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“You missed your warm-up,” said Aleks, now standing between Gavin and me. “Go do now.”
I darted into the studio and over to the barre. Justin’s raised eyebrow conveyed enquiry and concern. The mirror showed a red mark on my upper arm. Uncomfortable memories surfaced, things I didn’t want to think of or acknowledge as having been part of my life. I marked the first combination Aleks set us and formulated a getaway plan. The pianist played, my legs bent and stretched, and the familiar exercise gradually overcame unpleasant thoughts.
I had finished. The others were in the middle of something much more elaborate than I had been doing. Hand flew to mouth as realisation dawned. I had just completed one of Peter’s old set exercises.
Aleks must have noticed but had made no correction. He placed gentle hands on my shoulders. “Take a minute. Breathe. You will be right on the other side.” His hands and voice were grounding, and my heart calmed. I watched Will to learn the combination, knowing that he always picked things up quickly, and calmed further.
We turned. Aleks adjusted the position of my shoulders and walked off. I focused all attention on his voice and instructions until the final second of the curtsey/bow of révérence. Then clothes were pulled over dancewear as fast as possible, and Justin’s questions were dealt with in a similar manner.
“Shit, honey,” he said. “I didn’t think you were coming in, or I would’ve waited for you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Was that Tuesday?”
Nod.
“So what did he want? I thought he’d stopped all that stalkery stuff.”
Shrug.
“Listen, Phi, there’s a thing. Baby Jesus, you know, Luke, was in roll call. Everyone fawning over him. Remember how they all bitched before? Different now he’s a success, isn’t it?”
“Justin, is there a point to this story? Because I have to go.”
“Yes. Yes. He gave me – us – tickets for his show and after-show thing. He wants you there cause he still ‘wuvs you so much.’” He said the last part in a baby voice.
“Justin,” I warned, and was about to launch into a tirade against patronising the very young-looking Luke, whom I had once coached in a Jesus related song for an audition, resulting in the nickname, but something was wrong with the alignment of Justin’s mouth.
“He said Edward told him to make sure I got a ticket,” he told me. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, Just. Maybe nothing.”
“But, maybe something?”
“Well…” I acknowledged, silently believing that Justin’s on-and-off boyfriend Edward never meant anything good, and wishing he didn’t mean so much to my friend. The ever-changing status of their relationship was confusing to me and, though he never admitted it, I knew it was quite devastating to Justin.
“Would you be willing to come with me, Phi? I don’t want to pressure you, but it might look funny if I don’t go now.”
He’d gone shrill. I put my hands on either side of his face and massaged his temples. “We’ll go. We’ll be fabulous. I mean we know the Baby Jesus, so how can we fail? I’ll see you back at the flat tonight, but I have to run. He’ll have a break now and—”
“You are leaving?” For once I had forgotten Aleks was there. “The angry man, he is interfering with your training? This, you should not be allowing, even a small bit.”
Honesty, as ever, came immediately. “I’m only missing his useless commercial stuff, then tap and singing. I go to a better class somewhere else every Tuesday.”
“I could manage some fruity jazz this morning,” Justin put in hopefully.
“Advanced ballet with Olga today.”
“No! Darling, you’ve had a nasty start to the morning. Do something fun, not that old bat’s class. She’s mean. Very rude to me, she was. I don’t actually know what she said, but it wasn’t nice.”
“You didn’t try hard enough in her lesson. I think she was saying you weren’t to come back.”
“Like I would.”
Aleks asked, “Olga?”
“Primakova.”
