by Margaret Way
I am Ley-Ah.
I am Ley-Ah, who can never by any chance be anything else but beautiful.
I am Ley-Ah, beloved by Pharaoh.
Once she was in the part, her body seemed to float free. Her sensitive little face grew radiant and her mind, separated from her body no longer had the power to inhibit her feet. Her own physical suffering had distilled her lyrical style, made it even more ethereal, so it was not quite the same Lucienne who had danced the role before.
The entire Company saw the difference immediately. She went into her adagio, not with Camilla's attacking power but with the freshness and delicacy of a young girl. She was bewitching. Bewitching them as an audience, so they thought themselves into a dream and the elaborate pageantry of Ancient Egypt.
Leave out the difficulties, Julian had said, but she was leaving out nothing, the once dazzling virtuosity merely held in restraint. Strangely it added realms to the interpretation, so for long moments Lucie was really the embodiment of a little Egyptian princess of great beauty, a virgin, unawakened, but with her eyes opened to desire. It showed them exactly where Camilla's interpretation had been all wrong.
'Surely she can't keep it up?' a girl from the corps whispered fearfully, then gasped aloud, for as the music swelled to a pinnacle of bliss, Ley-Ah lifted herself straight up into an amazing grand jete that was to bring her downstage to the Pharaoh's feet.
'Gosh!' The same girl clasped herself with her arms. Such a big jump could invite injury, particularly to a dancer whose knee had already been injured.
But Ley-Ah came down like a feather into a beautiful demi-plie and before the last bars of the music even drew to a close, the other dancers burst into spontaneous and prolonged applause. Eventually the pianist stopped playing and he too acted under strong impulse and shouted: 'Bravo!'
'She's better—or isn't she?' Damien asked excitedly of his girl companion.
'She's perfect!' I shall never be one quarter as good the girl, thought in her heart.
But it was long moments before Lucie became aware of her surroundings. The magnificent temple of ancient Egypt had faded along with its carved friezes and soaring pillars, the wails painted with beautiful scenes, and gradually she realised Julian was bending over her. Julian. Pharaoh.
Her disorientated face clearly showed her wonderment. 'Julian, I danced!' She was nearly crying with release.
'You did, Princess.' He took her hand, his strange black eyes burning with an inner fire.
'Is it possible I really danced?' She was shaking violently but still filled with that extraordinary surge of power. Had some undreamed-of miracle happened, or was she about to suffer the consequences, the agonising cruelty of not being able to stand up? Just a few moments of re-creation that might set her back for ever.
'Here, Lucie, let me help you,' said Julian.
'Please.' She stared up at him with huge violet eyes. Could it be Julian speaking to her so tenderly. Clasping her fingers, stroking the beads of sweat from her temples? If it was tenderness it would make her his slave for ever.
'Rosalind?' He gestured with his hand and the girl brought to him a kind of cloak that he threw around Lucie's trembling limbs.
'I'm frightened, Julian.' Now the power was spent, and Lucie huddled at Julian's feet.
'There, what did I tell you?' Camilla suddenly shouted, standing rigidly in her pink leotard, clutching her throat as if her jealousy was choking her. 'She'll be lucky if she even walks again. She was flawed, hopelessly flawed. But you wanted a sacrifice, didn't you, Julian? A sacrifice to your altar!' She began to laugh with a strong touch of hysteria.
The sound of it froze Lucie to the bone, hysteria that rose to an onslaught.
'You can stand, Lucie,' Julian said.
'I can't.' Now she was carved in stons, her small face as white as alabaster. ,
'Of course she can't!' Camilla cried, though several of the others were trying to calm her. 'Ten minutes and she's burnt out. Show me the dancer now!'
For an instant Julian wheeled on her and the fury that was in him radiated like a blow. 'If another word escapes your lips, you're finished with this company!' he snapped.
'Julian.' Camilla too turned to an icicle, putting her hands to her mouth and moaning, looking so frightful that even her many enemies were moved to compassion.
