It was a grand, classical building, with towering columns and architraves cut from creamy white stone, all lit up as if the queen’s birthday was being celebrated inside. To the left was an ornate structure like a giant birdcage, which was lit up too. I felt neither my bruises nor the cold, although the evening air was freezing. I was almost happy. If only… Enough. I wouldn’t think about it anymore, I couldn’t risk ruining that evening.
Carl caught up with me a few minutes later. I felt his hands rest calmly on my shoulders as I gazed up, grinning like an idiot.
‘Come on, let’s go in, it’s already late.’
The walk to the auditorium passed almost like a dream. I felt like Cinderella entering the prince’s palace. As I followed the usher in a red jacket who accompanied us to our seats, I imagined that one day all these people would be here to see me, and at the end they would all call my name, and there would be a standing ovation of at least twenty minutes. I looked around in awe, dazzled by the richness of the purple brocades and the splendour of the golden stuccos that decorated the three rows of boxes. Sinking into my huge velvet chair, I felt crushed by all the luxury and by the immense dome above our heads that looked like a giant eye.
‘Is everything all right?’ Carl asked me, seeing me struggling in my seat.
‘I think so,’ I replied, adjusting myself better.
‘I’ve got to say, this is going even better than I’d hoped! You were so overwhelmed you didn’t even notice when I took your coat to the cloakrooms!’
I really hadn’t noticed. He could have taken all my clothes and put them in the cloakroom too, and wouldn’t have realised it until I went out into the street.
Then the lights went down and I was transported to the garden of water lilies where Sylvia, in love with the shepherd Aminta, was kidnapped by the hateful hunter Orion, who tried to hinder their love. There was not one second of the performance where I was not moved, enraptured, and all the while I was trying to memorise the delicate, refined movements of prima ballerina Marianela Nuñez. It seemed like only five minutes later that the first act ended.
‘Shall we get a drink?’ Carl offered, breaking into my reverie.
I nodded yes with my head, too bewildered to speak.
I had forgotten the pitiful state of my nose, but curious looks made me suddenly remember. I lowered my head and allowed myself be led into a room that looked more like the ballroom on the Titanic than a bar. It was inside the giant birdcage I had seen from outside, a stained glass and mirrored hall paved with honey-coloured parquet flooring, in the centre of which there was a circular bar made of red copper.
There were hundreds of people - ballet dancers, choreographers, critics, dancers - all speaking animatedly while drinking champagne and eating salmon sandwiches. I longed to one day recognise all of these people at a glance as my colleagues or even my rivals. But more than anything I wanted them to recognise me and to tell me that I had moved them, exactly as I was being moved tonight.
We travelled upstairs on an escalator and went out into the restaurant terrace where we enjoyed a breathtaking view of all of Covent Garden. Carl put his arm around my shoulders and looked intently into my eyes and I had the impression that he was going to say something, but the beginning of the second act was announced and we had to hurry back to our seats.
The second and third act passed in a flash, with me on the edge of my seat the whole time. When the curtain fell and we got up to applaud, I could finally vent all the excitement that had built up throughout the performance, and I clapped my hands and shouted ‘bravo!’ until I lost my voice. Marianela Nuñez and Rupert Pennefather received eight curtain calls that evening. In my mind I was with them, bowing to gather the flowers, and thanking the audience humbly.
We left the theatre at ten o’clock. I was buzzing. I couldn’t wait to dance and to study with real professionals. Not that Claire wasn’t a professional, but it was time to broaden my horizons beyond Leicester. We turned the corner into Floral Street, the home of the Royal Ballet School, which could be reached directly from the theatre by crossing a futuristic bridge on the fourth floor. This was where I wanted to spend my life, in trials, warm-ups, lessons, make-up and entertainment, without even seeing the sky. I wanted to live on air and dance. My feet ached with desire for it. I had to find a way to convince my mother.
‘Carl, look!’ I shouted.
He turned.
I got myself into fourth position, and with a slight movement I performed three pirouettes en dehors, ending with an elegant bow.
Carl clapped louder than he had in the theatre.
‘Hey, you’re really good! One day I’ll see you on that stage. I can see the posters now: ‘Mia Foster and…’ who would you want to dance with?’
‘Roberto Bolle?’
‘Mia Foster and Roberto Bolle in Swan Lake.’ He mimed writing it in huge letters in the air.
‘My full name is Mia Foster Benelli, so they’ll need a big billboard!’
‘Miss Foster Benelli, may I have the honour of taking you to dinner?’ he bowed, with an elegant flourish of his hand.
‘Carl, you may. I could eat a horse!’
‘There’s a restaurant down there called Ballerina, do you want to try it?’
‘Italian food? I’d rather have another ball in the face! How about I take you to Trafalgar Square’s best dirty hot dog stall? I went there with my Dad once, after a father and daughter day at the National Gallery. It was one of the most boring afternoons of my life, but the hot dogs were amazing!’
