Tara turned back. She felt vulnerable, separated from the herd.

‘Yes, the gang show,’ she said. Dad had made it to this particular show, and had clapped so hard, and whistled so she could make out his applause, even though she couldn’t see him. It had felt like the sun rising in her chest.

Or had she known it was him because she could also hear her mother saying a little too loudly, ‘For God’s sake, Keith’? That was how the story had been told later. But she remembered the sunrise feeling clearly: Dad was there. He was there, and he was clapping, and in that moment she didn’t really care if Toby was the one with the flair.

‘How did it go?’ Keith frowned, pretending to think. ‘Keep young and beautiful …’ He mimed some slow windscreen-wiper jazz hands. ‘It’s your duty to be beautiful …’

Tara stared at him, amazed that he’d remembered. That was exactly what she’d sung. In a black leotard, black tights and a red swimming cap; the ideal costume for eight cripplingly shy girls. They looked like a row of matches. She hadn’t thought about it in years and years – that feeling of paralysing awkwardness, spiked with adrenaline.

‘That’s right,’ she said. Then added, ‘Somewhat off message these days, of course.’

‘Of course.’ He winked. ‘You were the best tapper, though. In your red tap shoes. You used to practise on the tiles in the back kitchen, didn’t you?’

‘It drove Mum insane.’ Her cherry-red tap shoes, with the red ribbon laces. Treasured until they were at least a size too small and gave her stabbing pains when she shuffle-kicked. A lump formed in Tara’s chest. The tap dancing had stopped at about the same time as Keith had left; Ruth didn’t have the energy to drive her and Toby all over town after school. Or rather, Ruth was full of energy, but not the right kind, and neither Toby nor Tara felt brave enough to bring it up. Toby had negotiated lifts to football and Scouts from his friends; not having as many friends, Tara had focused on her homework instead.

She struggled to keep the memories from spilling out on to her face. ‘Anyway, we weren’t exactly The Rockettes. Karen Lawson had a plaster cast. So.’ She smiled tightly. ‘Have you seen everything you need to see?’

‘I think we’ve covered the essentials.’ If Keith was hurt by her refusal to wander further down memory lane, he didn’t show it. ‘Don’t want to keep everyone too long on a Friday. Conrad? Have we got everything we need?’

‘Yup! Just uploading …’ Conrad was perched on the edge of the stage, percussively entering data on his laptop, with every electronic device linked up to it.