by Jean Ure
Mum had promised to drive me into school on Saturday afternoon, ready for the evening performance. Miss Lucas wanted us all to be there promptly at half past five, but at quarter past Mum was still not home and I was starting to get agitated. It’s very unprofessional to be late! Mum herself had taught me that. Fortunately she arrived just a few minutes later, full of apologies.
“One of the mothers wanted to stay and talk to me. I just couldn’t get rid of the woman! Don’t worry, we’ll be there in good time. It’s a pity your dad’s not here … He says he’s heard from Sean that we’ve got another choreographer in the family!”
I was sorry about Dad, cos I was secretly rather proud of my dance interlude, but Mum was the really important one. She was the one we had to impress.
“You won’t be late, will you?” I said, as she dropped me off at the school gates.
“Of course I won’t be late! I’m just popping home to put my feet up for five minutes and have a drink, then I’ll be coming straight back. I’ve promised your dad I’ll give him a full r—” Mum broke off as her car phone buzzed. “Well,” she said, “that’s timely! Hallo, Jen, just give me a sec. Off you go, Mads! Break a leg. I’ll see you later.”
I walked on up the drive, into school. There were posters all over the place announcing Coombe House Christmas Entertainment, with little drawings of paper chains and Chinese lanterns and an old-fashioned Christmas tree all hung about with sparkly stuff, with a fairy perched on the top. There were also a few cars in the car park, though I think they were staff rather than parents. We still had over an hour before the show began.
Backstage was buzzing with activity. Miss Lucas scurried past me, down the corridor.
“Ah, Maddy, there you are!” she cried. There was a note of relief in her voice, like she really had expected me to fall under a bus. Just for a moment I felt a little quiver of doubt. Was I doing the right thing? I really didn’t want to upset her!
On the other hand there are times when you just have to go for it. When you simply can’t help upsetting someone. It all depends what you’re upsetting them for. I was the one who’d lectured Caitlyn about making the most of every opportunity; I couldn’t back out now! I’d never forgive myself.
The dressing room – one of the classrooms next to the hall – was full of people frantically pulling on costumes, prinking and preening in front of mirrors, fussing about their hair or their make-up. Someone was trying to squeeze a big red spot on her chin, someone else had trodden on the hem of her dress and torn it and was wailing pathetically for Miss Lucas, while the younger of the spoilt sisters was hyperventilating in the corner.
“What’s her problem?” I said.
“She can’t remember any of her lines!”
“Oh,” I said, “is that all?”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned, reproachfully, in my direction. They all seemed to think I was being heartless. Perhaps I was, but it was so unprofessional! Someone pointed out that it was all very well for me: “You don’t have to bother with lines.”
I thought no, and I didn’t have anyone to prompt me, either. Who was going to help me if I forgot my steps? Not that I would. But a beginner might, even if she did keep her brains in her feet. Another little quiver of doubt ran through me. I shook it off, impatiently. I couldn’t lecture Caitlyn about wasting opportunities and then do the same thing myself. There are times when you just have to take a chance.
Quickly I changed into leotard and tights, twisted my hair back into a bun and sat down to do my make-up. Full ballet make-up is quite dramatic, but you don’t really need much in a small school hall. Sheena Walker, who was playing the older sister, watched me in wonderment.
“Is that all you’re doing?” She was all made up like something out of a pantomime. “You haven’t even touched your eyes, hardly! Would you like me to do them for you?”
“No, thank you.” I backed away quickly, before she could get at me.
She shrugged. “Well, it’s up to you.”
Really, people in Year Nine seem to think they know everything. It’s quite annoying. Fortunately Miss Lucas came in at that moment.
“Oh, my goodness!” she cried. “What on earth have you done to yourself, Sheena? Let’s get all that make-up scrubbed off and start again.”
I took the opportunity, while Miss Lucas was busy, to slip out of the dressing room and go for a bit of a wander. On the way back I went up the steps at the far side of the stage and peered out through a gap in the curtains, trying to see if I could spot Mum. She didn’t seem to have arrived yet, but the curtain wasn’t due to go up for another twenty minutes. I could see Caitlyn and her mum, though, halfway up the hall. I’d made Caitlyn promise to get there in good time.
