'I've heard from Timothy,' Melanie gasped. 'He's coming here. He's already on his way.'
Taking the cable, Verenskaya read it and then folded it carefully into four. 'I expected this. Personally I am surprised he waited as long as he did. I would have thought he would have taken the first plane he could.' The dark eyes glittered. 'You know what this means, don't you? He'll be here today.'
'I know. But I can't see him. It's impossible.'
'Rubbish! The sooner you meet, the sooner you'll settle the whole thing!'
'It's already settled,' Melanie replied.
'For you perhaps, but not for him. You have to see him whether you like it or not.'
'Then he'll have to meet me at the theatre,' Melanie said slowly. ‘We'll be rehearsing nearly all day today.'
‘You won't be able to dance while you're waiting for him. Besides, your anxiety will affect everyone else. It will be better for you to stay here.'
Recognizing the wisdom of the order Melanie gave way, though as she stood on the hotel steps and watched the Company leave, her fear of meeting Timothy increased to panic. Yet to run away would serve no lasting purpose, for as Verenskaya had rightly said, she and Timothy would have to meet and discuss their future.
Forcing herself to a semblance of calm, she re-entered the lobby and asked the clerk at the reception desk to find out what time the flight from London arrived at Sydney.
'I'll need to know which airline, lady,' he replied.
‘I don't know. But it's from London.'
'I still can't help you. All I can do is give you the arrival times of all the planes that could connect with the London flight.'
'That won't be much help,' she said. 'I'd better wait in the hotel. If Mr. Ransome should call or arrive here, please let me know.'
Alone in her room, Melanie relived all that had happened since her marriage, and for the hundredth time wondered if she had been wrong to run away without giving Timothy a chance to talk to her. Yet for the hundredth time she knew that nothing he could have said would have served as a satisfactory explanation for his behaviour, and knew too that if she were faced with the same situation again, she would still make the same decision.
The morning dragged past and by noon the monotony of remaining in her room was so intolerable that she decided to go for a walk. Leaving word at the desk, she strolled outside, unaware of the heat and the crowds and conscious only that before the day was out she would be seeing Timothy. Somehow the thought had no reality, and though she could see his face clearly in her imagination, she could not feel any emotion at the thought of him. Was it a self-defence mechanism? she wondered. Nature's way of ensuring that she would not be hurt again? But here too the answer eluded her and she knew that only when she actually saw Timothy in the flesh would she be able to judge her feelings.
After an hour she retraced her steps to the hotel, perspiration clinging to her forehead. The heat had made her so drowsy she could hardly keep her eyes open. A cool shower was what she needed to revive her. She crossed the lobby and was about to enter the lift when a pile of newspapers on the bookstand and their large black headlines caught her eye:
SYDNEY-LONDON JET EXPLODES. NO SURVIVORS.
She stopped and stared at the words disbelievingly. People pushed past her, but she was unaware of them, seeing only the line of heavy black type advancing and receding in front of her. Was this the flight Timothy was on? Did the words NO SURVIVORS include him?
With a gasp she ran to the reception desk and asked the clerk to contact the airline office
‘Which one, ma'am?' he queried.
'I don't know. But a plane just crashed and I - I think my husband… The name's Ransome, Timothy Ransome.'
'I'll find out right away,' he said, and picked up the receiver.
Melanie's heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she could not hear what he was saying, but she saw his lips moving, saw too the way the colour ebbed from his face as he replaced the receiver.
'Mr. Ransome's name was on the list of flight passengers,' he said slowly. 'I'm terribly sorry, lady.' Melanie swayed and he leaned over the desk and caught her arm. 'Can I get you anything? Would you like to see a doctor?'
‘No… No… Ill be all right If there's any news, let me know at once.'
'I'm afraid there won't be. The explosion was so bad that they haven't even sighted any wreckage.'
