9781789543087 If I Can't Have You

by Federica Bosco

  ‘Mia. I know it sounds strange, but nothing will change between us, I promise you. You’re still my little girl, and nothing and nobody will come between us.’

  She tried to stroke my face, but I dodged her hand. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She had made up her mind and all I could do was acknowledge it.

  ‘What about the bathroom?’

  ‘He can use the one on the ground floor.’

  ‘And his stuff? Where will we put that? ‘

  ‘In the garden shed.under the stairs.’

  I was genuinely considering the idea of going to live with my father and Libby. I wondered what could possibly go wrong next.

  ‘Can he at least cook?’

  ‘Yes! He’s a very good cook, actually!’ She suddenly became animated, happy to have found a point in his favour.

  ‘And it won’t be forever?’

  ‘No, it won’t be forever.’

  I didn’t believe her. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that being an adult meant negotiating the lesser of two evils on a daily basis and accepting compromise after compromise.

  If that was what growing up was like, I wanted to stop growing right away.

  10

  School had become one never-ending episode of Glee.

  Everywhere you looked there were people dancing, singing or acting. I suppose the sudden explosion of creativity should have made me happy, but part of me felt like I was no longer special, now that everyone was a performer.

  Nina and Carl had become annoyingly pally. Or rather, he was being annoyingly kind and attentive to her, especially if I was around. I suspected he was trying to make me jealous, but of course I couldn’t prove anything. They were always together rehearsing, while I, with my solo, didn’t have anyone to share anything with. So in the end, despite Mrs. Jenkins’ good intentions, I found myself even more marginalised. My best friend and Carl were practically a couple, Paul was filling my house with boxes of stupid middle-aged man stuff, and there had been no news about my application to audition for the Royal Ballet. I felt lonely and depressed, and the situation was only made worse by an inflamed tendon, which made it agony to stand en pointe.

  On Wednesday evening, I went to Claire’s house as usual after my dance lesson. I preferred to stay away from the house anyway, now it was full of Paul and all his crap. Although to the fair to him, he was a good cook, so at least we weren’t living off frozen food these days.

  ‘I’ve got something for you,’ said Claire, triumphantly waving a letter from the Royal Ballet School under my nose.

  I took it carefully in both hands like it was an ancient parchment and breathed in

  the smell of the paper. Paper that had come from inside the Royal Ballet School.

  ‘Tell me what it says, Claire, I daren’t look at it,’ I handed it back to her with my eyes closed.

  ‘It says...that they are considering your application and have set an audition for February!’

  ‘That’s three months!’ I squeaked, terrified.

  ‘I know, kiddo. You’re going to have to work like you’ve never worked before.’

  I slumped on the couch like a sack of potatoes.

  ‘What’s wrong, aren’t you happy?’

  I was suffering from an attack of nerves. It’s one thing to dream about something with all your strength, but quite another having to face it in reality. Suddenly I didn’t feel quite so bold and confident, and my calf had started hurting me again.

  ‘But Claire... what if I can’t?’

  She moved the velvet cushions aside and made room for herself beside me. Her strong, gnarled hands enclosed mine, and her usually stern gaze softened into a look of almost maternal sympathy.

  ‘I know exactly how you feel, sweetheart. I’ve felt that exact same confusion and fear you have inside you. You’re asking yourself a thousand questions: Can I make it? Am I good enough? And if not, what will I do? Everything in front of you is one huge unknown and the unknowns are scary, especially in this environment.

  ‘I can’t tell you it will be a walk in the park, that you won’t have difficulties along the way, and that they will all be there to nurture you and encourage you, because it won’t be like that. It will be hard and unforgiving, and you will have to watch out for the other students. There will be rivalry, and backstabbing and spite. But I swear to you, Mia, that once you get up on that stage there is no place in the world more beautiful, nothing that gives more happiness than dance. All the aches and the pains, and the blisters and the tendonitis are nothing compared to that.

