‘Me?’ I said, confused. ‘You mean a review for the show in Madrid?’
‘Yes! Five stars they’ve given it. But not only that, they are raving about you, Lira. They are saying you are an undiscovered talent, that you have great things ahead.’
I let this sink in. The British press had been kind, but it had been Gabriele they had focused on, and of course Carlos had a mention. There had been the odd grainy picture of Gabriele and me in hold, but that had been it. Ifyou didn’t read the caption in tiny print underneath, you’d never have known it was me.
‘Seriously?’ I said, taken aback, wondering how I could get hold of a copy for myself. ‘Can you take a photo of it and send it to me?’
‘I’ll ask your dad to do it, you know I can’t do texting.’
I smiled to myself. Mum was not the most tech-savvy person and I didn’t blame her for refusing to learn. I thought life might be a whole lot simpler if you weren’t in constant communication with people via WhatsApp and social media, anyway. I quite liked the idea of living your life completely oblivious to what everyone else was doing, and even what they thought of whatyouwere doing. My mum had always been very good at putting herself first, and I didn’t mean that in a negative way, not entirely. I admired her for it, in fact, and wished that I’d inherited more of her extroverted personality and less of my dad’s more reserved one. Because people who spoke out and said what they wantedgotwhat they wanted, generally, didn’t they? And the rest of us scuttled along behind them, picking up the scraps, taking the jobs they didn’t want and doing the tasks they didn’t have time for.
‘I never realized you still had this talent, Lira. Of course I remember how beautifully you danced when you were young. How elegant you looked, how you brought so much of yourself to each dance. But it has been so long now – how have you fallen right back into it, so much so that you are impressing some of the harshest theatre critics in the world?’
I was lost for words for a second. Was my mum complimenting me? Saying actual, really nice things?
‘Thanks, Mum. I guess it’s a lot to do with the choreography. With my dance partner, Gabriele. Maybe it’s about our connection. Perhaps I couldn’t have done this with anyone else.’
‘That I don’t believe,’ said Mum. ‘You have something special, Lira. And… I’m sorry.’
This conversation was taking a turn I’d never in a million years have expected. My mum – tough, no-nonsense, slightly emotionally averse Mum – actually sounded choked up. Had she justapologized?
‘I’m sorry for assuming that you didn’t mind giving everything up to run James Jive. And I’ll admit it, it made my life easier. I had my own career to pursue and I wasn’t ready to give it up. But what about you? What have I done to you?’
I heard my mum sniff.
‘Mum, are youcrying?’
‘Only a little,’ she said. ‘And I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. I deserve all the guilt I’m feeling right now.’
I was touched. And thrown.
‘Look, Mum, it’s not all your fault. I could have said no. If I’d had the guts to stand up for myself, I could have told you there and then instead of waiting until I was into my thirties and it was almost too late. I’ll have a couple of years of performing at best, and then I’ll be back running the studio. We can make it work, can’t we?’
She sniffed again, harder this time. ‘I promise you, Lira, we will make it work.’
And for the first time ever, I believed her. And it didn’t matter that usually when she said ‘we’ would do something, what she really meant was thatIwould need to do something. I truly believed that she’d suddenly got it; that seeing a review of my dancing in black and white in a national newspaper – that I struggled to understand how she’d even managed to read, given she didn’t speak a word of Spanish – had made her realize that working in a dance studio wasn’t the only thing I wanted to do with my life. Perhaps this was always meant to be my time to shine – a few years later than anticipated, but better late than never.
‘And listen,’ said Mum, ‘I’ve been talking about you to the cruise company. They’re doing a special press event in Dubai in the autumn and they want you and Gabriele to appear. An all-expenses-paid trip. Plus a fee, of course. Would you be interested?’
I was shocked. Shocked that somebody else would pay to see me dance; that they didn’t just want Gabriele. And Dubai? I’d heard so much about it, but it was the kind of place I didn’t think I’d ever go to just for fun – I had principles, after all – but if it was work, well, why not?
‘I’ll speak to Gabriele. But it sounds good. Thanks, Mum.’
When I put the phone down, I noticed a message from Jack. I hadn’t thought about him for ages. Sure, I didn’t have the connection with Jack that I had with Gabriele, thatunexplainable thing that made me feel giddy every time he looked at me, but Jack was sweet and gorgeous and kind, and sexy in his own way.
Are you back yet? Missing our PT sessions…
I smiled at our special code. I didn’t think the joke would ever get old. Although, one day, I might actually want somerealpersonal training sessions with him, and then how would I differentiate between the two? I sent a message back.
Still away! Message you soon.
I pushed the thought that I might never contact him again from my mind. When my normal life resumed, I might very well be craving the excitement of a sexy tryst on Jack’s desk at the gym, however cold the thought of it not being Gabriele left me right at this moment.
An hour before curtain-up I was in the dressing room I was sharing with Daniella and another dancer, Astrid, touching up my make-up and spraying about a can-full of hairspray onto my bun so that there was no chance of it coming loose during one of the costume changes.
‘Evening,’ said Daniella, setting up next to me.
‘Hey,’ I said, casually.
