Page 6 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“Much better, thank you.” I stare up at the sky. There’s no cloud cover, so the stars are shining down in all their glory. I love this view. Looking up at something which is far bigger than we are.

“It puts it all in perspective, doesn’t it?” I say, suddenly feeling very small and insignificant.

“What does?”

“That.” I wave up at the sky. “Out there could be a million other worlds, all full of people just going about their business, or alien races, all exploring and discovering new things. And here we are, a tiny speck on a small world spinning round a ball of fire. I’m worrying about what will happen in a stupid dance competition, when we’re just two of a few billion people, clinging to a rock hurtling through space. Everything I do seems so trivial. It feels ridiculous when you think of it, doesn’t it?”

“Hey.” Nick lifts onto one elbow to look down at me. “Don’t you ever think your dreams are unimportant, D. The stars shine brighter knowing you’re under them.” He takes a breath. “You bring a lot of joy to people. Not only with your dancing but your teaching, too. Allowing people a time in their week when they can forget their troubles. Where they can set aside that they’ve had a shitty day at work and be someone else for a little while. Never belittle what you do, D.”

His words barely register. Instead, I’m struck by his eyes—how they glitter darkly, reflecting the small amount of available light, and looking like they hold the secrets of the galaxy. It feels like I’m noticing them for the first time, and I want to lose myself in their unfathomable depths.

“D? Are you okay?” I blink as his words bring me back to the present, and he has a curious expression on his face.

“Um, yes. I must have spaced out there for a moment.” My cheeks heat up as I think he might have caught me looking at him, and I can’t explain it to myself, let alone anyone else. I’m glad it’s dark, so he doesn’t notice the deep shade of red they must be. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” He’s still looking a bit puzzled. Then he smiles and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the chocolate bars he bought earlier and holding them up.

“Which one?” He grins as if it’s even a question, and I reach for the Snickers.

“Heathen.” He laughs and sinks back onto the grass beside me. The sounds of us eating are the only thing punctuating the silence.

“Doesn’t she have any rhythm?” At the sound of the voice whispering in my ear, I turn from watching through the kitchen window that looks out onto one of the studio rooms where Darcy is dancing with a possible replacement for Julia.

“Claire!” I whisper loudly, and she draws me into a hug. I’ve known Claire as long as I’ve known Darcy, and although she’s not my sister, she’s probably the closest I have to one. Having been a fixture at the Franklins’ for a long time, I’ve been treated to the same big-sister teasing that he has.

“How’s it going?” she asks, releasing me.

“As you see.” I cock a hip and flippantly gesture with my hand towards the window, earning a grin from Claire as she peers out to watch.

“Hmmm.” She sounds non-committal, which isn’t much like Claire. She normally has an opinion on everything. She’s a lot like her mum in some ways, not that she likes to be reminded of that. But far too much like her to remain at the dance school. She’d made it very clear dancing wasn’t going to be her career and put herself through university. She now works in media and marketing.

“How many have there been already?”

“One so far. This one, and then there are another three today.”

We scoot across the kitchen to the other side, which looks out to the other studio room. The windows slide open and serve as hatches to pass drinks and refreshments straight out into the rooms. Once a month, the dance school hosts a social tea dance for the older generation and endless pots of tea are a necessity.

The other candidates are warming up or talking with whomever they brought along with them. They look alien in their unfamiliarity, and I can’t imagine any one of them dancing with Darcy.

“Jeez, she looks older than Mum.” Claire points to one of the candidates and giggles. I suppress a laugh and wander back over to the other side to watch Darcy some more. Claire joins me.

“Poor Darcy.” She sighs. “Did my mum take it very badly?”

“What do you think?”

She looks at me with a grimace that tells me she knows exactly how it’s been.

I let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wait? Have you stayed away this week even knowing what she’d be like?”

Claire’s sheepish grin tells me I’ve hit upon the truth. She normally visits a couple of times a week, but I haven’t seen her and Darcy hasn’t mentioned her visiting at all this week.

“You coward!” I hiss. “You know what it’s been like.”

“I’m sorry, but you know how she is. Just having her hollering down the phone at me was bad enough.”

“You don’t need to apologise to me, Claire, but you need to say sorry to Darcy.” I’m more than miffed with her. She’s cut from the same cloth as her mother, thick-skinned, but Darcy is much more like his father, quiet and unassuming, and it’s been hard for him. “You knew how this would be. He could have done with some support.”

“He had you.” Claire shrugs, as if that was enough.

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