Chapter 8

"Darcy, are you even listening to me?" My mum's pitch rises when she's stressed, and she's right, I'm not listening. "The first class is in half an hour. You need to be ready."

I return to pushing soggy cereal round my bowl. I slept badly last night, Claire's words reverberating round my head. I'd been adamant that what she said was nonsense, but somewhere in the night, or it could have been the early hours of the morning as I'd lost track of time, something shifted. I don't know what, why, or how, but it's like I'm viewing my life through a prism and the aspects of it are being refracted at different wavelengths into a spectrum of colours.

Not that it helps, as confusion circles me like a prowling wolf, waiting to pounce on another level of uncertainty of the truth. I abandon breakfast; the thought of eating makes me feel nauseous. Instead, I shower and get ready, hoping that a morning of teaching classes will distract me from my thoughts.

Whilst it keeps me occupied, it does nothing to diminish my being on high alert, nerves stretched like piano wire. Every time the door opens, I'm hit with a duality of hope and dread.

Hope that Nick appears, as there's nothing more I want than for him to come tell me everything is all right as he's done for me time after time.

Dread that he will never come back and I've lost him. This thought opens a chasm of ache in my chest that widens every time the door goes and it isn't Nick.

"Will you show me that again, please?" I pull my thoughts back to the guy standing in front of me. Justin. He and his partner, Mark, have been coming to classes for a few weeks now.

"I'm sorry," I say, apologising, and admonishing myself for being unprofessional. I stand by his side and slowly show him the step again.

"Thank you." He tries again, getting it this time, and I help the next couple.

The class finishes and I'm sure Nick isn't going to appear, though feeble hope has my eyes darting to the door as the clients exit.

"Can we ask you something?" It's Justin who's trying to gain my attention again. He and Mark are holding hands, looking excited.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Would it be possible for us to have private lessons? We're enjoying these, but we're getting married soon, and we'd like to do something special for our first dance."

"Congratulations, and of course we can help with that." They look good together and I like the idea of teaching them a dance routine. Normally, I'd hand the special clients over to my mum, but something makes me want to keep Justin and Mark for myself. I open the appointment diary, noticing that it looks quite empty. Normally, it's hard to fit extra clients in and we've been known to have a waitlist. As it is, I pencil in an appointment for a couple of days' time.

I lock the door after them when they leave, and go upstairs. I still can't stomach food, so I head to my room instead. The atmosphere feels oppressive, and for once, I wish I could get away from this place and leave it all behind for a while. A look out the window and all thoughts of going out for fresh air are ruined. The weather has turned from the promise of spring in the last few days, and now the clouds are dark and rain tracks its way down the windows. I stare out at the rain for a while; the weather matches my mood, but I can't settle. I take out my phone and look at it, willing it to do something, angry at it when it doesn't. I fling myself onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling for a while. My phone remains silent. I grab my earbuds and select "shuffle" on my playlist. It seems only fitting that the first song up is "The Weeping Song."

I'm still confused about a lot of stuff, except for one thing: I need Nick. I'd like to see and talk to him, but I need to at least hear from him, even if it's just to tell me to go away. I value our friendship above all else.

With that certainty strengthening me, I reach for my phone and tap out a message.

Darcy: Hey