Dancing On Air (9 page)

‘Congratulations, Madame Devoré,’ Tinder said. ‘It is an excellent review and will no doubt do wonders for our theatre. Does anyone know this Mr Preston?’

‘Yes, I’ve met him once and have seen him around the theatre. He started working for The Illustrated Theatre Review a couple of years ago. He’s about your age, Mr Michaels, and a right know-it-all.’ Sally said.

Marie sat silently for a moment as if to let the accolades wash over her. ‘Good. It appears that Mr Preston does appreciate ballet after all. After his last review I was beginning to wonder. Thank you Mr Michaels for sharing it with me...and thank you for your congratulations,’ Marie said as she rose from the chair. She opened her little brooch watch and looked at the time, then she turned to Lisette. ‘It is a good review but you have a long way to go before you are — as he puts it — “perfection”. Change now and I will meet you in fifteen minutes, for rehearsal. The rest of the chorus should be arriving soon.’

‘Yes, Aunt Marie,’ Lisette replied. Silence settled over the room as Marie left the dressing room. A moment passed and then another.

‘Well, I don’t care what she says. You were perfection,’ Tinder said as he gave Lisette a broad smile.

‘That’s right, you were brilliant and don’t let your dragon of an aunt ever take that away from you,’ Sally said as she gave Lisette a squeeze.

‘I heard that you managed to stop the performance,’ Tommy said with a toothy grin. ‘That’s my girl!’

‘Thank you, and I stopped it only for the briefest moment. I don’t think anyone would have noticed,’ Lisette said. She put her hand to her cheek and felt the heat.

‘I heard you got a standing ovation,’ John the stagehand said.

‘That was only from one gentleman,’ Lisette said.

Alice gave her a wink. ‘Yes, the same gentleman that threw down that pink rose at your feet.’

Sally looked at her. ‘Would that be the same gentleman we ran into at Hearth Fire?’

Lisette shrugged and hoped that Sally would drop the whole conversation. ‘I really don’t know what you mean.’

‘Lisette, was it the same young lord who wanted to see you last night? The one who was sniffing around a couple of weeks ago?’ Tommy asked.

Lisette groaned inwardly. She wanted to make light of the whole conversation but it was apparent that it had already gone too far. As she scanned the room, which seemed too full of curious faces, her eyes met Tinder’s. She could not be sure but he wore an expression that was a mixture of annoyance and surprise.

‘It’s nothing... Really. Nothing has happened... Nothing has been said. He gave me a rose and that is all there is,’ she said. ‘Now, if you will all excuse me, I must change. Aunt Marie will be waiting for me and you all know that she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’

‘Yes, yes of course,’ Tinder said as he gestured to the others to leave. ‘We cannot keep Madame Devoré waiting. And once again Lisette, congratulations.’

‘Thank you, Mr Michaels,’ Lisette said with a slight smile.

Sally hung back and waited for the others to file through the doorway.

‘Would you like to explain?’

‘No.’

‘Come on Lisette, I’m your friend,’ Sally said.

Lisette sighed and looked up, she saw Sally reflected in the mirror. ‘Whatever it may be, I want it kept quiet; a secret. I don’t want to be the fodder of gossip and the last thing I need is for Aunt Marie to catch hold of it.’

‘But you still haven’t told me what “it” is?’

‘Very well. Yes, the gentleman who threw the rose is the same man we saw at the Hearth Fire.’

‘Ah,’ Sally replied and her voice sounded as if it held the wisdom of the Sage.

‘I have not decided what to do about him, so can we please talk about something else?’

‘No, this is the most interesting thing that has ever happened to us,’ Sally said as she looked back at Lisette’s reflection.

‘Us?’

‘Why of course. Just think, Lisette... If you are courted and married to a lord you could escape your aunt forever. And then, of course, as you will be mixing with the upper echelons of society, you will be able to introduce me to a rich man who is fascinated with ballerinas with red hair.’ Sally ran her hands over her hair and patted her bun in place. Then she gave her friend a wink. ‘See, you are honour-bound to marry your gentleman and provide me with a nice, rich husband.’

