by Adle Geras
When the kiss ended, neither of them could think of a word to say. They sat down on a ledge of rock, out of the wind and then they both started to speak at the same time.
‘I …’
‘I …’
‘You first,’ Edmund said. ‘You speak first.’
‘I don’t know what to say. I’m shaking.’
‘Me too. Hester?’
‘Yes?’
‘I love you.’
Hester looked at him. She expected him to be smiling, but his expression was serious. She said nothing. Edmund went on, ‘It’s not a sudden thing, you know. I’m not being impulsive. I’ve loved you since the first day I met you.’
‘But you never said. Why didn’t you say?’
‘I saw how you felt about Adam. From the beginning and even after everything that happened.’
‘You should have tried, Edmund. You could have said something.’
‘I thought about it many times, but in the end I was too frightened of what you might say. I wasn’t going to risk our friendship.’
‘Was it such a risk? I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d have said. I might have forgotten about Adam altogether if you’d only …’
Edmund shook his head. ‘No, you were still in love with him. Part of you. And I had no idea whether or not you found me attractive.’
‘I did,’ Hester said. ‘I do. But I thought … ’
‘What? What did you think?’ He leaned his head into her shoulder and began to kiss her neck in the gap between her hat and her scarf. She shivered and turned her face to him and they were kissing again, and Hester felt a hunger for Edmund, for his mouth and his body, that she hadn’t felt for anyone in years. She wanted to press every inch of her skin against his. She wanted to hold him close and enfold him in her body. She moved away from him a little because sitting so close to him made it impossible to concentrate.
At last she spoke. ‘I thought I was like a kind of younger sister to you. You’ve always looked after me. And you always had a girlfriend. I didn’t even know that you found me attractive.’
‘Girlfriends. Yes, well, I wasn’t going to pine away entirely. I could see how much in love you were with Adam. For years after you parted. Perhaps until his death.’
‘I’m not in love with Adam any longer.’ She stood up and put out her hand for Edmund. ‘And we have to make up for lost time,’ she said. ‘I think we should go back to Wychwood now.’
‘I love you, Hester. Did you hear me saying it before? I mean it.’
‘And I love you, Edmund.’
‘Not like a brother? Not like a friend?’
‘No,’ Hester said. ‘Properly. Truly.’
They walked down to the village arm in arm. All the way back to Wychwood House, as they spoke of things they should have talked about long before, one thought filled Hester’s mind to the exclusion of everything else: He’ll come to my room tonight. He’ll be there when I wake up tomorrow. He loves me.
*
‘Excuse me,’ said Alison, putting her head round the door of the Office, where Hester was sitting at her desk. Siggy had the chaise-longue all to himself.
‘Come in, come in. I’m just writing to a dear friend of mine in New Zealand. I haven’t seen you about lately.’
‘Sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to ask you something, if that’s okay.’
‘Of course. You look worried, Alison. Is anything the matter?’
Alison sat down on the chaise-longue next to Siggy and began to stroke his back. He opened one eye to see who was caressing him, and then closed it again. ‘He knows me, I think,’ said Alison. ‘He’s so gorgeous. I’ll miss him like anything when we go.’
‘You should get a cat of your own.’
‘My mum’d never let me. I’m at school during the term and she’s out such a lot.’
‘That’s a shame. Tell me what’s wrong, then. You look tired.’
‘I didn’t sleep very well.’ She pushed her hair back from her forehead and went on. ‘I’m worried about my dad. He said he was going to phone and we’re in the Arcadia for so much of the day that I’m afraid I’ll miss the call and then I’d … I don’t really know what I’d do. He wrote to me, you see. Saying he’d phone.’
‘Well, I’m here most of the time and I’d make sure to let you know if I took the call. And if I’m not here, there’s the answering machine. I’m sure your father would leave a number where you could phone him, don’t you think?’
‘An answering machine! That’s brilliant. Thanks so much. I’ll stop worrying about it now.’
‘Good. I’m glad we sorted it out. It’s funny, isn’t it, how things that worry us tremendously turn out not to be so dreadful after all?’
‘I suppose so. Thanks very much, anyway. I’ve got to go and help Ruby now. She’s ironing stuff for the dress rehearsal.’
‘I can’t wait. I’ve been busy sorting out the first of the master classes for February, but I’m longing to see what Hugo’s done with Edmund’s music.’
‘I don’t like ballets usually, but this is a bit different because I’ve helped with the props and costumes. And I like the music.’
As she left the Office and closed the door behind her, Alison almost bumped into Hugo, striding at high speed towards the corridor leading to the Arcadia. He stopped when he saw her.
‘Hello, you!’ he said in a very cheerful voice.
‘Hello.’ Alison fell into step beside him. ‘Are you going to the theatre?’
‘Yes,’ said Hugo. ‘I’m just checking up on things before the dress. You okay? You look a bit tired.’
‘I didn’t sleep very well. But I’m fine now.’ A thought occurred to Alison. ‘Did Claudia tell you there was a letter from my dad?’
Hugo shook his head. ‘No, not a word. But then I’m a bit too busy to chat to Claudia as much as I’d like to. Sarabande takes up all my thoughts.’
