The Ballerina and the Revolutionary

by Voiez, Carmilla

  40

  Shafts of evening light caught by hundreds of crystals, behind Clive's door, gave the effect of a new age disco. Clive reminded me of Vivienne: the crystals, their flamboyance and their mutual interest in men. I wondered why it was easier to accept such things with Clive than my own mother. What if I hadn’t left home at thirteen and had grown up beside Vivienne? Would I have understood her better, accepted her, loved her?

  I wiped a tear from my eye with a stinking finger, rang the doorbell and waited. Clive, still wearing his widow’s weeds, swept through the beaded curtain and across the shop. His face lit up as he saw me. He opened the door and grabbed my hand.

  ‘Crow, my dahling girl, I am so sorry. Come in, come in. Anna is waiting upstairs.’

  He let go of me to lock the door behind us then took a lilac handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his fingers, fastidiously.

  I blushed, guessing his reason. ‘I’m sorry. I was hungry and ate chips. Can I wash my hands?’

  ‘Of course. We are so glad you came … Where’s Scott?’

  ‘Ahh, we had an argument.’

  ‘A lovers’ tiff. No need to say any more. Clive understands the affairs of the heart.’

  He walked back through the beaded doorway before I could think of a smart-ass retort, so I followed him in silence, planning to set him straight later.

  ‘The bathroom.’ Clive flourished a hand towards a door at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Crow?’

  I looked at him and saw him properly for the first time since Vivienne died. He was truly the widow and the pain in his eyes was more profound than any I had seen before. Our mutual loss drew me towards this funny old man and I felt comforted by his presence.

  ‘We’ll be through there ... when you’re ready.’ He kissed me on the cheek and stumbled towards a door at the end of the narrow hallway.

  I took a deep breath and washed my hands. My face looked puffy in the mirror so I washed that too. Noticing a heavy smell of sweat, I lifted my arms in turn, wishing I’d taken the time to change when back at Vivienne’s; I couldn’t stop thinking of it as her house, to me it always would be. I stripped off my t-shirt and washed my armpits. The fabric still stank, but at least my body was clean. I dressed and left the bathroom. The doorway at the end of the hallway stood ajar, but there were no sounds coming from the room. I opened it fully and stepped inside. Anna looked up at me, her face as puffy as mine.

  ‘Thank you, Giselle.’ Her voice sounded shaky as if each syllable was an effort.

  ‘It’s Crow now.’ I smiled and walked towards her. ‘You look so much like her, but I didn’t even know you existed until a few days ago.’

  ‘It’s been hardest for you,’ Anna said.

  I shook my head. ‘No, I, I don’t mean that.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m okay. I know she loved me, but she felt so sorry for the rift between you.’

  ‘When did she find you? How?’

  ‘I found her, about five years ago.’

  A year after I left. Why hadn’t they told me? ‘Does Tomas know?’ I sat down on the chair nearest to her while waiting for an answer.

  ‘Yes. Sort of.’

  Something inside my stomach twisted uncomfortably and I tried to steady my breathing, biting hard into my bottom lip. He knew.

  ‘But he refused to see me ... I’m so glad we, at least, might be friends. I need that. I want it so badly.’

  ‘When I ... no it’s not important. Of course we can be friends. No not friends, sisters.’ The word felt wonderful so I said it again. ‘Sisters ... Don’t worry about Tomas. He can be a selfish git when he puts his mind to it.’

  Anna nodded. ‘I think it hurt him too much to think about it. He’s buried everything he’d prefer not to recall.’

  Clive arrived with cocktails: colourful concoctions brought in for sampling. After a few of them we found ourselves laughing wildly.

  ‘That’s better,’ Clive said. ‘My favourite girl’s beautiful children laughing and joking like six year olds. It’s what she would have wanted.’

  I choked on my drink and my nose burned as liquid spurted out of it. ‘Vivienne laugh? I don’t believe it.’

  Clive smiled sympathetically and moved beside me, patting my knee softly. I didn’t have the heart to tell him his touch made me feel uncomfortable.

