Learning to Dance Again by Frankie Valente

to be so young, glamorous and attractive; she had never looked as immaculate at this young woman. She turned her attention to some of the other passengers and noticed the women, even the ones who were clearly older than herself, all looked glossy and elegant. She looked down at her jeans and flat, comfy Clarks’ sandals, her chain store tee shirt and felt very drab. She was like a dull brown Shetland wren by comparison to the pretty canaries that shared the carriage.
    The door to the carriage slammed shut. She looked up and saw a man in uniform weaving his way towards her, pausing to check tickets. He grunted his thanks and passed the tickets back to people, without a smile on his face. However, when he noticed the woman opposite Julia, his whole demeanour changed instantly. He leaned proprietorially close to her and rested his hand on the back of her seat. The woman moved away from him and reached into her bag for her ticket. They exchanged words, none of which Julia could understand, but it was obvious the ticket inspector was trying, unsuccessfully, to flirt with her. Brushing off his rejection he turned to Julia and scowled.
    Julia handed him her ticket, her hand waiting mid-air for him to give it back. However, the inspector did not seem very happy with it. He launched into what seemed to be a familiar speech. He poked the ticket and showed it to Julia.
    ‘I’m sorry , I don’t understand,’ Julia said.
    ‘You not validate ticket, fifty euro fine please.’
    Julia stared at the man, who glared back.
    ‘I bought the ticket just now, what’s wrong with it? I don’t understand.’
    The inspector, having run out of the only English he knew to explain the situation, sighed in exaggerated bad temper.
    ‘Fifty euro fine please.’
    Julia had no idea what she had done wrong but she obviously had to pay some money or maybe risk being thrown off the train at the next stop. She started to unzip her handbag to ge t her purse out, but in her haste the zip caught on the silk lining of the bag and refused to budge. She tugged at it, making it worse, all the while the inspector stood beside her, muttering darkly. She didn’t need to be bilingual to understand what he thought of her. When the zip refused to move in either direction, Julia’s hands started to shake with frustration and nerves.
    ‘I come back!’
    The inspector handed J ulia her ticket and walked away, checking other passengers tickets as he went. Julia took a deep breath and returned to the task of trying to open her handbag. The zip still refused to open though.
    ‘Can I try?’
    Julia looked up and saw the young woman lean forward and smile.
    ‘It happens to me all the time. I’m good at this.’
    Julia handed the bag to her . The woman slipped an elegant finger inside and eased at the fabric and then carefully released the fold of material that had jammed the zip. She unzipped the bag a couple of inches then passed it back to Julia.
    ‘Thanks so much. I was getting really worried there; I wasn’t expecting to pay a fine on my ticket. Do you know what’s wrong with it?’
    ‘Oh, it’s simple; you did not validate the ticket before you got on the train. There are machines at the station that stamp the time and date so you can only use the ticket once. So many tourists get caught out. It’s a silly system; but now you know.’
    ‘Oh, right. How stupid of me; I didn’t know you had to do that. I’ve never been on a train in another country before. In fact I have hardly ever been on a train, full stop.’
    The woman smiled in sympathy. Julia took out her purse and withdrew a fifty euro note and held it in her hand in readiness for the inspector’s return.
    ‘You are on holiday on your own? You are visiting friends?’
    ‘Yes , I’m on my own. My husband died recently. He really wanted to visit Sicily, so I decided to come here anyway.’
    ‘Oh; I’m so sorry.’
    Julia smiled her thanks, just as the inspector appeared at her side again. Once