Letters from Yelena (20 page)

‘I know. You should know it all by now. Elizabeth and I dated for a couple of years after university. I met her as a student. In retrospect we were not as careful as we should have been.
By the time she learnt she was pregnant we had broken up. To be frank, I didn’t handle the whole situation well at all. In fact I was a coward. But I’ve gradually adjusted to being a
father, and Elizabeth’s been very patient with me.’

I tried to look composed. I knew that you could see this struggle – the slight withdrawal of something in my flesh when you reached out to me.

‘I’ve been waiting for the right time to properly explain,’ you finally said.

‘You kept it from me,’ I answered.

‘It’s not that. But – I should have told you sooner.’

‘Yes.’

I forced myself to keep it together. This doesn’t have to be a problem, I thought. You don’t own him; he’s only been with you for a matter of weeks. I looked up at you and
smiled. But you couldn’t quite smile back.

The truth is, part of me was devastated, and I knew you could see that. This felt like a sudden, deep wound that could easily become infected. I knew I had much to be grateful for in having met
you, and I decided instead to try and dwell on that.

A few days later you asked if I would like to meet them, and when I said yes some of my excitement was genuine. I wish that I had been more aware of my state of mind when I agreed to that so
soon. Dancing Giselle had taken a huge amount of endurance and discipline, and all that pressure had suddenly released the moment the final curtain fell.

I didn’t know then that when a vat of pressure is released from one chamber in the brain then it must be replaced by something else; it cannot remain a vacuum. Now that part of my mind had
been relieved of a certain presence it needed to replace it with something. It was happening as inevitably as autumn slides into winter.

Just as we had opened onto one another, we similarly began to open onto the city. We had found out how to live intimately with another, and then through the city we found out how we wanted to
live. Although you always had an extroverted side, it was only with my accompaniment that you were able to finally live there as you had always wanted to.

Both of us, suddenly emboldened, took to the city with a ravenous hunger. I saw that you were now able to hone your appearance so you could dress how you had always wanted to. It was as if with
me at your side, you were confident enough to step out of your shadows. In the past I had always rejected outfits that clung to my figure. But now for the first time I felt able to embrace my
attributes. A dress was no longer something I had to live up to, if anything it became a container for my exuberance. I fashioned my hair into a modern style that I had seen in magazines. I began
to never leave the house without a flash of red lipstick and a sharp pair of heels. I even allowed you to occasionally buy me jewellery, when we saw something in a shop window that I took a fancy
to. You encouraged this development, but for some reason I felt sure that it had emanated from me.

I learnt that I had fully emerged from my cocoon one night when we entered a bar together. I had on a chocolate coloured fur coat, to go with my new hairstyle. Nick was sat in the bar with some
friends, and I saw the way they all turned to look at me as we drew near. That had never happened before.

‘Noah,’ Nick said, rising to greet you. ‘You haven’t even ironed your shirt. You simply do not deserve to have this beautiful woman all to yourself.’ I laughed as
his friends all roared in agreement. You dismissed them with a gesture, but I could see that you also looked a little proud. I got the slightest feeling that you wanted us to stay longer with them
because of how well my presence reflected on you. It was not a feeling I had ever experienced before.

During the evenings we started going to concerts in the great hall that overlooked the river. I remember how precious I felt every time you proudly introduced me to some famous writer or
journalist after the show. I felt ornate and exotic, because for the first time that was how I looked. At drinks parties, held in apartments high above the city, I finally started to carry myself
as if I was something to be revered. When  introduced  to  me,  men  stooped  as  they  delicately kissed my hand. The other guests were inevitably decked in
evening wear, their laughter laced with the inflections of the privileged. Yet I felt comfortable around them, and able to act aloof and bored like they did. But I was never bored, never for a
second. I was enchanted by everything the city had to offer us. My new pose was seemingly not simply an act, but an elongation of my personality. At the parties and concerts, and as we flitted
between the bars, it felt as if the two of us had been given the keys to the city. The famous writer and the accomplished ballerina, side by side, two sparkling new features on the skyline of the
city.

