Page 112 of Lessons in Life

‘So, when…?’

‘After Easter. At the start of the summer term. She’ll begin training with us straight away.’

‘Her GCSEs?’ I asked.

‘Of course. She’ll sit them here. We are an academic as well as a theatre school. Then, if appropriate, she’ll continue with A levels.’

‘Oh, I don’t want to dothose,’ Sorrel said, eyes shining. ‘Just let me dance.’

‘We’ll see.’ The woman smiled. ‘Let’s take it step by step. We’ll send consent and admission forms to Sorrel’s parents.’ She stopped and paused, her own eyes bright. ‘I believe Jayden Allen is Sorrel’s father…?’

* * *

‘I do hope I haven’t got a place just because Susan Yates fancies Jayden,’ Sorrel said once we were on the train and heading home.

‘Was that actually Susan Yates herself?’ I asked, slightly taken aback. ‘I didn’t know there was an actual Susan Yates.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Sorrel appeared anxious, her initial excitement being replaced, I could see, by the reality of her new life ahead. ‘What if I’m no good? What if I’m homesick? I’ll miss Roger.’

I laughed at that. ‘Not me, Mum and Jess, then?’

Sorrel tutted. ‘And I feel I’m abandoning Joel.’

‘There’s nothing you can do to help Joel at the moment, Sorrel, you know that. Fabian’s defence will be that he was coerced into modern slavery and, as such, hehasto be referred to the National Referral Mechanism to receive the appropriate support. This all takes absolutely ages. He’s in the best possible hands with Fabian, and out of the area over in Castleford.’

‘I know, I know, and we’re both really grateful. But Joel is so talented, Robyn. He’s a brilliant dancer. I feel bad that I’m getting this opportunity while he’s mouldering away over there, just waiting for his day in court.’

‘I get that,’ I said. ‘And if there’s anything I can do to help him, I will.’

‘So, you and Fabian are OK, then?’ Sorrel looked at me from under her lashes.

‘OK?’

‘Jess said… you know… Joel’s solicitor, this Alex woman, has left and gone back to London because she was in love with Fabian?’

‘Jess tittle-tattling again?’ I tutted and then relented. ‘Really, Sorrel, everything is fine. More than fine… Hang on, it’s Mrs Gossip Gusset herself again…’ I reached for my phone, which had been a hotline since leaving London, talking for a good five minutes as the train hurtled back north.

‘What? What was all that about?’ Sorrel’s eyes were wide as she caught bits of the conversation. ‘What now? What’s happened?’

‘Kamran Sattar wants to have dinner with us.’

‘Us? Who’sus?’

‘Mum and me and Jess and Fabian.’

‘Why?’

‘Dunno. We’re meeting him this evening.’

‘It’s almost evening now,’ Sorrel said, looking at her watch. ‘And are there actually any restaurants open on a Monday?’

‘Not a restaurant. His house, apparently, on the other side of Beddingfield.’

* * *

‘Blimey, what an amazing place.’ Jess’s face was a picture as we walked up the drive of the beautiful honey-coloured-stone manor house. ‘Did you know he lived out here, Mum?’

‘No, why would I?’

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