“You don’t want to be stuck right at the back!”
Slowly I returned to the dressing room. Caitlyn was there; Mum would be there soon. It was time to put my plan into action! Limping, I made my way along the corridor. Gritting my teeth with every step. Getting into the part. I’d wanted an acting role, hadn’t I? So now I’d got one. This was it! Up to me to prove what I could do.
With a dramatic groan I flung open the door and collapsed on to the nearest chair, clutching my right ankle.
“Maddy!” Miss Lucas came flying over. “What’s wrong?”
I gave another groan. “I’ve done something to my ankle.”
“Show me! Let me see. Where does it hurt?”
“Here.” I pressed with my fingers. “Ouch! I think I might have pulled a tendon.”
“What happened?” said Miss Lucas.
“I was coming down the steps at the side of the stage and I slipped and … ow! It’s really painful.”
The dressing room had suddenly gone very quiet. People had stopped squeezing spots and wailing about torn hems. This was a crisis!
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to go on.”
There were sharp intakes of breath all over the dressing room. I could see the disappointment in Miss Lucas’s face, though very quickly she tried to hide it.
Someone said, “Perhaps if you just sat there for a bit?”
Miss Lucas shook her head. “Not if it’s a tendon. Do you really think that’s what it is, Maddy?”
“I’m not sure. It feels as if it might be. But it’s all right!” I said. “Caitlyn’s here. She can take my place.”
Someone said, “Caitlyn?”
“She’s my understudy,” I said.
And then, quite suddenly, I had another moment of doubt. Did I really want to do this? My very first piece of choreography and I was going to let someone else dance it?
“On the other hand –” I wobbled to my feet and took a cautious step – “p’raps it’s not quite as bad as I thought. Maybe I could go on?”
“No! I’m sorry,” said Muss Lucas, “but I can’t afford to let you take the risk. Not if it’s a tendon. What would your mother say?”
“She’d probably say just dance through it … look!” I put my foot on the ground. “Already it’s not hurting as much.”
“Maddy, please,” said Miss Lucas. “Don’t argue with me. You were the one who decided – very professionally! – that you should have an understudy. And just as well, as it’s turned out! I take it she’s here?”
I said, “Yes, but—”
“No buts! Sarah—” Miss Lucas beckoned to the Year Eleven playing the spoilt sisters’ mum. “Go into the hall and see if you can find Caitlyn Hughes. Tell her she’s needed urgently backstage. And you, Maddy, sit still and stop fretting. There’s nothing you can do. These things happen.”
I sank back, defeated. It seemed it was too late to change my mind. I was too good an actor!
Sarah arrived back in the dressing room with an ashen-faced Caitlyn. I could see, just from a quick glance, that she was terrified. Miss Lucas said, “Ah, Caitlyn, thank goodness! We’re all relying on you. Maddy’s hurt her ankle, but she assures me you’re more than capable
of taking over.”
Caitlyn sent me this agonised look. She said, “M-me?”
“You can do it!” I said. “You know you can!”
“But … what happened?”
I gritted my teeth, as if in pain. “Fell down the steps at the side of the stage. Just stupid, stupid!”
“Do you think you’ve sprained it?”
“Dunno what I’ve done.” I winced. “It’s really painful!” And then bravely I added, “I suppose I could try to dance through it …”
“No!” Miss Lucas stepped in, very firmly, just as I’d known she would. “I can’t have you putting your whole future at risk. Your mother would never forgive me. If Caitlyn doesn’t feel she can do it, we’ll just have to cut the dance scene altogether.”
I could see Caitlyn’s mouth begin to pucker. She looked at me, helplessly.
“Are you really sure?”
No! I wasn’t! I was already beginning to have second thoughts. Caitlyn was obviously petrified. Suppose I was making a huge mistake?
“Maybe you could just walk it through,” said Sheena. “You, I mean.” She nodded at Caitlyn. “I guess it would be better than nothing.”
