Roberta Leigh - My Hearts a Dancer

by Roberta Leigh

  shouldn't have thought that would have stopped you!'

  It wouldn't have in the normal way - but Verenskaya was your guardian angel! She insisted I wait until you grew up.'

  ‘You're digressing,' she said pointedly.

  'Was I!' Once again there was the familiar glint of amusement in his eyes. 'As I remember it I was trying to explain why I didn't live in monk-like seclusion until you were ready for me!'

  'I don't want any explanations,' she said quickly. 'I'm not interested in what you've done.'

  'Thank goodness for that! But I hope you'll be interested in what I intend to do?'

  'I wish you'd be serious, Anton.'

  'I've never been more serious in my life.' His grip tightened. This is not a joke to me, Melanie. Remember that. Perhaps I've not chosen the best time to talk to you. Maybe I should have waited a few more months. But I was afraid that if I did I… I don't want to lose you again.'

  There was a sadness in his voice she had never heard before, and unexpectedly she was touched by it. She would have liked to believe that everything he had said to her this afternoon had been a joke, but looking into his eyes she knew he had meant every word.

  'I'm not your type,' she murmured huskily. We're too different. You're a sophisticate - a man of the world - and on your own admission I'm too innocent and too childish…'

  'A child grows into a woman,' he said, 'and so will you. One day you'll need to be loved, and when that times comes, I hope you'll turn to me.'

  Unexpectedly he released her, and walking over to the gramophone, he put on the music from Giselle. 'What about dancing part of this with me?’ His voice was so normal that she was taken aback, and seeing her surprised expression he smiled. ‘Don't look so startled, I've said what I wanted to, and I don't intend to repeat it. When you're ready to accept me I'll know. Until that times comes we'll just be members of the same company,'

  'Then as the leading male dancer you shouldn't waste your time with someone as unimportant as me!'

  I'm not wasting my time. You're earmarked for bigger things. Come, Melanie, let us dance.'

  ‘I don't know the steps,' she protested.

  ‘You've watched them often enough. Stop pretending and dance.’

  As the music swirled around her Melanie gave herself up to the rhythm. Anton was a superb partner and steps she had always considered difficult became easy to achieve with his grip secure around her.

  For two hours they practised, Anton correcting her sharply each time she made a wrong step, making her repeat it again and again until he was satisfied she knew it properly. Neither by gesture nor look did he give any inkling that she meant any more to him than a dancer he was trying to train, and she could almost believe he had never uttered any declaration of love, nor told her he would always wait for her to turn to him.

  Yet as the music came to an end and she moved exhaustedly to the door she suddenly found him standing beside her, his hand on hers. 'I meant every word this afternoon,' he said jerkily.

  'I wish you didn't. You make me feel guilty.'

  ‘Because I love you? That's my burden, not yours.'

  ‘But now that I know it, you've made it mine.' She looked him directly in the face. ‘You've made me feel embarrassed with you.’

  ‘You didn't show it when we were dancing together.'

  That was different. I just felt you were my partner.'

  Then go on thinking of me that way,' he said. 'As your partner on stage.’

  'On stage?' she said incredulously. Til never be good enough for that.'

  'I can guarantee that you will I wish I were as sure you'll be my partner off stage.' Quickly he opened the door and stepped back, allowing her to precede him, but when she turned she saw he had closed the door without following her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  True to his word Anton did not refer to their conversation again, and neither by look nor gesture could anyone have known he was in love with her. Sometimes, watching him from the wings as he danced, she wondered whether he had only said It in order to make her realize that she was still an attractive woman with a future in front of her.

  It was Verenskaya who finally removed this doubt, talking openly about Anton's attitude on the night they returned to Sydney, a month before they were due to leave for England. She had come to see Melanie in her room, something she had only done on rare occasions during the tour.

  ‘I’ll be glad when we're home again,' the woman said, resting her ebony stick against the foot of the bed as she sat down. 'I'm getting too old for all this travelling.'

  ‘You're ageless,' Melanie smiled.

