Page 59 of Not Strictly Ballroom

The thought of that, of doing something useful, helps keep me in good spirits as I lock up the studio. I still haven’t seen my parents. I didn’t bother going upstairs to our house today. There’s nothing up there for me now. I don’t think my parents are at home, though. They know when the lessons are, and I think they’re avoiding me, which suits me just fine.

Even the sight of the new development doesn’t bother me anymore. I feel hungry, having missed lunch, so I pop into the shop for some much-needed chocolate. I pick up some gummy sweets and Love Hearts for Nick, too. I think it’s cute that he likes them so much. I hear the shop is due to close at the end of the month too, and that the whole lot will be demolished. I should’ve realised that the school wasn’t going to be spared in all of this. Maybe I was blinkered to what was going on around me. No, I refuse to accept the blame. My mum deliberately lied to me about it. I look at the empty chocolate wrapper in my hand and realise I’ve eaten it subconsciously while being angry at my mum. I didn’t even get to enjoy it. Just another thing to be annoyed at her for.

By contrast, Doreen is welcoming when I get to Nick’s parents’ house. She makes me a cup of tea and I offer to help with dinner for when Nick and his dad get home. I still want to learn to cook better, and she readily accepts my help. After dinner I lend a hand, helping them pack up some of Nick’s gran’s things as she’s moving into the retirement village tomorrow. She has a small suite of rooms, so she isn’t taking much. We finish, and sit amongst the boxes, drinking tea and eating biscuits. The mood is partly melancholy, but there’s also a hopeful air, as his gran seems excited about her new start.

It’s quite late before Nick and I are in his room and I get a chance to talk to him. We sit cross-legged on the bed facing each other.

“I’m thinking of looking for a job,” I open with.

“Doing what?” he asks, his face neutral.

“Anything. I just want to be useful. I want to help with costs so we can move out. I really want us to have our own place.” He doesn’t say anything, so I carry on, my mouth running away with me. “I mean, I don’t have any skills, but surely I could work in a shop.”

“Do you want to work in a shop?” he asks eventually.

“Well, no, but does anyone want to? It doesn’t have to be a shop, though. It could be anything?”

I can see his frown forming. “What is it you really want to do?”

At first, I don’t answer as I don’t have a ready reply. Well, not a useful one, as my only answer is to keep dancing.

“Darcy.” He takes a breath. “You’re in a unique position. You are one of the best dancers in the country. You have no ties, and you could do anything you want to, go anywhere you want.”

“What do you mean? I can’t leave you. Is that what you want?” I whisper in horror, his words cutting me.

He reaches for my hand and I love his need to be physically connected. “No. No, of course not, but I would never hold you back from your dreams, D. You’re free of the influence of your family. You can make your own choices now. You could dance in shows, on cruises, even on the television if you wanted. I know you want to dance and I would never want you to settle for anything less. You would never be happy and it would kill me thinking you were doing it for me. I want us to be together, but not at that cost.”

I think on his words. Fame doesn’t hold any appeal for me. I’ve never craved anything like that, now that I can look back on my childhood—what there was of it. It was never the winning that kept me competing; that was my mum’s dream. I loved the opportunity to improve, better myself, and just keep dancing. What I also like doing is helping people find joy in dancing, helping them improve, be something they look forward to each week, and I think that’s why the school closing has hit me so hard. I really enjoy my work.

“I’d like to keep teaching,” I say, and tell him about the ideas that the clients had given me about renting a village hall to hold lessons in.

“Then I’ll help you find somewhere,” Nick promises, pulling me forward into a hug.

Two days later, I watch as Nick paces the room. I dragged him upstairs after dinner after he went out the back door twice before coming back, looking forlorn, as he remembered his gran was no longer next door.

“She’ll be okay,” I say, trying to offer him some comfort. He stops and sighs slightly.

“It’s not that, it’s just that things are different. I either spent my evenings with Gran or visiting you and dancing. But you’re here and she’s not.”

I hadn’t realised that Nick doesn’t have anywhere to dance, and I know how much he loves it, too. He spent a lot of time either helping me, dancing with me, or just using the space, and I feel bad that he doesn’t have that outlet. I know my plan of teaching dancing is good for me, but it doesn’t help Nick much. He’s been affected by my mum as well. I need to come up with something better.

My phone starts ringing, which is a rarity, and I grab hold of it, seeing that it’s Claire.

“Are you watching the news?” she calls hurriedly down the phone when I answer it.

“No, why?” I say. It’s not something we watch often.

“Well, switch it on, quick.” she almost shouts. “Look North.” She clarifies what programme and I follow Nick as he clatters down the stairs and into the front room, snatching up the remote and switching channels.

What I’m greeted with takes all the breath from my lungs.

There’s a news piece about our competition dance and a video of us dancing plays in the background, but what hits me first is that they’re interviewing my mum.

I stand there appalled, seeing her basking in the glory of what we achieved. I watch her take credit for me dancing with Nick, as if it was her idea. She acts the proud mum, as if our success was hers alone.

I can’t take it anymore.

“Please turn it off,” I whisper, and Nick complies.

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