I could see Miss Lucas seriously considering the idea. Caitlyn, too. I suddenly felt a bit desperate. What was I doing? I must have been mad! I felt like springing to my feet and crying, “It’s all right, it’s all right, don’t worry, I’ll go on!”
There was this little selfish voice inside my head urging me to put a stop to things while I still could. Mum was going to be out there and I wanted so much for her to see what I could do! I wanted her to report to Dad how brilliant I was. It looks like your daughter is going to follow in your footsteps … a budding choreographer! But, instead, I found myself quite sternly telling Caitlyn how she could dance the part every bit as well as I could.
“You know you can! I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you could do it. You did bring your shoes,” I said, “didn’t you?”
She nodded, dumbly. I’d told her that she had to, “just in case”.
“You’re my understudy,” I said. “This is why people have understudies!”
Miss Lucas said, “Maddy—”
“She can do it!” I said.
I knew I was being a bit of a bully. Maybe there is more of Mum in me than I realise! But sometimes, as Mum is forever telling me, you have to be cruel to be kind. At any rate, that’s her excuse for reducing people to tears.
I thought for a moment that I was going to reduce Caitlyn to tears. But then she drew a deep breath, long and quivering.
“I’d better get changed,” she said.
By the time she was in costume and I was back in my ordinary clothes, she was shaking so much her teeth were chattering and Miss Lucas was looking really worried. I was feeling pretty worried myself. I thought, Please, Caitlyn, PLEASE! Don’t let me down now!
“I’m going to go and sit out front with your mum,” I said.
“And I’m going to go and find your mum,” said Miss Lucas, “and tell her what’s happening. Or maybe you ought to be the one?”
“Oh, no, please! You do it,” I begged. The last thing I wanted was to have to talk to Mum. She’d be bound to ask awkward questions and, in spite of being such a good actor, I wasn’t sure she’d be as easy to convince as Miss Lucas.
“Just remember,” I whispered to Caitlyn, “brains in your feet!”
The last thing I saw as I hobbled out of the dressing room was her little woebegone smile. I did so hope I’d done the right thing!
Miss Lucas insisted on accompanying me as I hobbled into the hall in search of Caitlyn’s mum. She had my arm in a grip of iron.
“It’s all right, I’ve got you! Whatever you do, don’t put too much weight on that foot.”
“I’m trying not to,” I said; and I limped elaborately to prove it. It did make me feel a bit self-conscious, cos I mean, people were all looking at me, but then I told myself that I had pulled a tendon and that pulled tendons could be really painful. I remembered when Sean had done it. He had insisted on still going on and dancing through the pain and had ended up in agony. Ow! Ouch! It was agony. Every time my foot just touched the ground, I could almost feel streaks of fire shooting up my leg.
If you use your imagination, you can make yourself believe all sorts of things. It is what’s called acting. Getting into the part. By the time we found Caitlyn’s mum, I was so into the part that I collapsed with a genuine groan on to Caitlyn’s empty chair.
“Now just stay put,” said Miss Lucas. “I don’t want you up and about on that foot! I’m going to go and find your mum and tell her what’s happening.”
Caitlyn’s mum, looking almost as anxious as Caitlyn herself, said, “Maddy, what have you done?”
“Just pulled a tendon,” I said. “It’s no big deal but it’s not something you should really dance through cos it’ll only make things worse. Just as well I have an understudy!”
Caitlyn’s mum was obviously confused. She said, “I don’t understand! How can Caitlyn be your understudy? She doesn’t dance!”
I assured her mum that she did. “I’ve been teaching her. She’s really talented!”
“Really?” Mrs Hughes crinkled her forehead. “Why hasn’t she ever said anything?”
I couldn’t say, “Because she didn’t want to worry you.” I’d promised Caitlyn. But I had to say something! Her mum was plainly puzzled.
“I think she wanted to surprise you,” I said.
