9781789543087 If I Can't Have You

by Federica Bosco

  That was what growing up meant. I knew it now. It meant always negotiating, giving up one thing to get another, and constantly making choices that you had to take responsibility for.

  ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘Tomorrow night.’

  My heart sank, ‘Do you know when you’ll be back?’

  ‘Not yet, unfortunately.’

  ‘Weeks?’

  ‘Maybe a month and a half. I hope I can be there for your audition in February, so I’ll do extra shifts again to try and earn some more days off.’

  ‘I hope you can, Pat.’

  And again I wanted to add ‘my love.’

  ‘I’ll do anything to be there, my love,’ he said.

  He called me his love! Chills ran down my back, and without thinking I replied, ‘Pat, I.’

  I wanted to tell him, I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I had always loved him, that the idea of not seeing him made me sick, that I had too many things to tell him, that I wanted to make love with him, that I could not imagine him not touching or kissing me for a month and a half, that I wanted to know everything about him, his habits and obsessions, that I wanted to see him as soon as I woke up, that I wanted to see him laugh, cook, get angry, yawn, dance, repair the bike, I wanted to spend my whole life with him because, I was sure, we were made for each other.

  But I was still afraid that it was too early.

  So I just said, ‘Pat, I wanted to say thanks, for everything you’ve done for me.’

  ‘I like solving problems! Especially those that don’t really exist. We could solve pretty much anything if we all respected each other a bit more. It would be a perfect world!’

  ‘There wouldn’t be any need for the navy in a perfect world!’

  ‘Exactly! So the two of us could go and live on a tropical island where it’s always sunny and open a bar on the beach. Would you come?’

  ‘And leave behind the rain and the fog? Where do I sign? What would I do, clean the fish you caught?’

  ‘You would do what you do best: dance in the best theatres! It’s what you were born to do.’

  His faith in me made me feel protected and loved, I had become so used to being with Patrick in such a short time that I couldn’t remember a life without him and I was terrified of losing him. And this feeling of emptiness made me begin to understand my mother’s pain. A dull, exhausting anguish.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,’ he said, ‘I’ll come to your house to say goodbye.’

  When he’d gone, I lay down on the bed to think, as I had done millions of times before, but I no longer recognised myself. I had lost something I couldn’t define.

  I was no longer as carefree as before, when it was enough for me to get on my bike and go to Claire’s to make myself feel better, and I was gripped by a strange combination of emotions somewhere between euphoria and fear.

  I worried about things I hadn’t noticed before (other people’s feelings, for example!). I was becoming painfully aware that I was no longer a child and I never would be again, and above all that I had this intense fear of losing the people that I loved.

  It wasn’t long before my grandmother called again.

  ‘My dear child,’ she began enthusiastically ‘Are you happy? It’s all settled, they can’t wait to have you for the February audition.’

  ‘Who can’t wait to have me?’ I asked doubtfully.

  ‘I discovered I had a friend on the board of directors. I’ll try and get her to put in a good word.’

  ‘Nonna, the Royal Ballet takes people on merit, not through recommendations!’

  How did she not know that?

  ‘Who said anything about recommendations, darling? All I’m saying is that no one disdains a donation and I will be happy to provide one, if they treat you well.’

  If they treat me well?

  That was really the last thing I needed, my grandmother interfering in the committee’s decisions. They would already hate me before they even met me. Now I began to see why Mum had been so frantic, she knew what I was going to meet. Olga didn’t even know me and she was already trying to run my life.

  I wondered if Patrick had realised quite what she was like, but I trusted him, so I decided to take his advice and keep the peace, looking ahead to the final goal.

  ‘Come on, Nonna, I don’t even know if they’ll accept me.’ I tried playing the modesty card.

  ‘Nonsense! You are my granddaughter, blood of my blood. You will be magnificent!’

  Clearly my grandmother had little time for modesty. Since Mum had escaped her clutches, she now considered me an extension of her ego. I felt like a hostage.

