FIVE

'Once upon a time in a distant country there lived a race of people made solely of bones. They had no skin, no hair, eyes or flesh. They saw their world, heard the sounds of that world and felt the touch of that world through their bones. They were called Skeleton People. The women of the Skeleton People were the Keepers of Secrets. All Skeleton People loved secrets, but only women were chosen to be Keepers of Secrets. Right from an early age girls were taught all kinds of dancing. The tango, the waltz, the slow foxtrot were primer stuff. After them, the Irish jig, the Scottish reels, the English morris dance, the Spanish flamenco, the subtle complexities of the hula. They practised, practised, practised and when they were very, very tired they practised some more. They became very dexterous with the Māori poi and worked and worked at the small, precise movements required for the dance of the emu and the more ponderous steps for the dance of the platypus.

'Yes, they loved all those different dances, but the one that really, really thrilled them, the one they yearned for with every bone in their bodies, was the tap-dance. That was the ultimate, their number-one dance, unattainable until the day of their thirteenth birthday when they joined all other girls celebrating their coming of age in the Great Hall. There they were initiated into the intricacies, the differing beats, the mind-boggling routines, the ecstasy of the tap.

'At the same time as they were introduced to tap-dancing, the skeleton girls learned that, if chosen, they must leave their island and travel to the land of the flesh-covered ones to be keepers of secrets there. Skeleton women kept safe every secret they were told or learned. They kept them safe until the time was right to let them fly. The women were chosen for this task because the men, although good at keeping secrets too, were needed at home to care for the children and old people.

'The skeleton girls went home and continued to practise. They worked and slaved and tapped until it was time for them to compete for the next stage. Once every five years on the Saturday night of the full moon, in the depths of their snow-white winter, competitions were held to see which young woman could tap the fastest, who had the most inventive routine, who could keep going the longest. These tap trials were famous all through their land. Only the very best dancers from these trials were chosen to continue, only twenty would be entrusted with studying towards the final test, and from that only one of them would be successful.

'Skeleton girls and their families travelled from towns, villages, mountains for their daughters, sisters, granddaughters to audition. Skeleton People came in their hundreds and filled the Great Hall. Eventually the twenty were chosen. For the next twelve months they worked under special coaches and teachers, all aspiring for the top prize, that of the coveted honour of Top Tap and Assistant Keeper of Secrets. They spent hours with Grand Keepers who taught them listening, reflection, patience. One of the most important aspects, one that worried every one of those twenty students, was how did they know when the time was right to let the secrets go. Some secrets seemed easy, surely only good came of their finally being set free, but it appeared that releasing or keeping secrets was always harmful to someone. Even secrets kept for decades before they were unleashed could end in tears for some quite innocent people. There were times when keeping a secret seemed to do more harm than good, when innocent people would be hurt. No matter, advised the Grand Keepers, until the time was right the secret had to be sealed up. There was intense self-doubt, there was guilt, there was indecision. Only experience brought the resolution required, only experience would equip them with the skills to support their colleagues through that most formidable of tasks, and only experience would give them the fortitude to accept that while they were learning each and every one of them would make mistakes. Take that biggest secret of all, death. How were they to know when that must be set loose? How did they weigh up the cost? This core accomplishment was debated, discussed and deliberated upon by all aspirants to the title of Assistant Grand Keeper. All knew that their entry into Assistant Grand Keeperdom would hinge not only on their proven ability to keep secrets, but very largely on their demonstration of sound judgement on the right time to break them. Examples would be put to them by their examiners. It was whispered that some of the cases presented would be trick ones and that examinees would be expected to see the difference. Each girl trembled as she waited her turn. Only one of their number would triumph. Results would not be known until after the Great Tap-Dancing Competition. When the big night came all the Skeleton People, old and young, those in perfect condition, those with bone diseases, those suffering from broken bones, all made their way to the Great Hall. They came on foot, on stretchers, in wheelchairs, using crutches or walking sticks. They came to do honour to the competitors and to be part of their most famous and deeply revered ritual.

'They sat in silence until the tap-dancing started. All twenty aspirants danced in turn in the middle of the Great Hall. The tap-tap-tapping was felt in every part of every bone in every body in the audience. Every bone, big or small, long or short, rattled with pleasure. One by one, as the hours went by and the various rounds came and went, it became apparent who would be chosen. At a certain time, and none knew when this would be, a particular dancer would receive the longest and loudest rattle the audience could summon up. It was the most chilling, the most exhilarating, the most inspiring sound everyone present would ever hear. That dancer was now declared the winner. And, as always happened, that dancer was also the one who, in the Grand Keepers' judgement, had passed with honour in the examinations. So the people's choice and the teachers' choice was the same.

'For the next five years the winner travelled around the land of the Skeleton People and demonstrated the skills which had made her the winner. Once a dancer won that tap-dancing marathon she became teacher and mentor to aspiring Keepers of Secrets as well as serving her time as Assistant Grand Keeper. She would not be invited to be one of the Grand Examiners until she'd had at least thirty years' experience at keeping secrets and in that time broken at least two very difficult and complex secrets.

'The hardest thing of all lay ahead. Leaving her island and living among the flesh-covered ones. She was advised that she must prepare herself for the shock she would experience when she first saw the ugliness of those who have flesh covering their beautiful bones. Of course flesh gives protection to the bones, that had to be admitted, but a Keeper of Secrets never lost her preference for the clarity, the simplicity, the openness of her boniness compared to that strange soft mass of veins and arteries, muscle and ligaments, called flesh. Nevertheless she had made her choice and when the day came she sipped the potion which made her invisible and she travelled to the land of the flesh-covered ones.

'When she was living in the land of the flesh-covered ones, every now and then when the time was right, the Skeleton

Woman began to dance. Nothing could stop her. It didn't matter how much the flesh and brains and eyes and hair begged, pleaded, commanded, the Skeleton Woman danced her wild dance, arms and legs clapping, tapping, days and nights merging into days and days, nights and nights, weeks, months, until the secret took wing and flew out. This was her destiny. And theirs. Every time a secret was ready to fly, dance the Skeleton Woman must until the secret was out. She would do this over and over and over until the day it was time for her to go home, time to return to the land of the Skeleton People, time for another Skeleton Woman to take her place.

'So,' Rose smiled at Olga, 'when you hear that tappitty tap, tappitty tap, you'll know somewhere someone's secret is being freed. And you'll know that one day, one day it will be yours.' She drummed her fingers on the table. 'Tappitty tap, tappitty tap.'