Hester's Story (21 page)

‘What have you done that might have ended up on the front page, then, Andy?’ said Claudia, overhearing the end of his remark.

‘Front page? Moi? Never in a million years. No one would give a damn about my love life. It’s stars they’re after. Stars like you, Claudia.’ He beamed at her, and Alison saw how her mother relaxed and smiled happily for almost the first time that day, just because Andy made a flattering remark. Putrid and pathetic. She put out her hand to pick up another bread roll – they really were delicious, freshly baked and with a proper golden crust, and there was even butter to go on them – when Claudia said, in a voice that seemed to Alison to ring out in the enormous kitchen and rise up to the ceiling and sort of hang there before floating down into the ears of every single person in the room:

‘Oh God, darling, not
another
roll, surely? You’ve had more than enough. Here, have a tangerine or something.’

Alison felt burning hot all over. She put the roll back, and said nothing. I wish I could push her face into her plate and get squashed lettuce leaves and tomato pips all over it. I wish I could take this knife and tear up her stupid pink tracksuit with it. She noticed that everyone else had suddenly begun to chat more loudly and energetically than ever to cover up their embarrassment. No one said anything to her but she saw Hugo looking at Claudia with something like horror on his face and Silver looking at Hugo and then leaning forward to say something to George.

Alison took a tangerine from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table, peeled it and ate it without tasting a single mouthful. Then Nick got up from the table. As he left the room, he turned and looked straight at her and winked. He didn’t say a single word and yet Alison understood. The wink was his way of saying,
Mothers, honestly!

*

Hester was waiting for Hugo in the Office. They’d agreed at the interview, shortly after he’d been given the commission for this year’s Festival, that he’d come and keep her up to date with everything that was going on in rehearsals. She would never have sat in on them, but liked to know that all was well and in particular that the choreographer was happy with the arrangements at the Arcadia.

The company was still at lunch. You would never know, Hester thought, from the silence all around, that the house is full of people. That’s the thing about putting on a ballet, it occupies your time. Today was a
little exceptional, but on other days, rehearsals would be taking place during the afternoon.

Edmund had sent her another postcard. She had a whole collection of them, lined up on the mantelpiece, so that she could imagine him in Vienna. Today’s postcard was of a Baroque building, with curlicues and gargoyles and bits and pieces of ornamentation everywhere, but she’d had formal flowerbeds from a palace, street scenes, a portrait of Johann Strauss, and quite a few works of art from museums and art galleries. He’d written almost every day. Today’s message, in perfect, tiny writing, said:

Do you remember the 1963 tour? Sitting in a café just down the road from this church and eating a cake that was more cream than sponge? No ballet dancer worth her salt would dare to do such a thing now. Hope you are bearing up, Hester. Only a few more days till Jan 2nd. I’m off to New York tomorrow. That won’t be easy. Much love E.

Someone was knocking. Hester put the postcard down and called, ‘Come in.’

Hugo put his head around the door. ‘Is it convenient? Now, I mean, for our chat.’

‘Yes, yes of course. Do sit down.’

She admired the way Hugo didn’t make a production out of finding a place to sit, but simply went straight to the armchair and put his folder full of notes (he was reassuringly well organised) on the floor beside him. She said, ‘Some choreographers I’ve had up here haven’t enjoyed their daily talk with me, you know. They thought, some of them, that I was being bossy. Controlling, one of them called it.’

‘Not at all,’ said Hugo. ‘I don’t mind a bit. In fact,
it’ll be good to talk to you about problems I can’t discuss with individual members of the company.’

‘I’m glad you see it like that. I enjoy keeping in touch, that’s all. And sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who’s not so close. But tell me a bit about yourself first. Tell me about your parents.’

‘My mother died last year. I’m adopted, which of course makes not a scrap of difference to my grief or to how I miss her. She and my dad told me about the adoption very early on, so it’s never been an issue. They were my parents and that’s how I’ve always thought of them. They were both architects, in partnership together, and my father’s a bit lonely now. I don’t see as much of him as I ought to, because he lives near Newcastle and I’m down in London with the company. Still, we had a good Christmas together.’

‘But you had to rush off and leave him almost immediately afterwards. I’m so sorry.’