But their hearts were with Lucie. She was still on the floor looking crushed and helpless, and now with Camilla's screaming cut off all was quiet.
'Getup, Lucie,' Julian ordered. 'I'm here to help you.'
From being winged it was as if she had been battered beneath the hoofs of a screaming mare. She tried to fight Camilla's words, but they smashed into her brain. A sacrifice, Julian, on your altar! What did Julian really care about destruction when it afforded him the gem of a brilliant idea?
The pulses in her temples and throat beat furiously as inaction amounting to paralysis took control of her brain. How foolish she was to think she could fly in the face of the gods. The same gods who had maimed her. It was a profound self-absorption, but there was nothing about it that was not understandable. Dancers were very vulnerable. They lived with the risk of injury every day of their lives and Lucie still had to be considered as a tragic case. All of them stood mute, studying her acutely.
'I shouldn't have tried, Julian,' she whispered. 'The doctors told me, but I listened to you.'
'So?' Julian didn't hesitate, his voice deep and blunt. 'Your spirit' isn't in the same class as your dancing. There's nothing wrong with your legs. They work for you. It's your head you allow to rule.'
'I can't stand.'
'You can—I'm sure of it.'
Damien and a few of the others moved forward as if to help her, but Julian waved them back. 'Get up, Lucie. You're wasting my valuable time.'
Lucie's sensitive mouth moved soundlessly in her white face.
Julian frowned, his nostrils flaring. 'Do you want me to call a psychiatrist?'
'B ' Damien mumbled.
'Well?'
The old dull gold-coloured cloak fell smoothly around her shoulders, hiding her body, but there was no way she could disguise the fear in her eyes so that those she had been so generous to in their training wanted to kill Julian for his cruelty. Now that their minds were clearer they remembered the extent of Lucie's injuries. They even remembered the story of how a swan sang before it died. For a short time Lucie had held them spellbound, now they all feared she might have done herself irreparable harm.
'Don't listen to anyone but me,' Julian told her. 'You have the power to do anything you like. Be grateful for it.'
But to Lucie, both power and Julian had forsaken her. It was Camilla who had accomplished a great deal, filling Lucie with fear so that her body told itself it could take no more hurt. She tried to get up, failed, then fell back in a dead faint to the floor.
For a week she refused to see anyone but Jessie.
'You can't keep this up, dear,' Jessie told her worriedly. 'You've got to face it and lick it. Someone is always ringing up. Sarah is just so disappointed. She's built her whole campaign around you.'
'And I don't like being a model one little bit.'
'Shall I pass it on to Sarah?' Jessie asked.
Lucie made a face and shook her head. 'I don't care to think what would happen to me without you and Sarah—you because you're always in my corner, Sarah because she's offered me the chance of making real money.'
'And do you mean to do nothing about Joel?'
'Joel—what a bore!' groaned Lucie.
'Would you speak to a friend of mine?' Jessie asked.
'I can't, Jessie.' Lucie looked away and out of the plate glass window. A jacaranda was just coming into flower. 'I'm pretty sure he's a shrink.'
'He's a psychiatrist,' Jessie explained, 'a good one. Don't , be alarmed by a word. You need someone to talk to besides me, someone professional. Everything has been too much for you—the accident, more especially Joel's defection.'
'Don't leave out Juli
an,' Lucie said bitterly. 'Julian, my torment.'
Not for the first time Jessie sighed deeply. Julian didn't know when to give in, but it seemed Lucie did. Her experience of a week ago had caused her to go right back into her shell. More, it had broken her nerve. Perhaps even more than physically, Lucie had been emotionally scarred. 'Tom Herrington is a good man,' Jessie persisted calmly, 'right at the top of his profession. You need someone completely outside your own world, someone trained to listen and help people sort out their problems. Tom has young daughters of his own. You can trust him. . . .'
'The last thing I want to do is trust anyone.' Lucie passed her cup to Jessie for more coffee. 'It can be devastating.'
'You mean you trusted Julian?' Jessie asked quietly.
