The next morning, Nina didn’t show up at school, and Carl turned up with a black eye, apparently given to him by his dad, who still thought he’d got some poor girl pregnant.
Good.
Thomas gave me Nina’s phone to give back to her and I took it, not knowing when I would next see her, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing we’d fallen out. Then I went to see Mrs Meyer to hand in the unfinished coursework I was supposed to be working on with Nina the night before. She would not be pleased when she read it.
My grandmother called me just as I was leaving. She was the last person I wanted to talk to, but I knew I couldn’t afford to ignore her calls.
‘What?’ I said, slightly annoyed.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Sorry, Nonna, I had a bad day.’
‘Problems with dance?’
‘No, I just messed up a load of coursework and had a fight with my best friend.’
‘Oh, darling, it will all work out, you’ll see. At your age everything seems so important, but in the end your problems are nothing but soap bubbles that burst in an instant. Poof!’
‘Yes, Nonna.’ I replied, downcast.
‘You must get on with your life, darling! Remember that you have an audition to think about, and that is the only thing that matters right now. We can take care of the rest later. Sinclaire is very happy with you. I shouldn’t really tell you, but since you’re all mopey, darling. Today you have lessons at five if I remember correctly, make sure you are punctual. Ciao, darling!’
She was like a steamroller. I understood why she had buried all of her husbands. And I was beginning to understand my mother a lot better, too.
Before going to my dance class I went to Nina’s house to return her phone and hopefully get some news. Laetitia smiled at me awkwardly, evidently the whole family now knew about our quarrel and was trying to pretend that everything was the same as before.
‘Do you want to come in a minute?’ she asked, embarrassed, and clearly hoping I would say no.
‘I’d better not. Could you just give this and tell her that, if she wants to talk to me. I’m here.’
She nodded politely and quietly closed the door. It felt symbolic, watching the door to that house close in my face, the place where I’d spent half of my life as a child, where my best friend lived, and where I’d fallen in love with Patrick.
Part of me wanted to go back and beg forgiveness on my knees, but part of me also didn’t really think I’d done anything so terrible. Maybe I didn’t understand what it was like to idolise an older brother, but when she got together with Carl, who was my friend and who was in love with me before her, I hadn’t made a fuss, because if she was happy, I was happy. Why couldn’t she be happy for me? Patrick wasn’t her property, and if, like she’d always said, I was the person she loved most, then who better to be his girlfriend?
Oh crap, was I his girlfriend?
I hadn’t actually thought about it.
Mia Foster Benelli, the girlfriend of Patrick Dewayne.
God, it sounded good.
I couldn’t concentrate on my steps that afternoon, no matter how hard I tried. My mind kept going back to the night before, of Carl and Thomas with Bibi and Dell, Nina crying in the street, the kind taxi driver and his wise Indian granny, and then Nina telling me she wished something terrible would happen to me …
I would never have gone so far as to actually wish her harm!
‘What is wrong with you, you’re all over the place?’ cried Mrs. Sinclaire, exasperated, ‘Could you perhaps do us the honour of joining us?’
‘Yes... yes.I’m sorry,’ I stammered.
I prepared myself in the corner of the room, in the fifth position, and as soon as the music started, I performed a series of tombé, pas de bourrée, glissade, followed by a grand jete, and then a long and spectacular split, but as soon as I put my foot down, I slipped and fell awkwardly.
‘Do you see what happens when you don’t concentrate?’ asked Mrs Sinclaire, alarmed, ‘Quick, fetch the physiotherapist,’ she told Bryan and Corinne, who were sitting off to one side, watching.
Falling was the most humiliating and embarrassing thing that could happen to a dancer, who was supposed to be the personification of grace and elegance. My ankle was visibly swollen, and from the faces of the people who had gathered around me, it must be serious. I looked up at Mrs Sinclaire with terror in my eyes, unable to move my foot.
The physiotherapist, a thin Chinese man, came running to examine my ankle.
‘It’s not broken, but it’s a bad sprain. For the time being you must not put any strain on it, we’ll put some ice on it and get you some painkillers.’
‘No, no, that’s not possible. I have an important audition. I have to go, even if my legs fall off! I need to keep practicing just for this week, and then I’ll rest it, I swear.’
The physiotherapist rolled his eyes and sighed, ‘You dancers are all the same! You don’t realise how much you have to take care of your bodies. I’ve seen this happen hundreds of times and no one ever listens to me! Come on, I’ll take you to the infirmary and put some ice on it for you. For today at least the lesson is over.’
The world collapsed in on me.
As they picked me up and carried me out I threw a distressed look at Mrs Sinclaire, who shook her head.
Nina’s curse had worked.
20
When I got home I called Claire. I hadn’t spoken to her since I started at my new school, but now I felt like she was the only one who would understand me.
‘Well! So you’ve finally decided to honour me by getting in touch!’ she exclaimed, ‘After all these years, Mia! What happened to our Wednesdays? I suppose now you’re at your fancy new school, you’ve no time for the little people who put you where you are!’