‘He understands that this commission is a great honour. And he was impressed by the mention of your name. You’re the one dancer even people who’ve never been to the ballet have heard of.’

‘Very kind of you to say so.’

Hugo waved a hand around the room, at all the photographs on the walls.

‘No one’s forgotten, though. It’s all on film. Silver McConnell told me that you were the real reason she took the part in
Sarabande
. She worships you, you know.’

Hester laughed. ‘It’s ridiculous, really, but knowing something like that still gives me a thrill, even though I haven’t danced professionally for years. It’s good to be remembered. I teach a lot of master classes and I do still go through my basic class routines every day, but I’m very far from what I was. Look at this …’ Hester pushed her shoes off and pointed her stockinged toes
towards Hugo. ‘Who on earth with any sense would deform their feet like this? Look how horrible and lumpy and contorted they are; that’s the punishment for all that dancing. All those classes. Those hours
en pointe
. It’s insane.’

‘But beautiful. While you’re doing it anyway. Very beautiful.’

‘Thank you, but there’s a price. Lumpy feet. Pains in my joints, too, which’ll probably get worse as I get older. Oh, don’t listen to me. I’m just in a gloomy mood. Let’s talk about Silver McConnell. She’s very promising, I believe.’

‘Silver’s my first problem. She’s very talented. In fact, I think maybe
too
talented. She creates a fantastic effect without having to work nearly as hard as some.’

‘I expect she will – work harder, I mean – after you’ve shown her what you want, won’t she?’

‘I’ll have a try. I’m just off to rehearse with her now.’

‘If she’s a real ballet dancer, and not just superficially gifted, then she’ll understand what you’re trying to do. Let me know what happens.’

‘I will.’ Hugo stood up. ‘And thank you for listening. I’m going to look forward to these meetings with you. Really.’

‘Me too,’ said Hester. She watched him leave the room and realised that it was true. She liked him. She, too, was looking forward to the next day’s meeting. But what had come over her suddenly? Showing him her feet? She’d never done anything like that before. She picked up the postcard from Edmund and added it to the others on her mantelpiece. She imagined herself telling him all about how she’d stuck out her stockinged feet without a second’s hesitation and how he’d laugh the laugh that seemed to come from the very heart of him; the laugh that had enchanted the whole of the Charleroi Company from the very beginning.

1950

‘Everyone, I’d like you to meet Edmund Norland,’ said Piers, coming out on to the stage at the Royalty Theatre. The members of the company were sitting in the stalls. Hester, Dinah and Nell were right at the back, which was the best place to sit when Piers was giving one of his pep talks. They were in the middle of rehearsing for
Giselle
, and Hester still occasionally thought she must be dreaming, hugging herself with pleasure at the realisation that she, Hester Fielding, was going to dance the principal role. She was seventeen years old, and going to dance Giselle! She still could hardly believe her luck and had to pinch herself every day as a reminder. Piers told her it was something of a gamble but that he’d chosen her because she was the only person who was both young enough and good enough. Estelle was dancing Queen of the Wilis, Miles was Loys and Dinah was thrilled to have been cast as Bathilde. Piers had promised Hester that Madame Olga would be there on the first night. Hester turned her attention from daydreaming about
Giselle
to what was happening now. Piers had this young man on stage with him and Dinah was whispering in her ear.

‘Who is he? He’s rather nice, isn’t he?’

Hester looked at the young man standing beside Piers. His fair hair fell over his forehead. He seemed
pleasant enough and certainly he was full of smiles for his audience.

‘He’s all right,’ she whispered back.

Piers was in full flow now. ‘Mr Norland is a composer. A wonderful composer, naturally, and please don’t think what I’m about to tell you is influencing me in any way. He genuinely is the new Tchaikovsky and he’s written a ballet for us. It’s
Red Riding Hood
, and I intend to put it on for Christmas, straight after we finish the
Giselle
run. It’s already September, so you’ll understand that we don’t have a great deal of time. Mr Norland’s come to this rehearsal to give me his opinion on who might be a suitable heroine. I have my own ideas of course, but Mr Norland insists on meeting the company. I told him we were like a big family here, and he is about to be included in it, for better or for worse. So please do your best work today, and bear in mind that we have a special guest in the audience. Right, everyone, off you go to prepare yourselves.’

