Jack Stratford-upon-Avon
JACK
Stratford-upon-Avon
Oh my God!!!
“Mum!” I shout at the top of my lungs, racing into the living room with the letter clutched in my hand, flinging the envelope that held it up into the air without the slightest concern for where it might land.
Not that anyone would notice the difference, my room’s hardly a model of tidiness anyway.
“Muuuum!” I yell even louder, still running as I haven’t had a reply yet, and nearly knock her over as we collide right at the blind corner where the hallway turns into the lounge.
We both hit the floor, landing hard on the wooden boards. I spring back up in an instant, bouncing on the balls of my feet, while Mum sits there, rubbing her back and glaring at me. She holds out a hand for me to help her up.
“For God’s sake, Jack!” she snaps. “What on earth’s going on? You scared me half to death; I was ironing in the kitchen when I heard you shouting and... I dropped everything and came running!”
“Mum...” I go on, completely unfazed by her glare, “They’ve accepted me!!!” I shout again, clapping my hands, far too excited to contain myself.
She stares at me for a moment, looking a little confused, but as I finally help her to her feet, I see realisation dawn on her face. She brings a hand to her mouth, and her expression softens instantly, making her look incredibly young.
“Oh sweetheart!” she says, her eyes filling with tears as she throws her arms around my neck. “I’m so happy for you...”
She holds me tightly for a moment, then looks up at me, visibly proud, and takes my hands in hers.
“I knew you’d make it, Jack. After all these years of hard work, you truly deserve this chance. No one knows better than I do how much you’ve put into that audition.”
She’s right, she’s been there every step of the way. Without her constant support, I probably would never have earned my degree as a dancer.
The problem now, though, is something else.
“Who’s going to tell Dad?” I ask cautiously, already feeling my earlier excitement start to fade.
“We’ll tell him together later,” she says firmly.
She must sense my hesitation, because she adds in a reassuring tone, “Don’t worry, Jack, it’ll be fine.
Your dad loves you, and he’ll understand what a great opportunity this is.
It’s true, he hasn’t always been thrilled about the career path you’ve chosen, but you know him, it’s only because he wants to see you settled, with a job that offers financial security. ”
She pauses for a moment, as if carefully choosing her next words, then takes my hands in hers and goes on: “Being accepted into the London Contemporary Dance Academy isn’t just something to be proud of, it’s proof that you’re on the right path towards building your future.
Of course, there’s still a long way to go, but you’re so young and so talented.
.. and with your determination, you’ll go far! ”
Her face lights up again as she smiles and pulls me into another hug.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
“But Mum...” I interrupt, “How are we going to manage with the money?”
She leans back slightly, looking a bit puzzled.
“You applied for a scholarship, didn’t you? They didn’t give it to you? If not, we’ll find a way, just being accepted is already a huge step...”
Her voice now sounds slightly worried, and I hurry to reassure her.
“Mum, relax! Don’t worry, they’ve awarded me a full academic scholarship, which covers the tuition fees and all the course materials, but that’s as much as they’re willing to give. I’ll still need to find somewhere to live, and London’s expensive. It won’t be easy to find anything I can afford...”
Her expression softens as she lets out a sigh of relief and gently strokes my cheek.
“I know, love, but once you’re there, I’m sure you’ll easily find a part-time job. You can keep teaching dance and babysitting like you do here. In the meantime, we’ll help you as much as we can. And at least for the first few months, you could stay with Ian...”
“I really don’t think he’d be too thrilled about that idea,” I reply quickly.
As much as I hate to admit it, I doubt my older brother would be too keen on having me around. His social life is definitely a lot, and I mean a lot, more active than mine, and hanging around in the middle of his endless parade of boyfriends might cause a bit of an issue...
Obviously, I can’t put it to Mum quite like that, but I still try to talk her out of it.
“Ian already shares his flat with two housemates, even if he wanted to, there wouldn’t be any room for me.”
“Well, there’s always the sofa!” Mum suggests with her usual optimism. Of course... exactly.
Right at that moment, the front door opens and Dad comes in, surprisingly early for him.
“Drew!” she exclaims excitedly, not giving me a chance to signal that I’d have rather postponed this conversation.
“Welcome home, love!” she greets him, then pauses as she looks at his face and realises something’s not quite right.
“How come you’re home so early? Is everything all right at the site?” Mum asks straight away, as he slips off his shoes and runs a tired hand through his thick black hair, almost identical to my brother’s, if it weren’t for the few streaks of grey starting to show.
“Hi, Dad!” I chime in cautiously. “How was work?”
Judging by his frown, he doesn’t seem to be in the best of moods, although with my dad, it’s always hard to tell. Let’s just say cheerfulness isn’t exactly one of his defining traits.
Luckily, Mum has enough for both of them.
“Alison, Jack...” he greets us tensely, then heads straight for the kitchen, with the two of us following anxiously.