  ‘Once you’re in that environment, with other dancers, you will find everything else you need to know. You will learn how to move, and who to avoid. You really are a talented dancer, Mia. I have full confidence in you.’

  I cried.

  It was the first time she had spoken such beautiful words to me, the first time someone had said they believed in me. I felt full of gratitude and hope along with a fierce determination to make her proud. I imagined myself already there, in that immense rehearsal room, sacrificing my sweat and my feet to perfect my turns, my balancé, and my port de bras. I felt an uncontrollable passion growing inside me, a kind of sacred fire could overcome all obstacles. All obstacles apart from money.

  I sighed.

  ‘What do we do now, will you talk to Mum?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  ‘And when she tells you to get lost?’

  ‘Look, love, I’ve fought off a tumour, your mum doesn’t scare me!’

  It was true, she’d had one breast removed just over forty years ago, and had just kept on going, hardly speaking about it to anyone. Claire was a real rock.

  ‘When are you going to talk to her?’

  ‘I can come tomorrow, but I’d rather you weren’t there, because knowing you, you’ll probably end up saying something silly and upsetting her.’

  I headed home filled with a mixture of hope and dread. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but it seemed as if fate were conspiring in my favour. Perhaps my current difficulties were only a temporary obstacle that would make my future seem all the sweeter when I finally achieved it.

  When I got home, I was greeted by drunken laughter coming from the kitchen, along with the stench of baked fish. Mum, Paul and Betty were just finishing dinner and a baking tray greased with the remains of a fish head and some rosemary potatoes lay abandoned in the sink, along with a mountain of various other dishes. There were two empty wine bottles on the table, and they were smoking and eating biscuits. They turned and greeted me warmly all together, inviting me to sit with them.

  ‘Paul has cooked an extraordinary sea bass,’ Betty announced, slurring her words a little.

  ‘I can smell it!’ I said, stealing a biscuit and biting into it.

  ‘It was nothing really. I just put it in the oven!’ Paul mumbled, embarrassed.

  Mum was serene and smiling, peace reigned and everything was fine.

  She took a sip of wine and then said, ‘Come on, Betty, why don’t you read our cards?’

  She must have been in a good mood if she wanted to tempt fate while everything was going so well. Paul looked panic-stricken, and scuttled off to wash the dishes. Maybe he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, but he did seem like a nice guy, and perhaps if I worked on him a bit he could even become an ally.

  Betty gave me a look and I took the hint. ‘Okay guys, good night, I’ll leave you to your grown-up games!’

  I kissed Mom and Betty and waved to Paul. We were certainly not intimate. He gave me a pleading look. I think if I’d offered to show him some paint drying he would gladly have accepted, but I didn’t have time to rescue Paul from the occult. I picked up the house phone from the table in the hallway and went up to my room to call Nina, cursing him and his extraordinary sea bass: now the house stank and it was too cold to open any of the windows.

  ‘Are you rehearsing?’ I asked Nina, before she even had a chance to say hello.

  ‘Yes! We’ve be
en rehearsing all afternoon. It’s going so well!’

  Her genuine, spontaneous enthusiasm made me feel strange and bittersweet, but I tried not to think about it. After all, I had rejected him and I couldn’t complain now.

  ‘So, erm, have you practised the kissing scene yet?’ I asked, chewing my nails.

  ‘Not yet, I want to get to know him better first. I’m not easy you know!’

  ‘Don’t forget your mints.’

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m in a coven of witches! Betty’s about to read Paul’s tarot, and he is not into it at all! But anyway, Claire has said she wants to come and talk to Mum about the ballet school tomorrow, and she doesn’t want me to be there. Do you want to go out somewhere?’

  ‘Oh…I already said I’d go up to the shopping centre with Carl tomorrow to buy the Mamma Mia DVD.’

  ‘You’re going to go and hang around in the shopping centre?’

  ‘Yes, I know, but I’ve already said yes so I can’t back out now. Why don’t you come with us?’

  ‘I don’t think Carl will want me there cramping his style.’

  ‘Tough! Don’t worry about that, I’ll talk to him, and if he doesn’t want you there I won’t go either!’

