Pirouette (9 page)

twenty

Candance was over. It was getting dark, and most of the staff and students had already left. The few who remained were nowhere in sight, and the campus that had been buzzing with noise and excitement just a few hours before was now deserted. A sense of anticlimax hung in the air, adding a tinge of sadness to the silence.

The two girls stood outside the main entrance to the campus, waiting for the taxi that would take them to the airport. Hannah would board Simone's eight o'clock flight, and Simone would leave on Hannah's flight an hour later.

As the taxi came into view, Simone shivered, though not from cold. “I still can't believe we're doing this,” she said again.

“It is a bit scary,” Hannah admitted. “But what's the worst that could happen? I mean, none of our parents are axe murderers, so how bad could it be?”

Simone managed a weak half-smile but didn't answer.

Hannah placed a hand on her sister's arm. “We don't have to do this if it's not what you want. You can still change your mind.”

Simone hesitated. To any sane person, their plan would surely seem irrational. Should she call the whole thing of
f
? But then she'd have to return to the VSD, and she couldn't go back there. Not now. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

Besides, in spite of her doubts, she had to admit she'd been looking forward to an inside view of Hannah's life. But for the luck of the draw, Hannah's life might have been her own, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. How many people could literally change places with somebody else?

She glanced at Hannah, who looked worried that she might actually change her mind. “It's okay,” Simone said softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Let's stick to our plan.”

The taxi pulled up, the driver loaded the luggage into the trunk, and the girls climbed wordlessly into the back of the car. They clasped hands all the way to the airport as the taxi sped silently through the warm Canberra night.

After Hannah checked in, they sat at a table in a small airport café and sipped cappuccinos as once again they went over the important details of each other's lives.

Then it was time. Time for goodbyes. Time for Hannah to board the plane.

The girls flung their arms around each other for one final embrace.

A moment later, Hannah was gone and Simone was alone. She wheeled Hannah's suitcase to the Qantas check-in. And there was nothing else to do but lift the suitcase onto the conveyor belt and collect her boarding pass, because now it really was too late to change her mind.

On board flight QF483, Hannah was too excited to mind being trapped between an elderly lady wearing cloying perfume and a middle-aged man with horrid BO. Candance had been the best experience of her life, and it was just the beginning. Had she been going straight home to her old life, right now she'd be trying to stifle her disappointment that Candance had ended. The high of performing was always followed by a sense of anticlimax that lasted for days. This time, there was no chance of that. She was about to embark on a whole new adventure.

She thought with affection of her family back home and wondered whether she would have behaved any differently, the last time she saw them, if she'd known that she wouldn't be sure when she'd see them again.

At Candance, with a full schedule of classes and every spare minute spent with Simone, there'd been no time to miss the family and friends who'd been such an important part of her life. Now, alone on the plane, she experienced a pang of nostalgia. But if Hannah had any reservations about what she was doing, she did not want to admit them, even to herself. That would be a sign of weakness.

She'd loved every moment of the summer school, and knew she'd developed as a dancer. Now she was ready—ready to fool the staff at the VSD into thinking she was in fact the very accomplished Simone. If she could pull it off, she would have earned her place there. And when her parents finally knew the truth, they would have to believe she'd been born to dance.

The elderly lady with the cloying perfume had fallen asleep, her head bouncing gently up and down on Hannah's shoulder, and the man with the horrid BO was drinking beer, so that bad breath combined with BO wafted her way. But Hannah would put up with far worse if it meant she could dance at the VSD.

The plane touched down at Melbourne Airport. Hannah was jittery. She wished the queue to the exit would move faster because she couldn't wait to disembark.

The airport was crowded, and some of the passengers who'd been on her flight were in the midst of emotional reunions with family or friends. There were a number of middle-aged women who more or less fit the description of Simone's mum, and Hannah wondered which of them was Harriet. Simone hadn't been able to show her any photos of her mum—she didn't have any in her Facebook albums, and Harriet wasn't on Facebook herself.

“How will I recognize her?” Hannah had asked. “What if I can't figure out which one she is?”

“You won't have a problem,” Simone had assured her. “She'll be the one calling my name so loudly that everyone will think you're deaf.”

“Simone! Simone!” A woman in a pale blue, short-sleeved dress buttoned to the collar was waving a hand above the crowd as she hurried toward her, and even when Hannah acknowledged her wave, she continued calling, “Simone! Simone!”

Hannah smiled to herself. Simone's description had been spot-on. Not one to shy away from attention, she let out a yell to rival Harriet's. “Hi, Mum! I'm over here.” The word “mum” in this context sounded strange, and the moment it left her lips, Hannah felt as if she'd betrayed Vanessa.

But there was no time for regrets, for Harriet was moving quickly toward her. She clasped Hannah briefly, pecked her cheek, and stepped away. “Come on then, we'd better go.”

That was it? That was the grand reunion? Hannah couldn't help feeling a little let down.

“Now, tell me all about Candance,” Simone's mum began.

Simone sat in her assigned seat by the window and gazed out into the darkness, contemplating what lay ahead.

She had left Melbourne as Simone and would return as Hannah. To that end, she would have to adopt some of Hannah's passion and resolve. How could she be more like her identical twin? She thought of the acting classes she'd taken at school. “It's not enough,” one teacher had said, “to
act
the character. You must
become
the character.”

Simone had spent three weeks with Hannah and had come to know her. They were so similar in some ways, and so different in others … Above all, Hannah was outgoing, friendly, and fearless.
What does that feel like?
Simone
wondered.
Can I access those qualities? Are they buried inside me? Do they belong to a person I might still become?

She visualized herself behaving like Hannah, but when the plane landed and she followed the other passengers into an airport swarming with people, somehow she was just Simone
—shy, reserved, and incredibly nervous. Trying to calm herself, she took a deep breath and looked around.

