Letters from Yelena (12 page)

Natalya explained, while the world outside the windows grew darker, that
Giselle
is split into two acts. In the first act, the lead character of Giselle must play a simple and rather
innocent country girl who’s being courted by two men – one of whom she falls deeply in love with. But at the end of the first act she learns that he is engaged to another woman of noble
blood, and as a result she dies of a broken heart. In the second act she then has to play Giselle’s spirit, communicating with the living from the other side. She has to be ghostly, and yet
loving too. Its demand for technical perfection, and also great dramatic skill, meant it was the ultimate role for any ballerina to play.

It was the first time I had visited a truly historic theatre house. The venue seemed to come directly from the pages of one of the fairy tales that my mother had often read to me as a girl. The
Odessa Theatre was a circular, silvery grey building decorated elaborately with statues and pillars. Passing through the great entrance it opened out into a rich array of red seats and gold stalls.
Natalya had seen her first national ballet here too, and as we took our seats I could see her start to become a teenage girl again, experiencing it all for the first time.

When the curtain finally rose it revealed a woodland scene. The Giselle who danced on stage was clearly an innocent, unworldly presence, and far more vulnerable than she is yet to realise. Her
mother, who flits from a nearby cottage to watch over her, is protective of her fledgling daughter, because she believes her heart to be weak. I instantly saw shades of myself in the fragile and
vulnerable Giselle. In the first act, Giselle was desperate to escape the restrictions of her home, and as the drama unfolded I felt as if it was my story that was being told through the
performance. I shared Giselle’s joy when a noble man came to her door and courted her. When a hunting party came to her village Giselle was in awe of one of the noblewoman’s fine
clothes, and she gratefully received a gift from her. At this point she did not know that this woman was already engaged to the man she loved. Her other admirer, a humble gamekeeper called
Hilarion, found the sword of Albrecht, the man she loved, and in showing it to her confirmed his identity as an engaged nobleman. Giselle had refused her mother’s warnings, which had implored
her not to trust a man and fall in love.

Sat in the stalls, I felt something take hold of my heart as the reality of Albrecht’s deception unfolded. Where she had first danced lightly, with a simple joy for living, she was now
ravaged by betrayal. At this moment, the character seemed to tap into a fear that had existed inside me for a long time; one that I had never before brought to light. That vaulting feeling when you
realise that the purity of any love you feel for another is not somehow over-arching. For all its virtues, it can be easily transcended by experience. I watched in horror as Giselle was torn apart
by the realisation that her purity was of limited value. She tore at her hair, and the ruthless, wild momentum of the truth threw around her tiny body. I felt tears streak my face as the unfolding
spectacle carved a place in my heart. Never before had I seen the power of performance at its most raw – its capacity to speak to us, without words, about the darkest truths not only of
ourselves but others too. I had never guessed at how possible it was to make a public spectacle of private trauma.

During the interval I was mute. Natalya remarked that I looked as if I had seen a ghost, and in a way I had – I had seen a reflection of myself on stage, more nuanced than I could have
written myself. I felt that Giselle had been written for me, that this evening contained in it a message from fate that somehow this play would come to mirror my life. At the close of the first act
I also felt utterly terrified by Giselle’s madness as she became undone. I was terrified that in dark moments I would become plagued by it too. Until now I had felt comforted by the fact that
there had been little sign of this in my own life, and yet Giselle’s fall from grace had been so sudden and brutal. Natalya had brought me here to show me the power of ballet, and she had
certainly succeeded. As we found our seats for the second act I started to ask myself if I was Giselle, and the play mirrored my life, then what did it have to teach me?

The curtain rose to reveal a woodland scene at night, which was bathed in silver lighting. It didn’t occur to me that Natalya might be watching for my reaction, examining me in every
moment. In the distance, white lights flickered and faded away. Giselle floated onto the stage, her dancing unnerved by these illuminations. Natalya had told me that they signified the arrival of a
horde of female spirits known as the Wilis. The Wilis, Natalya had said, were the ghosts of women who had been jilted at the altar. As one, they rose from their graves at the dead of night and
encircled any man foolish enough to be in the forest at that time of night. I harboured a bitterness inside me for Bruna, and had always feared what that would lead to. I was afraid of what the
Wilis would signify, and in this performance, my fears were being expressed. As they arrived on stage, countless ballerinas whose movements expressed their murderous intent, they illuminated my
current fears.

They faded back into the silver light. Then, as the stage lights dimmed, Albrecht arrived on stage and laid flowers at Giselle’s grave, begging for forgiveness. I felt my body tighten as
Giselle returned to the stage, now dressed in white. I watched as she readily forgave the man who had betrayed her and as the two of them, haunted by their bond, began to dance again. I felt like
something inside me was being drawn out – thin as a gossamer thread, yet strong enough to never break. I was realising something about love that my immature mind had never understood before;
that the world we live in rarely gives us the means by which to fully express our love, with all its myriad intricacies. Sealed apart from her lover by death, Giselle was required to connect with
him from a spiritual place, but somehow, in some illogical way, Albrecht was able to sense that such a connection was being made. I thought that perhaps only in the greatest works of art can we
recognise a mysterious process which transcends reason. And yet looking at the tightened expression on Natalya’s face, I saw that each of us recognised that pain – the idea that it
sometimes takes some elusive, ill-defined process to truly communicate how we feel. To see such resonant, grand and yet intimate sentiments expressed through dancing terrified as much as inspired
me.

I need barely tell you, Noah, how accurate my fears of this play representing my life are. Like me, Giselle finds the bravery to interact again with those who have been the source of great
pain.

