She shook my hand with a dismissive air and asked me to step into her office where she sat at her desk and put on a pair of glasses with a row of pearls hanging from the frames. She motioned for me to sit in a chair in front of her, took the form I had just filled out and started to scrutinise it carefully, looking up occasionally to peer at me like I was a fish at the market.
‘You studied with Claire Gilbert, I see.’ she said, in a tone that gave nothing away.
‘That’s right.’ I said, not knowing if that was supposed to be good or bad.
There followed a long silence, which I could only assume was an attempt at intimidation, given that there were only about fifteen lines on the form for her to read. Then she asked me to stand up and go over to the bar that stood in a corner of her office.
‘Preparation. plie, grand plie in first, second, fourth and fifth, continue with the tendu and then do everything on the other side.’
It was just a few exercises to check the arch of the foot, the openness of the hips, the balance, the harmony of the arms and the various alignments, but I could not help feeling like I was being examined like a dog at Crufts. She watched me without saying anything, corrected the position of my shoulders and pelvis in a rather energetic and annoying way, wondering aloud how it was possible that Claire had not realised that I was ‘all wrong.’
All wrong?
Her head was all wrong!
I tried to ignore her and concentrated as much as possible on the steps, moving in the most precise and harmonious way possible, but it never seemed to be enough.
‘Noooo, what is happening with that head and those hands? Come on, open your knee. more, forward.’ She snorted. ‘Was she drinking vodka when she taught you. That’s the only thing she learned from the Russians! Up, start again, raise that leg...and the head, pull it up, I said! Tragedy, it’s a TRA-GE-DY!’ she cried, covering her eyes theatrically.
I wasn’t staying here a minute longer to be treated like a novice who could not distinguish her right foot and her left foot. I put on my shoes, grabbed my bag and started for the door without looking at her. I was humiliated and angry and I didn’t want her to see the tears in my eyes.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked sternly.
‘Home,’ I answered, opening the door, ‘I don’t think this is the place for me.’
‘No? Why not? Are you too good?’ she said, amused.
‘No, but I don’t enjoy being spoken to like that.’
‘Is that right? Do you think I should ask you for permission to correct you? You are full of flaws that you don’t even know you have, and as far as I’m concerned you can keep them, but you would do well to put your pride aside if you want to be a dancer. I can tell you that you will never enter the Royal with that preparation and I will certainly not run after you. I’ll call your grandmother and tell her that you do not wish to attend my lessons. You may go.’
I stared at her, searching for the right words to tell her that I did not deserve this treatment, that there is a right way to explain people’s faults and that she had no right to talk about Claire that way, but the only words that came out of me were, ‘Fat-arse cow!’
And I went out and slammed the door.
It was only when I reached the bottom of the stairs that I realised I no longer had a dance teacher and the thought that my preparation was not suitable for the audition made me tremble.
My phone rang. I was ready to launch it under the bus if it was my grandmother, but luckily it was Patrick, the only one I who could understand and help me.
‘Hi, honey? I’ve really been struggling to call you. We’re engaged in a series of war simulations and it is really tough.’
I was at war with the world, too and this wasn’t a simulation. I told him what had happened, how I had been humiliated by that old bitch, how my grandmother had interfered and now I had no one who could prepare me for the audition.
‘Where are you now?’
‘Outside the school.’
‘Get back inside there this instant!’ he ordered in a tone which was anything but kind
‘Sorry, what?’
‘I told you to go back in there right now and apologise to your teacher.’
‘I’m not apologising to her! She’s a bitch who thinks she’s it and I would go back in there to save my life!’
‘You’re going back inside even if I have to come there and kick you up the backside to get you to do it!’
I was shocked. He’d never spoken to me like that before.
‘You don’t understand, you’ve no idea how she treated me! It was like I’d never danced in my life!’
‘She certainly didn’t treat you any worse than they treat me here and if she did it’s for a reason! If you want a chance of getting into that school, you have to learn to be humble and listen to the advice of people with more experience than you, even if they’re being a dick about it! Do you think they say pretty please before making me clean the bridge or do five night shifts in a row? Mia, this isn’t a game, it’s your future and if it is what you really want, you have to swallow your pride, climb the stairs, go back in to see that horrible old woman and get her to help you.’
‘But.’ I tried to object
‘Come on, Mia, I know you. You’re a strong person, you don’t give up, and you’re not afraid to admit when you’re wrong.’
He was right, damn him. If I flounced off in a huff at the first criticism I would never make it as a dancer.
‘Pat. I miss you,’ I whispered.
‘I miss you too, baby. I miss you so much. I wish I could just drop everything and come home to be with you, but we can’t give up, either of us. These are the careers we’ve wanted since we were born, so we have to help each other through. And I want to be able to rely on you when it all gets too much for me, too. And one day I will be able to follow you in Paris and Moscow, and stand there in the front row, cheering you on.
‘Oh Pat, I hope so! I really do want it,’ I said, fighting with every fibre of my being against the urge to beg him to come back.