“Hannah, my love!” The booming voice could be easily heard above the crowd.

Simone looked up to see a large, jolly-looking man striding toward her, and a moment later she was enveloped in an enormous bear hug.

Simone had seen photos of Hannah's dad, but they hadn't prepared her for the actual size of him. It took her a moment before she had the presence of mind to hug him back. She hadn't guessed quite how enormous he'd be and how small she'd feel when crushed against his massive chest. He was like a friendly giant, with balding hair, a dark bushy beard, and thick-rimmed glasses. His larger-than-life presence was a shock, and Simone hoped he couldn't feel her body trembling. As she stood in his arms, the powerful scent of aftershave—or was it cologne?—assailed her nostrils.

“And what about a hug for me?” said the smiling woman by his side. This must be Vanessa, Hannah's mum. She was slight and well-groomed, with light, inquiring eyes, and she wore a touch of some pleasant perfume.

Simone embraced her tentatively while Vanessa held her tightly and then stepped back, holding both Simone's hands in her own. “You look wonderful, darling. Manfred, doesn't she look wonderful?”

And somehow they'd reached the baggage claim—though Simone couldn't remember actually moving—and Manfred was plucking Hannah's suitcase off the conveyor belt as if it were no heavier than a handbag. Then the three of them were walking toward the exit, and it wasn't long before Hannah's suitcase had been placed in the trunk of a navy BMW, and Simone was sitting comfortably in the back seat with the familiar lights of Melbourne flashing by.

twenty-one

From the street, the house looked tiny. Intermittent streetlights cast a glow that gave just enough light to distinguish one dwelling from the next. Simone's was one in a row of identical homes. Their front doors were only a couple of meters from the road. There were no large boulevard strips or sprawling front lawns, and no carports or garages. Harriet parked a little way down the street, and Hannah lugged Simone's suitcase along the footpath and up two steps to the Starks' front door.

“Pop the suitcase in your room, Simone, and come and have a cup of tea.”

Hannah made her way along the narrow hallway, sniffing at the strange, cabbage-like odor that suffused the air. Strange how you could describe a home in detail, as Simone had—the exact location and number of rooms—yet fail to capture its very essence, which was indefinable and had something to do with smell, and atmosphere, and age.

Simone's room was the second door on the left. It was as neat as Hannah had imagined it would be, and very small, with cream-painted walls and wooden floorboards covered by a pastel rug. There was a desk, a chair, and two small shelves. One shelf housed a small collection of books. The other was home to a few ornaments and a couple of photos.

Hannah put the suitcase down and went to take a closer look. The photos showed Simone with friends. Hannah could have sworn the snapshots were of herself—except they couldn't be, as she didn't know the other people in them, and Simone was wearing clothes that Hannah didn't own and had never worn.

Simone's bed was immaculately made up with a pretty set of floral sheets. A small stuffed teddy bear lay on the pillow, and on the wall above the bed was a poster of two ballet stars dancing a pas-de-deux. It was signed,
To Simone, love Mum.

Hannah now hoisted the suitcase onto the bed and flung it open, then wandered over to the wardrobe, which was small and painted cream to match the walls. Inside, the clothes were perfectly folded. Hannah sighed. She'd never match this standard of neatness.

Suddenly, Hannah missed Simone with an intensity she'd rarely felt before, and the thought of sleeping in her room was strangely comforting. It was the next best thing to being with her.

“Simone!” Harriet's call interrupted her thoughts. “I've made your tea.”

Hannah left the unpacking and went to join Simone's mum in the old-fashioned kitchen.

“You're looking well,” Harriet said. “Something's different
—have you cut your hair?”

“Yeah, just a trim. What do you think?”

“Nice, said Harriet. “You know my rule—if it's long enough to make a bun, it's fine by me. Now, drink your tea before it gets cold.”

“Thanks,” said Hannah, as Harriet indicated the mug on the kitchen table. She took a sip and put the cup down.

“What's wrong?”

“Uh … nothing. Just, it's a little bitter. Could I have sugar?”

“Sugar!” Harriet exclaimed, as if Hannah had requested poison. “Since when do you take sugar?”

“That's how they served the tea at Candance. I'm used to it now.”

“You know we don't keep sugar in this house.”

Hannah frowned. “Could we buy some?”

“Buy some? You're a dancer, Simone. Sugar's the last thing you need. You know what I think about wasted calories. And you've always had such good eating habits. Don't start developing bad ones now.”

Hannah could think of several things she might have said in reply:
Shouldn't that be up to me to? Why do YOU
care what goes into
my
mouth? You can't control
every
aspect of my life.

But she didn't want to get on the wrong side of Harriet on the very first day. And if Simone had to put up with Harriet's rules, it was only fair that she did too.

Lying in Simone's bed a little later, Hannah tried to imagine what it would have been like living her whole life with a woman as controlling as Harriet Stark. It wasn't just that Harriet tried to micro-manage her daughter's life. It was more that she lacked … what was it? Warmth, perhaps? Harriet hadn't even asked if she was hungry—unlike her own mum, who would have offered her a sandwich, or chocolate cake, or scones with cream.

Hannah thought longingly of her family at home. They might be only a twenty-minute drive away, but they might as well have been in another country.

Suddenly, she felt very alone. Up until yesterday she'd had a proper family: two parents, a brother, a dog, and even—most recently—a wonderful sister. Now she had only a domineering and highly strung woman for company.

Still, the day after tomorrow, she'd begin her training at the VSD …

The sound of a Chopin concerto filtered under her door, with Harriet humming along. Hannah snuggled deeper under the covers, and as she waited for Simone to call, she imagined performing a beautiful
adage
, her arms soft, her extensions magnificent, her back erect and statuesque.