Prima Donna (39 page)

There was another knock and Mrs Bremar appeared.

‘Oh! I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to intrude,’ she said quickly, seeing Pia in consultation with Evie. ‘I’ll come back later.’

‘No, it’s fine. I was just going,’ Evie said, taking Pia’s hand in hers. She looked back down at her. ‘Remember: the only way to do it – is to do it,’
she said intensely.

Mrs Bremar edged into the trailer cautiously, worried about knocking over the flowers.

‘Do you want me to get rid of some of these for you?’ she said, looking around. ‘Sure, you can hardly move in here.’

‘It’s fine,’ Pia said quietly, her fingers tracing the letters on the card.

Mrs Bremar peered over and read the words upside down.

‘Aah,’ she said quietly. There was a long pause. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Pia shook her head and they sat in silence for a little while.

‘Well, it looks wonderful outside with all the flowers and the pretty lights,’ Mrs Bremar said brightly. ‘And haven’t they made the stage set beautiful? It’s a real
wonderland.’

Pia nodded.

‘The seats are filling up already, you know. I managed to get autographs from Prince William and Elton John on the way down here. Everyone looks so grand in all their finery.’ She
looked at Pia in her yellow costume, the vision before her for once finally correlating with her own expectations of what a ballerina should look like. ‘Not as fine as you, though. You look
just beautiful.’

‘Thanks,’ Pia said, smiling wanly, fiddling with her leg warmers. If only B could see what she saw.

‘He’s done you proud, to be sure.’

‘So everyone keeps reminding me.’

‘And you’ll do him proud tonight up on that stage. You’ll get up there and glisten like the star you are. Show the world what a good job he’s done of putting you back
together again. And then you can relax, knowing you’re all square.’

Pia frowned at her. ‘All square? What do you mean?’

Mrs Bremar tipped her head to the side, her eyes twinkling knowingly. ‘Well, let’s be honest, tonight is mainly about his ego, isn’t it? You’re risking a lot getting back
out there so soon. I don’t think if this – what are they calling it? – this
dance-off
hadn’t been set up, that you’d have chosen to come back so early, would
you?’

Pia shook her head. She had been trapped into this from the start. At first, she had thought Will had set it up as an incentive for her, something to focus on after the shock of Baudrand’s
betrayal, but very quickly it had become apparent that the upsides for him outweighed those for her. From what she could fathom, she was taking on all of the risk, while he was just taking all of
the credit.

A flurry of profiles in the financial and social press meant his philanthropy to the Royal Ballet was now well documented, and his dominance on the polo circuit confirmed;
Tatler
had
rocketed him to the top spot of their annual
Little Black Book
edition and he must have added £1 million to the value of Plumbridge House with a beautifully shot glossy ‘At
Home’ feature, which showed Will and a very reluctant Pia draped across the sofas and walking hand in hand through the gardens. It all meant that as well as garnering the jealousy of every
male in the western world for capturing the delectable Pia, the resulting publicity had been good for the Black Harbour brand too. Recognition of the financial arm of Silk’s empire had spread
beyond the closed confines of high finance to the man on the street, and bookings were up forty per cent for the string of boutique Black hotels which were popping up like mushrooms in the chicest
European cities and resorts.

‘Precisely. You’re getting up there for him because you feel you owe to it to him for looking after you during your convalescence. But that’s all you owe him.’ She tapped
the card. ‘Not yourself. Not if you don’t want to. Don’t let him pressure you. It’s your life, Pia; you need to live it on your terms.’

There was a brief pause as Pia took in her words and the sense behind them. Someone understood!

‘Oh B! You’re the best!’ Pia exclaimed, throwing her arms around the housekeeper’s neck. ‘Whatever would I have done without you these past months? You’ve
kept me sane. When I thought I was going mad, you were always the person who made everything better again.’ A tear rolled down her cheek as she realized that what she’d needed –
and found – these long lonely months hadn’t been a lover, but a mother.

‘There, there now. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your face,’ she smiled, dabbing beneath Pia’s eyes as tears welled in her own. ‘I’m so proud of
you.’

There was a knock at the door and a stage hand peered in.

‘They’re ready for you, Miss Soto.’

