moments before, the day had seemed so full of promise. Now, despiteâor perhaps because ofâthe thrill of the night before, she felt oddly flat. The six-week vacation loomed ahead of herâlong and empty.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
âHannah, sweetie, Iâve made you pancakes. You must be hungry.â
âThanks, Mum.â Hannah opened the door, and the smell of something sweet and doughy lured her downstairs.
She was swallowing her last mouthful when the phone rang.
âCould you get that?â called Vanessa, who was just leaving for Malvern Medical Center, where she worked as a GP four days a week.
Hannah picked up the phone absentmindedly, thinking it might be Dani or one of her other friends from Carmel College.
The voice on the line was unfamiliar. âCould I speak to Hannah Segal?â
âSpeaking,â said Hannah.
âThis is Jocelyn Jones from Candance Summer School. Iâm calling to let you know that weâve had a cancellation. Youâre next on the waiting list, so if youâd like to join us at Candanceââ
âI would,â said Hannah, before the woman could finish the sentence.
three
The automatic doors opened as Simone approached Domestic Departures. She entered the cool interior of the terminal, then stopped abruptly. For a second, she thought she saw a girl who looked exactly like herâthe same long chestnut hair, the same warm complexion, the same green eyes â¦
Simone blinked and looked again, but the girl had gone.
A few steps ahead, Harriet stopped when she realized her daughter wasnât beside her. âSimone, whatâs wrong?â
Simone barely heard. She was scanning the faces of the people around her, hoping to spot the girl again, but she was nowhere in sight. How had she disappeared so quickly? Perhaps sheâd gone back inside the terminal â¦
Simone turned back for one last look through the automatic doors. They were glass, and so shiny they were almost invisible. Like mirrors , she thought. Of course! That was it. She must have seen her own reflection. In which case, she and the other girl would have been dressed identically. Had they been? She couldnât remember; it had all happened so quickly.
âHurry up, Simone. Youâll miss your plane.â
Simone wished she had the courage to refuse to go.
As the plane flew higher in the sky and Melbourne grew smaller before her eyes, Simone became more and more miserable. Now it really was too late to turn back. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. The three-week break from dancing had done little to alleviate her exhaustion, and all she really wanted to do with her summer was relax. Now there was no chance of that. Once again she was on her way to Candance, where sheâd have a busy schedule of ballet, jazz, and contemporary dance.
Simone let out a heavy sigh. She knew that everything her mother did was with her interests at heart, and she hated the thought of appearing ungrateful. But she felt crushed under the weight of her motherâs ambition.
The worst thing about being adopted, Simone thought as the stewardess handed her a glass of juice, was that you felt so indebtedâthough perhaps children raised by their biological parents felt just as beholden and just as reluctant to upset them.
The plane rocked unsteadily as it hit a patch of turbulence, and the Fasten Seat Belt sign flashed on. For a second Simone thought she might throw up. She was reminded of the last time she had thrown upâless than half an hour before her last performance, three weeks earlier. Sheâd barely made it to the stage on time.
At one time, Simone had loved performing, had loved the limelight. But since starting at the VSD three years ago, sheâd come to dread it. Instead of feeling more at home onstage as sheâd grown older, sheâd become increasingly tense and nervous with each performanceâa fact that