  ‘No, really. Out of nine hundred candidates, they barely take thirty each year. There’s a pretty good chance I will fail.’

  ‘Fail? There is no such word! ‘

  I began to suspect that my mother had been adopted.

  ‘And before I forget, I arranged for you to take private lessons with one of the best dancer teachers from the Leicester School of Art. It’s after school, so it won’t take time away from studying.’

  ‘Nonna, I can’t! Claire has been my teacher since I was a child, I really can’t do this without her.’

  ‘Look Mia, is this Claire the best?’

  ‘She’s my friend,’ I protested.

  ‘It is not enough! You need the best if you want to succeed and I will give you the best.’

  ‘But we have already prepared my audition piece, I have no more time.’

  ‘It won’t be that difficult to change, darling, surely? If you are going to be a professional you must be ready for anything. There will be plenty of times in the future when you have to replace someone at the last moment!’

  I hated her so much. I wanted to hang up and go and cry with Mum.

  ‘Stay calm,’ I told myself, ‘Think of what Patrick told you, do what Nonna says, it’s just for now.’

  ‘Nonna, I understand that you want the best for me, but believe me, Claire is the most qualified person to prepare me, she knows me like no-one else, and she knows what my strengths are. I’m sure you will have chosen the best teacher, but like I said, time is too short to build an a... Good working relationship.’

  ‘Well, then I’ll talk to her, and if she doesn’t have a good working relationship with me by the day after tomorrow at half past two, they’ll be waiting for you at Sinclaire’s.’

  ‘I’ll be at school the day after tomorrow at two thirty.’

  ‘I called Mrs Jenkins, and she said you can leave at one.’

  ‘You called my principal? Is there anything else you’ve done, Nonna? ‘I asked desperately.

  ‘I’m only doing what is best for you, darling,’ she concluded, satisfied.

  I was finished, tied hand and foot, and I only had myself to blame. I went down to tell Mum about it, but she took one look at my dismayed expression and burst out laughing

  ‘Don’t come to me for help, I tried to warn you!’ and she went off, shaking her head.

  I was all alone. I couldn’t even turn to Nina for support these days. She was experiencing the same changes as I was, but she had Carl with her, while I had to keep everything hidden. There were beginning to be too many secrets in our relationship, and in some ways I wished I’d been honest from the start.

  In any case, Carl monopolised all her time these days. They were like conjoined twins, wherever she was, he was there too - in the yard, in the canteen, in the library - always together, hand in hand. If only they had been in class together, they would have shared the same desk and the same locker, too. I couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for her. She was neglecting all her plans for fear of losing Carl, and it didn’t seem healthy.

  After the phone call to my grandmother, she became very cautious around me. She never let herself go like before, presumably because she thought I hadn’t really forgiven her. And as things were at the moment, she was right. We sat next to each other in class, asking every now and then to borrow a book,
or a pen, talking about the weather, like two strangers on a bus.

  Just before the end of the lesson Mrs Jenkins called me into her office. I wasn’t even surprised.

  Nina looked at me questioningly as I stood up, giving her a look that said ‘this is all your fault!’

  The principal informed me of my grandmother’s phone call with an enthusiastic smile.

  ‘How lucky you are to have someone so genuinely interested in your career and personal growth. Your grandmother told me all about your relationship, how she remembers encouraging you from when you were small, and how delighted she is to be able to take care of you now. And she knows so many important people! It’s strange that your mother never told me about her.’

  ‘My mother is a private person and she likes to mind her own business.’

  ‘Well, I know, but who would have thought that your grandmother was a consultant for the Tate Gallery and met Princess Diana!

  ‘Yes, my grandmother knows a lot of people, can I go now? I have to cross the city to go to a dance class.’

  I suspected my grandmother had agreed to buy some new gym equipment or something.

  ‘Mia, there is no shame in having someone to take care of you.’

