Hester's Story (48 page)

And Hugo didn’t seem that keen any longer. Was that because of his preoccupation with
Sarabande
? Or something else? Was he going off her? We’ll see, Claudia said to herself. The dress rehearsal is only an hour or so away and then the first night’ll be here, and let’s see if he changes back to how he used to be when that’s all over. She wasn’t altogether sure herself if she wanted to go back to the life, practically a married life, that they used to have.

She picked up a small pot of turquoise eyeshadow and began dabbing it on her left eyelid. Maybe he knows about Nick, she thought. I shouldn’t have been so stupid as to go off with him like that on New Year’s
Eve, but Hugo was completely ignoring me and anyway I’d had a bit too much to drink. Can it be that I regret it? It certainly added something to each rehearsal. The occasional snatched kiss did make things a bit less boring – and what about another night together. Was that going to be possible? The dressing room arrangements in the Arcadia Theatre were not what was required for privacy, which was a real shame. She searched her conscience (Patrick said she was born without one) and decided that no, she didn’t regret what had happened with Nick. She was being paranoid. No one knew about that night, she was sure, so no harm had been done. But perhaps I should tell Hugo, she thought. It might make him think about what he’s been missing. Perhaps he’ll be jealous and realise he has to pay me proper attention if he wants to keep me interested.

Alison. Claudia sighed as her daughter came into her mind. She’s always had this effect on me, she told herself. She’s a problem. Actually, she’d been less of a liability than usual at Wychwood, but ever since New Year’s Eve there’d been nothing but glowering and frowning coming from her direction the whole time. She’s got a crush on Nick and is jealous of me, that’s the problem. She began to work on her other eye, reflecting that it was a bit silly of her to have forgotten that bloody letter from Patrick, but honestly, you’d think Alison had been stabbed in the gut or something, the way she’d reacted.

‘Hello, Claudia.’ Silver had come into the room without making a sound. Why couldn’t the bloody woman walk like normal mortals instead of gliding silently everywhere?

‘Oh, hello.’ Claudia hoped she sounded more welcoming than she felt. There it was, right there, the main reason for the way she was feeling. Bloody Silver
with her flawless complexion and her ridiculously perfect figure and her fucking niceness to everyone. How come a place as luxurious as the Arcadia couldn’t run to a star dressing room? Why was she having to share at her age, like a kid from the
corps de ballet
, for Heaven’s sake?

‘It’s getting colder,’ Silver said. ‘I think it might even snow again.’

‘Mmm,’ said Claudia, making a big thing of outlining her lips. Am I the star any longer, she wondered. Am I still the
prima ballerina
of this company? The misery she felt as she asked herself these questions brought tears to her eyes. She was quick to blink them away. Damned if I’m going to cry in front of sodding Silver, she thought, and gritted her teeth. She put the lipstick down on the dressing table and surveyed the results of her labours. Not bad. She’d still pass with a kick and a shove, but for how much longer? She opened the pretty little box that Hugo had given her, and tipped it up so that the filigree chain poured on to the dressing-table like a tiny stream of gold. It was old, that much was clear. The loud, rather vulgar shine that often marred gold jewellery had been worn into a glow like candlelight. Claudia held it up against her neck. Yes, she thought. That’s going to make all the difference. And it picks out the gold in the fabric of my costume. I’m going to be wonderful in
Sarabande
if it kills me, she decided, even though she knew that moving in the ways she had to move was becoming increasingly difficult and she was growing more tired after each performance. What would become of her if she could no longer dance? She said, ‘I think I’m going to put my coat on and have a smoke outside, Silver. I’ll see you later.’

She left the room, wrapping her coat tightly round her, and didn’t look back.

*

‘Can I come in, Silver? Just for a moment.’

‘Are you looking for Claudia? She’s gone out to have a cigarette, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon.’

‘I’m not looking for Claudia. I thought I’d come and speak to you before the rehearsal. Are you nervous?’