  ‘I don't feel It. If we hadn't needed the money I would never have come here.’

  'But the tour's been a success, hasn't it?'

  'From an artistic point of view yes, but financially…Verenskaya shrugged and dismissed the subject. 'But I didn't come here to bother you with my problems. I wanted to talk to you about Anton. You know he loves you?'

  Melanie nodded and busied herself unnecessarily at the dressing-table in order to avoid the dark eyes that she knew were fixed on her. Despite spending her formative years with Verenskaya she had never become accustomed to the frank and detailed manner with which the woman discussed every detail of her own life and the lives of those around her, whether it were financial, emotional or domestic.

  'What do you feel about him?' Verenskaya persisted. ‘He would be right for you, you know. Soon you will be ready to dance bigger parts, and if you go on as you have been, Anton may well be your partner.'

  This last remark brought Melanie swinging round. 'Me? You must be joking. I'm not good enough.'

  'I'm a better judge of your talent than you are,' came the sharp answer, 'and also a better judge of what you need to give your dancing emotional depth.'

  'You never got married,' Melanie retorted, 'and you were the best dancer of your generation!'

  'I had lovers instead of a husband! But you are not the type to do the same. For that reason you should marry.'

  'Anton?'

  'Yes.'

  ‘I can't think of marriage yet.' Melanie looked down at her hand. She no longer wore her wedding ring and it had been on her finger too short a time to leave a mark, yet she was still conscious of its absence. 'It's funny to think you can be tied by a marriage that was never real,' she murmured.

  'Maybe it was too early for Anton to have spoken to you,' Verenskaya conceded, 'but I didn't want him to be too late again!'

  'So you suggested he spoke to me?’

  ‘Naturally.'

  ‘Don't you ever get tired of interfering in other people's lives?' Melanie asked crossly.

  The Company is my family,' came the haughty reply. 'I wish to do what is best for them.'

  ‘Perhaps they'd prefer to decide that for themselves.'

  'If they did, they would not stay with me,' Verenskaya snorted, and picking up her cane, swept from the room.

  Left alone, Melanie walked over to the window and stared down at the street far below. In the white hot glare of the sun the people were like ants scurrying across a grey desert; and yet each one carried its own burden of duty, of family ties, some even - like herself - of guilt. Yet one could not live with guilt for ever, and she was realistic enough to admit that one day she would feel the need to love and be loved; but whether it would be by Anton was something she found impossible to decide.

  At the theatre that night she watched him again from the wings as he took a curtain call with Tanya Federovna; prima ballerina with the Company for the past three years, the girl had spent the last two of them feverishly pursuing him, despite the fact that all her advances had met with rebuttals. Even now she was plucking a rose from the bouquet presented to her by a footman, and placed it to her lips before handing it to Anton who, with studied grace, placed it to his own. But as he came off stage he dropped the flower to the ground and crushed it with his foot, a gesture which made Tanya give a dramatic exclamation of hurt.

  �
��Wasn't that unnecessarily cruel?' Melanie said as Anton came abreast of her.

  He shrugged. 'I'm tired of her chasing me.!

  ‘You can't blame her for trying. And if she's willing to join the queue—'

  ‘You sound as if you're jealous I’

  'It's impossible to be jealous of a dozen different women. It's meaningless!'

  There'd only be one woman If you'd say the word.' In a quick gesture his hand touched her cheek and then dropped to his side. 'You haven't forgotten what I said to you, have you?'

  ‘No, I haven't But it's no use. The past is too close. I can't think about the future.'

  Then at least let me be part of your present.'

  'You are; we both dance for the Company!'

  That's true,' he acknowledged dryly, and walked away.

  The following day a crisis hit the Company. Two of the leading male dancers and several of the girls were taken ill with food poisoning, causing a hasty revision of the programme they were to dance that night. The performance of Romeo and Juliet was cancelled and a series of short ballets were arranged for the first half of the evening, with Daphnis and Chloe following after the intermission.