‘Let’s go, I’m starving too!’ he took my hand and we began to walk quickly through the crowd. My head felt light as if I were drunk, my eyes were full of wonder and my heart was overflowing with joy. I was comforted by the idea of having an alternative to Patrick. I knew I could never have him, but if I could get into the Royal Ballet School, that intense passion I felt for dance might be enough to replace love. In a way it was like going to live in a convent, except that instead of the church I had the stage and instead of Jesus, Rudolf Nureyev.
By the time we reached Trafalgar Square our teeth were chattering. The water in the fountain was frozen and even the lions at the foot of Nelson’s Column looked like they could have done with a hot water bottle. We ate hot dogs with mustard, ketchup and mountains of fried onion, hopping from one foot to another to try and keep warm. It was the perfect end to a perfect evening. Carl was happy to be there with me, and I was happy to be there and that was enough.
The journey back to Leicester might have seemed long under different circumstances but I had enough adrenaline in my veins to stay awake for three days. Carl kept smiling over at me as he drove. I knew he hadn’t stopped looking at me during the show. I had seen him out of the corner of my eye and after a while I had been tempted to ask him what he was staring at, but it seemed a bit rude. I could ask him now though.
‘Why did you keep looking at me during the show?’
He seemed embarrassed. ‘Did you notice?’
‘I felt like a slide under a microscope!’
‘I was looking at you because I’ve never seen anyone so enthusiastic about something as you were tonight. You were so happy, you moved your hands and your head as if you were performing the dance yourself. You smiled, then you cried, then you sighed. It was wonderful to see!’
‘You make me sound like a mental patient!’
‘No, I mean it. You were really something.’
Uh-oh. This sounded like the beginning of something serious. I hurriedly changed the subject, although I couldn’t have talked about anything but ballet that night. I told him how I had started, the painting from my grandmother, Claire, Zakharova and Swan Lake and he never seemed to get bored. Or if he did, he managed to hide it well in the dark.
We got home at half past one, and this time he walked me to the door.
‘Can I ask if you had a nice evening?’
‘Carl, it was unforgettable.’
‘I like it when you say my name
. I’m not too keen on it normally, but when you say it’s nice.’
He approached ominously and I realised what was going to happen. He stroked my forehead and wrapped me in his arms, as if he wanted to rock me like a baby, holding me close to him and kissing my hair. Then he pulled back a little, gently took my face in his hands and carefully placed his lips on mine. This time I let him do it.
It was a long and intense kiss. His breath was warm and laboured and his lips were soft and thin. I hugged him at the sides, not daring to do more, letting him lead like a tango dancer follows her partner.
Afterwards we stayed with our foreheads touching, his hands still in my hair and suddenly we burst out laughing.
‘Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to eat a pile of onions!’ he said.
‘Seriously.’
We were definitely no longer just friends. But I wasn’t sure I wanted us to be anything else. He said goodbye with one kiss after another, until I forced him to let me in the house before my mother had a breakdown.
‘Thanks for everything Carl, really.’
‘Thank you for being you,’ he replied, smiling at me adoringly.
I went inside with very mixed feelings. Things were not at all clear. Did I want to be with Carl? Or did I want him to be my friend and take me to London once a week? And again: did I like the kiss this time? I had no answers. And yet again the thought of Patrick collapsed on me like a boulder.
I knocked three times on my mother’s door to let her know I was back.
She opened up immediately, frowning, ‘I called you three times before I realised you had left your phone in your room! Don’t make me worry like that again. Next time I want you to go by train please.’
She really was worried to death, I could see it in her eyes. She must have been lying awake the whole time, imagining me in a coma in a hospital bed, with the doctors trying to push her into donating my organs, but despite this, she didn’t want to ruin my evening.
‘Sorry, Mum. I didn’t want it going off during the show, but I should have realised you might want to call me.’
My unexpected docility calmed her immediately.
She stroked my cheek. ‘Your nose has gone down. You can just see a bit of bruising.’
I nodded.
‘Did you have fun?’
‘I can’t even tell you how much, it was the best experience of my life!’
She smiled.
‘And Carl?’
‘He’s…’ I searched for the right words,’. nice,’ I summarised.
‘Nice?’ She frowned
‘Well, okay. He’s very nice. You know what I mean!’
‘Okay, I understand! Good night!’ She kissed my forehead and gave me her usual pat on the bum as I turned to go.
‘Tomorrow we’ll talk about school, okay?’
‘Yes, yes. Tomorrow.’
I went into my room and undressed quickly, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor, then climbed straight into bed, exhausted. I was just nodding off, running over the events of the events of that long and incredible evening, from the ballet to the kiss, when my foot touched something and I felt it fall onto the carpet. I turned on the light and saw my stupid phone lying on the floor. I picked it up to turn it off and saw that there were seven missed calls and two unread messages.
Intrigued, I opened the list. There were three calls from my mother and four. from Patrick.
I opened the messages with my heart in my throat.
The first said: ‘I had an unforgettable evening, you are incredible and I am madly in love with you. C.’
And the second: ‘I’m mortified about what happened tonight. I didn’t tell Nina I had invited you to dinner, but everyone else knew, including the chef! I hope this doesn’t make you hate me even more. I’ll wait for you tomorrow night if you can make it.’
And at the end, there was a kiss.
7
The next day Nina came to find me with her arms raised in surrender.