With a gasp Melanie turned away, longing for the solitude of her room. But even when she reached it the tears would not come and she lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. There was no longer any need to wonder what she would say to Timothy when they met. Fate had made the decision for her. Her husband was dead and she was a widow without ever having been a wife.
CHAPTER TWO
Overwhelmed by the shock of Timothy's death, Melanie's first thought was to run to Verenskaya for comfort But only the knowledge that the Company were giving their first performance tonight prevented her from doing so. Nerves would be strained to breaking point without herself adding to the tension. All she could do was to wait here alone with her grief and her guilt. Not until tonight, when the performance had ended, would anyone have time to read the newspapers and learn of the plane crash.
But in this Melanie was proved wrong, for the blue sky was slowly turning purple when there was a rap on the door, followed immediately by Verenskaya's entrance.
'My poor child!' she said swiftly, and crossing over to the bed gathered Melanie into her arms. 'I came back as soon as I heard. Why didn't you come to me? It was crazy of you to stay here alone.'
'I didn't want to upset you before the premiere,' Melanie said shakily.
The premiere!' Veranskaya snorted. It was nothing! Just one more performance in a new city. For you to bear this alone - it was crazy!'
The sympathy in the guttural voice brought tears to Melanie's eyes, but they only blurred her vision, for when she blinked her lids, her eyes were dry again. 'I can't even cry,' she whispered. I don't feel anything… it's so unreal.'
That's why you cannot cry,' Verenskaya said prosaically, and released her. ‘Even myself - I cannot believe it is true. It is like some nightmare.'
‘But it's true,' Melanie moaned, and rested her head in her hands. 'It's true and it's all my fault. I killed him, Madame, do you know that? I killed him!'
‘Nonsense! It was an accident'
'He wouldn't have been on the plane if it hadn't been for me.' She gave another moan and swayed backwards and forwards. 'If only I knew what he'd been thinking when it happened… what was in his mind. But knowing he thought I hated him - that I never wanted to see him again…'
'He never thought that for a moment,' came the firm reply.
That's why he was coming here. Don't you see that for yourself? Timothy was convinced that once he had you in his arms everything else would be forgotten.'
'If only I could believe that,' Melanie whispered. ‘But I keep remembering the way he looked at me the last time I saw him… The pain in his eyes.'
‘You're torturing yourself for nothing I Timothy was a boy and he thought like one. It never entered his head that he wouldn't be able to talk you round once you were together. He didn't die believing you hated him. He believed you loved him!' Verenskaya pulled Melanie into a sitting position. 'And can you be so sure that you didn't? Do you know exactly how you would have reacted when you'd met?’
‘No.'
‘Well then,' Verenskaya said triumphantly, 'that proves my point. Timothy may well have been right.'
'I can't be as sure as you.'
'Perhaps not today, but wait till later - when you can think more clearly.' Verenskaya stood up. I've brought Anna back with me. She's waiting outside. I've asked her to stay with you tonight.'
It isn't necessary.'
'Maybe not But she's your friend, and if you feel like talking she'll be here to listen.'
'A father confessor?' Melanie asked dryly.
Unfortunately you don't need one. If you weren't
so innocent you wouldn't feel so guilty!' Verenskaya paused by the door, and with her hand on the knob, turned round again. 'I want you at the theatre in the morning for rehearsal.'
'I can't!'
‘You must. From now on you will concentrate on your work. It's the one thing that will never let you down.'
'I wish I was as sure as you.'
'I speak from experience. In time you will be able to think of Timothy and your marriage as something that never happened.'
That's your Russian optimism speaking!' Melanie retorted.
'It's my feminine logic! I may be old, but I'm still a woman and I've had a great deal of experience. You'll be surprised how quickly memories dim. You're young, my child, and you only knew Timothy a few months.'
‘Long enough to fall in love with him.'
'But not long enough to forgive him when…' Verenskaya did not finish the words, but Melanie finished them for her.