  'I'm surprised we're doing that one,’ Anna murmured to Melanie as Verenskaya ordered a rest telling them to report back within fifteen minutes. Tanya hates dancing Chloe.'

  'I'm not surprised. She'd need to be a really great actress to play the innocent!'

  Anna grinned. That's the first catty remark I've ever heard you make.'

  'Sorry. It must be the heat. It makes me on edge.'

  'Don't apologize for it. It's refreshing to know you're still human - capable of being jealous, I mean.'

  'Jealous?' Melanie said quickly, and paused by the door, ‘Why should I be jealous of Tanya?'

  'Because of the way she makes a play for Anton.'

  'You're crazy,' Melanie said more calmly than she felt. 'Why should I care what he does?'

  Anna shrugged. 'Forget I said anything.'

  'It's too late for that,' Melanie said. 'What made you say it in the first place?'

  Her friend hesitated and then took the plunge. 'You've been watching him like a mouse watching a cat for the last month. That's why I was pretty sure he'd told you how he felt about you.'

  'Felt about me?' Melanie echoed.

  'He's in love with you,' Anna said frankly, then seeing the colour flood Melanie's face she added: 'Oh, don't look so worried about it - nobody else in the Company's guessed.'

  'Then why did you}'

  'Because I'm just a particularly observant friend and it makes me more conscious of the way you act. You've been pretty quick-tempered lately. That always happens when you're nervous.'

  'I've had other reasons to be nervous,' Melanie said. 'I don't see why you should assume it's got anything to do with Anton.'

  Anna looked at her quizzically. 'Am I really so wrong?'

  Faced with such a direct question, Melanie found it impossible to lie. 'No,' she admitted, 'you're not. He did tell me he - he loved me. It was in Perth… one afternoon when we were rehearsing. At first I didn't believe him, but now I'm not so sure.'

  'He meant it all right; I'd take a bet on that.' Anna moved through the door. 'Come on, let's grab a cup of coffee before it's too late.'

  As Melanie went to follow, Verenskaya called her name. 'After the break, report to the wardrobe mistress. You've got to be fitted for your costume.'

  'What costume?'

  'The one you'll be wearing tonight when you dance Chloe.'

  'Dance Chloe? But that's impossible!'

  'No, it isn't. You've been working on it with Anton.'

  'But just as an exercise. Honestly, Madame, I couldn't. I'd never be able to dance the whole role.'

  'It's either that, or returning the money for tonight's performance.'

  'You'd be safer to return the money. I'd be the biggest flop of all time.'

  'I don't agree with you,' Anton said directly behind her, and she swung round to see him by the door.

  'I can't,' she protested. 'Honestly, Anton, I don't know the part.'

  'You know it better than you realize. Anyway, I'll be your partner, and if you really do black out, we'll improvise!'

  'That's not very funny.'

  'Neither is the position we're in,' he said sotto voce. 'If we refund tonight's money we'll have to work our passage home.'

  Melanie looked at him intently, and what she saw in his face told her he was speaking the truth. 'Very well. But heaven knows how I'll get through it.'

  'You'll do fine,' he squeezed her arm, 'It's less nerve-racking to make your debut here than in London.'

  'Maybe. But I hope there's a newspaper strike tomorrow!'

  'You won't be as bad as that. We'll be rehearsing it for the whole of the afternoon anyway.'

  ‘What can I do in four hours?' she asked bitterly. 'Four weeks would be nearer the mark.'

  For the remainder of the day she and Anton rehearsed without pause. The first act was not so difficult for her and she was able to concentrate on the interpretation, but the last act - when she had to dance part of it alone - was the hardest thing she had ever had to attempt. Anton did not comment on any of her innumerable mistakes, but again and again went patiently over each step with her, murmuring in her ear when he felt her hesitate and sometimes forcibly guiding her with his hands.

  At six o'clock they were both too exhausted to continue, though even so she was unwilling to stop. ‘We'll be wasting our time if we don't rest,' he remonstrated. 'Lie down in one of the dressing-rooms - it's pointless going back to the hotel.'

