by Jean Ure
It was just that I couldn’t imagine not getting in. Mum, Dad, Jen – they had all been with City Ballet. Sean was one of their stars. How could I not follow in their footsteps? The Company was almost like a second family!
But Caitlyn was almost like family, too. We both had to get in! Not just me. Please, please, please, I thought once more. Please let Caitlyn be accepted!
I am never quite sure that I believe in God, but on the other hand I don’t think it hurts to say the occasional prayer. Just in case there is someone there and they happen to be listening. So long as it’s not for something silly, or selfish. Like one time when I prayed I would get through a maths test OK, even though I hadn’t bothered to do any revision. I came next to bottom, but I didn’t hold it against God as I don’t believe that is what prayer is really supposed to be for. It is supposed (in my opinion) to be for other people. In this case, for Caitlyn.
Mentally I closed my eyes and put my hands together. God, I thought, if you’re listening, please do the right thing!
It was over a week, now, and we still hadn’t heard. Every morning as I arrived at school, Caitlyn would greet me with a heart-rending wail: “It hasn’t come yet! Has yours?” She meant, of course, the letter. The one we were all waiting for.
“Surely,” I said to Mum, “we should have heard by now?”
“You’ll hear,” said Mum. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried for me,” I said. And then, very quickly, before I could be accused of being overconfident, I said, “Well, I suppose perhaps I am just a little bit. Cos that’s only natural, isn’t it? Being a little bit worried. Anyone would be! Even Sean. I mean—”
“Maddy, stop babbling,” said Mum. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s Caitlyn,” I said. “I’m worried for Caitlyn! Mum, she will be OK, won’t she? She will get in?”
“I’d certainly like to think so,” said Mum. “I wouldn’t have let her take the audition if I didn’t believe she stood a fair chance. But even if she doesn’t make it this time round, it’s not the end of the world. She can always try again next year, when she’s a bit more sure of herself.”
I stared at Mum, in disbelief. “You don’t think she’s going to make it?”
“I didn’t say that! She may very well do so. But she desperately needs to build up her confidence. How did she take it when Madam walked in? Did it throw her?”
“It threw everybody,” I said. “Even me, a little bit.”
It hadn’t really thrown me, but I didn’t feel it was my place to go telling tales. If Caitlyn had wanted Mum to know she’d got in a hopeless muddle and lost her way, she’d have told her herself. All she’d said, when we’d arrived for our Friday-evening class with Mum, and Mum had asked her how things had gone, was, “All right. I think.” And then, a bit cheekily, she’d added, “Nowhere near as frightening as when I took my audition with you!”
I’d thought that was quite brave of her. Making a joke with Mum! Far braver than me making a joke with Miss Hickman. I also thought that it might actually have been true, since in some ways Mum is even more scary than Madam. But would Caitlyn still manage to be brave if she didn’t get in along with the rest of us? If me, and Alex, and Roz, all made it and she didn’t?
Mum must have guessed what I was thinking.
“Even if Caitlyn doesn’t have your confidence,” she said, “she’s not going to give up that easily. She’s had to fight for far too long and far too hard to fall at the first hurdle.”
“But, Mum,” I cried, “she’d be so upset!”
“She would,” agreed Mum. “Certainly to begin with. But if you want to get anywhere in life you have to be prepared to pick yourself up and carry on. I think you’ll find Caitlyn has more backbone than you imagine.”
All the same, I thought, it would be miserable going off to ballet school on my own. Perhaps my prayers were just a little bit for me as well as for Caitlyn, because how would I be able to enjoy myself, knowing how she would be feeling? And how would I ever be able to break it to her that I had got in when she hadn’t?
“It’s good that you’re loyal,” said Mum, “but give Caitlyn some credit … In spite of that meek exterior, she’s no pushover!”
I knew Mum was right. Caitlyn had been struggling to teach herself ballet for a whole year before I’d discovered what she was up to and had started to help her. Every day without fail she had practised in her bedroom, and later on in the gym before school, when no one else was around, copying steps out of some of the many ballet books she had.
It was hard enough doing class every day when you had a dragon like Mum breathing down your neck. Mum wouldn’t accept any excuses! Well, other than injury. Not even I would ever have dared to say I didn’t feel like it. Not even when I’d had a streaming cold or loads of homework or just a general feeling of fed-upness. I honestly wasn’t sure I’d have had the discipline to carry on all by myself, as Caitlyn had done. Obviously Caitlyn had never had any feelings of fed-upness. Never once had she lost sight of her dream.
Dreams can seem such flimsy things! I always picture them as being like puffy white clouds, high up in the sky, floating along quite happily until – poof! – a sudden gust of wind comes by and blows them to pieces, and all we’re left with is little bits and pieces, scattered through the universe.
Caitlyn’s dreams had obviously been made of sterner stuff. No gust of wind had ever come bursting into her daydreams. She had this fierce determination which had driven her on. But even the fiercest determination needed some encouragement!
Mum shook her head. “Maddy, you can’t fight other people’s battles for them,” she said. “You did all you could. Now it’s up to Caitlyn.”
I sighed. Common sense was all very well, but I did so want us to be together!