‘When I found him making love to someone else?' She sat up and leaned forward, her expression anguished. 'Yet a moment ago you said I might have forgiven him.'
'And so you might. But it's an answer you'll never know now.'
'That's what I find so unbearable.'
Verenskaya gave an exclamation of anger. ‘You cannot live with regret - it's the one thing he wouldn't want. He loved life, my child, and he wouldn't want you to throw yours away.'
Melanie nodded and sighed, remembering the plans he had made for them; the things they would do, the countries they would visit, the family they would raise. But this was all over and her future was - as Verenskaya had said - one that must be filled with work.
More quickly than Melanie would have believed possible she settled back into the routine of dancing: not that she had ever left it for long enough to get out of the habit. It was strange to realize that the last time she had danced had only been ten days ago; so much had happened to her in the interim that it seemed like a lifetime since she had stood on the London stage and heard the audience applaud.
Once more she resumed her place in the corps de ballet, practising for the usual five or six hours a day and snatching whatever time she could to sunbathe on Bondi Beach.
The Sydney audiences were vociferous in their welcome and, despite the unexpected fatigue engendered by the extremely hot weather, not one person in the Company regretted Verenskaya's decision in arranging for them to go there.
But all too soon their stay in Sydney came to an end and they set out on a series of one-night stops, dancing at small towns and settlements along the coast.
Slowly the weeks turned into months and the lengthening time dimmed Melanie's memory of Timothy, until all that remained to remind her of her brief marriage was the pearl necklace he had given her and the enormous diamond engagement ring which she had always been nervous to wear.
Gradually she realized that Verenskaya's opinion - expressed on the day Timothy had died - had not been based on optimism alone. She was forgetting him; she was finding that their courtship and marriage had been part of another life and - most important of all - she no longer felt bitter towards him.
Analysing the reason for her change of attitude she wondered whether the self-analysis to which she had subjected herself - in order to reach an acceptance of Timothy's death - had not only given her a better understanding of his behaviour, but had also served to increase her own self-knowledge. But whatever the reason, she could now accept his weakness and forgive him for it
Concentrating all her energies on work, she found added confidence as a dancer, and was delighted when she began to get another part added to her repertoire, until there was hardly a ballet in which she did not appear. Not only had she improved technically, but her greater self-knowledge also added depth to her interpretation, enabling her to give a more sensitive portrayal of each part she danced.
‘You'll be a prima ballerina yet,' Anton declared one Sunday in Perth as he came into the rehearsal room at the theatre and found her practising at the barre. ‘But don't you think you should rest at least one day of the week?’
‘Verenskaya wouldn't agree with you,' Melanie smiled.
'As it so happens she does. As a matter of fact she sent me here to bring you back to the hotel. You can't work without a break. You'll crack up.'
‘If it hadn't been for work, I'd have cracked up a long time ago.'
'Maybe. But now it's time you took It easy. Too much practice will make you stale.' Suddenly he pulled her round to face the long mirror at the end of the room. 'Look at yourself, Melanie. What do you see?'
'A scraggy female who needs to gain weight!'
'I see a beautiful girl who should start behaving like one.'
She swung round to look at him. ‘Why the flattery? Do you need your socks darning?'
He did not smile. 'I'm being serious. You're beautiful and it's time you realized it.'
‘Why the interest in my appearance?'
'Because it's affecting your dancing.' He smiled at her look of surprise. Until you think of yourself as a woman you won't dance like one. It doesn't matter for the parts you're doing now, but when it comes to Giselle—
'Giselle!' she interrupted. 'It'll be years before I dance that!'
'Don't be so sure.' He put his hand on her chin and tilted her face to look into her eyes. You've got great talent - everyone in the Company recognizes that - but you're still scared of emotion.'
‘Do you blame me?' she asked bitterly.
'I do. You had a bad shock and it took courage to face it. But now you've got to think of your future. And that doesn't mean living like a nun and making ballet your whole life!'