  'I'll be all right soon. If we could just go through the last act again…'

  'No. We can't get it any better - at least not tonight.'

  'But it'll be a ghastly fiasco if—'

  'Stop it.' He put his hand against her lips. 'It'll be all right. I promise you.'

  Melanie repeated these words over and over to herself as, later that evening, she stood in the wings waiting for her call. The change of programme had not worried the audience, who had greeted the first half of the performance with their usual rapturous welcome. But now the true testing time had come and her nervousness increased to the point where the trembling of her body almost made it impossible for her to stand, and the soft chiffon folds of her dress swayed visibly.

  Then Anton was beside her, a smile on his face, his hands warm and comforting on her waist. 'You'll be all right,' he said firmly. 'Trust in me.'

  The orchestra played the first chords and as the music floated back to them her trembling ceased and the fear that had gripped her ebbed away, leaving in its wake a calmness born, she afterwards realized, of despair. Her eyes took in the scene being enacted on stage where the dancers, bearing gifts of flowers and fruit which they deposited at the cave of Pan, could have been taking part in a ballet she had never seen or danced before. Then Anton was propelling her forward, and as they moved to the front of the stage with another throng of dancers the audience, recognizing Anton, greeted him with a burst of applause.

  She stiffened visibly at the sound and he pressed her arm so tightly that she almost cried out. 'There's nothing to be afraid of,' he whispered. 'Relax.'

  Forever afterwards, no matter how hard she tried, Melanie could not clearly recall her debut as a ballerina. She was aware only of Anton's hands and body as he guided her skilfully through the steps, steadying her when she faltered and occasionally leading her when he sensed she was at a loss.

  If the first act was difficult, the second was doubly so, for Melanie had to dance a great part of it on her own. More than once she was overcome by terror, but luckily, the urge to run off the stage was so strong that it actually prevented her from moving, and the swaying of her body - caused by horror at her feeling of ineptitude - fitted in exactly with the part of the petrified girl she was playing. It was only when Anton came on stage again and they went into their final pas de deux that the numbness which had taken hold of her throughout th
e performance began to recede, and for the first time she was able to dance with feeling instead of only technique, having no need of any extra guidance from him and able to interpret the very spirit of the character she was dancing.

  When at last the curtain descended there was a moment of complete silence; then deafening applause washed over them. But the vast auditorium in front of her was a faceless sea and only the man at her side held any reality for her, so that she gave him her hand spontaneously and looked into his face with all the gratitude of which she was capable.

  'I'll never be able to thank you enough,' she whispered.

  'You've nothing to thank me for; you did fine.'

  'I was dreadful! If it hadn't been for you, I'd—'

  'It's over,' he said, and pulled her forward so that the curtain could swish down behind them and allow them to take their bow alone. A footman came on stage carrying an enormous bouquet and, with an imp of mischief, she pulled out a flower, pressed it to her lips and handed it to him.

  'I'll make a Tanya of you yet,' he said as he took the bloom and touched it to his mouth.

  'Not unless you're Svengali!' she whispered back, and then turned to curtsey deeply again to the audience.

  The sound of clapping was still echoing in their ears when they finally left the stage, and as they reached the wings Verenskaya was there to greet them, pulling Melanie forward and kissing her on both cheeks.

  'You did better than I expected, child. But you must watch your elevation.'

  'Isn't it enough that she danced?' Anton exclaimed. 'Leave the post-mortem till tomorrow.'

  'There will not be a post-mortem,' said Verenskaya majestically. 'Tonight's performance was an emergency one and we will pretend it never happened!'

  Melanie gave a shaky laugh, and as she did so the fear that had helped her to maintain her control disappeared and her laughter rose on a crescendo of hysteria which stopped abruptly as Anton's hand slapped smartly against her cheek.

  With a gasp she stepped back, her face white except for the red marks where his fingers had struck her.

  'I'm sorry,' he said gently. 'It was either doing that or having you go into hysterics.'