Pia looked at Mrs Bremar, who smoothed her sleek hair proudly, and nodded. Pia nodded back to the boy, who disappeared to tell the orchestra. She slid off her leg warmers.

They walked to the door together, and the noise outside rushed in like water. Tinkles of laughter and lilting conversation competed with the caterwauls of the orchestra tuning up as violins,
flutes, piano and oboes chased each other up and down the scales, like children on stairs.

Pia felt the first wave of adrenalin hit her as she took in the sight. After the morning’s full dress rehearsal she’d closeted herself away in the trailer – partly to avoid
Will, who was now like a wedding planner on speed, and partly to keep out of sight of the guests, who’d been arriving in a steady stream all afternoon. Will kept banging on about introducing
her to the Royal Ballet grandees, but she had insisted upon total seclusion. She knew he was irritated by her ‘head down’ attitude but this wasn’t a social event. Not for her.

She was stunned by the vision before her. The estate had been transformed. She looked at the glow of the flaming torches that had been set up around the lawns, with shrubs spotlit and candlelit
chandeliers swinging from the trees. Some guests were still sipping champagne and wandering about the grounds, but most were now seated. Rather than opt for gilt chairs, Will had extravagantly
splashed out on two hundred and fifty sofas, all upholstered in William Yeoward jewel-coloured velvets, and huge antique Iranian rugs were spread atop the matting on the grass. As she surveyed the
audience – the women in full-length dresses and their best jewellery, the men in white tie – she thought it was like a grand restaging of Renoir’s painting,
The
Picnic
.

Television crews from NBC and the BBC had set up tracks in front of the stage area, ready to catch her from every angle. In the front row she saw the notorious ballet critics Mary Stoppes-Wade
and Spencer Bowles. They were sharing a sofa and talking together intently. They had both travelled overnight from the ChiCi production, and far from being jet-lagged they looked well into their
second wind. Pia watched them from the steps of the trailer.

The evening breeze ruffled her tutu like feathers and instinctively she turned her face up to the still-warm red sky. This would be the first time she had danced outside since she was a girl
– barefoot on the
cerrados
– and the memory of that freedom stirred within her. If she could do just enough to get through this, she would be free to dance on her terms again.
But, more importantly, she’d be free from her debt to Will.

Rudie, spotting her from backstage, ran over. He was wearing thick white tights and a black velvet jacket, his stage make-up transforming his voluptuous features into something more brooding and
dramatic. The perfect leading man.

‘Ready?’ he smiled, taking her hands in his.

Pia nodded, almost shyly.

‘Let’s dance it off, then,’ he grinned, pulling her into a run, eliciting a roar of approval from the crowd as they glimpsed the pair making their way backstage.

The conductor picked up his baton and eased the orchestra into the overture, as Pia began to dance behind the curtain, stretching and sliding her body into warmth. The corps – ready and
warmed up for twenty minutes now – stopped their own pre-performance routines to watch, the air around her shimmering like fairy dust. She rose and fell on
pointe
with a sparkling
vibrancy that belied the occasional twinges of pain that shot through her foot, and she leapt into the
grand jeté
with a silky elegance that made everybody else’s appear
clunky by comparison. By the time Rudie lifted her into the dramatic swallow lift she had hidden her terror behind a stage smile, and the backstage company and crew spontaneously burst into
applause.

The audience – whipped by now to almost a frenzy of anticipation – heard the dancers backstage and clapped even harder in return, willing her to come out. The dancers fled to their
positions in the wings as the stage manager counted down from ten and the green velvet curtain finally rose. And as Pia flickered like a fame back into the spotlight, the audience rose to their
feet with encouragement, and she knew the day of judgement was finally upon her.

She burst through the trailer door, flushed and breathing heavily, a beam across her face. She’d done it, she knew she had – she’d shown them all.

She scanned the trailer, surprised to find it almost empty. Where had all the flowers gone? She frowned. The mirror was broken and . . . and why was her make-up swept off the dressing table onto
the floor? There were five hundred people sitting outside. She couldn’t possibly have been burgled.

And then she saw him, sitting defiantly on the bench by the window, one ankle resting arrogantly across his knee, his arms outstretched behind him.

