Hester's Story (33 page)

‘That’s by a friend of mine, you know. The original music, not the jazz variations that Hugo’s using. Edmund Norland. I’ve known him for years and years and he’s delighted that the piece is being revived. He’ll be here in a couple of days, and I know he can’t wait to see what’s been done with his piece.’

‘Yes, I knew you were friends. I read about it in an article in the
Sunday Times
. It was all about how you had to stop dancing after an accident. That must have been ghastly, a real tragedy.’

‘Not grand enough to be a tragedy. Just unlucky. It was one of those things that could have been trivial; could have healed very easily and allowed me to dance for a little while longer at least but no, it was a complex fracture and that was that.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Silver said. ‘How
absolutely ghastly for you! I’d have been in complete despair.’

Hester sighed and then smiled to lighten the mood.
‘I
was. It was one of those times in my life when I lay in bed facing the wall for what seemed like weeks and weeks and didn’t feel like talking to anyone or going out or doing anything really. If it hadn’t been for Edmund, I might have just closed my eyes and decided not to open them again. Edmund and my old ballet teacher, Madame Olga. They pulled me round in the end, and made me see that there were other things I could do. Other ways of living. But it was hard, I won’t deny it. I don’t often speak about it, you know, but you’re a very sympathetic listener. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Oh, no,’ Silver said, jumping up and crouching down next to Hester’s armchair. She took hold of Hester’s hands and squeezed them. ‘I don’t mind at all. I’m honoured that you told me about it. My retrospective sympathy won’t help much, but I
do
feel for you, truly. And I think you’re very, very brave. I’m so glad I took the part in
Sarabande
. I hesitated at first, but I did want to meet you and see Wychwood and I feel I made a fortunate choice.’

She leaned forward and kissed Hester on the cheek and then stood up. ‘I’m not going to complain about Hugo again either. I shall try my very hardest. Really. I’m so happy to have talked to you.’ She was gone before Hester had time to say anything.

The fragrance she wore, like vanilla and something else – sandalwood? – lingered in the drawing room. Hester couldn’t deny that there was some satisfaction in meeting someone face to face who was a true fan; it was so good to be admired. It was probably vain of her to enjoy Silver’s adulation, but she couldn’t help it. It was true that she was very conscious of her reputation
and her looks and if that was vanity, she was guilty of it. I don’t think though, she reflected, that I’ve ever deluded myself. I don’t think I’ve given myself airs, or I hope I haven’t. I wasn’t like Claudia. She was forever looking over her shoulder to see the effect she was having on people and I never did that. Silver seems confident yet somehow not in the least full of herself. She’s a surprise, Hester thought. She looks so cool, and yet she’s a kind young woman. It had been some time since anyone had kissed her as affectionately and impulsively as Silver had done and she felt as though she’d been given a gift.

*

‘Are you going back to the house?’ Nick was leaning against the wall of the rehearsal room, and Claudia could feel his eyes on her back as she bent forward to zip up her boots. He was undoubtedly staring at her thighs in black Lycra and the thought of what he might be thinking made her smile. I wish he’d touch me, she thought. He could. He’s easily close enough, but perhaps he feels embarrassed with some of the others about. She straightened up. ‘Yes, I am. But I thought I’d go along the outside path. I need a bit of air. And a cigarette, to be quite frank. Hester doesn’t like us smoking in the house, so I’m going to have to brave the weather.’ She smiled at him. ‘It’d be much more fun if you were to come with me. If you can bear the cold, that is.’

‘I don’t notice things like that. Not when I’m with a beautiful woman.’

‘How gallant!’

They made their way out of the Arcadia Theatre, laughing.

‘I can’t tell you,’ Claudia said, pausing outside the doors of the foyer to light her cigarette, ‘how refreshing
it is to laugh a bit. Hugo is such a worry guts. Takes everything hugely seriously. You know what I mean, don’t you? He just never seems to relax these days.’

‘He’s mad,’ Nick said. ‘If I had you to
relax
with, I’d do nothing else.’