  ‘I don’t know, let me think about it.’

  ‘Oh! Pat called earlier, he said you rang him! ‘

  I was caught in the headlights. ‘Oh, yes! Just to thank him for bringing my bike back before he left. It was so sweet of him…’

  ‘Good old Pat! Thank goodness he was there, otherwise I don’t want to imagine what could have happened to you. He was your guardian angel!’

  ‘Yeah, thank goodness he was there,’ I replied, trying not to say too much.

  We said goodbye and I hung up deep in thought. Everything was in the balance, my whole life was teetering on a knife edge: on the one hand everything and on the other nothing, on the one hand the dance school and on the other a squalid job, on the one hand a true love and on the other an empty dream. And I had no control over any of it. I had never been so much at the mercy of fate and I hated feeling like this. I could feel a dull and painful anger growing inside me, that settled in my blood like sludge and poisoned me. I was trapped.

  I went down to put the phone back on its receiver and again my ear was irresistibly drawn to the kitchen door, where I started eavesdropping again. They were all quiet, and I couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad sign.

  Then Betty spoke. It sounded like this was the second round of cards for Mum, because she said,

  ‘You see El? This confirms what I told you before. You should seriously reflect on that proposal.’

  What proposal, what proposal, what proposal?

  ‘But if I accept then.’

  ‘If you accept, it will change a few things, but that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’

  ‘Ok. I will think about it then. And what’s this one?’

  ‘The High Priestess? If it is not the head of your department, it is certainly your mother... it’s very odd, Mia had a similar reading…’

  ‘Mia? You read Mia’s Tarot?’

  I darted up the stairs to my room like a lightning bolt, scrambled into bed fully clothed and pretended to be asleep. I could hear Betty trying to justify herself, saying she’d agreed because I insisted and made everything up because the cards don’t work at my age. Then the silence returned, but I daren’t go downstairs now in case I was caught and questioned, so I fell asleep devoured by curiosity.

  The next day after school, I sat on the wall, waiting for the two lovebirds to arrive. When they did show up, I was surprised to see that there were three of them. It seemed that Carl had taken it upon himself to find me a date at the last minute. I hated him with all my heart, but I smiled anyway, showing him all my teeth.

  ‘Mia, this is Alex, he’s coming with us too.’

  ‘Really? Who knew there were so many Abba fans?’

  Alex looked at me questioningly.

  ‘Never mind. Nice to meet you, I’m Mia.’ I shook his hand. I could see Carl smirking out of the corner of my eye.

  Nina and Carl started walking and Alex and I followed along behind them. Alex was skinny and freckled, with short, carrot-red hair that wouldn’t lay flat against his head. He was also at least a foot taller than I was. The comic effect was assured.

  At the bus stop Carl offered to pay for Nina’s ticket, and poor Alex seemed to feel obliged to do the same for me, a gesture that embarrassed both of us.

  Nina and Carl never missed the opportunity to act out a few lines from their repertoire, which got annoying pretty fast, so I dragged Alex over to the other side of the bus for the sake of our sanity.

  ‘Have you known Carl for long?’

  ‘Not really, to be honest.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘About a week, I think!’

  I was beginning to suspect Carl had just picked the nerdiest guy he could find to try and embarrass me. I had thought he was more mature than that. Anyway, Alex wasn’t the one acting like a third-rate luvvie on public transport, for God’s sake!

  When we got to the shopping centre, Nina was delighted by everything. She skipped from shop to shop, with Carl following behind like a shadow, catering to her every whim.

  ‘Try this hat, Nina. I bet you’ll look amazing!’

  And she tried it and beamed like a beautiful child, asking, ‘How do I look?’

  And so on, for the rest of the afternoon, while my mind kept wandering back to the grand tragedy that was probably playing out between Mum and Claire back home.

  ‘Do you want an ice cream?’ I said to Alex. ‘My treat.’

  He followed me to a free table and we ordered two chocolate chip cones. He wasn’t a big talker, but it didn’t matter much.