‘Oh. What do
you
want?’ she demanded, sliding the coronet out of her hair.

‘I thought you’d be pleased to hear that your little plan worked,’ Tanner said bitterly.

Pia looked at him, bored. ‘What plan?’

‘The one to break up my brother’s marriage.’

Pia snorted contemptuously. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, reaching down to pick up the makeup from the floor. The last thing she needed was to twist
her ankle slipping on a lipstick.

‘I find that hard to believe,’ Tanner said sarcastically. ‘After all, what other possible motive could you have had for inviting Harry Hunter to the party?’

‘Harry?’ she said, looking up. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’

Tanner threw his head back and laughed. ‘Oh come on! Surely you can guess?’

Pia stared at him blankly. What was he talking about?

‘He’s gone,’ Tanner said finally. ‘And taken Lulie with him.’

Lulie? With Harry? So that’s where he’d gone. Oh God, poor Jonty! She looked away quickly. She felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach.

Tanner watched her, his anger inflamed just by the sight of her – it had become something of a Pavlovian response now.

‘Does Jonty know she’s with Harry?’ she asked in a tight voice.

Tanner shook his head. ‘Not yet. But
you
must have known that he would make a beeline for Lulie,’ he demanded. ‘What was the problem? Too much competition for
you?’

‘No!’ she said, keeping her eyes away from his, throwing everything into the bin. ‘I didn’t think of her like that at all.’

‘Well, what
did
you think, then?’ he asked, jumping up. ‘What exactly was going on in that twisted mind of yours to think that bringing a man like that to her
wedding reception
was a good idea?’

Pia stopped moving. ‘Well, I didn’t think for a minute that anything like this would happen. How could I know that they’d fall in love?’

‘Love?’ Tanner mocked. ‘Who said anything about that? Love wasn’t what I saw between them.’ He glared at her from the far end of the trailer and for a moment she
genuinely wondered whether he would come for her. A half-empty bottle of whisky was sitting on the floor by his feet. She wondered whether he’d even stopped drinking from the party last
night. From the stubble on his face and the redness of his eyes, it didn’t look like it.

She went and stood by the hanging rails. ‘Look, I’m sorry about Jonty. Really I am,’ she said, genuinely shocked by the conversation they were having. ‘He’s a nice
guy and he doesn’t deserve any of this. But I can’t talk about this now. I have to get changed.’ She looked at the clock on the dressing table. ‘I’m back on stage in
ten minutes.’

He stood up angrily and advanced towards her.

‘If you think you’re getting rid of me that quickly you can think again. I’m not leaving this trailer – and neither are you – until I’ve had a reasonable
explanation. Get dressed if you want to,’ he said, turning his back. ‘I’m not the least bit interested in looking.’

Pia stared at his back for a moment. There were no screens to change behind in here.

Slowly, she took her next tutu off the hanger and moved behind the rail, trying to hide herself behind the clothes. She wriggled off the yellow costume and stepped into the next, a midnight-blue
velvet tutu which she had had altered to sit just an inch above the nipple, the internal corset squeezing and pushing up her breasts so that they trembled with every move. She pushed the separate
velvet cuffs up her arms, arranging them just below the shoulders, and slid a paste-diamond tiara into her hair.

She came out from behind the rail and sat down at the dressing table, unwinding the ribbons on her shoes. Tanner, hearing the noises, turned around again and watched her. He saw the satin on the
yellow shoes had worn through. Six other pristine pairs – white, and custom-dyed yellow and navy – were hanging up by their ribbons on the wall.

‘I didn’t realize it was the Rio Carnival out there,’ he sneered, staring down at her and taking in her swollen bosom.

Pia sighed at the insult but didn’t reply. She was trying to think of the quickest way to get him out of there. He was completely destroying her calm, tensing her up, and she knew she
wouldn’t be able to dance if he carried on like this.

She spritzed water into the toe box of one of the new navy satin shoes and began jabbing it with a pestle. Her mind raced as she tried to think of a cover story, but his scrutiny made it hard to
concentrate and she came to the conclusion that, if she wanted to get him out of there as quickly as possible, she was going to have to tell him the truth.