by Jean Ure
“I don’t think you’d ever make an idiot of yourself,” said Caitlyn.
“No, and neither would you! You’ve got to have confidence,” I told her.
“But in front of your mum and dad!”
I couldn’t very well say what’s so special about Mum and Dad when even Livi and Jordan thought they behaved like royalty.
“Maybe they are a bit scary,” I agreed. “But you know what?”
“W-what?”
“D’you want me to tell you what Sean said after he saw you dancing? He said you were a nice little mover. And if Sean thinks you’re a nice little mover then Mum and Dad would, too! So that means it was a whole wasted opportunity. You can’t afford to waste opportunities.”
I was bullying again! The tears had already sprung back into her eyes. I knew it was unfair of me, when my life had been nothing but one massive great opportunity from the very beginning, while Caitlyn hadn’t had any opportunities of any kind whatsoever. But she was going to have to push herself forward a bit or she simply wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Let’s not talk about it any more,” I said. “Let’s watch something! Tell me what you’d like to see and I’ll go downstairs and get it. Dad has DVDs of practically every ballet ever written – and every dancer that’s ever danced in them. Would you like to see Swan Lake with Jen being a Little Swan? Sean’s there somewhere as well, but it was before he became a soloist so whatever you do don’t blink or you’ll miss him!”
“I won’t,” said Caitlyn. “I won’t!”
“That’s right,” I said, “cos you wouldn’t want to miss Sean!”
She managed a little wobbly smile; she knew I was only teasing. All the same, I think we were both glad at seven o’clock when Steve arrived to pick up Jen and offered to give Caitlyn a lift home. It wasn’t a school night so she could have stayed later, but she was still a bit wary, like she was scared I might start on at her again. I wouldn’t have done, cos I wasn’t cross any more. I have the sort of temper that flares up really fast, almost before I know it’s happening, and then suddenly dies down just as quickly. I never bear grudges. On the other hand I did have questions I wanted to explore, like how long she could carry on with just me teaching her and whether, without realising it, I might be letting her get into the sort of bad habits that Mum would never tolerate? I kept remembering what Sean had said.
The only way you can ever hope to get Mum to do something she doesn’t want to do is by letting her think it was her idea rather than yours.
But how? How was I supposed to do that? I knew it wasn’t any use nagging. Mum reacts really badly when she’s nagged. And Dad was hardly ever there and even when he was he was far too busy to bother himself with little unimportant things such as Caitlyn not being able to have ballet lessons. Jen obviously wasn’t any use. All she could think about was the baby. And I’d already tried Sean. What else could I do? There had to be something!
Monday morning, when we met up in the gym, Caitlyn immediately burst into apologies.
“Maddy, I’m really sorry for the way I behaved! You’re trying so hard to help me and I just let you down! If you don’t want to have anything more to do with me, I’ll understand, cos I really don’t deserve it and—”
I had to stop her. I said, “You surely don’t think I’d give up on you now? After all the hard work we’ve put in!”
“But I’m just so stupid!”
“Actually,” I said, “you’re not. It’s me that’s stupid.”
Her eyes widened. “You?”
“Yes! Trying to rush things.”
I’d been having lots of thoughts over the rest of the weekend. I’d been going back over what Sean had said.
She’s a nice little mover, he’d said, but I don’t think it was really her sort of thing.
It was my sort of thing, it was Sean’s sort of thing; but not Caitlyn’s.
She strikes me as being more sylph than Glitter Girl.
Which meant that maybe Caitlyn had been right all along and it would’ve done her no good at all if I’d made her show Mum our glitterbug dance.
I was remembering, as well, another thing that Sean had said. It was after seeing my Christmas tree fairy dance. He’d said that that probably was more Caitlyn’s sort of thing; it would suit her down to the ground.
I’d been a bit miffed at the time. My own brother as good as telling me that my dance that I’d made up would suit Caitlyn more than it suited me! Of course I’d known that he was right; I just didn’t like being told.