She pulled away from him. When I married Timothy you were angry because I hadn't made ballet my life.'
'I said you should never give up dancing,' he corrected. ‘But I didn't mean you to regard it as your lover!'
Angrily she walked back to the barre. 'Do we have to discuss my private life?'
'You haven't got a private life; that's what's wrong! If you had a lover it would at least's top it!' she burst out, her voice choked with anger. 'I don't want a lover. I want to live my life alone.'
'You can't. You're too young.’ He caught her by the shoulders. ‘Haven't you taken in anything I've said? You're an iceberg, Melanie, and it shows in your dancing. It's your only drawback.'
'If loving Timothy didn't help me to melt,' she retorted, 'nothing will.'
'On the contrary. Your love for Timothy was the feeling of a child for a boy.'
'Is that why his death affected me so much?'
'It was guilt that affected you,' Anton said. 'You know that as well as I do.' Once again he caught her shoulders, his breathing so fast that she could feel it on her face, 'Do you know the meaning of love, Melanie? Have you ever ached with desire for a man? Have you ever known the joy of complete fulfilment?'
A hot wave of colour flooded into her face and, seeing it, the tenseness vanished from Anton's expression, making him look his usual puckish self. 'So you're still the virgin bride! I'd never have believed it.'
'How dare you speak to me like that!' Anger gave her the strength to pull away from his hold. 'Do you find it so difficult to understand that two people can be in love without wanting to do anything about it until they're married?'
‘Not difficult to understand - just incredible! If you'd been engaged to me—'
‘We don't have the same standards,' she retorted.
'Standards!' he exclaimed. 'If two people love each other they want each other. What have standards got to do with it?'
'I don't happen to believe in the permissive society!'
'I prefer to call it behaving realistically!'
Determined not to show her embarrassment, she resolutely continued with her practice.
‘What wonderful control you have.' His voice was directly behind her, low and mocking. I can see it will require a man of great courage to break you down.'
‘You make it sound like a battle,' she said tartly.
'Getting you to give in would be a battle!'
‘Which I suppose you'd be prepared to do as a duty to the Company,' she said sarcastically. To help me become a better dancer.'
'How blind you are!' Angrily he pulled her away from the barre. 'I love you, Melanie. Haven't you realized that?' The astonishment on her face was his answer, and he gave a wry smile. ‘Yes, I love you. For two years I waited for you to grow up - waited till I thought you were ready - and then you fell for Timothy.' His voice grew deeper, harsher. 'I could have killed him!'
‘Don't say that.'
It's the truth. You don't know how I felt watching you throw away everything you'd worked for in order to marry a spoiled young man who didn't understand you.'
‘I was equally to blame,' she answered quietly. I didn't understand him.'
‘Well, it's over now,' Anton said calmly, 'and you're free.’
‘Not yet… There are too many things I can't forget.'
‘You will in time. And when you do, I don't intend to stand by and watch you make a second mistake.'
There won't be a second time,' she said huskily.
That isn't true. You were made for love, Melanie, and one day you'll want it.'
She was silent, unwilling to admit the truth of what he said, yet unwilling to lie to him. Deliberately she kept her eyes averted from his, but was aware of his touch upon her body, aware of him for the first time as a man and not just a dancer. Had it been naive of her not to have guessed how he felt about her? Yet how could she have known it when his behaviour during the last few years had kept the gossip columns fully occupied? For almost as long as she could remember, Anton had been surrounded by admiring women, his name linked with one beautiful girl after the other. But at no time had he allowed a love affair to impinge on his work, and it had become a standing joke with the Company that his lasting passion was reserved for ballet.
'Are you thinking of my reputation?' Anton asked with uncanny insight.
'You can't blame me,' she shrugged. 'I've never thought of you as a monk.'
'I'm a man, with a normal man's passion,' he replied. 'When I first knew I was in love with you, you were too young to be told.'
Roberta Leigh - My Hearts a Dancer Page 3