by Smith, Ava
“Why have you brought me here?” he yells after them.
As he turns he draws back at the awesome sight of St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church, an imposing structure that towers over everything else. Victor walks into the graveyard and passes the hundreds of gravestones that are packed tightly into rows. He stops abruptly when he spots his niece far off in the distance.
“Thank God!” he declares.
Sarah kneels in front of her parents’ graves and stares at their headstones. She barely knew them and yet she senses they’re always around her somehow. Her Uncle used to bring her here every Sunday but their visits have become more infrequent since Victor started his new job. As she continues to stare she wonders what her parents would make of her decision to dance. Would they be happy? Sad? Indifferent? The girl sighs realising she can never ask them these things. A twig snaps behind her and she draws back a touch.
“I know you think it’s a joke but it’s not. I really want to be a dancer. I want it so badly I find it hard to breathe sometimes,” she gasps.
Victor kneels beside her and takes a couple of seconds to speak.
“If you want it so badly - then I suppose you should follow your heart.”
Sarah turns sharply to him. “Really?”
Victor nods and she leaps forward and hugs him.
“Thank you, Uncle! Thank you so much!”
CHAPTER 3
The next step is a big one. Sarah needs to find the perfect dance studio to suit her needs. She spends the following week scouring the Internet for a school but most of the schools she finds are either too expensive or too far away. Then someone at the park mentions ‘Miss Chermont’s Dance School’ in central London. So Sarah decides to check it out. She and Victor arrive early one Saturday morning at what looks like a rundown house. The windows are filthy, the brickwork is worn and it looks like the house itself is ready to collapse. Victor takes one look at the place and shakes his head. Before he says anything they hear a high pitched voice shriek at them.
“Welcome, one and all.”
Victor and Sarah turn to Miss Chermont, a woman who looks to be in her early 60s, wearing a long black gown and her hair in a neat bun. She approaches the duo and speaks to them in a distinct French accent.
“I am Miss Chermont. I understand the little one wants to study ballet?”
“Yes I do,” Sarah answers promptly.
“OK... but you know I can only take you on if you try your best?”
“I always try my best, Miss,” Sarah answers.
“Very well then, I shall show you around.”
Miss Chermont leads Victor and Sarah inside the building and they’re surprised to see how charming the place is. There are bright yellow walls, shiny new mirrors and a state of the art cushioned floor. It may not be the Bolshoi School of Dance but it has character and Miss Chermont seems like an amiable soul. In her younger days Elise Chermont danced for the Opera de Paris which brought ballet to every nook and corner of the world. Dancing was like air for Elise and she was devastated to give it up after an injury. Since then she has been searching for a prodigy upon whom to impart her knowledge and vast expertise.
Sarah wanders round the studio taking in as much detail as possible. Victor is about to speak when Elise grabs his arm and shakes her head, forcing him to stay silent. Sarah spontaneously runs to the centre and twirls around. She lifts her hands in the air and moves her feet. After several seconds she stops twirling and stumbles forward.
“I like it, Uncle. I want to take my ballet classes here,” she says excitedly.
“Wait a minute, first I must know if you’re worthy,” Miss Chermont tells Sarah.
The child’s face immediately turns sombre. She didn’t know there would be a test.
“So, why do you want to learn ballet?” the elegant woman asks.
“Because I want to be a prima ballerina someday.”
“Aha, and if you were to become prima ballerina, which dance would be your favourite?”
Sarah wants to say Swan Lake but guesses everyone probably says that and instead she blurts out, “I don’t have a favourite. I just know I want to dance.”
“I see,” Miss Chermont replies.
Victor steps in. “We can only take lessons between the hours of 9.00am and 5.00pm. Any other time is just not convenient for us.”
“All our lessons commence at 10.00am Mr Mitchell and I don’t know of any school that opens after 5.00pm. Don’t worry, Sarah will be very happy here.”
Sarah didn’t think it would be so easy to find a suitable school and such a nice school too. As she and Victor drive home she notices that her uncle has become subdued again. Sarah can tell it has something to do with her dancing.
“Is something wrong, Uncle?”
“I just want you to promise me that you will never stay beyond sunset. Even if they plead with you to do so.”
Sarah chuckles. “You’re being silly, Uncle!”
Victor pulls over to the side of the road and looks his niece squarely in the eye.
“Promise me, Sarah.”
Sarah nods. “I promise I will never stay beyond sunset, Uncle.”
Feeling reassured, Victor drives on but the tension is still very much apparent.
That same week Sarah buys her first pair of ballet shoes, a tutu and some elastic bands to tie her hair back. The morning of her first ever dance lesson is blustery and cold but Sarah is undeterred and makes sure Victor drops her off 20 minutes early so that she can be on time. Miss Chermont comes out her office wearing a long brown dress this time but still has her hair in a tiny bun. There are seven other children at the lesson, five girls and two boys and Sarah is the tallest of them all. Sarah has difficulty tying her ballet shoes and Miss Chermont bends down to assist the seven-year-old.
“Thank you,” Sarah utters in a sweet voice.
