I checked my watch, knowing that I wanted to get to On Pointe early as I had an idea for the solo choreography. I wanted to dance it out myself in front of the mirrors before teaching it to anyone else. I wasn’t sure it was going to work, and I needed clean lines in the routine.
I folded the letter, wrote To the Grief Fairy across the front and posted it into the letterbox.
* * *
‘I know, I said I’d be here early,’ I replied to Tess’s crossed arms and popped-hip stance. I dropped my bags down on the office table and shrugged off my jacket.
‘I wanted to go through a few moves with you before my jazz class started but,’ she looked at her watch, ‘the students will be arriving in five minutes or so.’
‘Are you happy to stay later?’
‘I can’t. I’ve got a date,’ she replied shyly.
‘Really? Tell me more.’
‘He’s just a guy I met. Nothing major,’ she said smiling.
‘That means major.’
‘Not necessarily,’ she laughed. ‘What about you anyway? Queen of sexual tension.’
I frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I knew. I really knew.
‘Eli’s father just happens to be a few minutes early so he can catch you dancing. He also just happens to be late, so he can steal some chit-chatty time.’
‘I’m pretty sure Mr Burnett doesn’t do chit-chatty,’ I replied, using my fingers to air quote.
‘You know what I mean,’ she laughed. ‘He looks at you like he could eat you off a cracker.’
‘I don’t spread easily,’ I replied, rolling my eyes. ‘And your class is starting.’
I could still hear her laughter down the hall.
Having someone else validate something that you’ve been avoiding and telling yourself you’d misread was a weird feeling. For weeks now, I’d tried to bat away Alexander’s lingering looks, his warm breath against my neck as he asked me to tell him my unanswered questions, the promises he made to think of me dancing and his increasing ability to be…pleasant. He was still sharp as nails when he wanted to be, namely if it was anything to do with Eli, but at times he was so nice it was starting to freak me out. I was constantly second-guessing myself. Wondering if he was the type of person who needed to get to know someone before he could be…civil, or if possibly, perhaps, maybe…he was starting to like me.
Could he like me as much as I liked him?
A knock at the office door made me jump. ‘Come in.’ Nadia peered around the door. ‘Hi, how are you?’
‘Good, thanks. Alexander asked me to give you this.’ She handed me an envelope. Miss Bevan was written across the front in black marker pen. ‘It’s a cheque to cover the first month’s fees. He would like to organise a bank transfer for all future payments.’
I couldn’t hide my smile. ‘Does this mean I’ve met his exceptionally high dance-teacher expectations?’
Nadia laughed. ‘You must have impressed him. He was all for visiting the London Ballet School.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘I’ll be collecting her later. Alex is working on some new music,’ she said.
‘Fantastic. Does that mean he’ll be playing live soon?’ I asked. She studied me for a second, her smile dropping slightly before she lifted it again.
‘Yes. Hopefully. Have you seen him play?’
‘I saw him a few months ago with the London Symphony Orchestra.’
She lifted her chin and stepped in closer. ‘Oh. I had no idea you’d met before.’
‘Oh, we didn’t. Not exactly. I was in the audience. Although, then we did meet and argued over a taxi.’ I smiled at the memory of the handsome grump in Burberry.
Her smile seemed larger now, almost a grimace. Definitely strange. ‘He’s a wonderful player!’ she said, her voice unnaturally high.
‘He is,’ I replied, walking towards the door in the hope that she would get the hint that I was late for my class. ‘I’ll see you later, Nadia.’
‘Yes. See you later,’ she replied, backing out. I drew my eyebrows together in confusion.
Well, that was strange.
Before leaving the office, I spotted a picture frame on the wall, a collage of old photographs of children in various dance shows. May in her fox costume, a copy of the same photograph my grandmother had shown me from her photo album. I lifted the album from the shelf and flicked through it, landing on the same picture. She was such a gorgeous little girl. What a tragedy for her to lose her life so young. I turned the pages and found various newspaper clippings of awards, certificates and thank-you cards to my grandmother from children over the years. All keepsakes that I knew my grandmother cherished. On the last page was a postcard with a rainbow across the front. I took it out of the album, turning it over to find a handwritten quote.