The next day, when I turned in at the school gates, I found Caitlyn waiting for me. Her face was one big beam.
“It came!” she cried.
“The letter?”
“Yes!”
“You got in?”
I didn’t really need to ask. The beam told me everything.
“I still can’t believe it! I honestly never thought I would. Not after messing up like that. I thought they’d just tell me to go away and not bother them. It’s all thanks to you! If I hadn’t been able to watch what you were doing, I—” She broke off. “You did get yours?” She looked at me, anxiously. “You did hear?”
“Not yet,” I said.
“Oh.” Her face fell. “Maybe it’ll be waiting for you when you get home.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. The main thing is that you’ve got in!”
“I won’t tell anyone,” promised Caitlyn. “Not till you’ve heard, as well!”
I struggled for a bit, then said, “That’s OK. You can tell people.”
I knew she must be dying to. But Caitlyn said no, it wouldn’t be fair. “We’ll wait till we can both do it.”
“What about Mum?” I said. “You ought to tell Mum! And Sean. You’ve got to tell Sean. Give him a call right now!”
“Now?” She looked shocked. “He might be asleep.”
“So wake him up! It’s good news; he’ll be happy. Go on, quick, before we have to go into class.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you did it?” she said.
I said, “Me? Why me? I’m not the one that’s got good news!”
“Please, Maddy.” She clasped her hands together. “You do it! Then you can tell your mum, as well.”
I shook my head. “You are such a coward,” I said.
He was my brother, for goodness’ sake! And in spite of being one of Madam’s favourites and one of the Company’s leading dancers, he is one of the easiest people to talk to. Unlike some I could name (but won’t cos it could be libel), he doesn’t have any sort of star complex. Caitlyn really ought to know him well enough by now. It was high time she got over her schoolgirl crush! But it didn’t seem fair to nag her, specially when she’d b
een so noble and self-sacrificing about keeping her audition result a secret until I’d had mine.
I did rather wonder why my letter hadn’t yet come. I knew it wouldn’t be waiting for me when I got in cos the post had already arrived when I’d left that morning.
“D’you think the others have heard?” I said.
The minute I said it, Caitlyn turned pink all over again.
I said, “They have?”
“They texted me this morning,” she said. “They’ve both got in.”
“Why didn’t they text me?”
“Cos they knew I’d tell you?”
“But they’re my friends as much as yours! Why didn’t they text both of us?”
“Maybe because … cos we all know you’ll get in. You’re, like … up there –” she raised a hand above her head – “and we’re, like, sort of …”
“Sort of what?”
“What I mean –” she was starting to sound a bit desperate – “it’s like you’re royalty!”
I said, “What?”
“Your mum and dad! You’re like a sort of royal family. Of the ballet world,” she added, hastily.
I stared at her, horrified. “That’s completely mad! I’m just the same as the rest of you.”
“You’re not,” said Caitlyn. “You know you’re not. I’m very glad you’re not, cos if it hadn’t been for your mum …”
Who did sometimes behave a bit like royalty, I had to admit.
“We don’t hold it against you,” said Caitlyn, earnestly. “It’s not like you boast about it or anything. It’s just one of those things. You don’t have to worry like the rest of us. But p’raps you shouldn’t tell your mum about me getting in until you’ve heard, cos I’m sure you will tomorrow.”
But although I hung around the following morning, waiting till the last possible moment, not a single letter came fluttering through the letter box. Caitlyn was in a state of jitters at the school gates, anxious in case the bell should ring before I got there.
“Did it come?” she cried.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “I was sure you’d have heard by now!”
“It’s OK,” I said. “As soon as I get home, I’m going to give Mum the good news about you.”
Caitlyn opened her mouth to protest.
“No,” I said, “I am! It’s not fair to keep her waiting. She’ll be so pleased when I tell her.”
“But what about you?” wailed Caitlyn. “Why haven’t you heard?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. Post, maybe? Letters are always getting lost.” That, at any rate, was what Dad said. He had this theory that all over London there were huge bags of mail that posties had just dumped. “They’ve probably gone and put it through the wrong door, or something. I’m not bothered! It’ll come.”
I said I wasn’t bothered, and it was true, I wasn’t. Not really. I couldn’t help thinking it was a bit odd, though. Caitlyn obviously thought so, too. I could tell that it was preying on her mind. At breaktime she rushed up to me and hissed, “I know why you haven’t heard!”
I said, “Why?”
“Cos you’re in the second half of the alphabet and we’re all in the first!”
I frowned.
“It’s got to be,” said Caitlyn. “Think about it!”
“Mm … maybe.” I supposed it made sense. Roz Costello, Alex Ellman, Caitlyn Hughes, Madeleine O’Brien. “I’m still going to tell Mum, though!”
I told her when I got back from school that afternoon, even though my letter still hadn’t come. Dad was there as well. He said, “Caitlyn? This is your protégée that you’ve been nursing?”
“I knew it would pay off,” said Mum. “I knew she had it in her!”
“It was me that discovered her,” I said. “Me and Sean. What’s a protégée?”