Love from,

Yelena

Dear Noah,

I never told you that on the nights leading up to that dinner I repeatedly dreamt of Elizabeth. It happened the first time after I had returned to my flat to take a call about
our next season. After all the rich experiences with you I felt cooled by the many pale planes of my room. But the phone call left me feeling very uncertain about many aspects of my life. As I lay
in bed alone that night I tried to not let the questions engulf me. It was then that I had my first dream of Elizabeth.

My mind was moving at a lumbering pace; it felt intoxicated and nauseous. An image arose out of this fog – one of a singular eyelid, painted dark purple, which extended out to a long,
curved eyelash. Panning back from this image I saw a woman, small and contained, who even in stasis possessed a distinct liveliness. She had long dark hair and an open, unguarded expression. There
was a slight hint of mischief in her smile. She was sat at a small trestle table, upon which were placed several tumblers of whisky. They sparkled in the ochre light of the rather cluttered drawing
room she was seated in. Panning back further, I saw that she was surrounded by five men, all of them gazing at her as they chatted amongst themselves. The smile that teased at her lips betrayed her
pleasure at this usual turn of events. Considering her more carefully, I decided that she had a cultured, European air about her. Even without speaking she conveyed an aura of exoticism. She was
wearing a caramel brown dress, and despite being only faintly made up she seemed very comfortable in her skin. As the dream continued the men drew in closer around her and she lay back on the
chair. The chattering grew louder, with all the men turning to one another and loudly agreeing how desirable she was. The dream ended with the image of her smile, broadening slightly as the men
drew in closer. The name Elizabeth was never mentioned, but I knew it was her.

When I met her in the Italian restaurant, she was exactly how I had imagined her. Perhaps a little less refined, a little less hidden. You and I were sat at the table by the window and when she
came in she was holding Hannah’s hand. As she smiled at us I remembered the fragment of a dream that had followed the scene of her with the five men. In it, I had seen her step onto the back
of a motorcycle, still in the caramel dress, clasping her body against a handsome man as the bike roared to life. As the motorcycle had streaked past me, I had seen that the man driving it was
you.

As they rounded the tables I saw Hannah properly for the first time. At that instant I realised that however close the two of us became, Elizabeth had still given you something more beautiful
than I ever could. As they moved to the table I felt ridiculous and insignificant.

Before leaving your house I had fretted over my outfit, before eventually choosing a white dress with cream flowers faintly sewn into it. As she came to the table I saw that Elizabeth was also
wearing a floral dress, but one bustling with rich red roses. Next to her I feared I would look drawn and lifeless, but your evident sudden happiness dispelled my negativity. As she greeted you,
orange and yellow flames from the open kitchen  torched  the  ceiling.  Hannah  turned  and  laughed at the spectacle as you kissed the side of her head. Then I
kissed Elizabeth’s cheek, her hand clasping momentarily on my shoulder. It gripped me, a little too tight. Over the years I had grown convinced that my aloofness protected me. But
Elizabeth’s air of instant intimacy made me question if that approach had been unnecessary.

Hannah wanted to look at the open kitchen, with all its bright and dancing flames.

‘Darling, come and sit down,’ Elizabeth said, taking her by the hand. ‘We’ll go and say hello to the chefs later.’

‘You’ve promised now,’ Hannah said, clambering onto her seat. She took a big sip from the glass of water you had waiting for her, before she gave in to your smile and scrambled
over to hug you. You kissed her on the head again, and then placed her squarely onto your lap.

‘Hannah, say hello to Yelena,’ Elizabeth said, looking over the menu. ‘Yelena is Noah’s new girlfriend.’

‘Are you an actress?’ Hannah asked.

‘She’s a ballerina,’ Elizabeth said.

‘A ballerina,’ Hannah repeated, chewing on her thumb.

‘She’ll worship you now,’ Elizabeth said, flashing her eyes at me. ‘She loves ballerinas.’

I smiled.

‘Are you the Swan Queen?’ Hannah asked.

‘I was once,’ I said.

‘That’s good,’ she answered, vaguely.

‘What was it this season?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘I’m sure I saw you in the papers.’

‘She was Giselle,’ Noah said.

‘Giselle,’ Elizabeth said, pronouncing it incorrectly. Noah smiled apologetically.