Hugo sat down on the only armchair, which was pushed up against the wall next to the costume-rail. Silver could see him smiling at her reflection in the mirror. He was looking at her with great tenderness. She turned her attention to putting on the Angel’s rather elaborate headdress, concentrating on that to distract herself from what she was feeling. She had done nothing but think about Hugo ever since she’d danced for him and he’d touched her hair. Was it only yesterday? Then he’d raised his glass to her at dinner. She’d taken ages to get to sleep, and when she had finally drifted off, Hugo’s face was there in her dreams. She and Hugo were dancing together. He’d taken the place of Nick in the
pas de deux
and he was whispering to her,
more, you can do it better. Don’t think I’m going to stop watching you
.

‘You haven’t answered. How do you feel about this afternoon?’

‘You mean the dress rehearsal? I’m fine. I’m looking forward to it, really.’ Could he honestly be intending to say nothing? Silver noticed that she was holding her breath.

‘Silver?’ (Yes, yes, she thought. He’s getting up. He’s coming over here. She could see him in the mirror, standing behind her now.)

She half-turned so that she was looking into the black expanse of his sweater. If she leaned against it, she knew how soft it would feel. She could smell him from this distance, some sort of wonderful aftershave
or cologne or something, mixed with the fragrance of his skin, which made her want to hold him and breathe him in and fold him into her arms. She tried to say something but her voice wouldn’t obey her.

‘I’ve made you really, really work for the first time in your life, haven’t I?’

‘You have. I suppose I should be grateful and I am, even though you’re a monster.’

‘Silver …’ Something in his voice made her get up from the dressing-table stool. She turned to face him. She closed her eyes and stepped – it was only a very tiny step – even closer to Hugo so that their bodies were nearly touching. It’s up to him she thought. I can’t do it by myself. He has to show me, prove to me, that I know what he’s thinking. And then his hands were on her face and he was drawing her even closer so that their lips were almost, almost touching. She felt his breath on her skin and she opened her mouth as Hugo kissed her. Oh, please don’t let him say anything. No words. I don’t want any words. I want him to touch me. I want to touch him, drink in his scent. She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms round Hugo’s neck and they clung together and the sound of their breathing was the only sound in the whole world and Silver’s skin was on fire. She lost track of everything – where she was, time passing, what they’d just been saying to one another. The whole universe had shrunk into this sensation, this emotion. She broke away after … how long?

‘Someone might come in, Hugo,’ she whispered.

‘I don’t care.’ He drew her gently into another kiss. Her legs, legs that she must stretch and bend and dance on felt as though they were melting.

‘Oh, Hugo, I’ve got to dance in a moment. I have to get hold of myself before I go on stage. I won’t be able to concentrate. Please. I think you ought to go.’

‘Okay. But later. I’ll see you after the dress rehearsal.’

He kissed her once more, briefly, and left. Silver sat down again in front of the mirror. She was trembling all over. Her legs still felt weak. Pull yourself together, she said to her reflection, you’re an angel. She smiled, and lifted her arms and imagined the wings she would soon be wearing. I’m going to do it, she thought. I’m going to fly.

*

Hester loved dress rehearsals. There was a particular moment, just before the curtain went up to reveal what the Wychwood Festival ballet was to be that year, which was almost pure happiness. All her attention was concentrated on the stage, dark for the moment but about to be illuminated by light that was like no other she could think of – warm with colour, and capable of transforming everything it fell on into something magical. The Mike Spreckley Trio, who were going to provide the live music, had already set up their instruments downstage left. Edmund had spent half an hour with them before the start of the rehearsal and they’d been overwhelmed to meet the composer of the original score.

She could remember, also, exactly what the dancers would be feeling as the time approached to come out on to the bright stage – a slightly sick feeling in the pit of the stomach, a sudden sweatiness of the hands, and, as you dipped your shoes into the rosin box in the wings, a blinkered vision that reduced everything to what you were about to do when you began to dance.

Edmund was sitting next to her. He was excited at the thought of seeing how his music had inspired Hugo, and his eyes shone. How young he looked! It was all Hester could do to stop herself touching him.
Ever since they’d kissed earlier that morning, she’d wanted to kiss him again. Part of her wished that the rehearsal was already over. She longed to be alone with him, and he held her hand as though he didn’t intend to let it go. He’d always been the perfect dress rehearsal companion, not too serious and ready with a light-hearted remark to cheer her up if he felt she needed it. He was also knowledgeable enough about ballet to discuss with her the finer points of anything they were watching.

