Prima Donna (22 page)

‘I didn’t know there was anybody who knew that,’ Will replied, and she could hear the grin in his voice. ‘I thought nobody could pin you down.’

‘Well, you have,’ she countered, and the image of her pinned down swam before his eyes. ‘For the moment anyway,’ she added archly, a flash of her old fire flickering
up.

They rounded a corner, just as a streak of nutmeg dashed past. A fox?

Pia shrieked as it came back, circling her, barking excitedly.

‘Get away! Get back!’ she cried, hiding her face and shrinking down, frightened of anything further happening to her leg.

‘Sit, Biscuit,’ Will said calmly, coming to stand in front of Pia. The dog instantly sat on the ground, panting.

Pia peered between her fingers at the tame dog, and felt instantly ridiculous.

‘Oh! It’s you,’ said a brusque male voice over the wall. Pia couldn’t see over it but she could tell from the way Will stiffened that he wasn’t happy to see the
man.

‘How are you?’ Will asked tightly.

‘Same as before, if that’s what you mean. Nothing’s changed. You’ve got until the end of April to get your horses out of my stables, or I’m putting them into
auction.’

‘Don’t threaten me, Ludgrove,’ Will said quietly. ‘I can’t get the livery of twenty horses sorted in that space of time. The insurance for the stolen horses alone
is taking an age. Besides, don’t you think this is all just an overreaction? We need to sit down and discuss things.’

‘I thought I made myself very clear the other day.’

Pia gasped. ‘Is he the thug who hit you?’ she cried, outraged, to Will.

Will turned to quiet her, but Pia saw her opportunity to show him some loyalty for once.

‘What kind of animal are you?’ she demanded, her accent thickening. ‘Using your fists instead of your brain like some kind of . . . gorilla! And now, now you threaten him again
when he’s trying to be reasonable with you . . .’

Tanner looked at Will, puzzled and somewhat bemused by the furious disembodied voice. Who the hell was that? ‘I see you’ve got your very own poison dwarf,’ he muttered drily to
Will.

‘Will has told me everything that happened,’ Pia continued, ranting to the wall. ‘You are a damned fool to hold him responsible. Whatever happened to your staff, it was your
mistake. You were in charge, you were there. He was
not
there,’ Pia blustered angrily. ‘You are no man. You have no honour. You are a
tolo
. A
burro
–
what do you call it? A donkey. You are lucky he did not fire you the first time.’

Flicking her hands up disgustedly, and with nothing more to say, Pia sat back in the chair.

Tanner, hearing the cease-fire, peered smiling over the wall. But the smile immediately slid off as he clocked the cast. He looked down at her, astonished. Her skin was glowing, her eyes
flashing . . . had it not been for that plaster on her leg he’d never have recognized her as the girl he’d dragged from the water. He could scarcely marry the memory of the limp girl
with this furious, hot-headed impetuous little tour-de-force. Of all the ungrateful . . .

He looked back, disgusted, at Will. ‘Well,’ he said finally. ‘I rather wish I hadn’t bothered,’ he said darkly.

Pia’s eyes narrowed. Bothered with what?

Will stepped forward menacingly. ‘What did you ju—’

‘And Violet’s well shot of her,’ he continued, speaking over him. ‘I see she wasn’t exaggerating when she said what an ungrateful brat she had to put up with. You
did her a favour giving her the boot.’ He slapped his thigh and Biscuit came round and sat next to him. ‘I won’t tell you again, Silk – get your horses out of my stables or
they’re going to auction. ’

Will bridled at the threat, but he said nothing. It was just better to get away from him as quickly as possible.

Tanner glared down at Pia, who was staring back equally hatefully, before he turned away and disappeared into the wood alongside them, Biscuit at his heel.

‘Thank God you’re rid of him. You can’t possibly have someone like him on your staff,’ Pia said, watching him go.

‘Strictly speaking, he’s not on my staff,’ Will muttered, scarcely able to believe the entire encounter had passed without fuller reference to Pia’s fall in the lake. He
walked back behind her wheelchair and started pushing it along the path, back towards the house.

‘But it would be better if you didn’t antagonize him, Pia. He’s a rough sort. Tanner Ludgrove is nothing but trouble. He’s not to be trusted at all.’

‘So, darling, let’s see what you can do,’ Evie growled in her throaty smoker’s voice, her hennaed red hair and pallid white complexion ever-ready for
Halloween. ‘Come sit on this stool.’