It wasn’t the kind of phone call I needed, but she had a point. But how could I tell her that I was enjoying being taught by her worst enemy? Rather than lying to her or hurting her with the truth I had preferred to avoid her for now.
‘Claire... I fell.’
There was silence at the other end.
‘Are you hurt?’ she asked, trying not to sound alarmed.
‘I sprained my ankle, it’s all puffed up and it really hurts.’
‘I danced The Nutcracker for an entire season with two broken fingers! Narrow bandages, painkillers and ice, that’s what you need when you’ve got an injury and you don’t want to be replaced. Every dancer has been told at least once in her life to get absolute rest for six months and I never knew one who actually did it! Don’t strain it, but don’t stop dancing, not now you’re in full preparation. And remember that adrenaline works miracles.’
‘Thanks, Claire.’
‘You’re welcome, Mia, but next time it would be nice if you didn’t wait until there was a problem before calling!’
I lay on the couch with an ice pack resting against my ankle and my head spinning. I didn’t know how to start making things right. It was all such a mess that I couldn’t see any way out.
What would I do without Nina? Her rejection of mine and Patrick’s relationship had cast a shadow over our happiness, as though our feelings were gross and unnatural, like we really were brother and sister!
I tried to call her, but the phone rang out time after time. I waited for Mum to get back. I needed comfort and advice, but I didn’t want to tell her about me and Pat. We were taking things very slowly and it wasn’t time for such important confidences. Plus, our relationship was still very fragile, and any disagreements could upset the delicate balance we had managed to achieve.
When she came in and saw me on the couch he immediately thought the worst.
‘Are you injured?’
‘No, no, it’s just a sprain,’ I said, lifting myself up onto my elbows. ‘Can I talk to you for five minutes?’
‘Five minutes? Sure!’ she said, unwinding her scarf and sitting down in the chair opposite.
‘I had an argume
nt with Nina.’
‘What? Why?’ she asked, amazed.
‘Because of Carl. He asked me what I thought of them getting married and I said it was a stupid idea.’
‘It is a stupid idea! And she got angry with you?’
‘Afterwards. First he dumped her, then we caught him with Dell Grabowsky and to justify himself he told her that I had told him to dump her!’
‘What a bastard!’ Mum fumed.
‘And now she won’t even answer my phone calls!’
‘Oh Mia, it will pass, you’ll see. She doesn’t want to admit that he would deliberately hurt her, so she’s looking around for someone else to blame. It’s not like he tripped and fell on top of her, is it?’ she muttered grimly, possibly not thinking entirely about Nina and Carl.
‘She really hates me, Mum!’
‘No she doesn’t! You’ve been friends since you were little, you’re like sisters! The real problem is that you’re both growing up and it’s a difficult moment for you. You’re becoming women and a lot of the time you have to figure out how to do that pretty much by yourselves. And when there are boyfriends involved there are always problems.
‘Who’s Dell Grabowsky?’
‘A girl from school, who shags around.’
‘At sixteen?’
‘Yes mum. And she’s not the only one.’
‘Mia, look at me,’ she said, suddenly apprehensive ‘You haven’t.’
‘Muuuuuum.’ I gave her a dirty look.
The last thing I needed was to get dragged into a modern mother-daughter conversation on the importance of contraception. I was glad I hadn’t told her about Patrick and our trip to Skegness.
We would get there, little by little.
‘You know what you should do? You should write her a nice letter!’
‘A letter?’
‘Yes, you know, with paper and a pen. Not a text message, or a tweet, just a real letter where you tell her everything you’re feeling and explain why you said what you said to Carl. That way you’ve got time to think about what you want to say, and she can look at it when she’s ready.’
Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea. At least that way she couldn’t just slam the door in my face. I went up to my room and threw myself on the bed, then I put my earbuds in and started to write.
I threw away seventeen different versions before coming up with something I was finally happy with:
Hi Nina,
I don’t even know where to start.
I hope you will listen to what I have to say, because you are my best friend, and for me, that means you are the person I care about most, that I would defend and protect to the death.
When I say that I think of you as a sister, I don’t just mean because we swap clothes or go shopping together, I mean that if you needed a kidney transplant, I would give you mine without a second thought, even if it meant I had to stop dancing.
I have only ever wanted you to be happy. I saw how much Thomas had hurt you, and I didn’t want anything like that to happen to you ever again, which is why I told Carl that if he made you suffer, he would deal with me.
Then he decided he was going to give you that ring and asked me what I thought of it and I said that I didn’t like the idea of you being tied down so young, but if he was sure of his feelings and you were happy, then I was too.
But when he showed me the office he wants to open with Alex and said he wanted to get married as soon as next year, I told him I thought it was stupid and rushed and I thought you deserved better. I saw my Mum give up everything for a hasty marriage then regret it for the rest of her life and I certainly wouldn’t wish it on you.
I didn’t tell him to dump you or anything like that, I just told him to think it over. If that was enough to make him change his mind, then he must be a very fickle person to start with. The rest you know. I don’t regret wanting to protect you at all.
