Dancer at Silver Spires (4 page)

Sasha had squashed in beside me, so we were both sitting up with our legs under the duvet. She took the small pile of photos and cuttings and things I was holding and I tried not to tense up too obviously. I wasn't even sure which ones they were, because I'd had to act so quickly.

Her voice when she spoke was just as quiet as mine had been. “This is a lovely picture, Whizz. Is it a famous ballerina?”

I nodded and whispered back, “It's Darcey Bussell. She's retired now.”

“Retired? Was this picture taken years ago then? Because she looks really young.”

“No, ballet dancers retire in their thirties usually. Darcey was actually forty, I think. That's old for a ballerina.”

Sasha was looking at me. “You know an awful lot about ballet, Izzy, don't you?”

I nodded and shrugged. The
other me
wanted to carry on talking and talking like this with my best friend about my favourite subject, but the
new me
knew I must be careful not to. “I used to be really interested in it.”

There was a pause, then she looked at the next picture. “Who's this?”

“It's Marie Rambert, the founder of the Ballet Rambert, that's called Rambert Dance Company now.”

Sasha brought the photo closer to her face. “She looks nice. Kind.”

I nodded.

“Where's the rest of the stuff? You had loads more a moment ago.”

My heart thudded. I couldn't lie to Sasha, partly because she'd never believe me if she'd already seen the pile I was holding, but also simply because I couldn't lie to my best friend.

I reached under my pillow and felt relieved that there was so little light that she wouldn't be able to tell that I'd gone a bit red. “I…I put them under here so they wouldn't get squashed or anything.”

She took the programmes and other cuttings and things carefully out of my hands and laid them on the duvet in front of her. “Yes, they must be really precious.”

I didn't say anything.

She was engrossed in slowly going through the pile, one thing at a time. “Are these your most treasured possessions?” she asked.

Sasha was getting too close to the truth. “No…not really.”

She suddenly broke off what she was doing and looked me straight in the eyes. I tried not to appear flustered but it wasn't easy, because any moment now she was going to get to the photo of me dancing in that final show before I'd given up Miss Amelia's classes. And I absolutely didn't want her to see that one. I just knew that if she did, it would set off loads of questions that I wouldn't be able to answer.

“I'm really tired now, Sash,” I tried. “Shall we try to get back to sleep? Sorry I woke you up.”

She started to leaf through the pile really quickly then. “It wasn't your fault. I think I just happened to wake up of my own accord, and then I saw your light.”

I tried not to sound too urgent. “It's quarter past two, Sash.”

And then the photo of me was suddenly at the top and Sasha stared at it and gasped. “Oh, Izzy, is this you? Wow! You look amazing!”

I could feel a tightness blocking my throat, the kind of tightness you get when you're going to cry, and I didn't trust myself to speak.

“Izzy…?”

“Mmm.”

“Why don't you like talking about ballet?”

I bit my lip, then swallowed and spoke as casually as I could. “I don't know. It's just that I've given it up, that's all.”

Sasha looked at me carefully and I shrugged and smiled. “Come on. We're going to be yawning all through lessons tomorrow!”

It had taken every bit of energy I had to sound so unconcerned. But it worked, because Sasha nodded. “Yes, you're right.”

Then she crept down the ladder. I followed her so I could put my stuff away. Perhaps if there wasn't a single trace of it left in the morning, I could pretend that our ballet talk never happened.

Weekends at Silver Spires are great because there are always outings and shopping trips, and the chance to watch DVDs or to go swimming or just hang out with your friends. We have lessons till lunchtime on Saturday and then we're free. Some weekends there are really great activities, like kite flying and abseiling, and those are the kinds of things that Bryony always chooses to do because she's the most tomboyish and adventurous of us all. There are theatre trips occasionally too, and outings to the cinema or to play tenpin bowling or go ice skating. Antonia, Nicole, Sasha and I often want to stick together and do the same things, and it's really nice to be part of such a lovely group. Then there's Emily. Her big passion is riding. She goes to the local stables every Saturday afternoon and comes back all muddy and happy.

On the Saturday afternoon after we heard from Mrs. Truman about the dance show, Emily had gone riding and Bryony had joined a big party of girls who were hiking. Nicole and Antonia were in the dorm watching a DVD of an Italian film with subtitles on Antonia's laptop, and Sasha had gone to the art block to help paint the scenery for a play that was going to be performed at the end of term. She'd tried to persuade me to go too, but I'd been looking out for the chance to secretly practise ballet on my own and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. I'd said I'd join her a bit later after I'd done a few e-mails.

I only planned to send one e-mail, to Mum and Dad, filling them in with all my news, but there was an e-mail from Max in my inbox, which surprised me because he'd never e-mailed me before. I read it quickly and found myself gasping with shock.

Hey Iz,

How's life at SS? Hope you're still having fun and getting to know more people.

Got some sad news I'm afraid. Claire and I have split up. We had a massive argument and just don't seem to be able to resolve it, so in the end I told her I didn't want to see her any more. I'm sure I've done the right thing, even though I'm missing her like mad. Anyway, just wanted to let you know because she won't be around during the hols when you're home at Christmas. I'm off out with Pete in a mo, so see ya soon!

Holly sends her love.

