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“No, this she is specifying: all are to watch to understand. To learn the value of her work, but also, I think, it is you she most wants to see. Is possible she suspects something about us.”
The air reddened. How dare Michelle upset him like this? “Aleks.” I held his face. “There’s nothing she can show me that will change how I feel. You’re wonderful and I love you. The fact that you’ve been through bad things only proves that you’re brave and strong.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“I won’t see it anyway,” I said, his distress pushing the hitherto-avoided fact to the fore. “I get really bad stage fright. I sometimes try to run away at the last minute. That’s not an exaggeration. Ask Will. I’ve always been this way. You’ll have to stay with me in the wings if you want me in the show. Sometimes I’m sick too. So if she forces me into the auditorium, I might vomit on some of the very important people.”
“This is true?” His focus shifted at once. “Then it is even more vital that you gain performance experience. In time, with practice, this, it will improve.”
It was my turn to be unconvinced, but Aleks was enthused again, full of stories of other dancers who had overcome their fears.
I lay in his arms and hoped we would always be this way, together in love, keeping one another safe from fear and harm under a starry sky.
Chapter 25
Icicleshungfromthetops of windows on the morning of the show, as immobile and frozen as me. Aleks’s advice was to take the day in small parts, to contemplate one thing at a time. He ran me a bath, and then saw that I was dressed before he departed the room.
My breakfast remained uneaten. Class was an automatic event, much of which I got wrong. At lunch, feeling empty, I accepted a piece of chocolate from Will.
The castle began to fill with new people. Some were staying in guest accommodation on the second floor, others in local hotels. They were all shown where to go by Holly and her extra helpers who had been hired for the weekend.
“Hearst, you could have a Christmas shag-fest,” commented Justin after colliding with a giggly young woman in the foyer on our way through to the theatre.
My parents loomed large before us, the sour expression on the wide face of my mother suggesting she had heard Justin’s remark. She managed to sound vaguely revolted and completely uninterested as she asked how we were all getting on.
“Fucktastically, Mrs. Treadwell,” Justin replied.
She winced.
My father inspected the floor, the ceiling, the stairwell, then peered through to the theatre wing. “How on earth did they get permission for a modern extension like that?” he asked. “The place must be a listed building, surely?”
“They won’t know about that, James,” snapped my mother. “Dancers’ heads are stuffed with ballet-shoe ribbons and diets. Though you appear to be eating well.” She looked me up and down, and stared pointedly at the melting chocolate in my hand.
My parents headed to the great hall for welcome drinks, and we continued on our way to the theatre.
“Thing that gets me,” said Justin. “She always makes these snide comments about people being bigger than she thinks they should be, but she’s probably the biggest person in the building.”
“She says she has a glandular condition,” I explained. “But, that’s not the point. I’m about to wear sticky-tape in front of her. Sticky-tape.”
“And you’re gonna look super fantastic in it,” said Will. “Try getting angry about her ‘eating well’ comment. That might help.”
“What is this?” asked Aleks, catching the tail end of the conversation as we arrived backstage.
“You have yet to meet famille Treadwell,” Justin explained.
Through in the dressing rooms, we applied make-up and put on our costumes. Then we warmed up at the portable metal barre backstage.
Bend, stretch, breathe. Quake, dread, freeze.
Simone, Sun and Ruaridh left to listen to Michelle’s introduction.
“Do you want me to stay?” asked Will, as we stood in the wings at the side of the stage.
“Is better we have a moment alone,” said Aleks. “Before we perform together.”
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” advised Will. “If she says she’s going to the bog, she’ll actually be hot-footing it into the woods.”
“I won’t be,” I told them. “The window in the toilet down here only opens a couple of inches. I checked.”