She pulled a tall bar stool over to the mirror. Pia wheeled herself over and Evie hoisted her up onto it. It was so high that Pia was able to sit on it with her legs almost completely
straightened on the ground. She was wearing black cropped leggings and a red racer-back leotard – the kind of thing someone might wear to a spinning class. It certainly wasn’t what Pia
considered to be ballet kit, but it was all she had here.

‘Now, let’s move through a
port de bras
. I want to see your arms and shoulders.’

‘It’s my foot that’s broken, Evie,’ Pia said, rolling her eyes. ‘My arms are fine.’

‘Not from where I’m sitting, sweetie. You look like you’re going to snap.’ She held Pia’s upper arm between her fingers, like she’d picked up something nasty.
She shook the thin arm lightly. ‘Tch, how could you let this happen?’

She pressed a button on the remote and Delibes filtered through the room.

Pia sighed and placed her arms in first position.

Evie stood at the side watching her, all Pia’s sinews and bones clearly visible through her thin skin. She hadn’t had much fat on her to begin with, but this . . . well, she just
looked ill.

Pia moved her arms through a sequence she’d known since she was twelve, the memory alone putting her limbs through their paces. Evie could see the rhomboid muscles on either side of her
spine trembling as she kept her ribcage lifted – that meant her core strength was diminished for starters . . . and her right shoulder looked stiff in fifth . . . her elbow was dropping
through
fourth
. . . She ran through twice.

‘Okay, okay, enough. I can’t bear to see any more.’

Pia frowned.

‘Let’s do some stretching at the
barre
. Stand on your good leg.’

Pia slid her bottom off the stool and stood on her left leg as Evie lifted her right foot and gently placed the cast over the
barre
, resting it directly against the mirror.

‘How does that feel? Does it feel like it’s going to slip off?’

Pia shook her head.

‘Okay. Show me a
plié
and then a stretch towards your right leg.’

Pia turned out her left foot, stretched up through her spine, then bent her left leg deeply. She swore she could hear the bones creak as she swept down, rising back up and stretching over her
waist to the dead leg on the
barre
. Five, six, seven times she repeated it, before the shaking in her thigh became too much.

‘Okay, and stop,’ Evie said, a pitying tone in her voice.

Pia sat back down on the stool, rubbing her thigh soothingly. She knew what Evie was thinking. She herself hadn’t realized how far she’d deteriorated. It had been only a few weeks
since the accident but with the dramatic weight loss and prolonged confinement to bed, her muscles had wasted quickly.

‘Well, it’s not just your foot we have to treat, is it?’ said Evie rhetorically.

Pia shook her head, staring down at the ground. ‘I think we’re too late, Evie.’

Evie narrowed her eyes in contemplation. She’d had absolutely no intention of coming back to work with Pia. No thank you. She’d been there and done that. She remembered only too
clearly the precocious madam she’d had the misfortune of dealing with three years previously when Pia’d first come into the ChiCi as a
sujet
, straight from ballet school.

She’d thought she’d known it all then, strutting around in her ragged leotards, disregarding her superiors, ignoring etiquette, sleeping with all the boys who weren’t sleeping
with each other – in short, doing everything she wasn’t supposed to – and
still
she had raced up the ranks to soloist and then principal dancer, in three short years.

She had never suffered any type of injury before – much less a career-threatening one – and Evie had expected that if anyone had the arrogance to assume she’d bounce straight
back it would have been Pia Soto. She’d tripled her usual fee – which Silk’s lawyers had gratefully accepted – regarding it as ‘danger money’ for the hassle of
getting up close and personal with Pia Soto again. So who was
this
girl in front of her? All defeated and weak and compliant.

The lawyers had said she needed a ‘maintenance’ programme to keep her fitness up while her foot healed. Well, Pia was right about one thing: they were too late for that.

‘On the basis of what you’ve just shown me, you’ve lost about sixty per cent of your performance strength,’ she said coolly, watching Pia’s reaction.

Just as she thought. No surprise at all.

‘If you were a car, I’d say you were a write-off.’

Pia nodded.

‘You need completely rebuilding from the inside out,’ Evie said, shrugging as though that was hardly possible. ‘What am I – a miracle worker?’

There was a quick rap at the door, and Will peered in.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

Evie looked over at Pia. ‘Do you want to tell him or shall I?’ she drawled.

Pia shrugged, indicating for Evie to do the talking. She wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to get those words out. Write-off. Finished. Over.

‘Well, she’s a mess,’ Evie said, like she was talking about a toddler’s playroom. ‘Thinks it’s too late. Doesn’t believe in herself. Weak. Surrendered.
Pathetic. Basically everything she wasn’t.’

