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“Of course, Miss Delaney,” the young man replied.
As he walked off down the corridor, Frances slipped behind the makeshift desk, scanning the rows of skates.
“Size?”
“Six.”
She handed over a pair to Lucie and grabbed her own before opening the door. “After you.”
They sat side by side on the long bench that ran the length of one side of the courtyard. Once her skates were laced up, Frances shuffled carefully to the edge of the rink and stepped onto the ice.
Lucie wasn’t far behind her, annoyingly steady on her blades. She pushed off in an easy arc, carving a clean curve across the empty surface before circling back towards Frances. She moved fluidly, blades whispering rather than scraping.
“Oh, trust you to be an expert,” Frances teased. “How is it that you spent ten years in one of the hottest places on Earth and can skate like that?”
“One of my friends at school was a champion skater. She insisted on teaching me.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
Their breath fogged in front of them, dissolving into the cold that bit at Frances’s cheeks. She tightened her grip on the barrier and attempted a push-off. Her right blade skidded sideways, and she flailed an arm before catching herself. Her second attempt resulted in an inelegant shuffle.
“Oh, you have those penguins! Why don’t you use one of them?” Lucie nodded towards the plastic skating aids at the edge of the rink.
Frances followed her gaze and sniffed superciliously. “They’re for children.”
“And adults who’d like to remain upright.”
“I will remain vertical out of sheer stubbornness.”
“No doubt,” Lucie snarked.
Frances faked a sigh. “I thought we could be rubbish together. I should have realised you wouldn’t be, considering you seem to be a natural at everything else.”
Lucie scoffed. “Like what?”
“Looking after Mum. You do a better job than I do.”
“That’s just experience, and not a good one.”
Frances paused. “Of course. Sorry.”
Lucie flashed her a forgiving smile.
“If you won’t use a penguin, at least take my hands,” Lucie said, reaching out to her.
Frances hesitated, pride warring with physics, then let go of the rail. She grabbed hold of Lucie’s hands, gripping them tightly. Their eyes locked in an instant, then Lucie began to move and panic set in and she felt her body suddenly go rigid.
“Bend your knees,” Lucie instructed. “You’re standing like you’re waiting for a bus. And don’t look down.”
“I absolutely am looking down.”
They moved slowly together. At first a shuffle, then a hint of a glide. Her ankles wobbled, and her grip on Lucie, who was skating backwards with ease, tightened again. Frances found the muscle memory was buried but not gone. After a few metres, the shuffling smoothed into a glide almost as elegant as Lucie’s.
“Oh!” Frances said in triumph.
“There you go.”
