flooded Becca. ‘She’s really looking forward to working here.’
‘I’m so pleased. And you’re quite right, we do need a replacement for Mrs Morris.’ Carolyn gestured for Becca to sit down. ‘Do take a seat. Are you still dancing?’
Becca’s knee complained as she sat down. ‘Not at the moment. I’ve moved back to Brighton to recover from a knee injury.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. I remember Tom telling me how beautifully you danced.’
Becca flinched.
Needing a distraction, she retrieved Carolyn’s glasses from the floor and handed them to her.
Carolyn looked confused. ‘What are these? Oh, my glasses. I was wondering where they’d got to.’ She put them on. The woman must be late fifties, but she was effortlessly stunning. Slim, high cheekbones, a regal quality to her stance. But there was also a reddening around her cheeks, and her blue eyes were cloudy and bloodshot. ‘Have you taught dance before?’
Becca shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t.’
Carolyn pushed her strawberry-blonde hair away from her face. ‘Qualifications?’
Becca decided honesty was the best policy. ‘Unfortunately not. I’ve only recently discovered that my dancing career is over. This is the first job I’ve applied for.’
Carolyn frowned. ‘Oh, so no references?’
‘Afraid not.’ This wasn’t going well. Becca decided to be proactive. ‘What kind of dancing do you teach here?’
‘Kids’ ballet and adult beginners’ tap.’
Okay, nothing too challenging then. That was a relief. ‘I studied both ballet and tap extensively, so I have the relevant skills, just not in teaching. But I’d be willing to learn.’
Carolyn sighed. ‘It’s not ideal…but the truth is, I’ve been advertising for months and only had two applicants. Neither of them wanted the job.’ She looked around the café, her expression wistful. ‘I know I’ve let the place go, but one day I hope the Starlight Playhouse will become the thriving arts centre I dreamt it might be.’ She sighed. ‘But I can’t do that if there’s no income and the classes provide that. At least, they used to. Numbers have dropped off since Mrs Morris announced she was retiring. Today’s her last day.’
Becca could see the woman was in a fix. And she knew all about trying to hold on to a dream that was rapidly fading. She might not have the relevant teaching experience, but she was positive she could rise to the challenge. After all, they were kids. Adults starting out. How hard could it be? ‘I appreciate taking me on is a risk, but I’m keen to develop my skills and make the transition into teaching.’
Carolyn grabbed her hand. ‘You know what? Let’s give it a go. Why don’t you take this afternoon’s class and we’ll see how you get on?’
Becca started to panic. ‘You mean, like a trial run?’
‘Exactly. If you do okay, the job’s yours.’
Oh, hell. That left her no time to prepare. Still, she’d be a fool to turn it down. ‘Thank you so much for this opportunity, Carolyn. I won’t let you down.’
‘I know you won’t.’ She squeezed Becca’s hand. ‘My son always said you had a good heart.’
Then why did he break it? Becca immediately squashed the thought. It was no longer relevant.
Carolyn moved away from the table. ‘Come into the office. I have paperwork.’
The surly man appeared from the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee. When he saw Carolyn leaving, he grunted. ‘You no longer want?’
‘Leave it there, Petrit. I’ll be back.’
He dumped it on the table, sloshing liquid into the saucer.
‘Don’t mind him,’ Carolyn said. ‘He’s from Romania.’
Becca wasn’t sure what to make of that. She followed Carolyn into the office, which was situated behind reception.
‘There’s normally someone manning the desk, but Vivienne’s off today.’ Carolyn fumbled over a set of keys, dropping them twice before finding the one required to unlock the door.
The office wasn’t big, and it felt smaller due to the piles of files stacked on the floor. A couch was shoved against one wall and the filing cabinets were crammed full of documents, preventing the drawers from closing. The desk was cluttered with mugs, boxes and papers scattered across the leather top.
‘Where are the timetables?’ Carolyn picked up a stack of papers. ‘I can never find anything.’ She sifted through the documents, discarding them, adding to the mess on the floor. She pointed towards the ancient computer on the desk. ‘Can you use one of those?’
Becca nodded. ‘Yes, but I’m no expert.’
‘Me neither. It’s such a stress. Tom’s tried to teach me, but I still can’t work the ruddy thing. I much prefer pen and paper.’
A chill ran over Becca’s skin. ‘Does Tom visit often?’ No way was she about to take a job if there was a chance she’d see Tom Elliot again. She wasn’t that desperate for work.
‘Not as much as he’d like, or me for that matter. His job keeps him busy.’
Okay, so minimal risk of a chance meeting. She could work with that.
‘He lives in London. He’s a criminal defence barrister.’
He’d achieved his dream then.
Becca watched Carolyn rummage through a desk drawer. ‘Looks like you’ll be glad of the help in the office.’
‘Hmm…what?’ Carolyn looked up. ‘Help in the office? Sadly, no. Vivienne, my front-of-house manager, tries to keep the petty cash up to date, but she doesn’t have enough time to do everything.’
Becca froze. ‘I meant my cousin Jodi.’
Carolyn resumed rummaging. ‘Nothing would please me more than getting some help, but we can’t afford another salary. I can barely cover the cost of the staff we have. Maybe one day, when things pick up.’
Oh, hell. This didn’t bode well. ‘But Jodi’s starting work here this week, remember?’
‘Ah, here it is!’ Carolyn wiped crumbs away from a sheet of paper. ‘The timetable.’ She handed it to Becca. ‘I knew it was here somewhere.’
But Becca was more concerned Carolyn kept forgetting she’d offered her cousin a job. ‘Thanks for this. I’ll take a look. So, about my cousin…?’
But Carolyn had slumped onto the couch, her feet tucked under her, her glasses skew-whiff. She looked exhausted, as though searching for the timetable had siphoned all her energy. Becca was about to repeat her question, when Carolyn yawned and said, ‘The ballet class starts at two,’ before drifting off to sleep.
Becca