But now I was thinking back and I couldn’t help feeling hugely relieved that Caitlyn’s instinct had obviously been better than mine. I might have gone and ruined everything for her!
She was looking at me like I’d just trampled all over her dreams and ground them into dust.
“You mean …” She had to swallow and start again. “You mean I’m just not good enough!”
Very quickly, cos I didn’t want her going all to pieces, I said, “No! That wasn’t what I meant at all. It’s not your dancing that’s the problem, it’s you not trusting yourself!”
It must be truly terrible, I thought, to have so little confidence. Me, I have masses of it! Too much, Mum sometimes says, for my own good. Sean’s the same. We are just naturally very confident sort of people.
Even when Mum criticises me in front of the whole class, like, “Maddy, for goodness’ sake! You’re not training to be a heavyweight wrestler!” it doesn’t really put a dent in my confidence. It certainly doesn’t reduce me to tears like it does some of the others. If anything, it just makes me defiant. (It also makes me determined to do better, if only to show Mum.)
Caitlyn was really quite fragile. If Mum yelled at her like she yelled at me, she would be utterly crushed. But then, I thought, Mum probably wouldn’t yell at Caitlyn. She only ever yelled at people who could take it.
“Listen,” I said to Caitlyn, “it’s not the end of the world. There’ll be other chances! What we’re going to do, we’re going to keep on as we are until – well! Until I find a solution. Cos I will find one! I’m not going to give up and I’m not going to let you, either. If you ever even think of it,” I threatened, “I shall never speak to you again!”
That evening I cornered Mum in the kitchen while she was making a cup of coffee and couldn’t escape. I said, “You are going to come to the end-of-term show, aren’t you?”
“Am I?” said Mum. And then, “All right, all right, only joking! I can’t really say no, can I?”
I agreed, rather sternly, that she couldn’t. “Miss Lucas would be ever so disappointed if you weren’t there.”
“Yes.” Mum sighed. “I know. You’d better get me a ticket.”
“Just the one?”
“Well, your dad won’t be here, he’ll be in Australia, Sean’s bound to be dancing and Jen won’t be in a fit state, so – yes! Just one.”
“I think this year you might quite enjoy it,” I said.
“I doubt it,” said Mum. “Miss Lucas is a sweet old dear and I’d never do anything to hurt her, but after last year—”
I assured her that it wouldn’t be like last year. I reminded her that Miss Lucas had left all the dancing stuff to me. I’d chosen the music, I’d done the choreography. Miss Lucas hadn’t had anything to do with it.
“And you absolutely promise me no pudding faces?” said Mum.
“No! Just me.”
“In that case it had better be worth watching.”
“It is,” I said. “I let Sean see and he said he was impressed.”
“Really?” For the first time Mum showed a flicker of interest. She always says that even if he does keep his brains in his feet and has lousy taste when it comes to women (like the hideous, pushy creature we’d thought he was going out with) you can always rely on his judgement when it comes to dancing. It was just a pity, I thought bitterly, that she couldn’t rely on my judgement. I’m sure I’m every bit as reliable as Sean!
“OK, get me a ticke
t,” said Mum. “But be warned … I shall expect something special!”
At last! I had a plan. Sort of a plan. There was definitely something buzzing about inside my head. I knew what I wanted to do: I just hadn’t quite worked out how to do it.
I’d made sure Mum was going to be there; that was the most important thing. If Mum wasn’t there, it would all just be a wasted effort. Next step was impressing upon Caitlyn that she really was my understudy, and that understudies have to be prepared to go on at a moment’s notice.
She giggled when I said that. She thought I was joking!
“I’m serious,” I said. “There’s no point being an understudy if you’re not ready to go on. Are you ready to go on?”
That stopped her giggling. She looked at me, worried.
“Why would I have to go on?”
