over. Tracey’s nose shot in the air, sniffing out praise. “Well, that was smashing,” he said. “Was it good, really?” “Smashing. You dance like a dream.” He smiled and patted her on the shoulder, and a flush of happiness passed over her face. It was the kind of praise I got from my own father daily, no matter what I did, but for Tracey it must have been very rare, for hearing it seemed to