'With my life.'
'So how has he harmed you?' Jessie questioned with a good deal of feeling.
'He pushed me with all his might!' Lucie cried out even more passionately. 'He didn't care if I toppled over. He didn't care if I ever danced again. He's never had any real sympathy for me. He told me himself I inspired him—that's the only thing that held him. Ideas, and to hell with who gets hurt.'
'Lucie, Lucie!' Jessie muttered in dismay.
'I'm sorry.' Lucie put her head right down until it rested on her knees. 'What's the matter with me, Jessie? It seems to me I'm on the verge of a breakdown,'
'Dear child!' Rather awkwardly, Jessie scrambled over to her. Very gently she eased the girl up, then covered one slender trembling hand with her own broad yet very special hand. 'The simple truth is you've been through too much. You're twenty-two years of age, yet you've known tragedy. You lost the mother you adored, then when you'd scarcely recovered you suffered a serious accident. I see clearly now that it's all been too much. I know you think you hate Julian. . ..'
'I do,' Lucie whispered softly.
'But in his own way he was extraordinarily kind to you. Not only that, Lucie, he was the one who actually put the strength back into your limbs.'
'He dragged me to class!' Lucie protested.
Jessie strove to ignore the vehemence. It was so unlike gentle Lucie, yet her huge violet eyes were spilling fire. These days Julian was the devil incarnate, a demon who created idols only to destroy them.
'Please see Tom Herrington for me,' Jessie said in a low, persuading voice.
'How can he help me, Jessie?' Lucie asked. 'How can he understand that I've simply lost my nerve?'
'Sure he'll understand that, Lucie.'
'Nothing is going to make me dance again.'
'You're afraid in case you fall,' suggested Jessie.
'Yes.'
'Then you must put dancing altogether out of your mind.'
'That would be lovely if I could,' Lucie sighed.
'I don't wonder—it's been your whole life. Maybe you should go away, take a trip—a whole change of scene.'
'Lucie nodded and frowned. 'That's what Joel said, only he suggested a honeymoon. He loves me, don't you think, Jessie?'
Jessie glanced at Lucie's solemn little profile and cleared her throat. 'The question is, Lucie, do you love him?'
'I think the least I can do is marry him. I'll tell him we're getting engaged.'
Jessie bit her lip, looking sad and concerned. 'You're in no fit state to make important decisions.'
'Isn't that the truth!' A wry smile momentarily lit Lucie's face. 'I really love you, Jessie. You're the only family I have.'
'Then you'll see Tom—will you?'
'If you think he can help.' To please Jessie, Lucie agreed. Jessie had taken such good care of her. She was so kind and loving by nature. She would have made a wonderful wife and mother, yet her sense of duty had left her with little choice. 'You know, Jessie,'
Lucie said quietly, 'I'm only twenty-two, yet I fell like an old, old woman.'
'Then we can't delay any longer.' Jessie stood up purposefully and walked to the phone. 'You have to see Tom.'
'God help me,' said Lucie, and blew Jessie a kiss.
Doctor Tom Herrington was a tall man of about fifty, grey-haired and grey-eyed, who gave the instant impression of being both strong and full of compassion for his fellow man.
'Please, Lucie, may I?' He inclined his head towards a chair, then took his place on the other side of the desk. 'Jessie has spoken to me about you. 'We're old friends.'
'And a very good friend she is to me,' Lucie said shyly. 'It's really for Jessie I've come, Doctor.'
'Not for yourself?'
'I have my own diagnosis. I've simply lost my nerve.'
'I understand, but you've come to me here to find out why.'
'I can't possibly dance again,' Lucie explained, fixing him with great violet eyes.
'From what I've heard, there is no great reason why you can't.' The grey eyes were gentle but intensely interested.
'It's even a little obscure to me,' Lucie sighed. 'I suppose I'm'like a trapeze artist who's fallen. I'm frightened to go up again.'
'Indeed, and it takes a tremendous effort to do so, but first I want you to bring out all your little fears.
