Page 37 of Not Strictly Ballroom

After a few minutes, he straightens up and helps me to stand properly. I reach for the soap to clean us both up.

“I’ll see you later,” I call out to my mum as I head towards the back door.

“Nick,” she says, and I turn around as she catches up to me. “Good luck, love. I hope it all goes well.”

“Thanks Mum.” She draws me into a hug. I’m due to catch the bus in five minutes. I’m going to Darcy’s and then we’re all travelling to the regionals together. I can barely contain my excitement as we’ve practised so hard for this. I’d taken my clothes to Darcy’s last night when we had a final run through of our two dances. A formal suit for the waltz, and for the cha-cha-cha, a black high-necked tunic and trousers. Darcy’s is similar; he has a blue pattern running down the front of his tunic, which is continued down the side of my trousers, so they’re complementary rather than being the same. It took a long time to choose something that would work. Hours spent sitting side by side on his bed searching online shops. Okay, it might have taken longer due to the amount of kissing and cuddling that went on as well.

I have an exciting piece of news to share with Darcy as well later. I’ve nearly saved enough money for a fairly decent deposit on a place. It won’t be big, and it might be something that’ll need doing up, but that would be fun to do.

My mum releases me and I give her a peck on her cheek.

“See you later,” I call, as I jump the back steps down onto the yard. I’ve just enough time to say hello to Gran. She’ll be upset if she doesn’t get to wish me luck, too.

I take her steps two at a time and burst through the back door, striding through to the front room.

“Gran, I’m off—” I halt on the threshold. My heart stops.

“What the—Gran. Gran!” She’s lying on the floor, just in front of her favourite chair. I throw myself down next to her, checking for a pulse. It’s still there. My heart restarts with a racing beat. I’m up, pulling my phone out of my pocket, cursing as I fumble at the key-lock pattern.

“Mum, Dad,” I holler out the back door towards our house as I dial nine-nine-nine.

My mum pokes her head out of our back door at my shout.

“Gran’s had a fall. I’m calling an ambulance,” I shout. Half the street can hear me, but I don’t care; they’ll know soon enough, anyway.

I see her hand fly to her mouth before she disappears inside and I hear her shouting, “Frank,” calling my dad.

My call is answered and I go back inside to give the emergency services as much information as possible.

My mum and dad arrive and kneel by her side.

“Mum, Mum, can you hear me?” My mum’s voice sounds broken, and I fight back my own tears. Instead, I fetch a blanket. We can’t move her, but we’re supposed to keep her warm. The lady on the end of the phone is still talking to me. No, I don’t know how long she’s been like that. My mum looks up, whispering that she’d helped her get up and down the stairs only an hour ago. I relay that information. I can hear sirens in the distance and I unlock the front door, going out to direct them to the house and make it easier for them to enter.

The two paramedics are efficient and we draw back as a unit, watching them check a few vitals before loading her onto a stretcher.

I barely hear my dad ask which hospital they’re taking her to. We lock up and pile into his van to follow the ambulance. It’s only then that awareness of the dance competition comes back to me.

I pull out my phone and text Darcy. We aren’t due to dance until this afternoon, so I tell him what’s happened and that I’ll catch the bus straight to the competition as soon as I know my gran’s going to be alright. His answer, of course, is sweet and concerned, and allows me a small smile and respite from my worries. The journey feels like it takes forever and I find it hard to keep still in the van. I grab my mum’s hand and she gives me a sad smile as she dabs at her eyes with a tissue.

“Will you stop pacing, love?” My mum’s voice is strained and weary. I sigh, plonking myself down into the plastic chair next to her. It feels like we’ve been sitting in the corridor for hours. Dad has gone to fetch us more tea, as that seems to be the only thing keeping us going right now.

My mum squeezes my knee, trying to give some comfort, but we’re all worried. The feeling of being useless and not being able to do anything is unbearable. We’ve taken it in turns to ask about progress, knowing that they can’t tell us anything new and giving us the same answer every time: she’s stable, and the doctors are running tests, and we’ll be told as soon as there’s anything to know. It doesn’t stop us from asking, though, as it’s the only thing we can do. The patience of the nurses is legendary.

The buzz in my pocket indicates another text from Darcy. The warm glow that he’s checking in with me only slightly appeases the gnawing anxiety that if I can’t get there in time, I’m letting him down. But I’m not going anywhere until I know Gran is going to be okay.

I pace the corridor again, the last cup of tea a nauseating layer over the impotency of our situation. It’s while I’m at the other end of the corridor, giving the notices a tenth reading, that a doctor approaches my parents.

I race back, trying to work out if the expression on her face is an indication of good news, or is delivering bad. I guess after years of a job like this, she’s managed to train it into a neutral state for these occasions.

“Mrs Turner is now conscious. She is stable, and there’s nothing wrong with her vitals, which is quite extraordinary for her age. She has broken her leg, though. However, it is a clean break, so it will heal in time.”

“Can I see her?” I cut in. I need to see with my own eyes that she really is okay.

The doctor gives me an amused smile, the first sign of emotion so far.

“I assume you must be Nicholas? She’s been talking non-stop about her grandson since she woke up.”

“What can I say? I’m her favourite.” I give her my widest smile and she laughs. The relief and joy that Gran is going to be alright begins bursting out of me. The doctor doesn’t need to know I’m her only grandchild.

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