  His voice, cracked and raspy from crying, was frequently interrupted by sniffing. ‘ … sniff ... She often laughed. She cried too of course, but she wasn’t a stern woman, not since I’ve known her. I think she ... sniff ... struggled with motherhood ... She used to tell me it was the one thing ... sniff ... she never felt in control of, but boy did she love you, all of you. She never forgave herself for letting them take Anna or for making you run away, Crow.’

  I looked at Anna who smiled and nodded. I guessed they knew a different Vivienne from the one I left behind. Anna’s face glowed bright red, the alcohol was working its magic on her and she relaxed into her chair, body slumped, eyes open but glazed. I glanced at Clive who was blowing his nose.

  'Why was Anna given up, but Tomas kept?'

  'She said it was what her parents demanded. He wanted a son.'

  'It took a lot of getting used to,' Anna said. 'I'm still not sure I really understand. I guess some things can be accepted as facts even when they can't be understood and, maybe, this is one of those?'

  ‘Anna?’ I asked.

  She focused on my face.

  ‘Did Vivienne ever tell you about my father?’

  I thought I saw her shudder, but a smile took hold of her lips too quickly for me to be sure. ‘Ricky?’

  I felt my body shaking and reached for the back of a chair to steady myself.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Where did they meet?’

  ‘Birmingham. She danced in one of his clubs.’

  ‘Clubs?’

  She cocked her head. ‘She never told you?’

  ‘I was told a very different tale.’

  ‘Does the tale you know make you happy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then keep it.’

  I shrugged, tightening my grip on the chair. ‘Okay,’ I squeaked, knowing I could ask again later. From now on Anna and I would be inseparable, I could feel it. I turned to Clive instead. ‘You were going to tell me about the will.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, laughing again. He looked across at Anna, who had closed her eyes, giving in to the soporific embrace of the alcohol. ‘You’re gonna love this.’

  ‘What?’ My heart hammered as I wondered what it said and regretted my absence at the reading.

  ‘Tomas ... Anna ... and you each have a one third share in Vivienne’s house and it can’t be sold unless all three of you agree. Your sister-in-law was furious; she stormed out, but not before growling in my ear.’

  ‘What did she say to you?’ I asked.

  ‘She said, “You did this.”’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Oh no, it was all Vivienne. She wanted to give you something you didn’t have while she was alive – a family.’

  I sat, quietly nursing my half-finished drink.

  ‘I thought you’d be delighted,’ he said.

  I shrugged. ‘Have you been in the house?’

  ‘Of course.’

  I looked at my drink, wondering how to explain the cruel joke. My eyes stung and my body felt heavy, exhausted. It was a trap. Vivienne hadn’t changed. She wanted to continue her reign of terror from beyond the grave, taunting me, laughing at my clumsiness, my stupidity. I wouldn’t let her. I’d move on, back to London, back to the real world of hopeless battles with faceless foe.

  Clive touched my chin with a fingertip and tilted my face upwards. ‘My dahling child, what is it?’

  ‘The place is haunted. Restless fucking spirits or whatever you want to call them. Her gift is a Trojan horse.’

  He paused for thought. ‘But what about Scott? He’s a shaman you know. Can
’t he ... sort it out?’

  ‘He tried. It helped a bit, I guess, but they’re still there. They’re still waiting. Clive if I tell you half of what’s happened to me in that house, you’ll think I’m crazier than my mother.’

  ‘Vivienne wasn’t crazy.’ Clive stood up and took his glass back to the kitchen.

  I rushed after him. ‘I’m sorry ... I didn’t ...’

  ‘Everyone says she’s crazy, but it isn’t true. She’s the most amazing woman I ever met. Sometimes, she made me wish I wasn’t gay and other times she made me wish I was her. I miss her so much.’

  The old man wept into his empty glass. I didn’t know what to say or do. Moments drifted by in silence and the scene didn’t change. Tentatively, I placed a hand on his shoulder and he half-fell into my arms, hugging me tight. I gasped for breath and he released his grip a little; resting his head on my shoulder, he let tears jerk out of him as I patted his back. It felt like burping an infant.

  ‘I miss her so much,’ he said between sobs.

