Page 40 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“The forties event—” I turn around, trying to say something, anything to help.

“—is a good idea, Darcy, but it’s a drop in the ocean. We’ve been approached by the developers. They’ve made us an offer.”

“For the school?” My life as I know it is pulled out from under me and I fall on the ruckle of its passing. I have no future without the school. I have no other qualifications.

“For the building, yes.” My mum nods. “But we don’t have to accept it, not if we can make the school successful again. If you win the Nationals, people will want to come and learn to dance with us. You’ll be famous. We need you to win it, Darcy. We’re counting on you. You can see that, can’t you?”

Everything adds up in my head—the worried looks and hushed discussions. The conversations that have stopped when I’ve entered a room. I guess that me being wrapped up with Nick has blinded me to what’s been going on around us. I feel like I’ve been selfish, neglecting my family.

My mum comes closer and with a sad smile on her face. “There’ll be other years.”

My heart feels too heavy to hold right now. But I know what I must do. She’s right, we’ll have other years to dance together. But first, I need to save my family and my future.

“Why isn’t Krystal dancing with Andrew?” I hadn’t given any thought to why she might be available. Andrew is her husband, and together they’re one of the greatest dance couples on the circuit.

“He had an accident and has broken his arm. He’ll be out of action for at least six months. It is a misfortune, but can you see how it’s even more of an indication that this is your year?”

It’s extremely insensitive of her to say so, but her logic that one of the top contenders to the title is out of action and I can dance with the other is sound.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” The words are as thick as sawdust, and I open the door. My dad is standing outside as well.

“It’s alright Dad, Mum told me about the school.”

“Son—” he starts, but I don’t listen. I don’t want to know any more. My future as I know it hangs teetering on the edge, and I need to make it a solid vision again.

I turn to Krystal and hold out a hand.

“Shall we dance?”

I’m grateful for the use of the van, but traffic is worse than ever on the journey. I’m in a hurry, which makes me impatient, and I curse a few other drivers with language that would make my mum blush. Probably not my gran, though. I can barely describe the relief I feel that she’ll be alright, though some of the words I heard when my parents were talking with the doctor carve out little pockets of worry in me. I’ll talk to my parents later. I’m with my mum—we take care of our family.

I emit another barrage of curses as I come to yet another roundabout— who designed this road?— but I can see the crooked spire of the town in the distance and know I’ll be there soon.

It takes longer than I expect to find a parking space, but I eventually manage to squeeze into one and sprint to the Assembly rooms.

As I near the doors, my heart drops. I can hear the familiar three-four time of the waltz and know that I’m too late. I’ve let Darcy down. Our chance has gone.

I slip in through the large double doors, and the music is being drowned out by the blood pounding in my ears from the sprint and the disappointment that I feel . . . That Darcy must also be feeling. I need to find him and apologise. He must be here somewhere. I wonder if he can bear to watch. I spy his mum to my right and, thinking he must be close, I make my way through the other spectators to her.

She gives me a smile as I approach.

“Oh Nick, isn’t it exciting? I said this year was going to be it for him.” She turns back to the dance floor and I follow her line of sight.

All feeling drains from my body as I see Darcy dancing with a woman. Not just any woman, but Krystal Shaw. How did that happen? I can’t believe it. My chest constricts and I feel dizzy. I want to go hide somewhere and pretend this day never happened. Instead, I force myself to watch because, well, as painful as it is to me, Darcy is magnificent. Dancing with him is the most amazing feeling in the world, but I also love watching him. Krystal isn’t the three-time national champion for nothing, and they look so majestic together. They might not have the flourishes that come with a choreographed and practised routine, but they’re easily the best dancers in the room. Even though I’m breaking inside, I can’t help but watch them. I can hear the awws and ahhs from the crowds as they sweep round the room together.

I don’t know what I was thinking, believing that we could pull it off as a male couple. There’s something elegant about watching a male and female dance. It might be the dress, I don’t know, but it just looks different. I realise that I’ve just been hampering Darcy’s chances of winning, and if anyone deserves to win, then it’s him. He’s worked so hard for years. He’s talked about it for as long as I can remember, his eyes lighting up at the thought of competing in them. As much as it’s cutting me up to see them out there, I feel proud of him. The music ends and they turn. Darcy looks straight at me, his face going ashen grey. I back away, needing some air. I push through the crowd, who all have their eyes trained on Darcy and Krystal, applauding loudly.

I can’t get out of the main doors and down the steps fast enough. I lean over the handrail, gasping for breath.

“Nick?” Darcy’s voice is quiet.

I turn to face him. He looks distraught, and I don’t want to see him like that.

“I’m sorry I was late. I’m glad you got to dance,” I say, and his face crumples in on itself.

“I’m sorry . . .” He trails off and I continue, as I don’t want to see him trying to explain himself.

“You looked magnificent together. It was a joy to watch you.”

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