Oh, God, Claudia thought, staring into his eyes. Why does he have to be so gorgeous? The temptation to put out a hand and brush his hair off his forehead was almost overwhelming, but Claudia was a great believer in playing hard to get, at least for the first few skirmishes in the sex war. In the end, she realised with a thrill that originated in her womb and spread through her whole body, she would succumb. She always did. Nick kissing her … imagining that made her feel a little dizzy and she took a drag from the cigarette and blew smoke into the cold air. Then she set off along the path and Nick walked beside her. She said, ‘That’s not what I heard.’

‘What’s not what you heard?’

‘That you’d like to
relax
with me. Or any woman, come to that.’

‘Oh, I get it!’ Nick laughed. ‘It’s the gay stories, isn’t it? You’ve been listening to gossip, Claudia. You shouldn’t. People are so
inaccurate
sometimes. You ought to know that.’

‘Are you saying you don’t … you’ve never?’

‘No, I’m not. I have been known … well, let’s say men haven’t always been entirely out of the question. Especially when I was much younger. But these days, a person has to be extra careful, don’t they? The whole AIDS thing terrifies me. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Claudia. ‘I understand perfectly.’ And as far as AIDS was concerned, she did. She, too, along with everyone else, had been shocked into serious consideration of this ghastly new illness. But Nick was obviously one of those people (and there
were plenty of them, she knew that) who would sleep with men or women, as long as they were attractive, and
that
she found harder to understand. How
could
they find both men and women attractive, she wondered. She hadn’t a clue, but if Nick said he fancied her, then who was she to contradict him? A tiny voice in the deepest part of her head was saying
wait till he’s been with you. He’ll never want to look at another man again. Or woman if it comes to that
. Claudia tried as hard as she could not to listen. She was being plain conceited, she knew, but still. It was a tempting thought to have the kind of sex with Nick which would make him renounce everyone else for a while.

As they walked, they chatted and gossiped about
Sarabande
, the others in the company and Hester Fielding. The house was coming closer. They’d be there soon, and no longer alone together and she wouldn’t have another chance to get near him till God knew when. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. ‘I’m off to have a bath. I wish you could come with me and scrub my back,’ she said.

He stood quite still for a moment and looked at her. Then he put out a hand and lifted the hair that was hanging down over her shoulder. He stroked it gently and she felt as though the blood in her veins was fizzing. He put his hand on her arm and leaned towards her.

‘I wish I could, too,’ he whispered, speaking right into her ear, even though there was no one looking at them except a bunch of silly sheep. ‘But I wouldn’t stop at scrubbing your back, Claudia. You’re killing me. Dancing with you is killing me. We’re going to do something about it, right?’

Claudia nodded, struck dumb for once. How, she wanted to ask? How, with Hugo sharing a room with me, and my daughter never very far away?

‘Trust me,’ Nick said, and strode away from her and towards the front door. She followed, hoping that no one had been looking down at the drive from one of the windows. She had to get herself into a normal condition before Hugo came back from rehearsal. She smiled as she remembered Nick’s words.
We’re going to do something about it, right?
Oh, yes, Nick, she thought. Very very right indeed.

*

‘Claudia’s going to be okay,’ Hugo said. Hester nodded and said nothing, so he went on. ‘I was worried that she couldn’t manage the part. She’s lost a lot of her power as a dancer over the last couple of years, but just lately she’s done quite well. Put a lot more energy into her work. It might be Nick, of course. Having a much younger partner does sometimes have that effect.’

‘Yes, it does. Look at me and Kaspar Beilin. And Fonteyn and Nureyev. It’s often just what a ballerina needs to galvanise her. I’m sure she’ll be splendid.’

‘And I think Silver will be all right too, if I’m lucky. I showed her the new sequence you suggested and she seemed to be happy to try it.’ He sat back in his chair and took a sip from the wine that Hester had poured him. This, he thought, is the best part of every day, just sitting and talking things over with Hester. He said: ‘I’m so glad I can chat to you about everything that’s on my mind, you know. I look forward to our sessions. During rehearsals, I think of things I want to consult you about, or ask you. I’m grateful to you for letting me see you like this.’