‘I always wanted to be a ballerina,’ she continued. ‘It’s one of those many things that I always felt was unachievable though.’ She laughed, raised her eyebrows and
began to flick through the menu.

‘What do you do?’ The nerves exaggerated my accent, and I felt Noah look at me from the side of his eyes.

‘I mainly direct small, and very temporary arts festivals. Which basically means I pamper the egos of artists and pretend that I understand their work, even when it’s just lots of
photos of apples sat on cushions like it was today.’

‘Is it paintings?’ I asked.

‘Often it is,’ she replied, tearing off a strip of bread. ‘And to be honest, I prefer it when it is because despite the… hokum I often have to sell, my love of paintings
hasn’t diminished. Which  unfortunately  means  my  flat  is  full  of  discarded paintings that are pretty much worthless. Noah will tell
you.’

This reference to your shared past made me recall the second dream I’d had of Elizabeth, the night after. With you on top of her, pushing her onto the floor and tearing off her shirt,
surrounded by paintings that were yet to be hung. After a few glasses of wine you’d spontaneously decided to try and to conceive a child that night, and as a result you were tearing into her
with a ferocity that you’d never had for me.

In the dream I wanted to pull the two of you apart but I was unable to, it was as if I was watching this happen in a film. I couldn’t stop the scene from playing out until the horror of it
became so vivid that I suddenly woke up.

Hannah took my hand. ‘Do you have to be so pretty to be a dancer?’

I laughed, and felt myself blush. ‘It’s not the most important thing.’ I looked at Elizabeth. ‘Not that I think I’m pretty.’

Elizabeth’s features didn’t move an inch.

‘But you are pretty,’ Hannah said. ‘I want to be a ballerina when I’m tall enough, and if I can I want to dance as the Swan Queen.’

Elizabeth laughed. ‘Then you will,’ Noah said. ‘Perhaps after dinner you can show Yelena your dancing, and she can see how good you are.’

Hannah’s eyes widened.

‘She’d like that,’ Elizabeth said. I looked down at Hannah, and just couldn’t help wishing she was mine. I sensed Elizabeth saw that look, and pitied me for it. I
wondered if it was a look she had seen people have many times. Her eyes moved on to you.

‘How’s the book going?’

‘Very slowly. I sometimes wish I hadn’t chosen a ballerina for my main character.’

Elizabeth looked at me. She seemed poised to say something, then seemingly resisted it.

‘Still, more enjoyable to write about than infanticide, I expect? It was particularly sensitive of Noah to write about that subject just after he’d become a father,
Yelena.’

‘The book really wasn’t meant to be taken very seriously,’ you responded.

‘Well I can see why it was. It was very powerful.’ She turned to address me. ‘Noah is unnecessarily critical of his own talents,’ she said, in a stage whisper. I noticed
her long, navy-blue  fingernails that  were  carefully  varnished.  They trailed gently down the side of the menu. ‘You’ll notice that yourself, I’m sure,
when you give him your verdict on his new piece,’ she said, not looking up.

I looked quizzically at you.

‘Noah hasn’t shown me any of his current work yet,’ I said, very quietly. ‘I would like him to though.’

For a second she looked at me coldly, but then the expression seemed to soften into one of pity again. I felt weak, but then reminded myself that I was a Principal ballerina now, and had not
become one by being pitiful. I smiled faintly back at her.

‘I think I might know why Noah hasn’t shown you his current piece yet,’ she said, with a small smile.

‘Elizabeth – don’t,’ you responded.

‘What do you mean?’ I said.

‘It’s just a little joke.’

I looked at you. ‘I haven’t really had the chance to yet. What with you dancing Giselle,’ you replied.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

‘What am I missing here?’ I asked.

‘It’s nothing,’ she continued. ‘Something silly. It’s just – I

always agreed that I would only ever marry Noah if a book of his became a great success. And a few weeks ago he told me he was sure this one was going to be, and so he proposed.’

The air in the restaurant suddenly plunged to below zero. I’d suddenly lost the ability to speak. You dropped your glass of water, which hit the table with a muffled clatter. You closed
your eyes, your head dropped. Hannah’s became still, her eyes passing between Elizabeth and me.