Dance quote and pointe shoes on ribs

The crate came off the Tuesday boat with your name chalked on the side in my father's careless capitals, and I nearly didn't open it. Forty pairs of pointe shoes, the satin gone grey at the toes, the ribbons still knotted the way you tied them the winter you practised in the fish market because the hall had flooded. Mrs Pryce says the new hall is finished, but nobody has the nerve to tell the council the floor sings under the boards.

I sat on the upturned barrel in the back room and stitched a hard shank into the third pair, the way you taught me, while the harbour bell rang for the trawlers. You always said the shoes were only half the dancing; the rest was the audience learning to listen. Old Tobias, who mends nets two doors down, came in for his tea and watched me work. He said nothing for a long while, then said he could hear the rhythm in the thread.

I am writing because I finally understood what you meant. Last night a girl from the school came in with a pair split at the heel, and while I worked she hummed a waltz under her breath, slightly flat, keeping time with her foot. I told her to dance it for me. She did, on the cold flagstones, and for a minute I forgot I was a cobbler at all.

Send me the next pair when you can. I will keep the ribbons clean.

Yours, Elsie