As they were getting ready for the stage rehearsal, Nell told them more about Mr Edmund Norland.

‘Magda Volsky’s his girlfriend – you know, the principal dancer in the Westhaven Company. She’s very skinny and foreign. Quite funny-looking actually, but not a bad dancer. Not that I’ve ever seen her, of course, but that’s what I’ve heard.’

‘You always know so much, Nell!’ Hester said. ‘How do you manage it?’

‘She gossips to everyone,’ said Dinah. ‘You must have seen her.’

‘Well, yes, in our company,’ said Hester, as Nell threw a powder puff at Dinah and laughed. ‘But I didn’t know she knew about other companies as well.’

‘You’d be surprised what I know,’ said Nell. ‘I’m a mine of information.’

During the rehearsal, whenever she wasn’t on stage, Hester stood in the wings and looked at Piers and Mr Norland in the third row of the stalls. Piers was right. The Charleroi Company
was
like a family. Piers was the father; Dinah and Nell and some of the young men were like her brothers and sisters, the older dancers were like cousins, and Estelle P was a rather nasty great-aunt. There were occasional arguments, of course there were, between members of the family but, on the whole, you could depend on them. And you loved them, too, Hester realised. Only Madame Olga was dearer to her than Dinah, Nell and Piers.

The theatre itself was a home and more than a home. The stage was a magic place that could become anywhere. No more than a box, really, enclosed by curtains and scenery and lit by lamps which shone a coloured light on you and changed you into a ghost, or a young peasant girl or … the flats were up for the last act of
Giselle
, all mist and gravestones and blue shadows, but Hester was already imagining a forest, thick with green trees which might hide a wolf. She wanted to be Red Riding Hood, and she was determined to make a good impression on this Edmund Norland, who seemed to have some influence on Piers. She stepped out into the light, and transformed herself into Giselle.

*

Edmund Norland very quickly became Edmund. He was always in the Royalty after that first day. Sometimes he leaned against the wall of the rehearsal room while Piers took a class; sometimes he came to Lyons Corner House with Hester, Dinah and Nell; he often came to Gino’s in the evening, and occasionally he was to be seen with the foreign-looking Magda. When she was there, he was very attentive to her, but when he
was alone with the members of the Charleroi Company, he didn’t seem to miss her very much.

Then, one day in early October, at the end of a rehearsal Piers said, ‘Dinah, Nell, Hester and Mona. Could I have a word, please?’

The dancers looked at one another, as if to say, what have we done now? Piers saw this and laughed. ‘Not to worry, darlings! This is a treat for you. A party, no less. It’s Edmund’s idea, but it’s a good one, I must say.’

The idea may have been good, but it was also exhausting. The four of them had been chosen to perform some dances at a birthday party for someone called Virginia Lennister. She was the wife of a friend of Edmund’s and she loved the ballet. In fact, Piers told them, she had invested in the Charleroi Company. She was a wealthy American and lived in a grand house near St Albans.

‘And you’re going to have to rehearse my little dances as well as
Giselle
. Do you think you’re up to it? I’ve devised a few simple things for you to do that will nevertheless impress Mrs Lennister. Nothing too demanding and all set to the pretty Chopin music that partygoers will be expecting. My own little
Chopiniana
!’ He laughed. ‘How does that sound to you?’

It sounded wonderful to all of them. Dinah said, ‘I’ve seen the house. It’s ever so grand. And I’ve heard of Adam Lennister. He’s a writer, but I’m not sure what he writes.’

During rehearsals, they found out more from Edmund.

‘I’ve known him for years,’ he told them. ‘We were at school together and he used to write poems. I set some of them to music once. Now he’s a biographer and a very good one, though his books aren’t exactly moneyspinners. Still, Virginia’s got enough for both of
them. The house is quite beautiful. Wait and see. You’ll all have a grand time.’

*

On the day of the party, Piers and his dancers arrived in the enormous car that Mrs Lennister had sent for them. In the boot was a small skip full of tutus, ballet shoes, make-up and assorted headdresses and jewellery. Edmund was already at Orchard House and was going to meet them before the party started to go over the moves, though it wouldn’t be a proper rehearsal.