In the long rectangular room there were sequins and bobby pins scattered everywhere, stockings and leotards hanging from the ceiling, and girls running around with make-up brushes in their hands, calling out for their mums to finish their lipstick. My mum wasn’t backstage. She rarely is. She’s pretty busy because she keeps taking on new personal training clients at the gym and she’s also just started the new yoga program. So she doesn’t just teach the classes, she does all this fundraising and runs ‘healthy eating’ workshops. She’s pretty sporty. Dad always says she puts him to shame. I reckon I get my athletic ability from her. Mum always makes it for all my performances, though, even if she’s often late, with Lucas hanging off her arm pretending to be a dinosaur. That happened once, in a silent theatre full of people. ‘Theatrical talent must run in the family, Mrs Irvin,’ Jay had joked. Mum just did her Mum smile. I went to put my make-up case on the dressing table, but Jasmine’s mum held out her hand.