It didn’t make much sense but at that moment the lights started to dim and the hall fell silent. I craned forward to see if Mum was there. I knew where she’d be sitting – in the front row, next to Mrs Henson, our headmistress. Guest of honour, that was Mum! And yes, there she was, her red hair glinting. I settled back into my seat with a sigh of relief. The first two parts of my plan had worked! Smooth as could be. The third was up to Caitlyn.
I do believe I was more jittery waiting for her to make her entrance than I have ever been for myself. I am just not a jittery type. But that evening, sitting out front, with nothing to do but watch, I found my heart was thumping. I could sense that Caitlyn’s mum, next to me, was even more nervous than I was. I whispered to her that Caitlyn didn’t make an appearance until about halfway through, hoping that might help her relax, but I don’t think it did. It didn’t me, either!
As the first strains of Albinoni’s beautiful adagio finally stole into the auditorium, and the spotlight centred on the lone figure of the Christmas tree fairy, so sad and so fragile, I found myself holding my breath, my hands bunching themselves into two tight fists. I heard Caitlyn’s mum, at my side, draw in a sharp breath.
“It’s all right,” I whispered. “She’ll be all right.”
And she was! I think that deep down I’d always known that she would be. For a few terrible moments I was scared that it might all fall to pieces. Her first few steps were so unsteady that I held my breath, awaiting disaster. But then, just as I’d predicted, her feet took over, and from that point on she never looked back. The part might almost have been written specially for her! Who knew? Perhaps it had been. Perhaps all along it was Caitlyn I’d had in mind.
Needless to say, her Christmas tree fairy was very different from mine. Mine would have been so intent on trying to recapture the days of her youth, so determined to push herself to the very limit, that her final collapse would have been a moment of high drama. Caitlyn’s whole performance was gentler; more yearning. Even I, at the end, felt moved.
I’d always thought Miss Lucas’s story was a bit wimpy and cloying. Caitlyn, on the other hand, had always assured me it would have people in tears. She had been right; I was willing to admit it. And Sean had been right, too: it was definitely Caitlyn’s part. But I was still the choreographer! They were my steps; nothing could take that away from me. I had every right to feel proud! And maybe, when Dad was back, I’d be able to show him.
As the curtain came down at the end of the show, I had the feeling
that it was Caitlyn most people were applauding. Everyone had been good, but she was the star.
Her mum was obviously still trying to make sense of things. “Did you really teach her to do all that?” she whispered.
“Well, I was the one who made up the steps –” I couldn’t resist telling her – “but mostly Caitlyn taught herself. She’s been doing it for ages! What she really needs, before it’s too late, are proper lessons.”
I felt I could say that now Mum knew what Caitlyn was capable of. Mum is not unreasonable; she just has a horror of pushy ballet mothers thrusting their pudding-faced daughters at her. But now she’d seen Caitlyn for herself, I was sure I could rely on her to come up with a solution. Mum would never let real talent go to waste! Not if she could help it.
I said to Mrs Hughes that I had to go and talk to Caitlyn and find my mum and went racing off down the hall, quite forgetting about my pulled tendon.
“Mum—”
I stopped. Where was she? Where was Mum? I could see Mrs Henson – I could see the person sitting next to her. I’d thought it was Mum, but it wasn’t!
“Maddy!” Miss Lucas had appeared, all fussed and bothered cos I wasn’t sitting down. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be putting any weight on that foot!”
“I’m looking for Mum,” I said.
“Ah, yes! I’m afraid your mum wasn’t able to get here after all, but—”
Mum hadn’t got here? I couldn’t believe it! After all the trouble I’d gone to – the sacrifice I’d made! It should have been me they were clapping. Me who was the star! Me dancing my steps that I had choreographed. I’d given it all up for nothing!
I became reluctantly aware that Miss Lucas was still talking.
“… managed to get here instead, so we feel very honoured! He’s backstage now, congratulating Caitlyn. She did so well! Don’t you think? And she says it’s all due to you! But Maddy, I’m really worried about your foot; we thought it best to call a cab to t—”
“Hey, Beanie!”
I spun around. “Sean! Where’s Mum?”