But let’s talk about the real reason that you won’t talk to me.
And I ask you, if not to forgive me, at least to try to understand.
I have been in love with Patrick since the first day of nursery and when I tell you that I love him, I mean with all the love in my heart. I never told anyone about it because I always assumed it was just a hopeless crush on my part that would never go anywhere. Remember when you told me you hoped I would fall in love too so I could know what it feels like? I knew then, I always knew.
I kept this feeling hidden inside me for all these years, and it got bigger and bigger every day, until it took up all of my thoughts. But even though I was miserable, our friendship was still more important to me than an unrequited love. I knew how close you were to Patrick so I tried to keep my feelings hidden, and hope that they went away.
I tried to like other guys but no one even came close, so I’d decided to dedicate my life to dance and try to forget about him, and that’s what I would have carried on doing until that night when I ended up in a ditch after trying to follow him. I know I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to see who was on his motorbike with him (it was Christine!).
After that, I called him to say thank you and from there we started texting each other, and then we were calling more and more often, and suddenly I started to realise that maybe he felt the same way about me.
I know it sounds crazy. It does to me, too, but this is the best, most wonderful thing that could ever have happened to me and I can’t bear the thought that for you it’s the worst.
Pat is not really my brother. I know you’re upset at the moment, but when the shock has worn off, please try to think about this and see it from my point of view.
I miss you so much and I hope more than anything that we can one day be friends again.
Love,
Mia
I sealed it in an envelope and slipped it inside my history book to give to her at school the next day.
Pat called me very late, tired and distraught. He had tried several times to talk to Nina, without success, and had been forced to ask his mother to pass messages back and forth. The man who could make peace between brawling crew mates who were tired and frustrated after weeks at sea, was suddenly unable to persuade his own sister to speak to him. He couldn’t understand it. Patrick had no concept of ‘quarrelling’ or ‘being offended.’ For him, everything was logic and negotiation; finding out what someone wanted, and finding a way to get it for them.
It sounded so easy in theory.
I didn’t tell him about my ankle because I didn’t want to make things worse, but that night it hurt so much that I couldn’t sleep. In the end, I took a couple of the extra-strength painkillers the physiotherapist had given me, and went to school the next morning feeling like a zombie.
And in my drugged up state I asked the new blonde girl, sitting at the desk in front of mine, where she’d moved here from. Then I realised it wasn’t a new girl at all.
It was Nina
She had lightened her hair by at least three shades, painted her eyes and lips pink, put on red nail polish and she had squeezed herself into a black minidress that stretched the definition of school uniform almost as tightly as it did the material. One button was open at the top, revealing a hot pink lacy bra.
No, that couldn’t be Nina. Not my Nina.
The boys kept turning round to stare at her, as if they were seeing her for the first time, while the girls nudged each other and giggled.
I took advantage of morning break to put my letter on her desk while she was out in the corridor, surrounded by a group of excited boys, loudly competing for her attention. She laughed like a fool, flirting with first one and then the other, and giving out hugs and kisses to everyone.
When we got back to class, a red rose was lying on her desk next to my letter. It had been put there by Carl, who hovered hopefully in the doorway, waiting for her to see it and run over to throw her arms around his neck.
Nina looked at the rose and the letter, then looked up and saw Carl, waiting for a sign of approval. She smiled at him sweetly, th
en picked up the letter and tore it to pieces.
Great.
There was no way I could tape that back together. I was running out of ideas.
My last hope was a chat with Betty and her tarot cards.
I caught the bus to Betty’s, limping the rest of the way, and stopping every five minutes so as not to tire my foot. Every time I put my foot down I felt a sharp pain. I would have to grit my teeth just to wear pointe shoes. The thought terrified me.
Betty’s house had what she called a ‘creative’ atmosphere, which basically meant that it was in a terrible mess most of the time. There was an aviary in the garden that she had made herself, and when I arrived, she was feeding an angry grey parrot that made threatening noises as I approached. She wore brightly-coloured African trousers and a headband that made her unruly curls stick up like a pineapple.
We went into what she called her studio, which was full of interesting junk she thought she might need one day: an old shop mannequin, an accordion, an exercise bike, a series of half-finished paintings and a sewing machine.
‘I don’t want to read tarot today, Mia, I just want to have a chat with you.
‘But I wanted the cards!’
‘I know you did, but you mustn’t abuse it. It’s better not to be too curious or we risk creating too many expectations. We’ve found out what we wanted, now let’s concentrate on the present. How are things going with Patrick?’
‘Patrick and I are together,’ I answered shyly.
‘Didn’t I say? He was the older of the two? The one in love?’
I nodded, happily.
‘Well that’s splendid!’ she said enthusiastically. ‘I got it right! And the dance? I heard that your grandmother will fund your studies at Royal.’
‘If they let me in.’
‘They’ll let you in, you’ll see! Well! I got all of it spot on!’ She clapped her hands excitedly. ‘And the new school?’
‘It’s so-so.’
‘There! I knew that too! This is wonderful! And..?’
9781789543087 If I Can't Have You Page 28