The Wilis then returned to the stage, and building in speed they encircled Albrecht and forced him to dance. Led by their commanding Queen Myrtha, they caught him in their relentless pull,
forcing him to mimic them. It was then that Giselle arrived on stage, and begged Myrtha to spare him. She refused, but Giselle was not to be dissuaded. She resisted the pull of the Wilis, and the
temptation to be vengeful like them. She came amongst the Wilis and begged them to spare Albrecht, and her insistence, her devotion, eventually persuaded them to leave him and fade into the silver
again. In the final, delicate sequence, we watched as Giselle slowly returned to her grave.

When the cast came out for the curtain calls, I felt as if I was in pieces. I knew then that I had found my calling, and as Natalya applauded and cheered with the rest of them, I saw that the
colour had returned to her face. I knew then that my destiny in life was to dance Giselle.

As we began to file out, I felt Natalya’s hand at the small of my back. ‘What did you think?’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Of course you don’t, I could see how you felt merely by glancing at your face. Yelena, I would be happy to tutor you.’

I threw my arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. She laughed, but a moment later her body tensed, and I recovered myself.

In the months that followed I was utterly in awe of Natalya. I would watch, awestruck, at her huge jumps and soft, catlike landings. Due to the passion she evoked in me, I think she started to
come to life again as well.

She helped me rediscover my love of dance, while also teaching me the true rigours of it. I learnt that although I had never been low on effort, I had suffered from a lack of necessary training.
At my first audition I had tried as hard as I could – but ultimately I had been wrong to blame myself for the eventual failure.

Natalya taught me eight routines that became my bread and butter. I practiced them night after night, until I eventually started to satisfy her with my accuracy. My only goal was to impress her,
and it gradually seemed that I was. Being in a new town, she started to need me as much as I needed her. After all, I validated her decision to spend a term teaching at some small Ukrainian town,
after the glamour of her past. I made her sense of failure at having to teach disappear, because I made the value of her teaching clear. It was transforming my life, day after day, right in front
of her eyes.

After a while I learnt those eight routines so well that Natalya and I moved closer to becoming equals. Sometimes, after a particularly long session, I would sense something in her expression.
It was one of admiration, and slight envy. I saw, in the widening of her eyes, that she was witnessing something for the first time. Natalya started to use words like ‘talent’ and
‘ability’ when talking about me, words which before I had only heard used for others. Then one day, Natalya started to say that she was sure that this year I would get into the
Vaganova.

Although it was only words, I kept this wonderful secret to myself. Natalya gave me confidence – not a confidence I had pulled out of myself, but one that she allowed to bloom from the
barren soil of my inner self.

I needed to ensure Bruna was unaware of this development. If for some reason I was forced to be alone with her, it felt like a kettle had started screaming in my head and I had to instantly
relieve the tension. I had no-one to talk to. Although Natalya was a confidante in one sense, I had no idea how to share my problems at home with her. So with these thoughts bottled inside me, even
small, tidy little cuts allowed me to feel replenished; it transformed my state of mind just to see that small jet of blood spiral into the sink. When I danced I was able to ease the pressure out
through my arms and legs, through the sheer thrill of moving to music. But when that release wasn’t there for me, the fear of Bruna caused me to reach for the razor blade time and time again.
I knew that I would struggle to get lead ballerina roles if I hurt myself much more and choreographers noticed scars on my body. So in effect I had to be dancing enough so that I was rarely around
her, and so not scarring my body anymore. Dancing took me away from that destructive mindset; it drove me towards something safer.

By that point I had gone so far beyond hoping for acceptance. I had felt so battle-scarred by pain and disappointment that I didn’t dare hope. I dared not even believe that Natalya might
be right. Natalya started to film my performances, and one day told me she had sent off a videotape to the Vaganova. I normally would have been angry at not having chosen the contents of the tape
myself, but by then I trusted Natalya absolutely. A few days later a letter confirmed that I would get to audition for them for a second time; a rare occurrence, I was told. Natalya promised she
would be there for me from the moment I entered to the moment I left.

That year I went to audition with a very different feeling from the sense of wretchedness I had taken there the year before. On the flight over, Natalya was an entirely different person to
Therese. She found the occasion exciting, and told me that I was entitled to this, perhaps even that it was overdue. I got the sense that she herself had been preparing for this trip together for
some time in her own mind. She spoke to me in a matter of fact, personal way, which she never had done before.

‘This is your opportunity to show the world just what you have,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you on if I didn’t think that you would get in this year. You are
exactly what they require, it was just that last year you were unable to show it. There will be girls there dancing, who through no fault of their own do not have the key attributes that you
possess. You are physically very fit, athletic, flexible – all the things they like. You have dramatic skill too, and these people are the best in the world for recognising potential. Just go
in there and show them what you can do.’

When we arrived, some of the other girls looked at me with new eyes, as if they could now sense something different about me. This time I liked the fact that I was one of the few who did not
have a parent with me, but instead a young and beautiful instructor who seemed utterly devoted to my cause.

When the course director showed us around the academy he seemed to recognise me from the year before and said, ‘It is not often that girls return for a second try.’

With Natalya at my side, this time I warmed up more professionally. She wanted me to take longer over it than I thought necessary, but I see now that flexibility is so important. When I went in
to audition I felt for the first time poised and assured. I wished that my mother could see me now.

Throughout the barre work I felt composed, finely attuned not only to what they would ask next, but also to how to do it confidently. I realised how underprepared I had been the year before.
After the barre work, I noticed that two of the panel were keeping their eyes fixed on me. Many of the other girls seemed tired, covered in sweat, but I felt that I had barely started. When we
moved into the centre, unlike the previous year, I did not feel anything constrained inside. In fact I felt as if some ugly edifice inside me had taken a huge, mortal blow, and was now crumbling in
every passing second. I felt all of the skills I had gradually learnt whirl from my body, spin from my fingertips, and surround me with their colour.