‘Then go back in, don’t think about it, don’t let words hurt you. They’re just words, people use millions of them every day, almost always without even thinking. Just let them wash over you. No judgment is final. The only one that matters is yours!’
And overwhelmed by melancholy, I also spoke without thinking.
‘I love you Pat!’
I no longer cared that if it was too early, if it made me look ridiculous, or about waiting for the right moment.
This was the right moment for me.
‘I love you too.’
We were silent for a full minute.
Holding each other close across two hundred miles.
18
Climbing the stairs of the School of Art, I felt so happy and confident that I knew I could face all the Mary Sinclaires of this world.
I knocked and went into her office with my head down, ready to apologise.
‘I wanted to say that I am very sorry. I never meant to call you a fat-arse cow. That is to say, I did mean to say it, but I was angry. I hope that you will still agree to teach me, if you haven’t already spoken to my grandmother, that is.’
Mary Sinclaire looked up from the cream and cherry cake she was eating, wiped her mouth with a linen napkin then cleared her throat and said, ‘Get changed and wait for me in studio two.’
If I had known what awaited me in class, I would never have said anything about her arse, because it was clearly a sensitive issue. If I’d called her a bitch, or even if just told her to piss off, she might have been less vengeful, but I had wounded her pride, and that was harder to forgive.
She asked me to show her the piece I had prepared for the audition with Claire and demolished it piece by piece, sometimes laughing. It was horrible, but I wasn’t in a position to object.
‘What is this amateurish mess? Just because you can do thirty-two fouettes, doesn’t mean you’re ready to be Odile: you lack the p
reparation and maturity, you would be ridiculous!’
I was grateful for the pain in my feet that distracted me from her words. I fought down every instinct in order to stay where I was, in the centre of the room, with fifteen pairs of eyes, teachers and students alike, all looking at me. If I had felt humiliated before, I was now being held up to public ridicule. I was so ashamed I could have died, but I pretended not to care, smiling serenely at the most ruthless jury I had ever faced, thinking of what Pat had said.
When had had her fun, she ordered everyone to go out and leave us alone.
‘Well Mia, I hope you have realised today that this is not a joke. You have clearly never attended a ballet school. You lack discipline, humility, and respect, but this does not have to be a problem, you can learn with time. What you can’t learn is talent. If you don’t have it, all the lessons in the world with the best teachers money can buy will not be enough.’
There was a lump in my throat. She was about to pronounce the verdict.
‘To tell you the truth, I was hoping you would prove to be incapable, so I would have the satisfaction of sending you back crying to Claire, but I have to admit that you do appear to have some raw talent, and you appear able to learn quickly. So, if we can manage to tame your insolent character, there is every chance we could make you an excellent dancer.’
I couldn’t believe my ears.
I could do it, I had a chance of getting into the Royal!
‘Thank you,’ I said, bowing slightly, ‘Thank you, Mrs Sinclaire. I really am very happy to have the opportunity to study with you, and I apologise again for what I said earlier. You don’t have a fat arse at all. It’s a peach, really!’
A peach?
‘Let’s not make the situation worse, hmm?’ she answered dryly. ‘Now, we really do have a lot of work to do. First of all, we need to prepare another audition piece, something that draws on your emotions and your personality and not just a collection of circus tricks. Nobody here is interested in technical difficulty, that’s Russian school stuff. It’s the character of the dance, the expressiveness, the passion that you communicate to your audience that counts. And from what little I saw, with your small stature, dark colouring, and that quick look you have in your eyes, you would be a perfect Esmeralda.’
Esmeralda was a solo that I loved, full of grace and passion and danced with a tambourine that accompanied the steps and the music. If I was honest, it was a piece I felt much more of a connection with than Odile, because it was so full of life and love and I knew I could do it best thinking of Patrick.
If it hadn’t been for him I would have been at home despairing. This was the second time he had saved my life, metaphorically speaking. Not counting the time he had actually done it. He really was becoming my guardian angel, materialising just when I needed him most, when I wasn’t thinking straight or was about to make the cock-up of the century: there to give me the right advice to get me back on track. Thanks to him I was beginning to understand the importance of taking a step backwards sometimes in order to be able to take two steps forward and that nothing was absolute and definitive: things change, people change and even your destiny sometimes has a bit of a negotiable margin.
We began rehearsals immediately and, from the look of Mrs Sinclaire, I could see that she was pleased with my progress. She corrected any technical issues very scrupulously and almost obsessively, but left me free to interpret the emotion of the piece. As a teacher, she was the exact opposite of Claire.
I expressed Esmeralda’s character with all the irrepressible passion in my heart, and I lived it so deeply that I transformed myself into her, radiating joy and delight to those who loved me
And she watched.
I was dancing in front of Mrs Sinclaire with the same commitment and energy as if I had been in front of a thousand people. I no longer felt like a little girl studying my steps for the year-end exam, but a real dancer, building on what she has learned to become unique and special. I was certain that this was my future and to make it happen I was willing to put up with much more than a bit of pressure from my grandmother.