Grief is like drawing a rainbow when you only have one colour.
I went over to the chair where I’d slung my jacket and pulled the letter from my pocket.
Grief is like trying to paint a sunset when all you have is black paint.
Could this be a coincidence? Two similar quotes about grief colliding together to raise my suspicions. I raced down the hallway, flung the door open to find Tess mid jazz class and my grandmother sitting in the corner, her hands tapping in time to the music.
‘Grandma. I need to talk to you,’ I said, out of breath from adrenaline. She glanced at me, gave me a questioning look before reaching for her walking stick. I waited for her outside the class.
‘What is it, Nat?’
‘Where did you get this?’ I asked, holding up the rainbow postcard. She placed her glasses from the top of her head back onto her nose and peered at it.
‘I honestly don’t remember,’ she replied. ‘Why is it so important?’
‘It looks like your handwriting,’ I said.
‘So it does.’
I handed her my letter from the Grief Fairy. ‘Does this look familiar to you?’
‘No, sweetheart, it doesn’t.’
‘I received this from the Grief Fairy today. It was left at the Grieving Tree.’
She nodded and straightened her back. ‘And?’
‘These quotes are similar,’ I said. ‘There’s a fox near the postbox, like May’s costume. You want me here to help children–’
‘What are you saying, Nat?’
‘Is it you?’ I asked, holding the letter to my chest. ‘Are you the Grief Fairy?’
‘You think it’s me?’ she laughed. ‘Oh, Nat. Where is an old lady like me going to get a bright idea like that?’
I held up the card. The one with her handwriting. ‘This can’t be a coincidence.’
‘Would it matter if it was me?’ she asked.
‘No…not really.’
‘Then why ask?’
‘I want to know who it is. It’s such a wonderful idea. Only a beautiful person could be behind it. Someone like you,’ I replied.
‘You have a dance class, sweetheart,’ she replied, walking back to Tess’s class as she threw a smile over her shoulder. ‘They’ll be waiting for you.’
13
Nat
Dance class was a complete disaster. All I could think about was my grandmother sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by letters. I was living in the same house as her. Surely, I would have seen her with a pen in her hand at some point? I tried to imagine the amount of paper and envelopes she’d go through, and how would she even get to the Grieving Tree? No wonder you had to wait a while for a reply.
It can’t be her. Can it?
‘She should be here by now, shouldn’t she?’ Eli asked as she rested her forehead against the bay window, the drapes over her head like a veil. Nadia was thirty minutes late. My grandmother had already left and would be asleep by the time I got home.
‘She’s later than normal,’ I replied, sweeping the floor. ‘But that’s fine. Don’t worry.’
‘I’m hungry,’ Eli said. I tried to remember what I had with me, but
I didn’t think she’d appreciate cashew nuts or a salted rice cake that had been squashed in my bag underneath the weight of my water bottle.
‘Let me see if I can get hold of your dad.’ We went through to the office and called the number Alexander had given me for emergencies. It went straight through to voicemail. ‘Do you know your home number?’ She nodded, reciting the number as I wrote it down in my diary for future reference. ‘Let me try. Hold on.’
‘Hello.’
‘Hi there. Is that Maggie?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s Natasha Bevan. Eli’s dance teacher at On Pointe. I’m trying to contact her father. Her aunty was supposed to collect her tonight, but she hasn’t arrived.’
‘Oh my goodness! Poor little mite.’
‘Is Nadia there?’ I asked.
‘No. I don’t know where she is. I could come and get her myself, but I don’t have my car. Oh dear. I bet she’s getting anxious.’ I looked over to Eli, who looked more hungry than anxious.
‘I don’t mind bringing her home if that would be easier,’ I said, looking at the clock and realising it was getting late. ‘There’s just us here now, so I can lock up and bring her over.’ Eli was nodding frantically.
