Maisie says she feels too ill to go to her dance lesson. She’s been off school all day and Mum kindly came over to the house to look after her.

Later, I leave Maisie in bed with my mum pottering around in the kitchen and drive to the dance studio.

I’m at a loss as to who to speak to for advice. What I need is someone who knows Maisie well. Someone who can give me their opinion about whether my daughter really is ill.

I park a bit further up the road than my usual spot. The last thing I want is for any of the other mums to see me and get chatting. I need to wait until I can catch Miss Diane on her own again, when everyone has left.

Within a few minutes, the students begin to spill out of the doors. There’s no ruddy-faced, happy little girl with dark curls and a winning smile. My car door is not wrenched open with a bubbly account of the lesson before she even takes her seat.

My Maisie is in bed, lying listlessly like a wilting flower. A passing phase or not, I can’t just leave her there, waiting to see if she recovers. As her mother, I have to do something. I have to listen to the alarm bells that ring in my head all day and all night.

Miss Diane emerges from the studio doors and waves a few of the girls off. I groan as a couple of the more gossipy mothers approach her, praying they don’t stand there for long.

My wish is granted. Miss Diane seems to excuse herself and disappears back inside the studio. I wait until the two mothers and their daughters walk away, and then I get out of the car and walk quickly towards the building.

I try the closed external doors and breathe a sigh of relief that she hasn’t locked up yet. I slip inside and walk through to the main hall where the classes take place.

Miss Diane is crouched down unplugging equipment from the wall. I’m wearing soft-soled shoes, and she doesn’t hear me approach.

‘Hi, Miss Diane, could I have a quick word?’

She gasps and stands up quickly, her hand flying to her throat.

‘Oh, it’s you again, Emma. I thought it might be Joanne…’ She smiles nervously and I wonder if she’s also living on her nerves because of Joanne Dent. ‘Is everything all right? We missed Maisie tonight.’

Unbidden, my eyes prickle and I nod, blinking the emotion away.

‘Oh no, what’s wrong?’ She slides an arm around my shoulders, and to my shame, I feel hot, salty tears roll down my cheeks and drip from my jawline. ‘Come and sit down.’

I follow her to a couple of wooden chairs against the wall, sit down and take the tissue she offers me.

‘Sorry,’ I snivel. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me. I just…’

‘Take your time. I’m in no rush to get away. I’ll go and lock the main doors so we aren’t disturbed.’ She glides across the sprung wooden floor, light and graceful in her shell-pink ballet slippers. The exact delicate colour of Maisie’s own.

Two minutes later, she’s back and hands me a glass of water.

‘Now. How is Maisie?’

‘She’s… not good. She won’t get out of bed.’

Miss Diane looks taken aback. ‘Is she ill?’

‘The doctor says probably not, but I think she is. She isn’t eating properly, she’s lost all her spirit. It’s as if…’ It’s too awful to say.

‘Go on.’

‘It’s as if she’s lost her love for life and just wants to… be left alone.’ I dab at my runny nose. ‘I came here again because I couldn’t think of anyone else who knows Maisie as well as you. Her class teacher at school has been off sick for weeks and they have a supply teacher in, you see, and Maisie has begged me not to involve the head teacher.’

‘Of course,’ she says softly, sitting down beside me. ‘I’m glad you came to see me again. As it happens, since I’ve been keeping a closer eye on her, I have noticed a change in Maisie’s behaviour.’

‘You have?’ I look at her, my eyes wide. ‘In what way?’

‘She’s always been my little star, first to volunteer to give examples at the barre, full of ideas, a bundle of energy. Just lately, she’s seemed lethargic and quite miserable. Lurking at the back of the group on her own. That’s why I sent you the note about the Christmas show?’

Note?

She presses her lips together when she sees my puzzled expression.

‘She didn’t give it to you, did she? I told you I chose her for Dorothy, in the Christmas show. Instead of jumping with excitement when I announced it to the group, she scurried off to the bathroom. When she came back, she wouldn’t engage in conversation with me. I asked if we could discuss the role, all three of us.’

‘I never got the note,’ I say quietly.

Miss Diane sighs. ‘I might’ve known. I should’ve come out after class and looked for you.’

I realise again how I’ve cut myself off from more and more people without really even trying.

She touches my arm. ‘It’s not a criticism, Emma. My intention was to give you a call if you didn’t respond to the note.’

I nod. ‘Please do that right away in future, if you have even the slightest concern about Maisie. I should have let you know there were problems at home before now.’

Miss Diane nods. ‘Please don’t think I’m prying, but I overheard some of the other mums talking.’ She hesitates, and I nod for her to continue. ‘I heard that you and Maisie’s father have split up and he’s moved in with…’

‘Joanne Dent,’ I provide. ‘Yes, it’s true.’

I dread to think what those gossipmongers have been saying, but that’s the least of my worries right now.

‘I’m sorry.’ I hang my head. ‘I should have spoken to you, to make you aware.’

‘It’s often useful to know these things, just in case personal stuff spills over into class, but it’s your own business and I’m truly sorry I had to ask.’

I don’t know why it never occurred to me to tell her, instead of letting her find out via the local gossip network.

‘You have my sympathy,’ she says, looking at her hands. ‘I know only too well that Joanne can often be… let’s say, difficult.’ She hesitates. ‘I need to know that, if I speak frankly, you won’t go off in a rage and confront her like last time.’

I nod. ‘I promise. You have my word. I’m sorry I embarrassed you like that. I don’t really know what came over me.’

‘Confidentially, Joanne is furious that Piper didn’t get the lead role in the show. She’s threatened not to renew the lease on this place in the new year unless I change my mind.’

My mouth falls open. How far will that woman go to give her daughter everything in life? At the expense of Maisie and the entire dance school, too!

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m thinking about it. I can hardly just tell her where to get off; this is my livelihood. I rue the day her daughter started here, if I’m honest. But… well, I can’t help but think Maisie doesn’t want the part anyway.’

‘I’ll talk to her,’ I say, suddenly desperate for Maisie to keep the role.

‘Anyway, that’s another conversation, and I digress. You came here to talk to me about Maisie.’ She smiles kindly.

‘I just don’t know what to do. She’s lost so much weight recently, and my mum found food she’d hidden. As you’ve said, she seems completely listless and devoid of energy.’

‘And you mentioned your doctor?’

‘I took her to the surgery. He weighed her and calculated her BMI and concluded she was borderline underweight. He told me that young girls often go through phases and that a bit of weight loss and being faddy with food is completely normal.’

Miss Diane frowns. ‘I’m not sure hiding food should ever be considered normal.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’ I feel better already, just being validated, rather than have Dr Yesufu patronise me as a panicky mother. ‘And she’s so young to be worrying about how she looks. Anyway, his professional opinion is that trying to tackle it could be more harmful than letting it run its course.’

‘Well, I’m not sure about that either.’ Miss Diane sighs. ‘I see more and more of it here at the dance school. Young girls acting like teenagers, wearing make-up and worshipping celebrities. It’s worrying.’

Piper instantly comes to mind.

Miss Diane continues. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so though, I’d say she’s bound to feel a little insecure given that you and her father have split up. Perhaps it’s best we don’t put any more pressure on her with a lead role in the show.’

I pause, my fingers toying with Joanne’s house keys in my pocket, trying to decide whether I dare say what’s really on my mind. She sees my hesitation.

‘Go on.’ She lowers her voice. ‘You can trust me, Emma. If there’s anything I can do to help Maisie, you only have to say.’