Oh that can’t be true. He promised!” Clara ran from the dressing room to the curtain. Brock had promised...hadn’t he?


Or maybe he had just said that he liked dancing. She wasn’t sure now that she thought about it. He had, after all, been very dashing and she’d become quite distracted.

She peaked out into the audience and her heart sank. There was no sign of Brock. No sign that he’d even tried.


“He’ll be here. He promised.”



Brock hit his croquet ball with such a force that it went tumbling down the lawn and did not land anywhere close to the wicket. He turned as he heard laughter behind him from his friends.


“You are certainly distracted today!” Teddy called to him while doubled over laughing. He pointed at the ball that had stopped its rolling a good 10 feet from the intended wicket. “At this rate we will be here all day!”

“I simply cannot be here all day. I need to finish this quickly so I can still attend Clara’s recital!” Brock had decided that instead of choosing one or the other he would simply do both. Clara would never know the difference.

He took his next turn, attempting to aim better at the wicket this time. He readied his swing, eyeing the path he needed to take.

And immediately became distracted when he remembered the way Clara smiled at him just earlier that morning.


The ball went sailing across the lawn past every single wicket.


He heard his friends fall over in laughter again behind him. He sighed and checked his trusty pocket watch.


He was going to be late.



The recital started on time, as it always did. The girls didn’t dare risk the wrath of their dance mistress.

Brock still hadn’t shown up. Clara had immediately burst into tears upon seeing this. The sort of dramatic tears that can only come from young love and promises broken.


Millie dragged her off stage before anyone could see her crying.


“He said he would come!” Clara wailed to Millie who was awkwardly comforting her. Millie didn’t know what to tell her. She knew the boys wouldn’t come. They were too self-absorbed in their own things to care about anything that they did.

“I’m sure something must have come up. He’ll make it up to you, dear. I’m...sure of it.” Millie sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

“I’m destined to be alone forever. His sports are always going to be more important than me!”

Millie decided to take matters into her own hands. “Pull yourself together. We simply must finish our dance recital or we will certainly be the talk of the school and NOT in the way that you want to be. Let the boys have their sports. Give that Brock a piece of your mind next time you see him.”

Millie dragged Clara out of the dressing room back to the stage. Clara looked exactly like you would expect...she’d been crying and her hair was in such disarray. There was no saving this.

“Now...get out there.” Millie pushed her back on to the stage.


Right into another dancer.


“Oh dear.”



Some time later, Brock ran into the dance recital hall. Certainly he couldn’t have missed all of it.

By ran, of course, he stumbled into the door to the hall in his excitement and rush to get in and almost fell flat on his face and would have made an embarrassment of himself…


..except the hall was empty.


The recital was long over. The chairs were empty and the stage was dark. He’d missed it after all.

Clara would surely understand once he saw her and explained everything to her. He was far too dashing and handsome for her to be angry with him over something as silly as missing her dance recital.


He had won the croquet match, after all.