‘That would be great. I’ll be here. Tell her I’ll start making some cheese on toast.’
‘Cheese on toast, you say?’ Eli put her thumbs up. ‘She’s happy with that.’
Eli helped me with one final check around the building before we locked up. I bundled her into my grandmother’s old car, tapping the address into my phone to get directions. It was only a five-minute drive, but it was cold, and Eli was tired. I turned up the heating and we sang along to the radio until she became quiet.
I pulled up to Eli’s address, Alexander’s home. Taking a deep breath, I leant out of the window and pressed the intercom.
‘Nat, is that you?’ Maggie’s familiar voice filled the darkness.
‘Yes. I have a sleepy passenger with me.’
The large oak gates started to open in front of me and I followed the drive a short way to the main house. It was exactly how I’d imagined Alexander’s home to look. Sleek glass and black windows, grey brick and white paneling. As I pulled up, the large front door opened and a small lady I recognised started to wave.
‘Hi there, Nat. Thank you for doing this,’ Maggie said.
‘I think she may have fallen asleep,’ I whispered, opening the car door to find Eli lightly snoring.
‘Oh, look at the little angel. She’s been so busy with all these extra classes. Would you mind carrying her in? We’ll take her straight to her bedroom.’
I held Eli in my arms and followed Maggie into the house. The hallway was open-plan, a large black piano sat in one corner with an abstract painting of a cello on the wall above it. The staircase was to the right of the door, but she took me through to another corridor.
‘Just down here,’ Maggie said, opening a door and turning on a nightlight beside Eli’s bed. She pulled the duvet back and I carefully placed her down, removing her shoes and covering her with a duvet that had a huge ballerina on it, Eli’s head in place of where the ballerina’s should be.
‘She loves ballet,’ I said, laughing at how comical she looked, like she was pirouetting in her sleep.
‘She does. It’s been good for her. She spent far too much time in the house,’ Maggie said, straightening the creases. I noticed a framed photo on her bedside table. A beautiful smiling woman with exactly the same bouncy curls as Eli. She was wearing what looked like a strapless wedding gown, a man’s hand on her shoulder.
Alexander.
‘Is that Elise’s mother?’ I asked, admiring her wedding rings.
‘Yes. That’s Lisa. Such a wonderful woman.’ Her words were followed with a wistful smile, the kind that told you how lovely the person being spoken about was.
‘They look so alike.’ I smiled.
‘Elise is her double,’ Maggie replied. ‘I find it comforting but I know Alex struggles with it at times.’ I understood. My grandmother had the same smile as my mother. I was still unsure if it comforted me or resurged my sadness. ‘Would you like to stay for a drink? My way of saying thank you for bringing our angel home.’
‘Are you sure? It’s late.’
‘Keep me company,’ she said in her soft Irish accent. ‘The kitchen is upstairs.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Topsy-turvy, if you ask me. Bedrooms downstairs, kitchen upstairs. What in the world are we coming to?’ I followed her back through to the floating oak staircase and up into the kitchen. There was a large living area with leather sofas and a huge TV on the wall. Various pieces of artwork were dotted around. Cellos were featured prominently, but mixed in with the expensive artwork were candid photos of Eli.
‘It’s a beautiful house,’ I said. ‘How long have they lived here?’
‘Alexander had it built two years ago.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ I laughed. ‘Everything to his exact specifications or feel the wrath of the brooding cellist.’
‘You know him so well,’ she chuckled as she filled a teapot. Traditional, just as I’d imagined. ‘Lisa grew up in the village. When she met Alexander, they lived together in London, easier for his work, you see. When Lisa passed away, he decided to sell their home. Too painful, but he wanted Elise to grow up where her mother did, keep a connection.’
‘Those connections are very important,’ I replied, thinking of my family home, the house I now shared with my grandmother, the good memories it was starting to evoke.
‘Sugar?’
