Fatima used to dance around the kitchen with her mum, and begged to join the dance class at school. Soon she was dancing everywhere - down the street, up the stairs... her mum saw an ad for a ballet class, and took her along. Fatima’s eyes went wide as she saw the rows

of other children stretching, reaching, drawing arc with their toes. Fatima ate ballet. She dreamed ballet. For her 8th birthday, her mum took her to London to see a “real” ballet. Fatima didn’t breathe during the performance - her mum watched as her eyes darted around the stage

drinking it in. As they were leaving, they passed the stage door, and Fatima spotted the dancers leaving, and people asking them to sign programmes. Fatima still had her ticket in her hand (she’d not let go of it since her mum had handed it to her when they’d arrived). She

found herself walking up to a tall dancer and saying “please could you sign this?” The dancer beamed at Fatima, and said: “are you a dancer too?” Fatima didn’t know what to say; she loved dancing, but this person in front of her was a dancer, could she ever be one herself? The

dancer smiled “yes. You’re a dancer. I can tell. Keep working. Never give up.” She handed the ticket back to Fatima. On it she had written “you will dance here one day”. On the train home, Fatima stared at the ticket. And made a plan.

The scholarship exam at the ballet school was the most nerve wracking time of Fatima’s life. But she knew she was ready. Her family we’re waiting outside, just as they had been at every audition, every rehearsal, every class; at every performance they were on the front

row. Fatima took a deep breath, glanced at the pianist, and began...

Giselle hadn’t been her favourite ballet, but Fatima knew it would be after this. Her first performance at Covent Garden. As she looked at the offer letter, she imagined leaving through the stage door after

the show, and finding a child clutching a ticket, and thinking about what she would say to that child.

Giselle never happened. The theatres closed on the day of their dress rehearsal. “Just a delay” said the company manager “this will all blow over soon”.

9 months later, and

Fatima has bills to pay. She moved home to be with her mum (who is isolating with COPD), but she owes for 2 energy bills on her old flat. She didn’t get the SEISS as she had only been self employed for a year. Her part time job in a bar couldn’t furlough her. She went from having

a career, with financial independence, in an industry where the UK leads the world, to nothing.

And it is because the government are incompetent and can’t run a test & trace system.

So her next job might in cyber, but it shouldn’t be. It didn’t have to be. And it’s your fault.