Chapter 12

The sun is gracing us with some warmth today, a reminder that summer is just round the corner. I'm glad to get out of the house and studio for a while, and elect to walk to the library instead of taking the bus. As I walk, I enjoy seeing gardens coming into bloom. Walking also affords me thinking time and I hoist my bag a bit higher on my shoulder.

I feel a little apprehensive about Nick... well, not Nick as such, as I've known him so long. It's rather, what am I supposed to do? Which sounds clinical, but really, I have very little experience. That Nick has so much more than me makes me feel a bit uneasy and na?ve. It's not a position I'm usually in as I've been the one giving knowledge and helping others since I was young—too young, perhaps, as I was helping with the dance school as soon as I could. Nick has probably had a lot of partners, not dancing, but sexually. And I haven't. I told him that the other night, and he was so sweet and Nick-like, but despite his words, I feel like I'm not good enough. I'm sure he'll want more than I can give. Whatever that is, I don't know. I've never really considered it until now. Nick has me feeling sensations I've never felt before and there have been several times I've got hard just thinking about him. Especially when I think of his kisses, or how he looks dancing. I've never noticed how sexy his smile is until now.

This has resulted in me jerking off, with his face in my thoughts. At first, it felt odd, almost as disquieting as admitting that I fancied my best friend in the first place, and I felt a dirty pleasure doing it. But then I remember the way he kisses me and I no longer have a problem with it. I'm more amazed at the frequency he can affect me. I don't know if it's normal, but usually it's several months between getting any thoughts or desires that make me feel like that. I might ask Nick about it. The thought of asking for relationship advice from my best friend, and that it's about him, has me stifling a giggle as I enter the library. I'm not sure that giggling would be considered library-appropriate behaviour.

The old Georgian building that houses the library sits squarely within the park that would have been part of its grounds before the city flowed round the boundaries and subsumed it. Libraries come in all shapes and sizes, but this has to be one of my favourites. The heavy wooden door opens into a large entrance hall. The main part of the library is straight ahead, filling what would have been large reception rooms. The children's section is off to one side and upstairs are offices and a reference section. There is a gentle hush I like, and a peace settles over me as I check in my books at the desk and move into the quiet world of stories and other lives.

I like books that involve myths and legends, gods and heroes. There are a couple for me to collect, but I scour the shelves for anything new. I also like to read biographies, usually about dancers of any type, but also movie stars, sportspeople, and others who have achieved their goals through hard work and dedication.

I guess I'm lucky in that my career was set out for me, and I'm pretty sure I would have chosen it for myself, though I know that I'm privileged to have the support of my parents. A career to walk into. Sometimes, I think about what I would do if I couldn't dance anymore. There might come a time when I can't dance any longer. Like my dad. The arthritis in his knees is premature through dancing, and is a risk for me, too. I think of how much he loves his cooking. I've often wondered if he prefers that to dancing, as he has always been interested in creating and perfecting dishes. Maybe he would have been a restaurateur if he hadn't been a dancer. Thinking of my dad sparks an interest that I'd like to learn to cook. I am fairly proficient at basic stuff. I mean I can cook beans on toast, but I'd like to know how to create something more complicated. I wonder if my thoughts are because I know how much Nick loves to eat. I remember how much he liked the lemon tart my dad made the other day. I'd like to be able to make that for him. It could be fun, and I don't think I've challenged myself like that before, certainly nothing outside of dancing.

I'm diverted by how easily my thoughts turn to Nick—he's my best friend, and if I'm honest, my only real friend. I haven't had a lot of opportunities to make many friends in my life. I have a few acquaintances from the competition circuit, but we only ever see each other at events, so it's more a friendly rivalry than a friendship, and it's not like we hang out together. I know Nick has a few other friends as he's mentioned them before. Maybe he'll introduce me to them sometime.

I collect my reserved books from the library, and a biography about an ice dancer which looks interesting. Then, on a whim, I pass the cookery section and see a recipe book of desserts and puddings, so add that to my pile as well.

