The Greatest DANCER

Should Clara be cruel to be kind?

Fantastic!’ Clara smiled, clapping her hands. ‘Really?’

The little girl’s eyes lit up as she caught her breath.

Her mother nodded and offered a congratulatory rub on her back.

‘Really! You’re improving every day.’

The kind words were enough to make Daisy spin around to celebrate. All those hours of hard work in the dance class were finally starting to pay off.

Eventually, the nine-yearold girl got tired of her antics and disappeared upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes — and Clara’s face changed almost immediately.

The smile that had stretched across her face was now a frown accompanied by a forehead full of wrinkles.

Her daughter’s dance was on the verge of awful.

There were no signs of rhythm or technique, despite months of expensive lessons.

Worst of all was that she had lied to Daisy and given her false hope in order to spare her feelings.

The competition was only seven days away. That was either enough time to make her daughter the best dancer the contest had ever seen — or change the young girl’s intentions to participate in it at all.

What kind of mother would allow her daughter to make a fool of herself in front of a crowd of hundreds?

‘More practice?’ Daisy moaned the next afternoon. ‘But you said my routine was perfect.’

‘There is no such thing as too much practice!’

Clara watched as her daughter took a deep breath and hung her arms to the floor, unimpressed.

The music started to play and, just like she had done the day before, Daisy started tapping her foot at all the wrong moments.

It was a painful sight, but Clara was still smiling, even though her stomach was tying itself in knots.

Once again, Clara pretended to be enchanted and clapped her hands at the last beat.

Her daughter bowed, even more confident than ever. Little did she know…

‘Your heart is really set on this competition, isn’t it?’ the worried mother said a moment later.

Daisy nodded in agreement and said she couldn’t remember a time when she’d had more fun.

She loved the other girls in her class, and some of them had even made a pact to be best friends until the

end of time, apparently.

‘That’s not the only reason,’ Daisy said, blushing before all the words had a chance to leave her mouth.

‘There’s something else?’ Clara asked, a note of surprise now in her voice.

‘I’ve seen all your trophies in the attic,’ Daisy admitted reluctantly. ‘I want to be as good as you were.’

It was Clara’s turn to feel her cheeks burn and turn a deeper shade of red.

‘I guess I was a good dancer all those years ago.’

‘A good dancer? I must have counted 12 trophies up there on a shelf. I think I would be happy with just one, or maybe a couple of medals.’

‘All you can do is do your best. It’s the participation that counts the most.’

The words from her mother may have come from a wise place, but it made no difference to Daisy’s hopes and aspirations. Anything less than winning would be a disappointment now.

Clara’s chest prickled with anxiety. The little girl she loved so much would be devastated if she wasn’t the star of the show — a dream created just to follow in her mother’s well-placed and perfectly-timed footsteps.

The idea popped into Clara’s head so quickly that it felt as if a light bulb had been switched on in some far corner of her brain.

There was a solution — one so obvious, she felt stupid for not proposing it earlier.

‘I’m not sure I still have the movements or the body that gave me those awards,’ she said, her smile sincere this time. ‘But we might be able to work on the steps together, see if that inspires you.’

‘That would be amazing!’ Daisy said, almost squealing at the very suggestion.

Soon they were moving around the living-room floor in near-perfect synchronicity.

Something happened with her mother’s presence nearby that seemed to instil new timing and technical expertise in Daisy.

She was a brand-new dancer, talented and incredibly accurate, with no

There was a solution — one so obvious, she felt stupid for not proposing it earlier

sign of the clumsy little girl who struggled to tell left from right.

The euphoria of the moment soon took over and the two dancers made up steps and new movements right there on the spot.

It was a moment of joy for both of them, a bond they’d never felt together… and then disaster struck.

While Daisy tried something new, a spin on just one foot, the young girl lost her balance and spiralled down to the floor like an autumn leaf made of lead — and her ankle made a sound that sent a shiver down both dancers’ spines.

Clara and Daisy watched the competition from the back row. They were the only places that were comfortable enough for a young girl with crutches.

It was a bittersweet afternoon for the two of them as they enjoyed the entertainment of all the other young dancers, while wishing that Daisy’s ankle had held out for just a few more days.

Forfeiting her place on stage had been a real heartache, but still she clapped and whistled for all her friends when it was time for the winner to be announced.

Just the sight of it made Clara the proudest mother in the auditorium.

‘What is this?’ Daisy asked her mother back at home, overwhelmed and confused.

‘It’s yours. The least you deserve today.’

It was the most brilliant dance trophy from the attic, polished especially for this impromptu award ceremony in the living room.

The young girl could have cried with joy when she graciously accepted the award. All that hard work, the weeks of endless rehearsals, had paid off — even if she hadn’t been able to go up on stage as planned and would be stuck on crutches longer than anyone wanted.

The tenderness of the moment surprised Clara and she gently threw her arm around her daughter for a hug, taking care not to cause further injuries.

‘And next year,’ she said, with all the softness of a doting mother, hiding the sound of tears threatening to come, ‘you’ll win one with your name on it instead of mine.’

‘Do you really think so?’ ‘I do.’

And Clara meant it. If anyone deserved to make their dreams come true, it was the girl in her arms.

Daisy would win a trophy, Clara would make sure of it.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for the ankle to heal — that’s when the training for the next dance competition on the calendar could resume.