Page 47 of Slow Burn

The Teatro Verdi in Florence was completely sold out for the last ever performance of Slow Burn .

There had been a time when I hoped it would not be the last. That perhaps there would be a Broadway run, or the UK tour Carlos was still trying to secure.

That could still happen, but it would almost certainly have to go ahead without me, a situation I was still struggling to come to terms with.

When I peeked through the curtain to look at the audience, like I often did, I felt a sort of calm wash over me.

For the first time in years, I saw faces I recognized.

In the fifth row from the front sat my mother, all dressed up, wearing black because she was in mourning, but looking happy and excited.

It was good to see her joyfulness come back, even if it was just for tonight.

My throat tightened as I took in the empty seat to one side of her, where my father should have been.

And on the other side of her was Lira’s sister, Sedi, who I had never met in person, but who I had spoken to on video call because I had had to give her directions from the airport to the farm; very kindly, she had hired a car and had offered to drive all the way out to collect my mother.

Lira and I had been rehearsing at the theatre since this morning, because it had been a few weeks since I had danced and I could feel the rustiness, that I was not quite so confident in every single step as I had been.

Mama had not been up to coming with us and waiting around all day, so Sedi had stepped in to help, which Lira had been amazed about – she said she had not even had to prompt her.

It was surprising enough to her that Sedi had booked a flight to come to Italy in the first place, simply because she wanted to see her sister dance.

It had been wonderful to see Lira so pleased that her family were putting her first for once, and Sedi was charming – she and my mother seemed have hit it off, too, and were laughing and joking around, pointing to something in the glossy programme Mama was holding.

Lira came up beside me, placing her hand on my arm. I shivered involuntarily as she stood on tiptoes to whisper in my ear.

‘I see my sister managed to follow your very complicated directions,’ she said.

I turned to face her, pressing my palm into the small of her back, bringing her a little closer to me.

‘It feels wonderful to have family here to watch us, si ?’ I said.

Lira nodded sadly. ‘I wish your dad could have been here, too.’

I swallowed hard. I could not let that thought consume me, not now, when I was about to go out on stage, possibly for the last time. I felt a small comfort in imagining that somewhere, somehow, he would be watching.

‘Me too,’ I said. ‘But now we must focus on the task ahead. On enjoying dancing together again one more time.’

Lira looked at me with concern. ‘And you’re feeling okay? You’re sure you’re up to it? Because Tomas is in the audience and he said if we need him to step in, he’ll be ready in a heartbeat.’

‘I am fine, Lira. It has been helpful to have something positive to focus on. And I can’t think of a better ending for Slow Burn . Carlos deserves that. You deserve that.’

I took Lira’s hands in mine just as the stage manager gave the five-minute call and the lights backstage went down.

‘I cannot wait to dance with you,’ I said.

Lira squeezed my hands in reply.

When I looked up, I caught Daniella’s eye – she was standing just behind us with the rest of the cast. She nodded, the trace of a smile on her lips – an indication, I thought, that there was no bad blood between us anymore.

In silence, we stood together behind the curtain, each of us, no doubt, reflecting on the journey we had had together over the last six weeks.

And then the audience hushed, the front-of-house lights went down, and the opening bars of our music signalled that we must take to the stage for the very last time.

Ecstatic to be in my home city, I danced every single movement to perfection, and Lira matched me step for step.

And as the Argentine tango music began for the final number, Lira and I found our light and our starting position.

It was silent in the auditorium, except for one loud whoop from the audience that I suspected was Sedi.

This spurred me on even more – I wanted her to recognize what Lira could do, so that she could report back to her parents and tell them that Lira was the most beautiful Latin dancer she had ever seen.

As we glided around the dance floor, the evocative music getting faster and faster, our leg flicks becoming more and more intricate as we kept perfect time with the music, our lifts feeling light and effortless in a way they had not at the beginning of the run, I thought this might be one of the greatest moments of my life so far.

The only thing missing was my father, but strangely I had almost felt him with me as we moved, and could imagine the look of surprise and joy on his face, as though he was sitting in the audience next to my mother, watching us.

He would have been proud of me, I knew that now.

As the music came to an end, we performed our dramatic last step, culminating in Lira throwing herself backwards, safe in my arms, as I hoped she had always felt.

There was a moment or two of silence at first, then the applause started, not slow and steady, but a sudden burst of noise and whistles and people shooting to their feet, and it got louder and louder and louder.

I pulled Lira, who was folded into one of her spectacular back bends, up onto her feet and we beamed at each other before turning to face the auditorium.

Mama was up out of her seat and so was Sedi – as was every single other audience member, from what I could tell.

Shouts of ‘ Bravo! ’ rang out and it felt as though the entire theatre was about to erupt.