‘I’m so sorry! It was all my fault! ‘
‘You mean you threw the ball in my face? I should have known!’ I joked as we walked into the classroom.
‘No, I mean dinner!’ she answered, taking my backpack, ‘I was the only one who didn’t know, they never tell me anything! As soon as I saw your place set and the baked potatoes I understood. They all told me off, even the dog!’
‘It’s fine! I couldn’t come anyway, you know that!’ I pretended to be indifferent while my heart danced with joy.
‘You’re officially invited tonight, you can’t say no.’ She gave me a stern look.
‘Hmmm, I don’t know, I’ll have to check with my P.A.’
‘Half seven?’
‘Sounds good!’
I couldn’t believe it, could this really be happening? Fate was giving me a second chance, just when I decided to give up and forget Patrick once and for all.
Then I remembered Carl.
Nina took my arm.’Come on, I want to know everything about last night, and I mean everything.’
‘Everything, you say?’ I made a big show of taking my geography book out of my bag as slowly as possible.
‘Come on Mia, I’m going to explode! We’ve got six minutes until the lesson starts, and I need to go to the loo first as well! You have to tell me now!’
Much as enjoyed teasing her, I did want to get it off my chest. I had hardly slept at all the night before, re-reading Patrick’s message over and over and interpreting it in the most creative and twisted ways, and reviewing the evening, frame-by-frame like a movie. Except that, no matter how hard I tried, in Carl’s place I could only see Patrick: it was him taking my coat, him who couldn’t take his eyes off me throughout the show, who told me he wanted to see me dance one day, who walked me to my door and kissed me by the porch. It was a problem. A big problem.
I looked up and saw Carl walk in, smiling from ear to ear. Nina nudged me, and all my classmates watched him walk over to my desk, casting furtive glances, while I continued to rummage in my now empty backpack, pretending not to have seen him.
Did he have to come into the classroom every day? Couldn’t we just meet in the hall or the yard like everyone else? I hated being the centre of attention. Now everyone would assume we were going out when I didn’t even know myself.
‘Hi Mia, how’s it going?’ He looked at me hopefully.
Nina left discreetly to let us talk.
‘Yep, good! You?’ I replied, trying to maintain a certain level of detachment. I was on the defensive. Not much, but obviously enough to worry a boy in love, and having twenty-two pairs of eyes on us didn’t help, either. His face fell, and I felt terrible.
He lowered his voice, ‘I just wanted to say what a great time I had yesterday.’
‘Yeah. It was…nice.’
‘Yes. Nice.’
Why were we so self-conscious? Couldn’t we just joke around and have burping competitions like the night of the party? Carl had changed completely, he had stopped being spontaneous and fun, and become all serious and awkward. Love always complicated everything.
‘Well…’ he said, seeming to expect a hug, or at least some sign of affection.
‘Well.’ I said
And I was saved by the bell.
‘So I’ll meet you at break?’
‘Sure! At break!’ I said, feigning enthusiasm.
He went out just as the teacher walked in, looking at him in surprise, wondering what he was doing there.
I decided to make things easier for everyone and raised my hand, ‘He came in to discuss our date, Mr Thompson. We both agreed that it was nice’
There, now even the teachers knew!
‘I don’t get it,’ Nina said, peering at me like she always did when I was being secretive, ‘You don’t seem very happy.’
‘No, really, it was a perfect evening!’
‘But…?’
‘But, I dunno, I should feel excited, shouldn’t I? My heart should be racing, and I should be spendin
g all day drawing hearts around our initials, and…I’m not doing any of those things.’
‘Did you kiss?’
‘Yep.’
She sighed dreamily, bringing her hands to her face.
‘Was he a good kisser?’
‘I think so? I’ve never kissed anyone else.’
Not in real life at least.
‘Was it with tongues this time?’
‘Yeah, it was,’ I admitted.
‘Wit-woo! And did you like it?’ Her eyes were wide and she was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
‘Yes,’ I answered after a moment’s hesitation. I decided she didn’t need to know about the onions.
The truth was that I had liked it. It was my first kiss and it was sweet, tender, passionate and romantic, just like it should have been and like I had always dreamed it would be. It was just with the wrong person. Or at least, not with the right person. But since only Patrick, in my stupid brain, was the right person, and I was more likely to become the next Queen of England than to kiss him, I would have to adjust my expectations if I wanted to be a normal teenager.
‘So now you guys are...’ she went on suggestively.
‘We’re what?’
‘You’re together!’
My stomach lurched.
‘But you said just because two people went out together it didn’t automatically make them a couple!’ I replied in alarm.
‘Not because they go out together no, but if they get off with each other twice, and once is with tongues, after a romantic evening at the ballet, then I’d say you were.’
I covered my mouth with my hands. ‘Now what do I do?’
‘Now I would like to begin the lesson, if it’s not too much trouble!’ Mr. Thompson broke in, behind our backs.
Carl was waiting for me on the wall outside the exit, Nina pointed him out to me.
I heard someone say, ‘Her boyfriend came to get her,’ and it irritated me.
9781789543087 If I Can't Have You Page 10