  His grief soaked into me, saturating me, making my mind blank. I felt swallowed by his pain, engulfed by his need for comfort. We stood together for what could have been minutes or hours until, eventually, Clive released his hold on me. He looked at my top, drenched with the saline of his tears and blushed. ‘I’m sorry, let me get you something to change into.’

  He handed me his empty glass and squeezed past into the hall. I put it down on the kitchen counter and wondered whether he’d want a refill. His array of spirit bottles was as colourful as his shirts and I felt out of my depth.

  He returned, handing me a magenta shirt and insisting I change into it. I disappeared around the corner to do so, throwing my dirty t-shirt on the floor. The silk of the shirt smelled wonderful, like a summer garden at night. I pressed the collar to my face and breathed deeply.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Clive asked as he walked out of the kitchen holding two refilled glasses.

  I nodded.

  ‘Keep it. It suits you better anyway.’

  ‘It’s the smell,’ I said. ‘I’ve never smelt anything like it.’

  ‘Ahh, I use my own special blend of scents when I do the washing. You really like it?’

  ‘It’s wonderful.’

  ‘Then bring me all your clothes and I’ll wash them for you, but the formula never leaves these four walls.’ He tapped his swollen nose.

  Clive grinned, transformed again, like an actor moving from tragedy to farce with a few dainty steps across the stage, yet he seemed sincere. I could sense his pain, just below his cheery surface, waiting for the opportunity to overwhelm him again.

  Careful not to disturb Anna, Clive lifted a blanket from the sofa. I repositioned my sister’s legs so they rested on the arm of the chair and we covered her in soft, fragrant wool.

  ‘I think Anna should be comfortable there, don’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, she looks very comfortable.’

  ‘Would you like to stay here tonight, as well?’ he asked me. ‘You could use the spare bed. I’m certain Anna wouldn’t mind.’

  The idea of sitting here with Clive, drinking cocktails until the early hours then crashing out on my sister’s bed, felt very appealing. ‘I’d love to. Thank you, Clive.’

  He lifted my drink from the coffee table and held it towards me. ‘Chin, chin!’

  ‘Tell me about her, please. If it won’t upset you too much,’ I asked.

  ‘Vivienne or Anna?’

  ‘Vivienne.’

  ‘All right, but you must forgive an old man’s tears.’ He prepared his hankie with a flourish that made me smile in spite of my sadness. ‘I met Vivienne almost twenty years ago, way before I first opened Healing Ways ... She was a ballerina then and the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. You were only an infant, Tomas had started nursery school and, of course, I didn’t know about Anna. She’d come back from Birmingham and had a small council flat. You probably remember the place.’

  I nodded.

  ‘When she walked into a room it was like she absorbed all the light then filtered it through herself and radiated it into everyone else around her ... Later on, probably five or so years ago, she started working in my shop, reading Tarot and palms. She would hold séances sometimes for our older customers ... She had time for everyone. She helped people get their lives back together after losing a loved one, or a messy break-up ... and she always knew the right thing to say. The customers all adored her.’

  ‘Did she change so much, after I left?’

  ‘No, not really, not for me. Maybe she was just different with me than she was with her ... family. She called me her safe space.’ The sniffing started again, harder this time and he struggled to control his emotions. ‘I’m sorry. Excuse me a moment.’

  I nodded and sipped my drink. It was strong and the liquor warmed me. I felt myself drifting, away from the warm room and the soft sofa, towards my dreams. In the shadow of an oak tree, I saw my stag again, Scott, and told him I was sorry for not listening to his warning. I stroked his ears and let my tears fall on his nose, kissing him between his soulful eyes. My body felt strange and my limbs stretched, bending and changing direction beneath my bent torso. I felt no pain, it was more like unfurling. My posture altered and I fell onto all fours, but remained as tall as the stag. I looked at my arms, but saw forelegs. I kicked out each leg in turn then pranced around in a circle. I pressed my nose against his and shook my muzzle. Excitement made my heart race; I needed to move, to dance about and stretch my limbs. I darted away from him and into the woods, but he followed in close pursuit. This was freedom, complete and absolute liberty - no fear, no insecurity just perfect happiness.