  ‘I heard you’re dancing a solo in the show.’

  ‘Yep,’ I answered, more focused on my ice cream than participating in the conversation.

  ‘So...who do you dance with?’

  ‘A solo is dancing alone,’ I replied, frowning.

  ‘Right. Of course.’ He blushed red right to his ears. ‘I’ve been put in a comedy dance troupe where we have to wear masks and flippers and dance about like idiots in the background.’

  ‘Aw, well, that could be fun.’

  ‘It’s bloody well not! They’ve picked all the tall kids on purpose so we stand out like a sore thumb behind all these little munchkins they’ve got on the main stage! ‘ Then he looked at me and added: ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean you.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, it’s the truth.’ I laughed.

  ‘Plus, I really can’t dance. Like at all. People always say music is like maths, so you’d think I would pick it up, but no.

  ‘Are you good at maths?’

  ‘Top of the year last SATs,’ he said with some pride.

  ‘Then how about this: I’ll teach you how to do your steps in time if you can teach me some maths. I held out my hand.

  ‘You’re on!’ he said, eagerly.

  Nina and Carl joined us just as we were shaking on it.

  ‘Hey, what’s with the public displays of affection? It’s only five in the afternoon!’ said Carl.

  We both glared at him.

  ‘We’ve made a deal,’ I said giving Nina my ice cream to finish, ‘Dance lessons in exchange for maths lessons.’

  ‘That’s great!’ said Nina enthusiastically, ‘Mia will whip you into shape in no time! She’s going to be a world-famous ballerina one day, just wait!’

  ‘She’d better lay off the ice cream then.’ Carl said nastily.

  I ignored him, I knew he wanted a reaction, but part of me was dying to empty the remains of my drink over his head.

  ‘Don’t be horrible, Carl!’ Nina came straight to my defence, which served him right. ‘Mia can eat whatever she wants, she never puts weight on! I think I’m getting fat though…’ she said slyly, pretending to pinch some non-existent fat on her hips.

  ‘Rubbish Nina, you’re like a model!’ Carl gus
hed.

  That afternoon seemed to me to never end. It was my idea of hell: spending eternity wandering around in a shopping centre full of harsh neon lights and people spraying horrible scents on you. By the time we finally left it was already dark and the wind was bitter, and Carl took the opportunity to take Nina under his protective wing as we walked to the bus.

  When I got home Mum greeted me coldly,

  ‘Did you really have to send Claire to try to convince me?’

  It had gone badly.

  ‘Mum, I didn’t send her to you. This is obviously something that is as important to her as it is to me, and she wants to try to find a solution.’

  ‘Sweetheart,’ she said, through clenched teeth, ‘There is no solution, unless we win the lottery. I thought we had agreed about this.’

  ‘No, Mum, we didn’t agree, you gave me one choice and I had no option but to accept it. Did you really think I would just give up like that, without even trying?’

  She was clearly in no mood to discuss it. Probably Claire had gone in heavy and worn her out. She ignored me and went to the kitchen to set the table, where Paul was happily pottering about in his apron, chopping parsley and sipping a glass of wine. I watched him go to work on an onion with his large, fast hands. He reminded me of one of those TV chefs you might watch on a lazy Saturday morning, who solve all your worries with a generous plate of pasta and pesto. At least someone was trying to maintain a pleasant atmosphere.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked, smiling. ‘I’m doing a roast!’

  ‘Sorry, I ate too much ice cream, I don’t think I could fit it in!’

  He seemed disappointed, and I felt bad. I didn’t want him to think I was rejecting his cooking. The phone rang and Mum went to answer it, closing herself in the living room.

  Paul and I were alone.

  ‘Sorry for invading the camp. I know I’... A bit cumbersome,’ he said awkwardly.

  ‘No, it’s fine. I pretty much just come back to sleep.’

  We looked at each other, embarrassed.

  ‘So you’re a dancer?’

  Why was that always the opener when someone wanted to have a conversation with me?