Pia didn’t protest. Will looked at her in alarm. She didn’t dare meet his eyes.

‘So that’s where we are now,’ Evie said laconically, nodding.

‘Can you get her ready in time?’ Will asked, a gleam of panic in his eyes.

‘The gala’s – what? End of April . . .’ She sucked on her cheeks, before blowing out hard. ‘Yes, I reckon I’ll have her ready by then.’

Pia’s head jerked up. Gala? She looked between Evie and Will.

Will leant against the door frame, one leg wedged up on the jamb.

‘I thought I’d host a charity gala for your comeback,’ he replied nonchalantly, but unable to keep a smile down. He’d been planning it almost since Rosen’s
prognosis and had been waiting for Evie’s assessment before telling her. He had feared it would have to be cancelled after Baudrand’s snub knocked the spirit out of her, but it was all
for the best now. He’d got bigger and better lined up for Pia Soto.

‘We’re going to hold it here. I’m having a stage built on the lawns. And I’m inviting
everyone
. It’s going to be the social ticket of the
season.’

‘But . . . but . . . but . . .’ she blustered, panic all over her face. ‘I’ll never be ready in time.’

‘Oh you will, sweetie, trust me,’ Evie winked.

‘Well . . . what am I supposed to be dancing?’ she asked finally. This couldn’t be happening. It was too soon.

‘Why,
The Songbird
, of course.’

Pia gasped at the title of her own ballet. ‘But how? Ava’s dancing it.’

‘Yes, with the ChiCi in the States. You’re going to be dancing it over here.’

‘But . . . I’ve no one to dance with.’ Her mind was a blur. This didn’t make sense.

‘The Royal Ballet is dancing it with you.’

Pia gasped even harder.

‘How did you manage that?’ she whispered.

‘Well, I’ve given them nearly six million pounds in the past five years. I figured I could call in a favour. Besides, the fund-raising side of the event is for them, and
they’re absolutely desperate to collaborate with you. Didn’t I tell you so? And, just
entre nous
, I think they’re hoping it might lead to something more permanent.’
He walked towards her and held her hand in his. ‘The English style suits you. And you’d be perfect for their repertoire – Ashton, Macmillan. In fact, Lord Everleigh is a good
friend of mine . . . why don’t I schedule a lunch, just something informal, see how you all get along?’

Pia shook her head. This was all happening too fast. ‘But it’s Milan I need . . .’

He dropped her hand, frustrated at her stubbornness. ‘I don’t see Milan showing any interest right now, do you, Pia? You might have to consider that maybe they don’t want
you.’

Tears sprang into her eyes.

His voice softened. ‘Look, nothing’s set in stone. You’re just a guest artist for this. You’re not going to be tied in to anything. And look at it this way – a
collaboration with the Royal will at least show everyone else what you can do.’

Pia’s mind was racing. She was feeling bulldozed, bullied.

She shook her head, still baffled. ‘I don’t understand why Baudrand would agree to let you use the ballet when he hasn’t debuted it himself yet. It’s going to be the
highlight of the spring rep.’

Will put her hands in his. ‘Well, strictly speaking, the copyright remains with Alvisio. Baudrand has got the rights for the American production. So I bought the European
rights.’

‘You did what?’

Will shrugged. ‘You were right about Baudrand. I spoke to him. He doesn’t think you’re going to make it back.’ He squeezed her hands tightly as she paled. ‘Which is
why I decided to use that against him.
I
know you’re going to make it back; so does Evie and so does the Royal.’ He took a deep breath, excited. ‘So we’re going
head-to-head.’

Pia felt her blood chill. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, just imagine it,’ he said, growing more animated by the second. ‘The ChiCi going up against the Royal, you against Ava, both companies debuting the same ballet. On the
same night. It’s a dance-off!’

He started striding around the room, arms outstretched. ‘The publicity is going to be huge! We’re already collaborating with Ticketmaster to put together a tour package for people to
see both productions. Virgin are offering us a discounted rate so that people can fly between Chicago and London and we’ve got a deal for first-class travel from Paddington to Sherborne.
We’ve block-booked every five-star hotel in a fifteen-mile radius. The BBC is going to televise it – live! They’re going to need to interview you of course – and
there’s going to be a public vote over the radio,’ he said, not pausing for breath. ‘I’ve got interviews lined up with every broadsheet on both sides of the Atlantic and
we’re going to whip everybody up with Tweets – you’ll need to issue at least four a day, going up to hourly the day before the performance.’