“Cos you never know what might happen,” I said. “Your big chance could come at absolutely any moment! Like when Mum took over as the Lilac Fairy? She’d just been an ordinary member of the corps de ballet then wham! All of a sudden she’s dancing a solo.”
“D’you think she was scared?” said Caitlyn.
“Oh, probably,” I said, though it was hard to imagine Mum ever being scared of anything. I don’t think I would be; not so long as I’d learnt the part properly. I’d be excited!
“I’d be terrified,” said Caitlyn.
“No, you wouldn’t,” I said. “I’ve told you before … brains in your feet! They’d just take over.”
She looked so doubtful that for a moment I wondered if my plan – my sort of a plan – might not be such a brilliant idea. But you have to be prepared to take a chance!
“Tomorrow,” I said, “we’ll have our own private dress rehearsal and you can dance so that I can see if things are working out.”
Caitlyn didn’t mind dancing in front of me. To begin with she’d been embarrassed and it had made her nervous and uncertain, but she was used to it by now. Of course, I wasn’t Mum …
“Was that all right?” she asked, anxiously.
I told her that it was more than all right.
“Exactly what I wanted! Now we can relax. It won’t matter so much if I fall under a bus … my understudy can just take over!”
“Don’t,” begged Caitlyn. “You shouldn’t joke about things like that.”
I wasn’t! Not that I had any intention of falling under a bus. But I definitely wasn’t joking.
“Costume-fitting tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll both have to be there … just in case!”
She pushed at me. “Stop it.”
“Fortunately we’re about the same size,” I said. “So, if I do go and get run over—”
“Stop it, stop it!” She pummelled at me. “It’s bad luck to talk like that.”
Miss Lucas had made all the costumes herself. She seemed worried that I might not think mine was grand enough.
“Just a plain white leotard and a bit of shredded net for the skirt … what do you think, Maddy? Do you think that’s all right?”
I assured her that I thought it was perfect. “After all, I’m supposed to be a bit grubby and worn.”
Miss Lucas looked relieved. “That’s what I thought! But I did want you to be a little bit glamorous, so how about this? A lovely tiara! There’s no reason that should be grubby. And I did wonder, perhaps,” she said, “whether we should give you a fairy wand … or maybe not,” she added, quickly.
I did hope my face hadn’t given me away. “It’s just that it wouldn’t go with the choreography,” I said. “It might sort of … get in the way.”
“Of course!” Miss Lucas held up a hand. “Say no more!”
I wondered afterwards if I’d been a bit unkind. She would obviously have liked me to have a wand. A fairy probably would have a wand.
“I should have thought about it earlier,” I said to Caitlyn. “It would’ve been easy enough.”
“Is it too late?” she wondered. “I mean … would it make much difference?”
I said that it wouldn’t if we had more time to practise with it. We only had till the end of the week and I really didn’t want to introduce any sort of complication. It wouldn’t have bothered me, particularly, but it was still something else to cope with, even if it was just a little bit of wand. On the whole it seemed safer not to try.
On Thursday, after school, we had the full dress rehearsal, ready for the performance on Saturday. Livi and Jordan wanted to know if they could come and watch. They seemed to think I was the star of the show and could smuggle them in.
I said, “I’m not the star, I’m just an interlude.”
“So who’s the star?” said Livi. “Not that great lumping thing from Year Nine?”
She meant the girl who was playing one of the spoilt sisters. I struggled for a moment. The spoilt sisters probably had the biggest parts. But then there was the little boy who rescued the fairy from the gutter. Maybe he was the star? In the end I told them that nobody was.
“There aren’t any stars; we’re all equal.”
“But you’re the one who’ll get all the attention and have her photo in the papers,” said Liv.
“Only cos of Mum and Dad,” I said. “Not cos of me.”
“You’re still the most important,” said Jordan. “Miss Lucas thinks you are! I bet you could get us in if you really wanted.”