‘Well Mia, I think we started on the right foot after all. I will admit that to begin with I thought you were just a spoiled brat with a rich grandmother, but I can see that you’re willing to put the work in. Too bad you have thrown away all those years with Claire. You will have to work very hard to get rid of the bad habits you have learned, but if you can do that, we should be able to prepare a good audition.’
I wanted to say something in Claire’s defence, but I realised it would be unwise to waste my difficult apology and make an enemy of her again. After all, I felt like I was really beginning to learn, and it gave me a thrill like I had never experienced before. I was excited to come back and learn some more.
Buzzing, I went outside and called Nina. I missed sharing all my news with her, and I hoped she would be excited for me, and maybe it would break the ice a little. We were too close to let something so trivial push us apart.
‘Nina? Can we meet up? I’ve got so much to tell you, I’m going crazy! I’ve just been to my new ballet school, and…’
‘I can’t…’ she paused for a moment, ‘I need to spend some time with...’
‘Carl?’
‘Yes,’ she said softly.
There was a moment of silence, and then I hung up.
I grabbed my bike and started pedalling like crazy, oblivious to the rain and the slush of melted snow on the road that made me slide about like a drunken penguin.
If she thought I was leaving it like this she was very wrong.
I hammered on the door like a bailiff coming to take her furniture and she opened the door, looking surprised and embarrassed to see me.
‘Do you realise you are throwing away our friendship and everything else you used to care about, all because of a boy? There is still a world outside, in case you hadn’t noticed, and I’m still a part of it, but apparently you don’t give a shit any more – all you care about is clinging to Carl!’ I was shouting now, soaked to the skin and red in the face. ‘And, god, it’s not like he’s anything special! You know what you two remind me of? A couple of prisoners sharing the same cell and who don’t even want to go outside for a breath of fresh air!’
‘Mia, don’t make a scene, Carl will be here any minute.’
‘And what about me? What if I need to talk to my best friend, alone? Do I have to make an appointment with your secretary? I want my friend back, do you hear me! I want my friend!’
I took her by the shoulders and shook her weakly, shivering with cold, my tears mixed with the rain.
‘Can you please stop behaving like this? I miss you.’
I looked at her, my sister, stood there not knowing what to do. Not lifting a
finger to save our friendship. I wanted to say something to shake her from her stupor, to break the spell that had turned her into a paper doll.
‘Mia, you know you’ll always be my best friend, but things change. When people grow up they’re not always into the same things as before.’
‘Like what, chatting on the phone for hours? Spending the evening watching MTV and talking about sex? Those things are exactly what people our age do! You’re acting like a middle-aged housewife!’
‘That’s a horrible thing to say!’
‘Well I’m pissed off, because I can see you giving up your future for him and it’s not fair! You are the cleverest, most beautiful girl in the whole school, everyone is jealous of you, the teachers have huge expectations of you and you’ve given up all of your extracurricular activities to spend more time with Carl! You’ve given up editing the school newspaper, you’re no longer part of the student council, you’ve quit drama club. What’s going on?’
‘I’m in love, Mia. I wish you could understand how it feels, but you can’t!’
‘I understand you very well, but I would never stop living my life and following my dreams. But you, you just sit there like that stuffed moose head in your
living room!’ I bawled at her.
She gave me an inquiring look.
‘Or reindeer, or whatever it is …’ I tried to stay serious, but my voice wobbled dangerously at the end.
I could see her grinning, and I pretended to scratch my forehead to avoid looking her in the eye, and suddenly we both burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. I took her by the hand and dragged her out into the rain and we collapsed onto the slushy driveway and lay there, making moose antlers at each other and howling with laughter like a couple of idiots.
We were still the same. For now.
At home, later, Mum was clearly itching to know how things had gone at the new school, but she was too proud to show an interest in anything that involved my grandmother, so she sent Paul up to do some snooping for her.
He knocked on my door while I was practising a particularly troublesome step in front of the mirror a step.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, slightly embarrassed as always.
‘Yeah, good. I am pregnant though.’ I told him, shrugging.
‘What?’ he yelped, turning as white as a sheet.
I burst out laughing.
‘I’m joking, Paul!’
‘You’re sure are you?’
‘Unless it’s a virgin birth…’
He shook his head at me.
‘Listen, I don’t want to pry, but, well, you probably know your Mum has sent me to investigate, so…’
‘What does she want to know?’
‘How things are going with your grandmother, mainly,’ he said.
‘Tell her that she’s an ogre, she’s oppressive and overbearing, and she’s taken over my life!’
‘Well that’s good. She’d never have stood for it if everything was roses between you.’
‘Tell her I feel like I’m being punished by God and I wish I could go back, but it’s too late,’ I said, smiling.
‘Perfect, that’s the official version, now tell me how it’s really going.’
‘She is oppressive and overbearing and she has taken over my life.’
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