Lisette laughed. ‘I think you have danced too many fairy tales. Young lords do not marry impoverished ballerinas...no matter what their hair colour.’

‘Oh pish, why not?’

‘Because life never works out that way. Besides, as I said, I haven’t decided if I am even going to see him again. I do have an obligation to Aunt Marie. One that I can never forget about.’

Sally pulled out the nearest chair and sat down with a bump. ‘Oh please, don’t you mean she will never allow you to forget it? What will you do, Lisette? Allow her to dictate your life forever? Perhaps this gentleman is not the one for you, but do not cut yourself off and hide forever in the dusty theatre.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because one cold morning you will wake up and discover that you have nothing. You will be as icy and brittle as Madame Devoré...and that, dear friend, would be a travesty.’

‘I will never become my aunt.’

‘Good, then you can start by meeting this man,’ Sally said.

‘It will complicate things.’

‘Well, if life flowed smoothly from beginning to end, it would be tedious. Complications can make you feel alive. Has he asked to meet you?’

Lisette thought on Sally’s words for an instant. Perhaps she was right about complications. Lisette knew that she had already agreed to meet Evander later but part of her believed that she would tell him that they could never meet again. However, that part of her was shrinking quickly, just like her resolve. Lisette didn’t believe in fairy tales and was under no illusion that whatever she and Evander had between them would be fleeting. But an image of him smiling popped into her head and it made her stomach contract. Maybe she was playing with fire, but just once she longed to know what it was like to be loved. ‘Yes... This afternoon at The Hearth Fire.’

‘Good, I shall make sure you get there. Don’t worry, Lisette... No-one will discover your secret.’

Tinder Michaels hesitated momentarily before gathering his nerve and knocking on Madame Devoré’s office.

‘Enter!’

Tinder opened the door and saw that her office was almost as big as his own. The observation didn’t sit well with him.

‘Ah, Madame, I wondered if I may have a word?’

Marie looked up from her desk with a hint of surprise on her face. ‘Mr Michaels, please come in and sit down.’

Her words sounded gracious but Tinder had the feeling he had just walked into a spider’s wed. Madame Devoré was dressed in her obligatory black; the only hint of colour came from the gold mounted cameo that sat at her throat. The black drained her face of colour and accentuated her blue eyes. Her eyes were the same deep blue as Lisette’s and were Marie Devoré’s only soft feature. Tinder took a breath, strode across the room and took the seat near her desk.

‘I thought, Madame, that we should discuss this review and its ramifications on The Imperial.’ Tinder sat in the low chair. Its back was straight and the chair pad hard. He was uncomfortable and, to make things worse, Madame Devoré appeared to look down over her desk at him.

‘The ramifications?’

‘Yes, obviously Lisette’s fame is beginning to rise. Do you foresee any problems with that?’

‘It is early yet, but I do not believe so. Lisette is a gifted dancer and will do the part justice,’ Marie said evenly.

‘Yes, I must apologise for putting Bessie forward... I see now that Lisette was the natural choice. I shall not meddle in your area of expertise again.’

Madame inclined her head and allowed a hint of a smile to touch her lips. ‘It is gracious of you to say so.’

‘Do you believe she will be able to handle the adulation and popularity that her dancing will bring? I mean, it’s just that she is so young...and she will be the object of much worship.’

‘Worship? I believe that is too strong of a word. However, on some level you are correct. Being a ballerina of worth, especially when she becomes a principal dancer, will bring with it fame. Lisette is eighteen with a good dose of common sense. She will not allow the attention to go to her head.’

Tinder nodded and tried to form the words into the question he most wanted to ask. But as he raised his head and saw Madame’s piercing stare, the words melted away. He cleared his throat and tried to recover some sense of dignity. Hell’s teeth, he was the legal owner of the Imperial Theatre, not Madame Devoré. ‘But the rose?’

