The back row moved too.

I chose a place at the back, near enough to the door to remain aware of it. The woman beside me introduced herself as June and said she always stood there. I asked whether it was a good place for beginners. She said it was a good place to avoid the draught.

Before booking I had asked the organiser what beginner meant. No previous dance experience, they said. For this class they suggested clothes I could move in and clean trainers; I could step aside for a break. I packed what they had asked for, then moved on to worrying about my arms.

At home my arms normally knew where to be. In a room with music, they appeared to require separate instructions.

The first sequence was short.

The teacher showed us two side steps, a tap and a turn, slowly enough that I could follow while watching. When the music began, I remembered the tap just as everyone else reached the turn. I turned towards June. She turned towards me. We shared a moment of excellent mutual recognition.

We stopped, watched again and tried the next repetition. The teacher said we could leave out the arm movement while learning the feet. This was helpful information. I had assumed every visible part of the demonstration was compulsory from the first second.

Halfway through I lost the sequence completely. I stepped aside, caught my breath and watched one round. Nobody treated this as an announcement. When I wanted to rejoin, I did. I kept the simpler version the teacher had shown us.

The music stopped. I asked where the weight was supposed to be before the turn. June said she had been wondering the same thing. The teacher demonstrated it again, and several other people moved their feet experimentally. Apparently we had not all arrived with the same private instruction manual.

I wanted another try.

By the end I could do part of the sequence without staring at the teacher's feet. I could not reliably add the arms. June told me this was her third class. I had spent the first half assuming she had been dancing since childhood because she knew where to put her bag.

Outside, I checked the next session. I liked the music and the way the teacher answered questions. The journey home was manageable. Those seemed like good reasons to return, independent of whether I looked convincing in the mirror.

I did not practise in the street. I did try the steps while waiting for the kettle, and nearly met the recycling bin. At the next class I stood beside June again. We had both remembered the sequence differently. Fortunately, we had come to a place where someone could show us.