Shimmer

I picked at the fabric on the edge of the sofa’s arm. A tiny bit of fluff came away in my hand.

‘Jobs don’t just come up at Strictly,’ I replied. ‘They must be impossible to get.’

‘Well, this one is being advertised and everything. We’re going to come down at the weekend and take a look at your application. It’s made for you! No one loves dancing like you do, and now’s your chance to be a part of it.’

She was right. I did love dancing, and this did seem like a big opportunity. But did I dare go for it? After the bleak summer I had had, my confidence was at an all-time low, and all I could think was that I didn’t really feel like humiliating myself in front of a room full of hot-shot BBC executives. What if I applied and didn’t get the job? I wasn’t sure I could take any more bad news. And I wasn’t sure my parents could take any more of my misery-guts attitude. I was one rejected application away from regressing into a full-blown emo teen. And that was not going to be pretty.

‘But I …’

‘I won’t take it any more. I can’t. You have to keep going, Amanda. You know you want to do this. I will not be a witness to you wriggling out of it. See you Sunday. And make brownies.’ Natalie was right. This was more than just a chance at a dream job in telly, it was a chance to get closer to my actual dream – dancing. Pretty much as soon as I could walk I wanted to dance, but it had somehow always stayed in the realms of fantasy to me.

A few days later Natalie and Lloyd had arrived in a flurry of glamorous autumn-wear and all-consuming capability. I had felt strangely nervous when I heard her Audi pulling up outside the house, then faintly amused as I watched her piling poor Lloyd’s open arms with a ridiculously huge bunch of flowers, two pairs of walking boots and swathes of cashmere scarves. A moment later …

‘Hiyyyaaaaa! We’re here!’

Mum squealed and ran to the back door to let them in. Dad pottered up from the garden to greet them. I remained where I was in my bedroom, wishing I had thought to put on something a little more attractive than my usual track-suit bottoms and cardigan. I didn’t want Lloyd to think that he was helping a total layabout. I quickly applied a bit of make-up and tried to zhoosh my hair up slightly, then sauntered downstairs.

Sunday lunch passed in the usual blur of misheard conversations and ludicrous anecdotes.

‘… so he asked me for legal advice while he was cutting my hair and I ended up with this ridiculous fringe that I never even asked for!’

‘… yes, I’ve painted all of the window sills at the back and then next weekend I’m hoping to make a start on the front of the house …’

‘… so I asked the butcher and he said that it’s Mrs Dawson who eats most of the bacon, not her husband!’

‘… oh the traffic was mostly fine, and Natalie’s new clutch made all the difference when we hit a little congestion coming out of London …’

I realised I wasn’t going to get a word in edgeways and so concentrated on loading my plate with as much egg mayonnaise as I thought I could manage. Oh life, how full of challenge and romance you are …

‘… so what do you think, Amanda?’

I looked up suddenly, a little sad to leave behind my eggy daydream. I had zoned out of the conversation to the point that I hadn’t even realised Natalie was now talking to me.

‘Hmm?’

‘About staying?’ Natalie was looking at me expectantly. As, I realised, were my mum, dad and Lloyd.

‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t really listening,’ I replied, sheepishly.

Natalie rolled her eyes. Mum clasped her hands. And Lloyd looked as if this might be a good time for him to take his wife’s Audi for another spin.

‘Amanda, your sister has kindly offered to let you stay with her if you get the job at Strictly. Indefinitely. So that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about.’ Dad was smiling at me hopefully. Despite the tensions of the last year he had always retained a steady faith in me that I found touching to the point of embarrassment. How could he still believe in my abilities in this way? He clearly had no doubt that I would breeze though the interviews and accommodation was my only remaining challenge. I couldn’t bear to disappoint him. It was time to swallow my pride.

‘Wow, thank you guys!’ I smiled at the faces staring back at me. Perhaps if I could convince them I thought I had a shot at the job, I could convince myself. ‘That is really kind. Hopefully I won’t let you down this time.’

Unbelievably, I didn’t. The next couple of weeks passed in a whirlwind of applications and interviews, and before I had a chance to breathe I was walking out of a production office at the BBC, having been told that I was down to the final three for the job. And a fortnight after that I was sitting on the edge of the bed in Natalie’s guest room, too scared to move in case I messed up anything, and too tired to begin unpacking my suitcase.

The comforting smell of freshly cooked bolognese began to waft into the room, but it did little to quell my nerves. I slumped onto the enormous heap of white broderie anglaise pillows, and stared at the ceiling for a while. I had to make this job work, I had to. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, before sitting up and going back into the kitchen, smiling.

‘So, what can I do to help?’ I asked casually.

‘Unload the dishwasher, get some plates out for the three of us and …’

‘And what?’

Natalie paused, wiping her hands on the fluffy little Cath Kidston hand towel by the kitchen sink.

‘Don’t mess this job up, Amanda. Just please, don’t mess this job up. Just try to relax, and enjoy it.’

‘What she said!’ yelled Lloyd from his position in front of the TV. ‘And no snogging the dancers!’

As if.

Chapter 2

For the next few days I made sure that I was up and showered before Natalie and Lloyd woke up. I crept to the bathroom, praying that they wouldn’t hear the boiler, and tried to get out of the flat before seven-thirty, having put two teabags into two mugs and left them by the kettle.

They had done nothing specific to make me feel unwelcome, but each time I sat absentmindedly watching TV and enjoying a chocolate digestive, Natalie would loom over me with a side plate, saying nothing, yet everything, with a tight smile.

I didn’t want to abuse their hospitality any more than I wanted to feel like an unwelcome guest, so I tried to stay out of their way whenever possible. Consequently, I was the first one in the production office for the initial few days of the job. By Thursday things had changed: I arrived at my usual hour – which would have been cripplingly early for me only a couple of weeks ago – but the office was nearly full. Once I’d hung up my coat I wandered over to Matt’s desk.

‘Oh, hey there,’ he smiled. He slid his arm around the back of his computer monitor to turn it on. Once again he was wearing an outfit that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a student. The same jeans as earlier in the week, but this time he had some sort of semi-coat, semi-lumberjack shirt on.

‘Hi,’ I said casually, trying not to betray the fact that I had been momentarily distracted by his chosen look for the day. ‘Tea? Coffee? I’m off to the kitchen.’

‘I’d kill for a coffee, thank you, lovely,’ he replied.

‘No problem, coming right up. Hey, what’s the deal with everyone being in so early today? Usually I have the place to myself.’

‘First live broadcast tomorrow, isn’t it? They might not be voting anyone off this weekend but it’s the first show. This is calm compared to what you’ll see in thirty-six hours.’

‘Oh my God, of course. I can’t believe it’s Thursday already. I’d be sick with nerves if I was one of them. How are they doing? Anyone seen the dances yet?’

‘Well, we’ll be down there most of the day and we’ve got lots of rehearsal footage now so you’ll find out soon enough.’

‘Down on the studio floor?’ I asked lightly, secretly thrilled that I was getting to grips with the Strictly lingo.

‘Yup,’ replied Matt. ‘Now then, coffee?’

‘Coming up …’

By the time I wandered back from the kitchen Chloe was at her desk, taking her coat off and hooking it over the back of her chair.

‘Oooh, I’ve just put on the kettle,’ I said. ‘Do you want something?’

‘No thanks, we haven’t got the time. I just need to check a few emails and then we should get down to the studio floor,’ she barked.

Matt appeared behind her and put his hand out for the coffee, making a mock serious face at me on hearing Chloe’s tone. She looked up and nearly caught him.