Hester laughed. ‘I look forward to it as well, you know, Hugo. I’ve got nothing but time, really, once the visiting company is here, and talking to the choreographer every day is my way of keeping an eye on
things. But it does make me feel nostalgic. I go for weeks thinking I’ve got everything under control and that I’m quite used to being middle-aged and no longer able to do things with my body that I was able to do for years and then, quite suddenly, I’ll think of something or hear a snatch of music or see someone – like Silver for instance – and then this feeling sweeps over me and I’m longing with all my heart to be able to do it just once more. Go to rehearsal. Tie the ribbons on my ballet shoes. Stand in the wings with the stage flooded with light like a kind of desert stretching out in front of me.’ She paused, and smiled at Hugo. ‘I’m so sorry. I got carried away. I don’t often talk like this. I’m not sure what it is about you, but it makes a person want to confide in you.’

Hugo leaned forward and took Hester’s hand. ‘I’m honoured that you feel you can say such things to me. I won’t let you down. I’ll make sure
Sarabande
is the best it can possibly be. I promise.’

‘I know you will. Have another glass of wine before you go.’

‘I shouldn’t, really. There’s a lot I want to do before dinner. But thanks, maybe half a glass.’

As he watched Hester pour the drink, Hugo felt himself relaxing. Really, it was quite remarkable how safe she made him feel. That was the exact word for it, safe. He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to Siggy, who was snoring slightly as he slept, curled up on a rug in front of the fire.

31 December 1986

Silver stood behind Alison and frowned as she looked over her head into the mirror.

‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘Okay, open your mouth just a little. That’s right. This lipstick’s called
Tulip Touch
, I love it. You have to be careful when you’re a brunette, usually. Sometimes brunettes have an olivey skin which hates certain shades of pink, but you’re lucky. You seem to have your mother’s complexion, even though you’re not a redhead. Nice and creamy.’

‘Shame about the spots, though, right?’ Alison said, her voice sounding funny because of how she was holding her lips while Silver worked away at making her up for the New Year’s Eve dinner party.

‘Spots are what concealer and foundation were invented for. Can you see any spots? Have a look.’

‘I look – I look not like myself at all,’ Alison said, and it was true. Silver, she thought, was some sort of magician. ‘I’m so glad it was you who found me, and not anyone else.’

Silver had bumped into Alison in the corridor. She’d just come out of Claudia and Hugo’s room and her eyes were red-rimmed with crying. Almost before Alison knew what was happening, she was being led into Silver’s own bedroom.

‘What’s the matter? You’ve been crying.’

‘And now I’ll look worse than ever.’

‘Tell me what’s wrong. Have you been having a fight
with your mum? I spent half my teenage years in floods after one kind of row or another. Have a drink, it’ll calm you down. I’ve only got mineral water, but what the hell. Next time I come to the middle of nowhere, I’ll be sure to pack a bottle of gin or something. What were you rowing about?’

‘Oh, nothing, really,’ Alison sighed. ‘Nothing different. I just went to ask her, my mum, what I should wear for the dinner tonight and she said it wouldn’t make any difference what I wore. So I burst into tears.’

‘Did she
really
say that?’

‘She actually said, it doesn’t matter what you wear. But I knew what she meant. She meant that nothing I wore would make any difference to the way I look, i.e., fat and ugly.’

‘Rubbish and total nonsense!’ Silver said. Then she looked carefully at Alison. ‘Have you got a pair of clean black trousers?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about a black top? T-shirt with long sleeves, or something. A thin jumper, at a pinch. But black.’

Alison nodded.

‘Okay,’ said Silver. ‘Go and get those on and come back here in, well, give it half an hour to let your eyes recover.’ She stood on tiptoe suddenly and waved her hand in a circle over Alison’s head and smiled so that you could almost feel the warmth of it on your skin. ‘You, too, shall go to the ball, Cinders,’ she said, and burst out laughing. ‘Wait till I’ve finished with you and then see if you’re fat and ugly. It’s simply not true!’

Now, Alison gazed into the mirror and rubbed her lips gently together. Her Tulip-touched lips. Her eyes looked amazing. Greeny-brown eyeshadow, highlighter, a bit of a line drawn along the lid which she could hardly see but which Silver swore made all the
difference and tons and tons of mascara which made her eyelashes look dark and thick and glamorous.

‘Very important to emphasise the eyes if you wear glasses,’ Silver said, and then, looking with satisfaction at her own handiwork, she went on, ‘D’you know, if I hadn’t been a dancer, I’d have loved to do stuff like this. Make-up and hair. Or making people over from scratch. See how fantastic you look.’