Marie tilted back her head and laughed. To Tinder it sounded raspy and hollow.

‘Roses are to be expected, along with bouquets, gushing reviews, supper invitations, jewellery and proposals...none of which will pertain to marriage. Lisette received her first rose and believe me when I say it will not be her last.’

‘Oh, I just thought...’

Marie gave him a thin smile. ‘You like her?’

‘Oh...um, no I was merely concerned for the girl’s welfare.’ He dropped his gaze to the green Persian rug on the floor and hoped that she had not noticed the heat that was burning in his cheeks. ‘Do you think there will be a problem between Lisette and Florentia?’

Marie leaned back against the back of her chair. ‘Not on Lisette’s part. However Florentia may begin to feel threatened.’

‘I only ask because I remember you once said that Florentia was nearing the end of her career. I wonder if Lisette would eventually take her place.’

Marie’s eyes seemed to almost glisten. ‘Do not worry, Mr Michaels. Whatever happens, the Imperial Theatre will never be without London’s finest ballerina.’

‘Thank you, Madame... I suppose that was the reassurance that I was looking for,’ Tinder said as he rose from the chair. He walked to door but paused and looked over his shoulder. ‘Business aside, I would hate to see Lisette ever get hurt... She is such sweet girl.’

‘I’m sure between us, Mr Michaels, we can make sure that Lisette is always protected,’ Marie answered with a knowing smile.

‘Yes, yes we can,’ he said before he disappeared through the doorway.

CHAPTER THREE

Lisette slipped out the stage door into the late afternoon light. The brightness of the outside world made her narrow her eyes for a second until they adjusted from the dark of the theatre. Sally had promised to stay behind and misdirect anyone who should coming looking for her. Aunt Marie was enclosed in her office and would probably not venture out until the performance.

Walking down the lane, she wished she had something nicer to wear. She wore her best dress — it was better than her grey one, but not by much. It was made of dark blue wool with a rounded neck and tight-fitting sleeves. A small trail of pearl buttons began at the top of her bodice and stopped at her waist. Around her shoulder she wore her shawl and her long hair was piled up in a loose bun. The buttons were her only adornment, as she owned no jewellery, not even something that had once been her mother’s. The only piece that had been kept was the large cameo, which Aunt Marie wore constantly at her throat.

Everything had been sold when Lisette’s mother had died. Aunt Marie had always said that it was through the need to raise funds, so that she and Lisette could live, and that even though everything had been lost, one day she would have the cameo.

But as Lisette made her way to the Hearth Fire she wished that her appearance was not quite so shabby. At night, through the magic of the gaslights, costumes and make up she was transformed into a bejewelled princess or a delicate fairy. The afternoon sun stripped away the illusions of the night and left Lisette with stark reality.

Once, twice, her steps faltered and, out of a mixture of fear and embarrassment, she almost turned back to the theatre. She took a breath and forced herself to go on. Both Evander and Sally had urged her to take a risk, a chance so that she could experience life. So, just this once, she would do as they asked and risk everything.

The Hearth Fire’s kitchen door was slightly ajar as Lisette approached. Tantalizing aromas escaped from the heavy wooden door and wove their enticing magic down the street. Without any more hesitation, Lisette gently knocked on the door and let herself into the small kitchen. Ropes of strung garlic and onions hung above the window, and on the bench was a batch of freshly baked rolls. The hot air of the kitchen was infused with scents of apples and cinnamon.

Uncle Hans looked up from his pot-cluttered stove. ‘Ah, Lisette come in, come in. The boy is here and has paced a track in my floor! He was worried that you would not come, but I said “if my little bird said she would come, she will”!’

Lisette crossed the kitchen and gave Hans a peck on the cheek. ‘Thank you for letting us meet here. I know you do not open until later.’

‘Pish, I need no thanks. The boy bribes me with coins and compliments my food. Why would I refuse? Besides, I want you to be happy,’ Hans said as he started to stir the nearest saucepan. ‘Go through and I will bring you something in a few minutes.’