  41

  When I woke up I felt torn. I wanted to contact Scott and tell him how sorry I was, but I also wanted to stay with Clive and Anna and hear more about my sister and Vivienne.

  ‘What should I do, Clive?’

  ‘Have breakfast with us then find him. We can all catch up later, but anger and resentment should never be allowed to stew.’

  I nodded. We had fruit for breakfast, Clive and I; Anna was still fast asleep when I left. I kissed her forehead and she made a strange snuffling sound that reminded me of a hedgehog. Clive and I embraced and kissed each other’s cheeks in the Continental fashion and I promised to hurry back, bringing Scott if I could.

  At eleven o’clock I reached Vivienne’s house and, to my delight, I saw Scott at the doorway, scribbling a note.

  ‘What does it say?’ I asked him.

  He jumped, startled and pushed the paper into his pocket. ‘Just to call me if you want to carry on with the ... lessons ...’ He said the word lessons as if it felt wrong in his mouth, but he couldn’t think of a better word to use. Of course they were not lessons, I was my own teacher in this, but I felt I knew what he was trying to say and understood his awkwardness and his fear of offending me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Can we carry on today?’

  He smiled and his face lit up. He looked beautiful, holding his heart in open hands and offering with it a complete acceptance of me; no shame and no mistrust, only respect and love. I opened the front door and found the house in chaos. Paper plates, half eaten sandwiches and discarded glasses covered the floor. A picture of Vivienne had been knocked off its hook and wobbled precariously against the wall.

  ‘What the fuck?’ I whispered.

  Scott followed me inside. I picked my way through the debris towards the kitchen. Nothing had been washed up. Dirty glasses, serving dishes and cutlery filled every available surface. ‘Bitch!’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ Scott offered. ‘It’ll be done in no time then we can eat and you can travel this afternoon. I promise.’

  I turned to him. My face felt cold and drained of colour and I wondered how I appeared in his eyes. I took a deep breath and swallowed my anger not wishing to direct it towards an innocent target. ‘They did this on purpose, because of the will.’

  ‘The will?’ he asked.


  ‘Vivienne left the house to Tomas, Anna and me.’

  ‘Who’s Anna?’

  ‘My sister, she’s my beautiful, wonderful big sister. You saw her at the funeral and you really must meet her properly, Scott. Come with me tonight, to Clive’s. She’s staying there, for the short-term at least.’

  ‘Of course. That’s wonderful, Crow, a big sister. Now, let’s get this place sorted out. Shall I do the washing up?’

  ‘Scott, I wanted to say ...’

  ‘You don’t need to say anything.’

  ‘But ...’

  ‘It’s okay. I understand and nothing is ever broken that cannot be mended.’

  I wasn’t convinced he did understand, but I left him to his somewhat Zen thoughts. Cleaning the house took hours, especially with my frequent cigarette breaks, but eventually the downstairs of the house was tidy again.

  ‘Do you think they went upstairs?’ Scott asked.

  ‘I hope not. I don’t think I should check. It would be too much to stomach if they messed up my room.’ I opened the refrigerator door. ‘I’ll make us some lunch then we can start ... Mmm left overs. I wonder whether any of it’s vegan.’

  Scott squeezed next to me and looked in the fridge. ‘They look okay, and those. Are you gonna throw the rest out?’

  I shrugged. ‘Probably.’

  Scott grabbed a tray of the garlic mushrooms I’d sampled the day before. I picked up some sliced salad vegetables and started shovelling them into my mouth before we reached the table. Scott fetched a couple of glasses of water and joined me.

  ‘I need a coffee.’

  Scott stood up.

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ I said, laughing. ‘I’ll get them. What do you want?’

  ‘Just some green tea, please.’

  'Assuming we have any. Maybe Cathy left some.' I took the kettle to the sink and stared out of the window. ‘Do you like the garden?’ I asked, gazing out into the sunlight.

  ‘It’s great. You could grow all your vegetables out there.’

  ‘There’s no tree,’ I said.

  ‘You could plant one.’