laughs with appreciation. I take out my pen and start to write Paid, but Seb puts a hand on mine.
“Paid in part,” he says. “Only in part.”
“Don’t be silly.” I roll my eyes.
“No, I mean it. I haven’t even begun to pay you back,” he says, and now there’s a serious tone to his voice. “What you did—”
“I told you. It was nothing.”
“You saved my life,” contradicts Seb. “In some cultures we’d be bound together forever now,” he adds lightly. “Bonded for life.”
And I know it’s a joke, but my stomach stupidly flips over—and suddenly I’ve lost my cool. I can’t find a witty answer. I gaze back at him, at his honest handsome face, and he’s silent too, but unreadable. And I’m thinking desperately, Say something, Fixie, for God’s sake, say something—when there’s a cry from the rink: “Yoo-hoo!”
We both turn our heads and there’s Briony, waving to catch Seb’s attention. She sees me and her face instantly tightens and Seb calls out easily, “Remember Fixie?”
“Of course! How’s it going?” says Briony, her smile dazzling and her voice so acid it could strip paint.
“Fine!” I say. “I should leave,” I add automatically to Seb.
“Don’t leave! You want to skate?” he adds, bringing a ticket out of his pocket. “I can’t use mine, obviously. Go on, have a go!”
I stare at the ticket silently, all kinds of thoughts shimmering around my brain. The music is thudding and the lights are twinkling and Seb is asking me if I want to skate.
It’s kind of irresistible.
“Sure,” I say at last. “Sure. I’ll have a go.”
* * *
—
The first few laps I make are like taking out an old musical instrument, tuning it up, playing the notes slowly, alert for defects and flaws. My body’s older than it was, but it’s still strong and taut. I still have muscle memory. You don’t train for that many hours and not know what you’re doing.
As I cut across the white surface, I try not to think longingly of my old skates, hanging up at home, and instead make the best of what I have: a crowded public rink, strange skates, and ice that’s already getting wet from people falling over on it.
I don’t care. I’m loving this.
I whiz past Briony, turn round, and see her gawping at me as I skate backward. I turn again, make sure I have enough space, then lift a leg in an arabesque. And I’m stiff—really stiff—but my leg still obeys, even if it’s screaming, “Whaaat? Seriously? But we don’t do this anymore!”
Poor legs. I send them a quick message, saying, Do this for me and we’ll have a hot bath later.
I head into the center of the ice and do a simple spin. Then a faster, flashier spin, ignoring the tremble that begins halfway through. Come on, legs, you can do it….Then, for the first time, I dart a look at Seb. He’s gaping at me in such openmouthed astonishment that I can’t help laughing and doing a few dance steps. I feel so light out here; I feel so happy….
And suddenly it hits me: I’m performing. I’m blossoming. Because there’s someone I want to perform to.
All the other skaters have moved to the sides of the rink, giving me space, nudging each other and applauding. I’m aware of the staff conferring and pointing in a group and I know they’ll come and chuck me off any moment. And I’m not going to hog the ice, I’m really not, that would be obnoxious…but there’s room enough now to spread my wings. To jump. To do a big jump.
“Dancing Queen” is playing through the speakers, and it’s not the music I did my junior free program to—but even so, I find myself falling into its familiar patterns. The intricate footwork sequence I practiced, what, a thousand times? My feet are performing it without my brain even switching on. And now I’m out of that sequence and building up momentum for the jump. I’m sweeping in more powerful circles, focusing my mind, remembering the calm voice of Jimmy, my coach.
My thighs are burning and my heart is thudding as I prepare, and even as I’m taking off I’m thinking, This is crazy! I’m going to break my ankle, my neck….
As I’m rotating in the air, I feel a moment of sheer terror. I can hear the silence. I can feel the drawn-in breaths. I catch a glimpse of the staff, all turned to watch. And then, like a