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like plan C. You know all about it. First the NBC, then the other dance companies – Sydney, Adelaide, New Zealand. It’s only if I miss out on a real company that I’ll go for the bits and pieces. What does Miss Penelope call them? The crumbs?’
    I roll my eyes. ‘Since when do we care what Miss P says?’
    ‘It’s different for you, because, well, we all know you’re going to make it. But I never even considered that the crummy jobs might not be an option.’
    After seeing the dancers – all of them good, all looking for work, I know she has a point. I saw the reaction of the ones who made the cut. They did look excited. Or relieved, anyway.
    My bowl’s almost empty. I push it away and rest my elbows on the table. ‘So, we’ll count this as a warning then,’ I say seriously. ‘Plans A and B … we just have to make sure you get one of them. Whatever it takes.’ I shuffle myself a little closer, urging her to look at me.
    She does.
    ‘Whatever it takes,’ I say again. ‘You have near-perfect technique, you’ve come this far – now all you have to do is make sure it happens.’
    I’m glad to see Paige smile. ‘Yeah, more grilled fish. Sore calves. Bleeding toes. Just more of the same really.’
    I nod. ‘That’s my girl.’
    For a while she’s quiet, smiling neatly at me. ‘I can’t believe you made it, Scarlett. Out of all those dancers.’
    ‘Well, I think I had some help. It sounds like the choreographer saved me from getting cut at the start.’
    ‘You’re kidding!’ says Paige. ‘How do you know?’
    ‘Well …’ I pause, keeping my eyes on my salad bowl. ‘The thing is, it turned out … Jack was there.’
    Her forehead crinkles. ‘What?’
    ‘It’s okay,’ I say quickly. ‘He’s angry, but it’s going to be okay. At least, I think so. He’s the artistic director.’ I swallow. ‘Should have seen that one coming, I guess.’ I start into a weak laugh, wanting Paige to follow.
    There’s tension in her face. She shuts her eyes, then opens them to frown at me.
    ‘It’s fine, really.’
    But Paige isn’t buying it. ‘Why did I listen to you?’ she whispers. Her voice grows louder. ‘Next time you have a bright idea, remind me to ignore it, okay?’
    I force a grin. ‘How boring would that be?’
    Mum’s tucked neatly in a corner of the couch when I get home. Jinni’s in an armchair. They’re leaning towards each other as if I’ve caught them sharing a secret.
    ‘Champagne, hey?’ I can tell from their cheeks that Jinni’s been here for a while. I pick up Mum’s glass and sip. It tastes okay, maybe a bit warm.
    ‘Scarlett!’ says Mum. She smiles. ‘Get your own glass.’
    It’s good to see her happy for once, relaxed. I think about the contract in my bag, and wonder how she’ll react. Not finding out tonight.
    ‘Jinni was saying how much Alex is enjoying uni,’ says Mum.
    A look passes between them and I guess at the topic they’ve just covered. How to get me into uni: a backup plan in case dancing doesn’t work out. She’s like a broken record. But as far as I’m concerned, having any kind of backup plan is like expecting to fail. And that, quite simply, is not going to happen.
    Mum’s waiting for me to take the bait, so of course I don’t. ‘Really? That’s great. Say hi for me, okay?’
    I’m almost out of the room when she calls after me. ‘Are you hungry? We were thinking of getting some sushi.’
    ‘Nah, thanks, I’ve already eaten!’
    Upstairs I pull everything else out of my bag and I boot up my laptop. ‘Natasha Stojmenov.’ Think I’ve spelt it right.
    Her bio’s impressive: The Nutcracker, Giselle … I make a mental note of everything that might help me face the Head of the Academy tomorrow. Dancing under a choreographer who’s worked with the industry elite is going to help my case a lot more than if she were some suburban nobody.
    Principal artist with London’s Royal Ballet, choreographer, rehearsal director at the National