you’ve come from nowhere and been given a place at the Academy,’ said Tam.
‘Most of us’ve been training there for years,’ Nancy explained. ‘Tam and I started at the Academy before we even went to school. I mean, sometimes gymnasts come from other big gyms overseas, like Camille – she’s half French, half Belgian – or Lily Raza – her parents sent her all the way from Israel just to train with Emma. But people don’t usually just get picked from little tiny clubs. There must be something special about you for Emma to take you on.’
Ellie blushed, finding it hard to believe. The bus was going over a bridge and Ellie caught a glimpse of the River Thames, crowded with city vessels, the water dark and oily in the falling dusk. It was so different to the creek, but still somehow the sight of it reminded her of home.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I mean, I think I’m way behind the rest of you. I don’t have my Compulsory Grade Two yet.’
‘Oh, me neither,’ said Nancy. ‘I’ve failed it twice now.’ She shrugged like it was no big deal, but there was something in her face that made Ellie think she was more bothered than she was letting on.
‘Got to get it this time or I won’t be able to go to British Champs,’ Nancy went on. ‘We’re old enough to compete at the Junior British this year. But I guess you know that. Of course, Scarlett passed every grade first time so she’ll be going for Grade One this year. And Camille and Kashvi and Bella are too. They’re the other girls in Development. They’re all cool – it’s only Scarlett who thinks she’s too good for the rest of us. But if she was so good Emma would have promoted her to Pre-Elite squad, so I don’t know why she’s strutting around, pretending she’s Lizzie Trengilly or something.’
Ellie blushed again at the mention of her aunt. She wasn’t sure if Nancy or anyone else at the Academy knew that she was related to the famous gymnast. Nancy’s sign had just said ‘Academy Ellie’ – so maybe they didn’t even know her second name. Ellie was almost relieved. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep it a secret, but she didn’t want to go around boasting either.
‘Seriously, though, you need to watch out for Scarlett,’ said Tam. ‘That girl is determined to get to the top, no matter what it takes.’
‘Yup,’ Nancy agreed. ‘She’ll be nice to you as long as she doesn’t think you’re a threat. But if she decides you might have a chance of being better than her one day then . . .’
Just at that moment the bus lurched to a stop, sending Ellie flying into Nancy, who had toppled into the doorway.
‘Here we are!’ said Tam, ‘This is our stop.’
Head-Over-Heels House turned out to be a big, old Victorian house on Albert Bridge Road, overlooking Battersea Park. It had probably once been quite grand, but now it looked pretty scruffy. The door was painted bright purple and somebody had made a sign that read ‘Head-Over-Heels House’ with a picture of a gymnast doing a backwards walkover.
Being opposite the park made the house feel less hemmed in by the city, and to Ellie’s delight she noticed that they were still close to the river. The smell of the Thames hung in the air and again it reminded her of the creek.
‘Come on in,’ said Nancy, flinging open the door. ‘Welcome to the madhouse!’
‘It’s huge!’ said Ellie as she stepped into a giant hallway with a swooping staircase, faded marble tiles and battered wallpaper.
‘Well, there are six other gymnasts living here,’ Mandy explained. ‘All out-of-towners like you. And then my two, of course.’
‘Mum can’t get enough gymnasts to look after, can you, Mum?’ said Tam.
‘And none of them are half as much trouble as you two,’ laughed Mandy, ruffling Tam’s hair. ‘But, seriously, Ellie, here in Head-Over-Heels House we’re all family. I want you to think of me as someone you can always come to. If you have any problems – no matter how big or small – my door is always open. OK?’
‘Thanks,’ said Ellie.
‘Come on, I’ll show you our room,’ said Nancy, dashing up the staircase.
Ellie followed her, half in a daze, trying to take it all in.
‘There are a couple of other Development squad girls here,’ said Nancy, calling over her shoulder. ‘Then there are two from Junior Elite and one Pre-Elite girl. No boys, except for Tam, but he’s in the basement with Mum. Oh, and Sian Edwards and Sophia Mitford share the attic flat. They’re both Senior Elite, of course.’
‘Sian Edwards – the Olympian?’ said Ellie, amazed. She’d watched Sian compete for Team GB at World Championships last year, and been dazzled by her amazing performance on the vault, which had helped to earn her a gold medal. ‘She lives here – in this house?’
‘Well, in the flat upstairs,’ said Nancy, like it was no big deal. ‘She’s dead nice. Never too busy to chat to any of us kids in Development squad either.’
Ellie couldn’t imagine what she’d do if she bumped into Sian Edwards over breakfast, or in her pyjamas. The idea of chatting to a gold-medal-winning Olympian seemed too crazy.
‘So, this is our pad,’ Nancy was saying as she opened the door to a room on the second floor and ushered Ellie in. The room was tiny and had a slightly tatty appearance like the rest of the house, but it had a large window overlooking the garden and a beautiful old fireplace in the corner.
On Nancy’s side, the walls were covered in posters of gymnasts and boy bands and kittens dressed in a variety of weird and wonderful costumes – including one in a sparkly pink leotard. Her bed and every surface was strewn with leotards and scrunchies and jogging bottoms.
On Ellie’s side was a bed with a patchwork quilt, a small chest of drawers and a massive bouquet of flowers in a chipped vase. There were also a couple of framed pictures. One was a painting of a beach in Cornwall which Ellie recognised as Kynance Cove, not far from the creek. The other was a photo of a gymnast on the uneven bars, mid twist, her body swooping like a seagull into the dive. Ellie knew who it was immediately and her heart leapt.
‘D’you like the Cornwall painting?’ asked Nancy. ‘Tam found it in a charity shop. He reckoned it would be perfect, in case you felt homesick for the beach, you know. I did the flowers.’
Ellie looked at the colourful blooms – huge gaudy pinks, oranges and even blue flowers. ‘Thank you. They’re lovely!’ she said, touched by the thought.
Nancy smiled brightly. ‘Tam figured you’d like the photo too – since you’re family, an’ all.’
‘Oh, so you know, then,’ said Ellie nervously. ‘About Lizzie Trengilly . . . being my aunt.’
‘Of course!’ chirped Nancy. ‘I mean, no offence, but it didn’t exactly take major detective work. The name Trengilly isn’t that common, is it? And the minute we saw your picture we knew right away. You look just like her. I bet you’re as good as she was too,’ Nancy went on, flinging herself on to her bed amidst all the muddle. ‘I’ve got a feeling about it, looking at you.’
‘How can you tell if I’m any good at gym just by looking at me?’
‘I