It's a matter of talking things over, and I will listen closely.'
'I think what I'm really frightened of is a person,' Lucie explained.
'A person?' The doctor stared openly, but he did not appear astonished.
'Yes.' Lucie bent her head and hesitated.
'I see. It goes deep.'
'Yes.' Lucie sighed again. 'My enemy is a ruthless person.'
'So, you must tell mft.'
And because she didn't seem to have a choice, Lucie began to speak.
When Joel heard she was seeing a psychiatrist he nearly jumped out of his seat.
'For God's sake, why?'
'Simple. I need a trained professional to talk to. I've been tying myself in knots.'
'But a psychiatrist?' Joel's thin cheeks flushed. They were having dinner in a restaurant, and what kind of a subject was that to introduce anyway? Or so Lucie thought.
'Why not? Don't you believe in them?'
'Darling, what do you need one for?' Joel shook his head. 'It's that Jessie, isn't it? Not a bad old girl as old maids go, but basically interfering.'
'Please don't insult Jessie.' Lucie's sweet voice suddenly hardened. 'Jessie is my friend.'
'And so, darling, am I.' Joel reached across the circular table and took her hand. 'I've been so worried about you, but I'm quite sure you don't need a psychiatrist. That in itself is an insult.'
'I doubt it,' said Lucie. 'He's helped me already. I can master this trauma. I may even come out of it a better person.'
'Typical psychiatric talk! Traumas and neuroses and God knows what else. You've simply had an excessive amount of suffering, and that devil Strasberg has been a bad influence, driving you into the ground.'
'Please, don't let's talk about Julian.' For an instant Lucie's small face looked frantic.
'I think perhaps it's he who's really to blame.' Joel leaned totvards her, his blue eyes intense. 'All he cares about is his work, to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. So he's brilliant, so what? I hate him for what he's done to you.'
'But you've always hated him, haven't you?' Lucie interrupted abruptly. 'For your own reasons, Joel.'
Joel sat perfectly still, arrested by her tone. She was an amazing contradiction and her feelings about Julian Strasberg were extremely complex.
'Let's forget him!' he said with the sense to hide his complete exasperation. 'You look so beautiful tonight. Your dress is the exact colour of your eyes.'
'One of the Blanchard collection.' Lucie looked down at her extravagantly pretty short evening dress. It was probably the most sophisticated dress she had ever worn and it enhanced her beauty to a degree she wasn't even aware of. It was also, with its tiny, strapless top, nipped-in waist and tiered skirt, extremely seductive, but her new, sexy looks meant nothing to her. They were simply part of a new image, a new life. 'At least I can show clothes,' she said wryly, 'thank the Lord!'
; Joel did not have the chance to reply. The owner of the restaurant, an exclusive one, was greeting a party of new arrivals warmly, his deep, resonant Italian voice ringing out. 'Welcome, welcome .. .!'
'God in Heaven!' Joel muttered, and broke off.
'What is it?' Lucie turned her head and all the colour in her face drained away. 'I have to go, Joel.'
He reacted swiftly. 'I understand. But we can't leave now. Wait until they're seated.'
'I can't wait.' Lucie leapt up and found herself face to face with Julian.
'Oh!' She could not prevent her voice from breaking. Only Julian's imperious dark face was in focus, the rest of the group swam.
'Lucienne.' He nodded his head curtly.
'Aren't you going to introduce us?' A woman with blonde hair clasped his arm tightly.
'No, I'm not,' he returned bluntly.
'But, Julian darling, you must—I beg of you.' The blonde gave a little mocking gurgle in her throat.
The others in the party looked curiously, then moved down the aisle to their table and Joel, belatedly, jumped to his feet, a cold glint in his eyes. 'Move on, Strasberg.'
'Of course.' Julian smiled contemptuously. 'Frankly I don't know how I stopped.'
'I hate him!' Joel muttered audibly when Julian had passed. 'His arrogance is intolerable. Bloody foreigner!'