And love from me too, bro Max

I hated the thought of Christmas without Claire being around some of the time, because for one thing I'd already decided on a present for her, but also it just wouldn't be the same having Max moping around on his own. It didn't seem right somehow. I quickly replied to him, telling him I was really sorry they'd split up, especially if he was still missing her, but I didn't ask what the argument was about and I didn't try to persuade him to change his mind because Max gets irritated quite quickly if he thinks people are sticking their noses into his business. So I just concentrated on talking about life at Silver Spires, and how Emily keeps us all in stitches without even meaning to be funny, and how Matron is trying to learn Italian and Antonia has to hide her giggles whenever Matron says something because apparently her accent is really over the top.

When I'd sent the e-mail, I went down to the laundry room in the basement. People don't go in there much on Saturdays. It's where we put all our stuff to be washed. There are big drums for different types of washing, all labelled
DARK SCHOOL UNIFORM, LIGHT SCHOOL UNIFORM,
etc. Then there's a drying room to the side of the laundry room where our clothes are stacked in piles for us to collect, and there's a door that leads out of that room into a room that just seems to be spare. You'd hardly notice the door, because it's tucked around a corner. And anyway, there'd be no reason for anyone to go into the spare room, because it's completely empty apart from a few old chairs.

I was wearing a T-shirt and my tracky bums and trainers, and carrying my iPod, and as soon as I pushed the door to the little room open I felt the jitters that I always get when I'm about to have some precious moments to myself. But at the same time I was worried that I shouldn't be doing this. It always seems too secretive, as though I'm doing something wrong.

When I get these confused thoughts I have to shake them away or I'll drive myself mad. So that's what I did as I kicked off my shoes and pulled a chair from the wall. The back of the chair was the perfect height for a
barre
. Next I found the music that I use for
barre
work on my iPod, and placed my hand on the chair, waiting for Miss Amelia's voice to come to me. Usually it's easy to imagine her correcting my arm position or my hips or my feet, but today I didn't hear anything apart from the beat of the music. It was as though, on this very day, I'd finally moved too far away from her, and I'd have to forget about my old classes and learn to correct
myself
in future. It was quite frightening when I realized that, but I was ready for hard work, so I began.

I wished there'd been enough time to spend a whole hour doing nothing but
barre
work, but I knew I ought to get over to the art block before too long or Sasha would wonder what had become of me, and there was so much more ballet I wanted to do first. So I changed the track on my iPod, moved to the centre of the room and started my
adage
, which is a series of slow, expressive exercises for the arms. I only allowed myself five minutes on this section. Then I did some jumps and made up a few little routines by putting a set of steps together, which gave me the feeling I was dancing properly. Actually it wasn't properly at all, because the room is so small, but I used every square centimetre of the floor.

It was horrible having to finish my secret class, but I knew it was time I was getting over to the art block, so I put my trainers on and went back into the drying room. I kept my iPod on though, because at least the music allowed me to stay in my secret world for a little while longer.

I was about to go through to the laundry room when my eye fell on someone's pink ballet tights. I stared at them for a few seconds and felt shocked because a wave of jealousy had come over me. Maybe these were Olivia's or Maria's tights. Or were there other girls at Forest Ash who did ballet? I'd no idea. I went closer and touched the pale pink stretchy material that was so familiar. Then I realized there were actually two pairs, and also two pairs of leg warmers lying on the shelf beside them.

Before I knew it I was staring around the whole room, looking to see if there were any leotards anywhere, but there weren't. Then my mind flitted back to Olivia and Maria. They were probably practising their dance at this very moment. I so envied them. They would be in a proper dance studio with a lovely sprung floor and
barres
and music, while I'd been stuck in a bare little room with a dirty floor. I looked at the floor of this drying room. It was actually cleaner than the floor in the room I'd just been in, but it was boiling hot in here and very noisy. I think some kind of machine was swooshing away or maybe it was just water in the pipes. The shelves were the right height for a
barre
though, and before I knew it, I'd reached out and placed my hand on one of them, just to see what it felt like. And then of course, I had to try out some steps…

“Hey, Izzy, what are you doing?”

My stomach seemed to yo-yo for a second and I turned to see Emily standing there. Her red hair was dripping wet and she was carrying a plastic bag that looked as though it was full of clothes.

“Nothing much.” I yanked the earphones out of my ears. “Did you have a good ride?” I quickly changed the subject. “You're back early, aren't you?”

“It was totally brilliant!” she said. “I got soaked. Look.” She opened her bag. “Feel that.”

“Oh wow!” I said, my hand touching the wet sweatshirt. “I didn't even know it was raining!” The moment the words were out of my mouth I could have kicked myself.

“You didn't even know! But it's been raining for ages! Listen.”

I suddenly realized that the noise I'd been hearing that I thought was the pipes or some kind of machine whirring away was actually the rain hammering against the building. I'd been so caught up in my world of ballet that I hadn't noticed the downpour outside.

Emily was frowning at me. “So what are you doing down here if you're not drying your clothes out like me?”

My face was hotter than ever and I was sure I must have gone red. What could I say? I didn't even have any laundry to collect. “I…I thought I'd still got my jeans to pick up but then I remembered I already picked them up yesterday.”

Emily wasn't really listening, thank goodness. She'd dropped her bag of clothes and was standing in the middle of the room. But my relief soon turned to shock. “Show me those ballet steps you were doing. You looked so cool, Iz.”

I'd really thought I'd got away with it, but now it looked as though Emily had been paying more attention to me than I'd thought.

“I…can't remember what I did.”