Page 18 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“How bad are things?” I look between them. “Mum, Dad?”

“They’re fine, Darcy,” Mum says, her smile brittle. “Of course they are. You’re a draw for customers. They want to dance with you, and you’re going to dance in the Nationals. That’s going to be a big help; really put us on the map. You just concentrate on that.”

She gets up, announcing that she’s going to have a bath, so I know I won’t get anything more from her right now.

“Dad?” I enquired, after Mum had swept out of the room.

“Your mother’s right, son. We’ll be fine.”

I feel a small niggle of worry, but the dance school is all we have, so they wouldn’t say it was fine if it wasn’t. I try to put it out of my mind and go to my room to text Nick.

I watch the paint adhere to the wall as I run the roller over it, the white obliterating the awful acidic-lime colour underneath. I like how paint can do that, can wash over, like a do-over. Though, in this case, due to the brightness of the garish colour we’re covering, it’s going to take a couple of coats. I mean, who thought that colour was suitable?

This is a big job, repainting the whole house in a week. The new owners want to move in as soon as possible, so we’re working hard, putting in long hours and days so it will get finished this week. My dad even drafted one of his friends in to help us, so we’d get finished on time. Alan is an old friend of my dad’s from his steelworking days. Alan managed to hold on to his job longer than most, but was still another casualty of the rise in overseas steel. Most of the steelworks in Sheffield now make specialist steels. Alan says he’s applying for a job at the Stocksbridge works, where there has just been an injection of investment money, but for now he’s helping Dad. I can hear them in the room next door. I don’t think I’ve heard my dad talk so much. I guess no one really understands him like his old friends. Their voices rise and fall, occasionally bursting into laughter as they recall fond and not-so-good memories of when they worked together.

I return to concentrating on my work. Because of the long hours I haven’t been to see Darcy all week and I can’t wait to see him again, not only because we need to practise our routine for the competition in Chesterfield, but also because I want to see him more. But the money from this job is worth it—just. It will all go into my savings. I’ve nearly saved up for the deposit on a house, and with what I earn working with Dad, I should be able to make the mortgage repayments. I don’t need anywhere big or flashy, just somewhere to call my own, with some privacy. I’d rent, but the rental prices are so high I can’t rent and save for a mortgage at the same time, so it’s worth living at home for a bit longer.

Until now, it hasn’t been much of an issue, but now I find myself wanting some privacy. Never before have I really wanted to bring a person home, be with someone for any length of time, but I want that with Darcy. His place is worse than mine, so that’s not going to happen anytime soon, but yes, a place of my own where I can be with Darcy would be fantastic.

I’m still reeling from him wanting me. I put myself through a couple of weeks of hell while I struggled with realising that he was who I wanted in my life as more than just a best friend.

I can’t believe that he fancies me, too. I feel a little sad that he was upset that he doesn’t have much experience. I kind of figured that he wasn’t really a horny kind of guy. I am, but I also don’t think that will be a problem. It’s clear no one else is going to do it for me. I nearly made that mistake and I’m not going to do it again. So we’ll figure it out, and I’m looking forward to seeing what Darcy enjoys. I think there is more in there than he even knows himself, and I want to be the one to help him discover it.

“How’s it going?” My dad looks in on the room I’m working in, startling me into action as I’ve been dreaming off into space for the last few minutes.

“Um, not bad.” I dunk the roller in the tray to gather more paint, as if that was the action I was in the middle of.

“Do you want a brew?” If he notices he doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks, that’d be great,” I answer.

He’s back within a few minutes and puts the mug down on the dust sheets that cover the empty room. At least the house is completely empty, which makes the job a lot easier.

“Dad?” I ask before he gets to the door.

“What is it?” he asks, his hand resting on the door handle.

I falter. I don’t know how to ask this. I guess I can just go ahead and ask in a straightforward way.

“Is it alright if Darcy comes over sometimes?” I start with, and because I’m suddenly very nervous, I start babbling. “For tea. You know Darcy, don’t you? My friend, he dances. Well, I’d like him to come over, and well, I’m seeing him now. Is that alright?” I’ve talked myself to a stop and run out of breath. It does feel odd to ask, as I’m an adult, but it’s my parents’ house and I wouldn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable in any way. My dad thinks for a long minute. He can never be rushed, and my heart won’t stop hammering in my chest the whole time.

Eventually, he speaks. “Are you asking me if it’s alright that Darcy comes over, or if it’s alright that you’re seeing him?”

Did I really say that, but okay, in for a penny . . .

“Um, both I guess.”

A pained expression crosses my dad’s face, and then he looks at me.

“Well, in the first instance, I appreciate you asking, lad, and yes, it would be fine. In the second instance. Would you have asked me if it was a girl you were seeing?”

I felt stunned, but my dad was right.

“I guess not,” I say, and it has always irked me that queer people feel they have to announce their sexuality.

My dad gives a little nod of his head. “Thought not. You don’t have to ask my permission for that either, lad. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

My dad isn’t an easy man to love. To respect, yes. He’s always been fair and just. But love, that was for my mum, who always gives her hugs freely and has a kind word for everyone. My father is the silent type, but I don’t think I’ve loved him more than I do at this moment.

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