“One of my lads got hurt,” he explains.
“Oh no!” Mum cuts in. “I hope it’s nothing serious!”
Dad, now washing his hands, gulps down a glass of tap water.
Mum’s presence, as usual, seems to have a calming effect on him. She steps closer and gives him a kiss on the cheek, which Dad immediately returns. His expression softens noticeably before he goes on:
“Peter Blake, the new lad, fell off a ladder...”
Mum and I stare at him in horror, but he’s quick to explain: “He’s broken his arm, but it could’ve been much worse. From that height, believe me, it could have ended very badly...”
I let out a sigh of relief as Dad carries on.
“I’ve just come back from A he’ll be out for at least a month.
Which means I need to find a replacement as soon as possible, otherwise we won’t be able to finish the work at the Conway house on time.
Today’s accident has already set us back quite a bit, and with the renovation due to be completed by the end of the month. ..”
“Drew...” Mum steps in, trying to calm his worries. “Why don’t you ask Philip if one of his lads is available to help out for a month?”
Philip, or Uncle Philip, to be precise, is married to Aunt Abigail, Mum’s sister, and like Dad, runs a small construction business.
He and Dad get on well and sometimes work together, but my father’s a man with far too much pride and absolutely hates asking anyone for help.
“Yes, I’d already thought of that too, Ally...” he admits with a sigh. “I’m planning to call him after lunch, but sometimes I think it wouldn’t be so bad if I could rely on at least one of my own kids...”
Here we go again.
Dad’s a proper, old-school Glaswegian, self-made through and through. In his early twenties, he met Mum while she was here on holiday. After a short engagement, they got married, and he moved down to Stratford.
She was already working as a nursery teacher, and he, who’d been in construction back in Scotland, found a job as a bricklayer. Bit by bit, with a lot of hard work and unshakeable dedication, he built up a small business mainly focused on renovation work.
Money’s never exactly been plentiful in our house, but at the same time, we’ve never really gone without.
And while both my parents have always been proud of my brother’s academic and sporting achievements, I can’t exactly say Dad’s shown the same level of enthusiasm when it comes to my artistic talents.
When Ian finished sixth form in Stratford and won a scholarship to attend the London School of Economics, Dad still didn’t exactly jump for joy.
Even though he was proud of Ian’s academic success, deep down he’d always hoped that my brother would stay in Stratford and eventually take over the administrative side of the family business, maybe even expand it one day.
That was already a bit of a mad idea, considering the opportunities Ian had waiting for him in London. So how he ever imagined I might one day follow in his footsteps is honestly beyond me.
It’s not that I look down on his work, quite the opposite.
I’m deeply grateful and proud that Dad managed to build a solid, well-respected business that’s supported us all these years.
It’s just that, like Ian, I’ve always had a completely different calling.
While my brother excelled at school in all the sciences and hoped to put his logical-mathematical skills to use in finance, I’ve never dreamed of anything but dance, in all its forms, and, truthfully, I’ve never had a back-up plan.
I’ve always known, ever since I was little, that dancing was the one thing that gave my life meaning, my way of expressing myself, my source of joy and fulfilment. And over time, I realised I was good at it, good enough to make it my career.
“Jack!!” Dad suddenly booms, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Is it really possible for you to be off in your own world all the time?”
Then, with a tired sigh, he adds, “Sometimes I honestly wonder who you take after...”
Well, definitely not him, Dad is the most down-to-earth person I know.
Mum just shakes her head and chuckles but says nothing, shooting me a look that says it all.
“Erm, sorry, Dad… I got a bit distracted,” I finally reply, feeling awkward.
He lets out a heavy sigh, rubs a hand over his face and goes on: “Your mother’s just mentioned there’s some big news concerning you, and she made a point of saying that you’d like to be the one to tell me.
So, I was giving you the opportunity to share this.
.. Who knows, maybe something positive might just brighten my day for once. ”
Oh God, what was she thinking?!
I’m not entirely convinced this particular piece of news is going to brighten Dad’s day, but at this point I’ve got no choice but to come clean.
I do my best to look confident, plaster on a big smile, which I’m fairly sure wouldn’t fool even the cat, then pull the now-crumpled acceptance letter from my jeans pocket and hand it to him without even bothering to straighten it out.
He takes it between two fingers, as if it’s hot to the touch, eyeing it suspiciously.
“For God’s sake, Jack! Why do you always have to be so... so...”
Thankfully, he doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he unfolds the letter with his big, calloused hands and starts to read, curiosity finally getting the better of him, while Mum and I carry on an entirely silent conversation, exchanging intense glances across the room.
After what feels like an eternity, Dad lifts his eyes from the letter and looks at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. I hold my breath.
I’m bracing myself for the worst, but somewhere deep inside, there’s a quiet certainty that, no matter how this goes, I’m going to London. I’m going to study dance at the London Contemporary Dance Academy, even if it means living on bread and butter for the next two years.