“But all it is is a dress rehearsal,” I said. “It’ll go on for ages and be really boring. There’s loads of technical stuff, like lighting and props, when you just sit around yawning. And then there’s people forgetting their lines or saying them all wrong or crashing into the furniture, and everything having to be done over and over until you feel like screaming.”
“That’s what we want to see,” said Liv. “People crashing into the furniture! That’s the really interesting part.”
“Yes,” I retorted, “and it would be most off-putting! You don’t want an audience until you feel ready for it. That’s why it’s called a rehearsal. So you can try things out before members of the public are allowed in.”
“In the West End,” said Jordan, “they have previews. Like before the show properly opens? Members of the public can go to those.”
I tried not to feel irritated cos, after all, what did she and Livi know? They weren’t in show business. Patiently I explained that a dress rehearsal was not a preview.
“It’s just for the actors and people who are helping.”
“So how come she gets in?” said Liv.
I said, “Who?”
“Her.” Liv pointed. I turned, and saw Caitlyn slipping through the double doors into the hall.
“She’s my understudy,” I said.
Jordan gave a little snort. “How can she be your understudy when she doesn’t even do ballet? Poppy Johnson is ever so upset!”
Poppy was the pudding face I’d been forced to use last year. She really, honestly cannot dance.
“She may not come up to your high standards,” said Liv, “but you could at least have let her do a little something.”
“Could have made her your understudy.”
“Dunno what she wants an understudy for, anyway,” said Liv. “Looks perfectly healthy to me.”
“Specially as it’s only one performance. What’s going to happen in one performance?”
“Nothing,” said Liv. “She could just as well have used Poppy.”
The two of them went off together, noses in the air. I called after them, down the corridor: “And what happens if I fall under a bus?”
“Good heavens, Maddy!” Miss Lucas had come up behind me. “What brought that on?”
“I was just saying … it’s why people have understudies. In case they do fall under a bus.”
“Please!” Miss Lucas shuddered. “I’d rather not think about it.”
“It’s all right,” I assured her. “Caitlyn knows the part just as well as I do.”
“Yes, and next time,” said Miss Lucas, “we must definitely include her. I didn’t reali
se she was a dancer. But, for now, let’s just get this dress rehearsal under way!”
Apart from the girl playing the older of the spoilt sisters forgetting her lines and the other one corpsing, or having a fit of the giggles, the dress rehearsal went surprisingly well. Some people say that a good dress rehearsal means a bad performance, but if you ask me that’s just superstition. People only say it so that when they have a bad dress rehearsal they can say, “Oh, that means a good performance!”
At any rate, Miss Lucas wasn’t worried. She was all full of beams and congratulations. She said everyone had worked really hard and, “I just know it’s going to be a wonderful, wonderful show!”
I asked Caitlyn afterwards what she had thought of it, since she’d just been sitting there, watching. She said, “You know ages ago, when you first told me about it, you said it was yucky? Well, it’s not! It’s really, really touching and people are going to weep buckets – specially when they see the poor fairy trying to dance like she did when she was young, and she can’t manage it, and honestly it’s just so sad! And then at the end when the little boy rescues her—”
“I wish I could have played that part,” I said.
Caitlyn looked at me, wide-eyed. “But then you wouldn’t have been able to dance!”
“You could have done it instead,” I told her. “You could’ve danced and I could’ve played the little boy. I’d make a really good little boy!”
“You mean –” she said it like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing – “you mean you’d rather be an actor than a dancer?”
“Well … n-no. I’d like to be both! I’d like to act and dance.”
“But that’s exactly what you’re doing,” said Caitlyn. “You are acting and dancing. You’re acting being sad and tired.”
“Mm …” I thought about it. I knew that she was right. I had to act really hard at being sad and tired. Being a little boy would just have been fun. Being one of the spoilt sisters would have been even more fun! Maybe next year, I thought, Caitlyn could do any dancing that was needed and just for once I could be one of the actors. Cos by then, fingers crossed, Caitlyn would be having proper ballet lessons …