  ‘I already have someone who takes care of me, Mrs Jenkins. My mother has taken perfect care of me my entire life, despite never having met Princess Diana. Now if you’ll excuse me …’

  I got up and left, white with rage, without having anyone to blame for it but myself.

  My phone rang. It was my grandmother, perhaps informed by Mrs Jenkins of my uncooperative attitude. I didn’t answer it. I knew she would be furious, but I didn’t want to do anything other than see Patrick.

  I arrived at my house late and he was already at the door waiting for me. I was so furious that I was shaking.

  ‘Hey, what happened baby?’ he asked, coming over and giving me a hug.

  ‘My grandmother is a total control freak! She’s going around trying to bribe people with ‘donations.’ I’ve never been so popular!’

  Pat laughed, and when he looked at me my anger lost its intensity and gradually evaporated. I no longer wanted to tell him about the new ballet teacher and the board of directors, nothing mattered when I was in his arms.

  ‘I brought you something,’ he said, taking a phone out of his pocket. ‘It’s mine, I want you to keep it. It’s newer than yours, and - I wanted to make sure you have one that works, since is the only way we have of staying in contact.

  ‘But Pat...’

  ‘Please? And don’t leave it under your pillow or in a bag with your sweaty gym kit!’

  I leaned against his chest.

  Pat, I love you, but how can I tell you? I know it’s still early, but it’s true. I love you and if you leave I’ll go crazy. If you leave I’ll die.

  ‘I know, baby’ he whispered.

  I snapped my head up and looked at him in amazement.

  ‘I know it’s hard, but together we’ll make it.’

  He hugged me even more tightly, cradling me in silence, while the snow began to fall gently all around us. I didn’t dare ask him if he had read my mind, but I almost felt like I’d heard him speak, too.

  Perhaps it was just the wind.

  17

  I was embarrassingly late arriving at Claire’s, but that wasn’t why she was angry.

  It was little Chester who told me. ‘I heard you were changing teachers,’ he said, in his prissy little voice, smoothing his perfectly groomed hair in a mirror as I waddled past, shoes untied, with my towel flung around my neck, a bottle of water under my arm, my bag in one hand, and Pat’s precious phone in the other.

  I stopped abruptly. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Claire told me. She said now you’re going to the School of Art she will have much more time to devote to me. I’m working on my jumps, you know?’

  I could make you jump with a swift kick in the arse, I thought, smiling grimly.

  I burst into the room like a fury, tripping over the ribbons of my shoes, and went straight to Claire who was counting the beats of a score and running her fingers through her hair, visibly agitated.

  ‘Ah, the diva has graced us with her presence!’ she said, contemptuously.

  ‘What’s going on now, Claire? I haven’t done anything!’ I said, raising my hands.

  ‘No, it seems your grandmother has arranged everything for you!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, frowning.

  ‘She called me to say that, since you will soon by studying at the Royal, it’s time that you employed a more qualified teacher!’

  ‘Did she say that?’

  ‘She actually said something like ‘with a more competitive edge’, but that’s what she meant.’

  ‘But that’s not what I want!’

  ‘Neither do I, but we’ve had our orders from above.’

  ‘And you’re just going to accept it?’ I said, keeping my voice down to avoid being overheard by Chester, who was lurking strategically near the glass, pretending to practise his jumps.

  ‘What can I do? I could cry! When I think of all the time and work I’ve dedicated to you and now someone else will take the credit!’

  ‘But who is she? Do you know her?’

  ‘Ha! Do I know Mary Sinclaire? We were in the same company in ‘79, before I left for New York. She was never much of a dancer, but she did marry a rich choreographer who gave her the money to found the School of Art. She’s got to where she is now thanks to money and connections. If I had her contacts, they’d be lining up outside to take your place!’

  ‘What can I do?’

  ‘From what your grandmother told me, the lessons are already paid for! Oh, and she offered me a termination fee. Lucky me, eh?’

  ‘Oh God, Claire, I’m fucked!’ I wailed, putting my hands in my hair.