‘No. Thank you. I’m sweet enough,’ I replied, spotting a letter on the kitchen worktop amongst Eli’s school books and an iPad. It had the same writing as mine from the Grief Fairy. I picked it up. ‘She’s had her reply.’
‘Yes. She was very excited.’
‘What are your thoughts about the Grieving Tree, Maggie? Do you think it’s good for her?’
‘Oh, yes. It’s a way for her to express her emotions,’ she replied. ‘It’s healthy. She needs it.’
‘I think so too.’
‘She gets a lot of comfort from the letters. That’s all that matters, surely?’
‘I’d love to know who’s behind it.’ She tapped her nose and bit back a smile. ‘Do you know?’
‘I can’t let out my secrets,’ she replied.
‘Are you the Grief Fairy, Maggie?’ I asked dramatically as I put the letter back. Her hand stilled on the handle of the kettle and her eyes widened. I was joking but her reaction interested me.
‘Erm…well. I’m–’
‘Nat?’
I turned to find Alexander behind me, appearing from another corridor. He was barefoot and wearing a white T-shirt that clung to him like a second skin. Black cotton pajama bottoms finished off the relaxed look that I wasn’t used to seeing. He was usually dressed in an impeccable suit or smart enough to be featured in an ad campaign for Gucci. Aside from the shock I was experiencing at seeing him so causal, he was here, he was pissed, and he had just addressed me by my first name.
‘Hi. I wasn’t expecting you to be here,’ I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.
‘What are you doing in my house?’
‘Oh…well. That will be my fault,’ Maggie stuttered, eying us both cautiously. ‘Nadia didn’t collect Elise from her ballet class and Nat kindly agreed to bring her home.’
‘Nadia forgot? What’s wrong with her?’ he fumed as he reached for the phone on the coffee table, held it to his ear and waited. ‘Voicemail. Jesus Christ!’
‘Elise is fine. She helped me tidy away and fell fast asleep in my car on the way over,’ I said, stepping backwards, getting closer to the stairs to make my escape.
‘You shouldn’t have to bring my daughter home,’ he said, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. He looked tired. Dark circles lined his eyes. ‘If Nadia had called me, I would have collected her myself.’
‘I tried to call your number, the one you left in an emergency. I
t was switched off,’ I said, grimacing softly.
‘Fuck. I was in the studio,’ he said, replacing the phone. ‘I didn’t think.’
‘You always think,’ Maggie chastised. ‘Too much. She’s fine. Go back to work.’
Alexander flicked his eyes to mine. ‘Thank you for bringing her home. This must be a continuation of how bad a father you think I am,’ he said, dragging his hands through his hair. ‘Constantly late and now this.’
‘No. I don’t think that at all.’
He smiled tightly. ‘If that’s all…you can…leave.’
‘She’s having a cup of tea with me,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ve been on my own in this big house all damn day. I want some conversation. Sit down.’ She nodded towards a high stool in front of her. I stepped forward slowly, not wanting to feel the wrath of Alexander or Maggie. He watched me cautiously. She smiled widely. ‘Go back to your cello and leave us to it.’
‘Thank you. Again,’ he said, stretching his neck from side to side and sighing deeply.
‘Go,’ Maggie said, shooing him away with her hands.
‘He’s intense, isn’t he?’ I smiled. ‘What’s he like to work for?’
‘Hard work,’ she laughed. ‘If it wasn’t for his beautiful daughter, I would have gone long ago.’ She stirred the teapot and glanced at me. ‘That’s a lie. I’d have stayed no matter what. There’s a man with a heart of gold underneath it all.’
‘I’ve seen small glimpses,’ I replied, demonstrating small between my fingers.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘Let me show you this.’ She picked up Eli’s iPad with the fluffy unicorn cover swamping it and started swiping the screen. ‘Elise loves watching old clips of when she was a baby. We spend a lot of time on this.’ She handed it to me and a tiny Eli filled the screen, her chubby cheeks and smile were unmistakable.
‘Aww, look at her! How old is she here?’
‘This was just before her first birthday.’
Lament Page 10