The bus is just about due when I leave the library, so I hop on it to get back. It's tight, as time always passes a lot quicker than I think when I'm browsing the shelves. I'm due to help Mum with the senior classes this afternoon. I'm so late that I end up having no time for lunch. As soon as I jump off the bus, I pop into the shop for a bar of chocolate to tide me over for a little while and give me some energy. My attention is arrested as I leave. The waste area now has wooden boards enveloping it and a set of new signs showing a development of houses that they're building. Maybe Claire was right and they are doing up the area.

After an afternoon of wartime favourites and telling Mrs Herringsworth that the Charleston was perhaps a bit too ambitious for her—not that it stopped her trying, much to the amusement of her fellow dancers—the senior classes are finished for the day. The seniors love them, and the dances of the forties are becoming quite popular again. There seems to be a growing number of forties events springing up the length and breadth of the country, according to Mr and Mrs Hamilton, who spend their weekends travelling to them. They've started turning up to the dance classes in forties clothing and they look great. Some of the other clients have asked them where they got them from. I wonder if doing a themed evening of dancing and entertainment is something we could do. It might bring more people into the school.

I'm famished, as I've used up a lot of energy today and haven't eaten enough, but I need to shower first. Nick isn't coming over tonight and, whilst I'd love to see him, I'm really beat. I'll text him instead, tell him about my idea, and he'll tell me if it's any good or not.

I feel refreshed once I've showered and dressed, and I walk into the kitchen where my dad is starting to cook dinner.

"Can I help you today, Dad?"

He stops and turns to look at me. I can see the surprise on his face but he doesn't make anything of it right now, which I'm grateful for.

"Of course you can, son," he says with a smile. I know he'll be asking why, later, but for now it's enough that he lets me help. It isn't difficult, and he just has me prepping some vegetables while he explains what he's doing.

Soon the casserole is in the oven and he puts me to work preparing a salad while he cuts some crusty bread.

"So what's brought this on?" he asks. Following it up with, "I'm just curious."

"Well, I never help out and I feel like I ought to." I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. "Instead of leaving it up to you all the time."

He regards me for a long minute. "This doesn't have anything to do with the large appetite of a certain handsome blond friend, does it?" He's being coy, but we both know who he means, and the truth of it is that it does. I feel my cheeks heat as I give him a smile back. His returning smile is tender. He's pretty astute, my dad.

"Well, then," he says. "I can certainly give you some help there, and I know a few recipes you could try."

"Really? Thanks Dad. I picked up a book at the library today and wondered if you'd help me try some of them out."

"I'd like that." He beams back at me and I feel I've started to create a bond with my dad that I never had before. Whilst my mum's been my biggest supporter, I don't think we've ever felt a deep bond, but in that moment, I feel like my dad is on my side.

The food is delicious and I'm proud that I had a hand in it, even if it was only a bit of preparation work, but I enjoy the way my dad explains things to me. Cooking has a whole different vocabulary, a bit like dancing has, and I want to know more. I want to learn what all the terms mean and I ask for another lesson the following day.

"What do you know about the new building development?" I ask my parents after dinner. "There's boarding erected around the site."

I see a look pass between my parents, but it's my mum that answers. "All we know is that they're building some new houses. Let's hope they will be people that want dance lessons." Her tone is glum, and I wonder if this has anything to do with the reduction in bookings we've had recently.

"How bad are things?" I look between them. "Mum, Dad?"

"They're fine, Darcy," Mum says, her smile brittle. "Of course they are. You're a draw for customers. They want to dance with you, and you're going to dance in the Nationals. That's going to be a big help; really put us on the map. You just concentrate on that."

She gets up, announcing that she's going to have a bath, so I know I won't get anything more from her right now.

"Dad?" I enquired, after Mum had swept out of the room.

"Your mother's right, son. We'll be fine."

I feel a small niggle of worry, but the dance school is all we have, so they wouldn't say it was fine if it wasn't. I try to put it out of my mind and go to my room to text Nick.