‘Don’t look so anxious, Hester,’ he whispered. ‘It’s going to be a great year, this year, I’m quite sure.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘Oh, I am, I am. Look who’s written the music. And those players are the best, you know. Great chaps. It’ll be fantastic. Hugo’s obviously very talented and so’s his company, aren’t they?’

‘I think so. I hope so. I’m really longing to see them. Especially Silver. Hugo’s been concerned about her.’

‘Many people say she reminds them of you. I don’t see it myself. She’s very much taller. Probably more energetic and less lyrical.’

Hester smiled. ‘You’re so lovely to me, Edmund. It’s wonderful to have someone around who remembers how I used to be.’

‘I remember everything about you, Hester. I don’t think there’s been a single day since I met you that I haven’t thought of you.’

‘And I’ve thought of you, too. But now I’m thinking of you in an altogether different way.’ She leaned over and whispered in his ear. ‘You’ll come to my room tonight, won’t you?’

Edmund was silent for a moment and then he turned his face so that his mouth was very near Hester’s. She could feel his answer whispered against her lips:
yes, my darling
.

The door which led from the stage to the auditorium opened and Hugo emerged, looking pale and rather worried. He saw Hester and Edmund sitting in the fourth row of the stalls and, waving, made his way towards them. They sat up straighter as he approached.

‘May I sit with you? I need the company. I don’t know why I’m so nervous,’ he said, sitting down beside Hester.

‘Of course, of course,’ said Edmund, and Hester smiled at him.

‘I’m sure you’ve no need to be nervous, Hugo,’ she said. ‘They’re fine up there without you breathing down their necks. Everyone knows what they’re doing.’

Edmund sat forward in his seat as the music started. ‘They’re great, aren’t they? I never thought my stuff could become such wonderful jazz.’

*

Alison stood in the wings and looked at the list she’d taped to the props table. She went through everything again, just to make sure, even though she knew she’d put each prop where it was supposed to be. Cushions on the couch thingie her mother lay about on rather a lot; basket of roses downstage left, and Silver’s wings hanging up and waiting for her to have them put on just before she went on stage. Ruby didn’t want them mixed in with the rest of the costumes in the dressing room.

‘You look efficient, dear.’ Claudia came up behind her. ‘Quite the little stage person, after all.’

‘Break a leg, Mum,’ Alison murmured, and thought again how beautiful her mother was. You had to admit it, even when you wanted to hit her. Alison had learned how to whisper backstage. You had to make
almost no sound at all, and form the shapes of the words very clearly with your lips, so that the person you were speaking to was practically lipreading in the light that spread even into this darkest of corners. She looked at Silver coming down to get her wings put on, and thought she’d never seen anything quite so beautiful in her whole life. She really was exactly like an angel. Her white dress, more drifting and chiffony than the usual rather stiff ballet skirt, floated round her legs; her ballet shoes were white satin and her hair and skin and face glowed as though she were made of some pearly substance. Alison knew it was just glittery face powder because Silver had shown it to her, and even dusted a bit of it on her nose, but it made her look silly and she’d rubbed it off at once.

Silver smiled at Alison and went to stand in front of Ruby, who had the wings in her hands, ready to put on.

‘How’s it going so far?’ she mouthed. Alison made a thumbs-up signal. Signals were used a lot in the wings as well. On stage, her mother was bending and swaying, Andy was prancing around downstage left, juggling three glittery balls, in an effort to amuse Claudia’s Princess, who remained defiantly unimpressed by his efforts. The musicians sitting on stage made the music wash over everything, louder than it was in the rehearsal room and somehow sharper, and for the first time Alison understood what the fuss was about; why Hugo loved it so much. It was like a stream of sweetness poured out over the dancers, over everything, and it made you want to dance yourself.

Silver’s arms were raised, so that Ruby could pass the bands (made of wide ribbon, sewn with feathers) round them, and then tie them up at the back, where they would be hidden by the wings. Alison was rather
proud of these: her job had been to sew feathers and stick sequins on to the gauze.