Dad groaned. “Don’t they teach you anything at that school? Protéger … to protect?”
“You mean, like, Mum’s been protecting her?”
“Guiding her,” said Mum. “Mentoring, if you like.”
Teaching, in other words. I opened my mouth to point out – in case she had forgotten – that I was the one who’d taught her first, but Mum cut in ahead of me. “What I want to know is why Caitlyn’s heard and you haven’t?”
“Oh, we think that’s just cos of me being in the second half of the alphabet,” I said. “All the others are near the beginning.”
“What others?” said Mum, rather sharply.
“Other people that have heard.”
Mum’s eyes narrowed.
“Costello, Ellman, Hughes …” I ticked them off on my fingers.
“They’ve all got in?”
Mum’s gaze flickered across the room to where Dad was sitting.
Dad, very faintly, hunched a shoulder. “Probably just some administrative glitch.”
“Not good enough!” snapped Mum. “Totally unacceptable! If she hasn’t heard by tomorrow, I’m going to be on that telephone demanding to speak to someone.”
“Oh, Mum, no, don’t, please!” I begged. It was bad enough everyone thinking I was like some kind of royalty, just because of who my parents were. I had been quite shocked that Roz and Alex had chosen to tell Caitlyn their good news and not me, simply cos of thinking I was above it all. I wasn’t above it all! I didn’t expect special treatment. I never got special treatment. If anything, Mum was harder on me than on anyone else when she took us for class. She was positively soft on Caitlyn! She never chewed her out or accused her of having arms like waterlogged balloons, like she’d once done to me. But she does undeniably have a lot of influence, and friends in high places, and I desperately didn’t want her wading in on my behalf. I could just hear her. “This is Madeleine O’Brien’s mother. I’m wondering why it is that my daughter hasn’t yet had her letter of acceptance … I presume it is on its way?”
My toes were curling in shame just at the thought of it.
Dad, fortunately, came to my rescue. “Let’s hold fire for a day or two. I’m sure there’s no cause for concern.”
“I’ll give them another twenty-four hours,” said Mum. “But that’s as far as I’m prepared to go.”
“I thought you weren’t worried,” I said.
“I’m not worried!” Mum tossed her head. “What should I be worried about? If Caitlyn’s got in, you’ve got in. I just want things settled.”
Fortunately the letter arrived the very next day. Just in time to stop Mum embarrassing me!
“So what does it say?” said Dad. “I’m on a knife-edge here!”
“It says she’s been offered a place,” said Mum. “What else would it say?”
“You tell me,” said Dad. “All that fussing and fuming!”
“I wasn’t worried,” said Mum.
But I knew that she had been. Just for a little bit, Mum had actually had doubts. She had actually considered the possibility that I might not get in. It was a sobering thought. Did it mean Mum didn’t have faith in me?
Fretfully I said, “If you’d let me go when I was eleven, I’d be in my second year by now. Why didn’t you let me go then? Most people do!”
“Sean didn’t,” said Mum. “He didn’t go till he was nearly fifteen.”
I said, “Jen did!”
But Jen had got married and had a baby and given up dancing. That was practically a sin in Mum’s book.
“Is it because of her you wouldn’t let me?” I said. “Cos you were scared I’d do what she did?”
I’d once heard Mum and Dad discussing it and saying how maybe they’d made a mistake and pushed too hard. That maybe Jen’s heart hadn’t really been in it.
“I’d never give up just cos of having a baby,” I said. “I don’t even like babies all that much.”
Dad said, “Hah! Famous last words … That’s exactly what your mum used to say. And then she went on to have the three of you!”
“Yes, but I carried on dancing,” snapped Mum.
“Unti
l you had me,” I said.
“You were an accident,” said Mum. “But anyway, it was nothing to do with Jen giving up. If you want to know the truth, your dad and I weren’t totally convinced that at the age of eleven you had the necessary discipline for full-time training.”
I stared at her, indignantly. How could she say that? When I’d been dutifully attending classes three times a week for almost as long as I could remember! I hadn’t ever grumbled or complained. Not even when she’d told me my arms were like waterlogged balloons or my fingers like bunches of sausages. In front of the entire class! I’d never resented it. Well, only a little bit. It had never stopped me trying to improve. I’d always worked hard; I’d passed all my exams. What more did she want?
“We just needed to make sure,” said Mum, “that you were really committed. I’ve felt once or twice with Jen that maybe she was only going along to please me and your dad, because it was expected of her, and that perhaps if we’d held her back a bit she might have chosen a different path. We always knew with Sean that his heart was set on it. He only waited till he was older because boys can. There wasn’t any particular rush. But thirteen is a perfectly good age! You don’t have to look all reproachful. You’ve been accepted; you’ll be starting in September. What’s the problem?”
I said, “There’ll be some people that have been there two years already!”
It would make me feel inferior. Everyone would know who my mum and dad were. They would wonder why I’d left it so late.
I’d never thought that way before; I’d always just accepted that I would go to ballet school when I was thirteen. I’d never really queried it. I hadn’t had any idea that Mum and Dad were holding me back cos they didn’t think I had enough discipline! It came as a bit of a shock, to be honest.