‘Is it going to be okay?’
‘Yes, I think it is. I was a bit worried about some things earlier on, but I think it’s going to be great. Silver’s going to be amazing.’
Alison heard the warmth in his voice and wondered whether she was imagining it.
‘You like her, don’t you?’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Hugo sighed.
‘Is it obvious? I do like her, Alison. I hoped that I was keeping it hidden. For the moment at least. I don’t want anything upsetting Claudia now. The ballet, she must be able to concentrate on that. After it’s over, well, then, we’ll see. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m … I don’t think your mum and I are going to be together for very much longer.’
‘Don’t you love her any more?’
Hugo shook his head. ‘It’s not as simple as that. It’s just … well, it’s complicated.’
Alison found herself, surprisingly, feeling sorry for Claudia. That was funny. Yesterday, she was ready to punish her for keeping Dad’s letter but now, how would she react if Hugo left her? Alison said, before she’d had time to think about how it sounded, ‘What about me?’
‘I’d miss you, Alison. You know I would. You’re a great kid. I’ve really got to like you so much. I’d try to keep in touch. You know that, I hope.’
‘I suppose so,’ Alison was almost whispering. ‘I’ll miss you as well.’
She hadn’t realised it till just this moment, but it was true. If Hugo went off and left them, she might never see him again. People always said they’d keep in touch and then they didn’t after all. How horrible life was! You could meet all kinds of nice people and get to like them and then what happened? They disappeared. She wouldn’t see Nick again either, after she left for school on the seventh. Alison felt like weeping.
‘I promise you that we’ll still see one another. I’ll write to you.’
‘My dad’s supposed to write to me, but he’s useless,’ Alison said.
‘Ah, but I’m a super-duper letter-writer. Honestly, I will write to you. Promise. And not a word to Claudia,
okay? All I need is for her to throw a wobbly before the first night.’
‘Okay,’ said Alison, and Hugo leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head.
‘See you at the dress rehearsal, then.’
‘Right,’ said Alison and watched Hugo going into the Arcadia. He was moving as though he was in a great hurry.
*
Claudia sat in front of the mirror in the dressing room and considered her face in the unforgiving lights. She tried to work out what she was feeling and came to the conclusion that it was disappointment. Patrick once told her that she had about as much interior life as a prawn, and she’d thrown a ballet shoe at his head on that occasion because it simply wasn’t true. Look at me now, she thought. I’m in turmoil. Inner turmoil. All my emotions are in a terrible state and my interior life is about the only kind of life I’ve got. The rest of my existence is just plain disappointing.
She wiped her face with a piece of cotton wool soaked in cleansing lotion and frowned. Her face usually cheered her up. She was beautiful, wasn’t she? Everyone said so and she knew they were right, but what had happened over the last couple of days? She drew closer to the mirror. A network of fine lines was visible at the corners of her eyes and something about her expression – a sort of sulkiness – displeased her. She tried a smile and that was even worse. The lines were deeper and her face had taken on, in this ghastly bright light at least, the look of a mask. Horrible. She reached quickly for her make-up box.
Okay, she thought, and smoothed foundation over her skin. Immediately she felt better when she saw how it covered up the small imperfections that she didn’t even like to think about for fear of becoming terminally depressed – those patches of skin that were slightly red, or blotchy, or uneven in texture. I’ll look fine, she told herself, and then couldn’t think why she was still feeling dissatisfied. Why was that? It must be Nick. Nick and Hugo. There was something seriously wrong with her relationship with Hugo, and what she and Nick had together could scarcely be called a relationship. Claudia was too old to kid herself. As soon as they got back to civilisation he’d drop her like a hot potato. I’m good enough as a bit of fun while he’s here in the middle of nowhere, but once he’s back with the girls and boys in the company in London, he’ll drop me like a pair of laddered tights.
And Hugo didn’t seem that keen any longer. Was that because of his preoccupation with Sarabande? Or something else? Was he going off her? We’ll see, Claudia said to herself. The dress rehearsal is only an hour or so away and then the first night’ll be here, and let’s see if he changes back to how he used to be when that’s all over. She wasn’t altogether sure herself if she wanted to go back to the life, practically a married life, that they used to have.
She picked up a small pot of turquoise eyeshadow and began dabbing it on her left eyelid. Maybe he knows about Nick, she thought. I shouldn’t have been so stupid as to go off with him like that on New Year’s Eve, but Hugo was completely ignoring me and anyway I’d had a bit too much to drink. Can it be that I regret it? It certainly added something to each rehearsal. The occasional snatched kiss did make things a bit less boring – and what about another night together. Was that going to be possible? The dressing room arrangements in the Arcadia Theatre were not what was required for privacy, which was a real shame. She searched her conscience (Patrick said she was born without one) and decided that no, she didn’t regret what had happened with Nick. She was being paranoid. No one knew about that night, she was sure, so no harm had been done. But perhaps I should tell Hugo, she thought. It might make him think about what he’s been missing. Perhaps he’ll be jealous and realise he has to pay me proper attention if he wants to keep me interested.