Sarah begins her first ballet lesson and completely immerses herself in the world of dance. While the other children struggle to interpret their teacher’s instruction, Sarah performs everything that is asked of her with flawless precision. As the lesson progresses Sarah’s confidence grows and the other kids begin to realise they’re in a room with someone who is much better than they are, a born dancer.
“You all did really well. So well done and I’ll see you next week,” Miss Chermont tells them.
The children leave the class and Sarah follows. She has a big smile on her face because she knows she’s done well. She is about to walk out of the door when her teacher calls out.
“Sarah, can you come here a moment?”
Sarah walks back nervously not knowing if Miss Chermont is going to dismiss her for not trying her best. The dance teacher gives the child a gentle smile and speaks in a calm voice.
“I used to be a prima ballerina once. Did you know that?”
“No miss.”
“I remember dancing all around the world. It was hard work. I had a lot of broken toenails and bruised ankles. I think you have the skill to be prima ballerina one day. How would you like me to teach you every Saturday afternoon after class?”
“Just you and me?” Sarah asks.
“You can ask your Uncle to attend as well if you would like?”
Sarah thinks about it for a matter of seconds.
“I would like that very much, Miss Chermont. Thank you.”
Sarah has never been so happy and she curtseys to her teacher and runs out of the school. Her eyes widen when she sees Victor waiting to pick her up. They drive home together and she so badly wants to tell him the amazing news but is fearful he may say no. She waits until they’re metres away from home before she reveals what is on her mind.
“Miss Chermont wants me to take extra classes because she thinks I’m really good,” she says.
Victor doesn’t say a thing and turns into the drive without showing a smidgen of emotion. It’s like the man is carved from stone. Poor Sarah doesn’t bother repeating her statement because there’s no point. She opens the car
door when Victor tells her,
“You may take the lessons providing you don’t break the golden rule.”
Sarah is overjoyed and replies, “Yes, Uncle, I will never stay after sunset!”
So every Saturday afternoon at 4.00pm when all the other children of her age are busy playing in the park and riding around on bicycles, Sarah Mitchell begins her private ballet classes with Miss Chermont. The lessons go swimmingly, Sarah is an attentive pupil and Miss Chermont is able to begin to mould the child into an exquisite dance artist. The only problem is, whenever Sarah dances, a line of fifty birds of every species imaginable watch her through the windows. At first it intrigues the seven-year-old but as time passes it becomes a distraction. Not just for Sarah but also for Miss Chermont who can’t understand why a little girl would attract so much attention. After a few weeks Sarah and Miss Chermont learn to live with the added interest and even start to appreciate their audience.
For the next two years Sarah is taught all the basics. She often comes home with bruises on her feet and toes, but like a true professional, she never complains. When Sarah turns nine Miss Chermont takes her to see another ballet, this time it’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and Sarah is once again entranced by the performance. She doesn’t take her eyes off ‘Juliet’ and Chermont understands how important dancing is to the child. After the ballet they return to the dance studio and Sarah asks Miss Chermont an important question.
“What does it take to become the greatest dancer who ever lived?”
Miss Chermont thinks briefly and answers, “Hard work, dedication and talent.” Sarah is about to say something when Chermont adds, “I think you will be a great dancer one day.”
Sarah grins. “Me? I may be a good dancer Miss Chermont but not a great one.”
“No my dear, if you work really hard and continue with the same dedication you’ve shown in all of your lessons, there’s no reason why you can’t be the very best.”
Sarah stares at her teacher and realises she means what she said.
After that day the bond between them grows stronger and whatever Miss Chermont asks of her pupil, Sarah tries her best to accomplish. The years fly by like minutes and each year Sarah takes one step closer to fulfilling her dream. On the eve of her 11th birthday, Miss Chermont makes Sarah a gorgeous birthday cake decorated with the motif of a ballerina going up ‘en pointe’. Sarah chuckles at the design and cuts a large slice of the cake. She is about to take a bite when Miss Chermont hands her student a plain white envelope.
“What’s this?” she asks frowning.
“Open it and see.”
Sarah takes it from her and opens it to find a letter which has the Odette Carmichael Dance Academy logo on it, arguably the best dance school in the world. As Sarah reads through the letter she is flabbergasted to learn it’s an invitation for an audition.
“I... I don’t understand. I thought you were going to be my teacher?” she queries.
“I’ve taught you everything I can, my dear. It’s time you went to another place to nurture your talent.”
Sarah’s eyes fill with tears. “But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you.”
“Sarah, you are the best pupil I have ever had. Nothing will make me prouder than to see you fulfil your dream.”
Sarah leans forward and hugs her teacher. They stay that way for a while because something inside tells Sarah it’s the last time she will see Miss Chermont.
After she leaves things carry on as normal and Sarah revels in the thought of attending a world famous dance school. Then one Thursday morning Victor gets a phone call. He answers it in his usual no nonsense way but a few seconds later his face looks gloomy.
“...When did it happen?... I see... I’ll make sure I tell her.”
Victor puts the phone down and turns to see Sarah standing halfway down the stairs with tears welling up in her eyes.