With a sweep of my arm, I motioned for the rest of the cast to come out on stage and we all stood together, proud of ourselves, of each other, and of the show.

I waved Carlos, who had flown out to Italy for the final show, onto the stage to join us and he bashfully ran on, generating yet another roar from the audience as they recognized who was standing in front of them, the world-famous choreographer who had just created another world-class show.

It was chaos backstage afterwards. Everyone wanted to hug me.

Every other person asked me for a photograph, or to sign their programme.

Sedi had Nolo on speakerphone because, apparently, she did not want to miss out and Sedi had sent her a video of our tango and she could not believe how beautifully Lira had danced.

Lira herself had been scooped into the crowd, gleaning attention and congratulations of her own, and so all we could do was meet each other’s eye every now and then, neither of us quite believing, I did not think, that Slow Burn had been even more of a success than we had hoped.

Finally I took her hand and led her away from the loudness of the bar and into a quiet corridor, where I could hear myself think for the first time that evening.

‘Hello,’ she said, smiling at me.

I smiled back, leaning against the wall, enjoying the peace. ‘I have been longing to be alone with you all evening.’

She threaded her fingers through mine. ‘We did it, didn’t we?’

I nodded, drinking in her eyes, her mouth, everything that had become so familiar to me over the last few weeks. I did not want whatever this was to stop, and although I still did not know how any of it could work out, I had to at least tell her how I felt.

‘I could not have done this without you, Lira, especially this last performance tonight.’

She nodded. ‘It was only right that you should be up there with me.’

‘Lira, whatever this is between us, I do not want it to end,’ I said, buoyed by the high of the performance and the adrenaline coursing around my body.

She seemed surprised that I had come out and said it, that I had been so direct about my feelings and about what I wanted.

‘But what does that actually mean?’ she asked, looking serious now.

It felt serious to me, too. ‘Because when we’re together, I feel really connected to you.

But then there’s this other part of you, this part I keep hearing about from Daniella and the other girls, and even your mother, that you don’t do relationships, you never have.

So why would I let myself imagine that that’s what you want with me?

Because I don’t just want to feel desired; I need somebody to want me in their life properly, not just for a quick one-nighter when the mood takes them. I know I deserve more.’

‘Of course you deserve more,’ I said, mortified that this was how I had made her feel.

‘What do you want for us?’ she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘Tell me. Spell it out. And be honest; think really hard about this. Because it’s important that we tell each other the truth if we have any hope of doing things differently this time.’

It was on the tip of my tongue. I knew how I felt and I had to say it; this was not the time to hold back.

‘I think I am falling in love with you,’ I said, my voice strong and confident, choosing to ignore the self-doubt swirling in my belly. ‘Is that truthful enough for you?’

Lira beamed. It was not the reaction I was expecting, although I presumed it was a good sign.

‘Do you really mean that?’ she asked, a little breathless, her eyes searching mine for a sign that I meant every word.

‘Of course I mean it. And since we are being honest with each other, I think I fell in love with you that night in Paris and that I have been in denial ever since. And sure, people might say it was nothing more than an infatuation. They might say it was lust not love, but I know how I felt. How I thought of you almost every day for months, wondering where you were, who you were with, why you had left so abruptly, why I was not good enough for you.’

‘You were good enough,’ she insisted. ‘In fact, you were too good. I’d resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t destined for a big, exciting life.

I couldn’t imagine somebody who looked like you, who danced like you, would be interested in seeing me again anyway, and I was scared of being rejected to my face.

So I bottled it. Convinced myself that I was better off without you.

That it was nothing more than a hook-up.

A pleasant way for me to remember my last ever World Championships.

Except, it wasn’t pleasant to remember, in a way.

Because there was this longing to see you again.

And in my mind I kept going over and over what could have been. ’

‘Me too,’ I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

All this time we had been feeling the exact same way.

‘I was travelling a lot then. Daniella and I were doing well in competitions. My father was young enough to run the farm single-handedly and I barely gave home a second thought. It should have been the happiest time of my life and yet it felt like something was missing. Or like I had had something special within my grasp and I had stupidly let it go.’

I kissed her then, not able to wait a minute longer.

‘Are we really doing this?’ I asked her, stroking her bare arms with the flats of my hands.

‘But how? With you in Italy and me in Castlebury?’

‘That is something we will have to work out, but we will find a way, I promise you,’ I said, meaning every word.

‘Then I’m all in if you are,’ she whispered back.

‘All in with what?!’ asked Sedi, choosing that moment to burst noisily into the corridor with my mother following a few steps behind her.

‘And here,’ said Sedi, thrusting her phone at Lira. ‘Mum wants to speak to you.’