Alison. Claudia sighed as her daughter came into her mind. She’s always had this effect on me, she told herself. She’s a problem. Actually, she’d been less of a liability than usual at Wychwood, but ever since New Year’s Eve there’d been nothing but glowering and frowning coming from her direction the whole time. She’s got a crush on Nick and is jealous of me, that’s the problem. She began to work on her other eye, reflecting that it was a bit silly of her to have forgotten that bloody letter from Patrick, but honestly, you’d think Alison had been stabbed in the gut or something, the way she’d reacted.
‘Hello, Claudia.’ Silver had come into the room without making a sound. Why couldn’t the bloody woman walk like normal mortals instead of gliding silently everywhere?
‘Oh, hello.’ Claudia hoped she sounded more welcoming than she felt. There it was, right there, the main reason for the way she was feeling. Bloody Silver with her flawless complexion and her ridiculously perfect figure and her fucking niceness to everyone. How come a place as luxurious as the Arcadia couldn’t run to a star dressing room? Why was she having to share at her age, like a kid from the corps de ballet, for Heaven’s sake?
‘It’s getting colder,’ Silver said. ‘I think it might even snow again.’
‘Mmm,’ said Claudia, making a big thing of outlining her lips. Am I the star any longer, she wondered. Am I still the prima ballerina of this company? The misery she felt as she asked herself these questions brought tears to her eyes. She was quick to blink them away. Damned if I’m going to cry in front of sodding Silver, she thought, and gritted her teeth. She put the lipstick down on the dressing table and surveyed the results of her labours. Not bad. She’d still pass with a kick and a shove, but for how much longer? She opened the pretty little box that Hugo had given her, and tipped it up so that the filigree chain poured on to the dressing-table like a tiny stream of gold. It was old, that much was clear. The loud, rather vulgar shine that often marred gold jewellery had been worn into a glow like candlelight. Claudia held it up against her neck. Yes, she thought. That’s going to make all the difference. And it picks out the gold in the fabric of my costume. I’m going to be wonderful in Sarabande if it kills me, she decided, even though she knew that moving in the ways she had to move was becoming increasingly difficult and she was growing more tired after each performance. What would become of her if she could no longer dance? She said, ‘I think I’m going to put my coat on and have a smoke outside, Silver. I’ll see you later.’
She left the room, wrapping her coat tightly round her, and didn’t look back.
*
‘Can I come in, Silver? Just for a moment.’
‘Are you looking for Claudia? She’s gone out to have a cigarette, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon.’
‘I’m not looking for Claudia. I thought I’d come and speak to you before the rehearsal. Are you nervous?’
Hugo sat down on the only armchair, which was pushed up against the wall next to the costume-rail. Silver could see him smiling at her reflection in the mirror. He was looking at her with great tenderness. She turned her attention to putting on the Angel’s rather elaborate headdress, concentrating on that to distract herself from what she was feeling. She had done nothing but think about Hugo ever since she’d danced for him and he’d touched her hair. Was it only yesterday? Then he’d raised his glass to her at dinner. She’d taken ages to get to sleep, and when she had finally drifted off, Hugo’s face was there in her dreams. She and Hugo were dancing together. He’d taken the place of Nick in the pas de deux and he was whispering to her, more, you can do it better. Don’t think I’m going to stop watching you.
‘You haven’t answered. How do you feel about this afternoon?’
‘You mean the dress rehearsal? I’m fine. I’m looking forward to it, really.’ Could he honestly be intending to say nothing? Silver noticed that she was holding her breath.
‘Silver?’ (Yes, yes, she thought. He’s getting up. He’s coming over here. She could see him in the mirror, standing behind her now.)
She half-turned so that she was looking into the black expanse of his sweater. If she leaned against it, she knew how soft it would feel. She could smell him from this distance, some sort of wonderful aftershave or cologne or something, mixed with the
fragrance of his skin, which made her want to hold him and breathe him in and fold him into her arms. She tried to say something but her voice wouldn’t obey her.
‘I’ve made you really, really work for the first time in your life, haven’t I?’
‘You have. I suppose I should be grateful and I am, even though you’re a monster.’
‘Silver …’ Something in his voice made her get up from the dressing-table stool. She turned to face him. She closed her eyes and stepped – it was only a very tiny step – even closer to Hugo so that their bodies were nearly touching. It’s up to him she thought. I can’t do it by myself. He has to show me, prove to me, that I know what he’s thinking. And then his hands were on her face and he was drawing her even closer so that their lips were almost, almost touching. She felt his breath on her skin and she opened her mouth as Hugo kissed her. Oh, please don’t let him say anything. No words. I don’t want any words. I want him to touch me. I want to touch him, drink in his scent. She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms round Hugo’s neck and they clung together and the sound of their breathing was the only sound in the whole world and Silver’s skin was on fire. She lost track of everything – where she was, time passing, what they’d just been saying to one another. The whole universe had shrunk into this sensation, this emotion. She broke away after … how long?
‘Someone might come in, Hugo,’ she whispered.
‘I don’t care.’ He drew her gently into another kiss. Her legs, legs that she must stretch and bend and dance on felt as though they were melting.