“She’s dead isn’t she?” Sarah asks calmly.
“I’m so sorry. Miss Chermont died peacefully last night in her sleep,” he tells her.
Sarah bursts into tears and Victor rushes over and hugs his niece but the child is inconsolable.
Nothing is quite the same after that and she becomes more reserved, hardly ever smiles and concentrates only on her dancing. It bothers Victor so much that he decides she needs a change of scenery. After some consideration, he buys an elegant 19th century house deep in the rural countryside and opposite a vast lake. Sarah has to travel further to go to school every day, but she welcomes the move since the countryside helps to lift her spirits and so suits her down to the ground.
Within weeks of moving in Sarah has covered her new bedroom with posters of ballerinas and the ballet. The most intriguing poster of all is the one of Odette, except here she is transformed into the Swan Queen from Swan Lake. It shows her dressed in a white costume and wearing a diamond encrusted tiara with white feathers on either side of it. The poster takes pride of place on the main wall and directly under the poster is an open music box which plays a tune from Swan Lake as a ballerina doll dances to it. Other things of interest include a variety of leotards and dance costumes that hang inside the wardrobe and six pairs of ballet shoes on the bottom shelf. They are placed in order of size and the tiniest pair would ideally belong to a girl of six or seven.
The music box tune stops playing just as Sarah rushes up the stairs and barges into her room. The desk clock turns 5.45pm and she glances at it before she runs to her wardrobe and takes out a bright pink leotard and plucks the most recent pair of ballet shoes from the bottom shelf. She changes into the leotard and slips her feet into the shoes then briskly winds up the music box again and places it on her desk.
“One, two, three, four!” she whispers
As the music starts to play Sarah engages in a graceful and well-choreographed ballet that sees her covering most of her medium-sized bedroom. She tries to remember everything Miss Chermont taught her and the fact that she isn’t here to guide her anymore proves to be a great inconvenience. Still, her concentration is absolute and her footwork is flawless. She becomes more immersed in her routine and it seems nothing can stop her from finishing a perfect piece, when Victor knocks on her door and makes her trip.
“Time to go Sarah. It’s nearly 6 o’clock!”
“I’ll be there in a minute!” she yells back.
Sarah marches over to the music box and winds it up again. She returns to the centre of the room and starts all over again and this time she looks ahead with steely determination. She reaches the part she stumbled on before but this time glides through it effortlessly. Once the routine ends Sarah rushes to a calendar and quickly runs her finger down the month of September and stops when she comes to the 17th.
“Tomorrow,” she states defiantly.
CHAPTER 4
The city noise is deafening and the rush hour has brought the cars to a virtual standstill. In a tiny street, tucked away from the rest of the city, stands an impressive building. It has been around for the best part of 50 years and the most striking thing about it is the large bay windows at the front of the property. An enormous iron gate cuts it off from the rest of the road and just beyond the gate is a sign for ‘The Odette Carmichael Ballet Academy’. A caretaker opens the gate at 8.00am and several 10 to 12--year-old girls trickle in with their mothers, carrying their dance bags on their shoulders. The girls look round the immaculately kept grounds that span over a vast area, but as they look ahead a couple of them gulp. The beautiful, but formidable looking, building is getting closer with every step.
By 8.55am there is a long line of girls snaking all the way down from the building and right around the pavement outside. The kids appear happy and cheerful and some of them practise specific dance moves by pointing their toes and raising their arms above their head. There is no sign of Sarah Mitchell anywhere. At 9.00am sharp the large double doors of the academy opens up and the girls become silent. Shortly, a stern looking woman wearing a suit and circular glasses walks out to gree
t them.
“Hello my name is Miss Linney and I am responsible for making sure you get to the right place for your audition. When you walk in you will have to register, after which you will be given a number that you are to pin onto your dance costumes. Well that’s everything. Except to say... good luck everyone.”
The children step into the building and the first thing they see are seven stern-looking people sitting behind seven perfectly lined-up desks. The girls walk over and form queues behind the desks and one by one they are registered and given a designated number. By 9.45am there is only one name that hasn’t been accounted for; Sarah.
Miss Linney glances at the register and remarks, “Perhaps she decided not to become a ballerina after all.”
As soon as she says this Sarah rushes into the hall looking fatigued and walks up to the table. Miss Linney and the others watch her carefully as she is not as tidy as the other girls and her unkempt hair makes it seem like she’s just rolled out of bed.
“My name is Sarah Mitchell. I got lost and then there was a traffic jam.”
Miss Linney hands Sarah a tag with the number 311 on it.
“Go and get changed and then make your way to room 16 for your warm up.”
“Yes Miss,” Sarah answers as she runs to the left, seconds later she runs back the other way and disappears round the corner.
Sarah walks into a room full of girls who are getting ready for the audition. They’re all very excitable but Sarah walks past them in silence. She finds a secluded spot in the corner and takes out a bright purple leotard from her dance bag.
“Well you’re definitely going to stand out looking like a bruised artichoke!” remarks 12--year-old Hailey Brook.