  ‘Mia,’ she said, more kindly than before, ‘Calm yourself. She’s probably right. You’ll be leaving anyway if you’re accepted by the Royal. Maybe it’s better this way.’

  ‘But I want you to prepare me for the audition. I don’t want to go to Sinclaire! ‘

  ‘Listen, even though it kills me to say it, her name is a lot more highly rated than mine and I think.it would be an advantage for you to let her prepare you. She may be a better teacher than she was a dancer.’

  ‘But Claire,’ I slumped wearily into a chair, ‘I didn’t want it to end like this.’

  ‘I know Mia, neither did I, but you know, things rarely go quite the way we plan.’

  ‘My mum says that too, but I don’t even have a say in the matter. It’s like she owns me or something. I’m beginning to regret having involved her at all!’

  ‘Well, I think that was partly my fault, too. I would give anything to have found another solution, but she was your only option, you know?’

  I sighed, watching Chester out of the corner of my eye leaping around like a dog on a trampoline, desperate for some attention.

  ‘Claire. I don’t want to leave you.’

  ‘Well, we’re not saying goodbye just yet. We’ll still have our Wednesdays, although I think you’ll soon find yourself with so much to do, you may not have the time!’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I said, taking her hands.

  ‘And when you are a great dancer I can always tell everyone that I discovered you and not Sinclaire!’

  ‘You did!’

  We embraced.

  Why was I always saying goodbye to the people I loved? It was like a succession of chapters of my life all closing one after the other before I was ready. I felt cheated, like I was watching my most cherished relationships slip through my fingers like water: Claire, Nina, Patrick, Mum. One after the other they were moving away from me and although in some cases it had been inevitable, everything was happening too quickly and at a price I wasn’t ready to pay. If you are ever ready to pay the price of a goodbye.

  I returned home tired and heartbroken and Patrick, on a mission in some shitty submarine, did not even
answer me.

  My grandmother, on the other hand, was all too ready for a chat.

  ‘Why didn’t you answer my call?’

  ‘I was in school, Nonna,’ I replied, exhausted.

  ‘No darling, I called you after you had left. If you have a mobile phone, you have a duty to answer it, otherwise don’t buy it, go live in a cave and communicate with smoke signals!’ she said angrily.

  If only she knew how much I would have loved to go and live in a cave somewhere, away from her…’

  ‘Yes Nonna, I’ll pay more attention in future,’ I sighed.

  ‘I spoke with your Claire, I believe she is quite passable if you’re on a budget, but I understand from my contacts that she is not suitable for a task of this magnitude, and we cannot afford the luxury anything less than one hundred percent. Sinclaire is the best in the city and she has agreed to give you private lessons. And believe me, it is rare that a teacher agrees to dedicate her time only to one pupil.’

  I was beginning to think longingly of my mother’s desire to see me become a lawyer, or an accountant, or a dentist. I wondered if there was still time to change my mind…

  The School of Art was in the city centre. It was a brick building on two floors, with huge windows through which I could see spacious, well-lit rooms. I stood outside for at least twenty minutes, unsure what to do, watching the dancers coming and going, chatting and laughing, dressed in that careless, arty way that made them even more fascinating. I thought about how I had no dancer friends and how nice it would be to have someone to talk to who understood my obsessions and insecurities, and who understood what pas de bourrée meant, without my having to explain it. But then again, being compared to other dancers was the one thing that scared me the most. I squeezed Patrick’s phone in my pocket for reassurance, and went inside.

  A busy, smiling girl got me to fill out a form at the reception desk, then asked me to take a seat and wait for a moment. While I was still admiring the photographs on the walls - Margot Fonteyn, Nureyev, Baryshnikov and Roberto Bolle - I was greeted by a heavily made-up blonde woman in her sixties, dressed all in black, with her hair tied in a severe bun and absolutely dripping with jewellery. She was a little taller than me and very overweight, with an authoritative air that reminded me more of a restaurant chef than a dancer.