Spellbound

by Margaret Way

  'You're no better,' Julian retorted. 'You had no difficulty dropping it.'

  She hung up on him then. Julian, at his most vitriolic.

  Doctor Herrington didn't agree.

  'You stopped dancing because you were afraid of it?'

  'I had the wisdom to see I couldn't. Or rather I would at some time break down. Can you imagine, Doctor, the jeering would be deafening!'

  'No.' He shook his shaggy grey head. 'There was a fantastic occasion in my youth when I heard a great soprano break down on the high note of one of her most famous arias. The audience applauded her. She merely held out her hand as if to say, It won't always come, and went on.'

  'I should be devastated,' confessed Lucie.

  'But then you're very young.'

  'So what would you advise me to do?' Lucie forced herself to ask him.

  'Go to the ballet. Sit there. Observe. It will take courage, but it seems to me you're a girl of particular character.'

  Lucie looked up amazed, but the doctor's expression was quite sincere.

  'My God, if I only could!' she sighed.

  'You will never be at peace until you're totally satisfied you were right to abandon your career. You could have a few years, a few glorious years. Enough memories to last you the rest of your life.'

  'You sound like Julian,' she said.

  'I think you love him.'

  'Why not? After all, I am a woman.'

  Her time was up, and she got up out of her chair, despairing. What was she made of to sit there and watch Camilla dance? Any role but that one and it mightn't have been so difficult. Julian had created Black Iris for her. He had no right to give it to Camilla, unless it was to make her suffer. He was a sadist, and she would remember how it was with him till the end of her days.

  In the end, Lucie slipped into her very good centre seat about two minutes before the curtain was due to go up on Act One of Black Iris. The theatre was packed, yet there was an empty seat beside her. A loner, like herself. In addition, they were late.

  She glanced neither to left nor to right, though many people were staring at her, lowering their programmes, trying to place her face.

  'I rather think that's Lucienne Gerard,' one beautifully dressed woman with upswept hair whispered to her husband. 'You know, the little dancer who was injured.'

  'It says here that the role was created for her.'

  'They say she can't dance again, which may not be true.'

  Lucie heard them grimly, but over the months she had developed a protective skin. So people were curious? It was understandable. What was not so commendable was their whispering within earshot.

  The house lights dimmed and still without turning her head, Lucie turned her knees so a tall man could slip into the seat beside her. A spotlight picked out the conductor of the orchestra, tracked him to his podium in the pit, and the clapping broke out. It was a dazzling ballet, possibly an all-time classic, and the audience were frankly interested in what Camilla Price could do with it. Many of them had witnessed its unforgettable premiere.

  The very instant before they made bodily contact,

  Lucie knew it was Julian. Then there was the scent of him, and it overtook her in a frenzy.

  'Sit still!' He brought his hand down firmly on her own, while she sat bolt upright, unsure of what she intended.

  The prelude had begun, wonderful music, reminiscent of Verdi, but entirely new, a gateway to dynastic Egypt and the first scene set in the courtyard of the palace.

  The curtain went up and there was a mighty muffled gasp as the brilliant spectacle of dancers and the magnificent backdrop unfurled before a thousand eyes.

  I can't see this through, Lucie thought. Yet pride held her there like a protective shield. Pride and Julian's iron hand. He wasn't back there with his company, he was out here with her to record her deepest thoughts and feelings. Anger stood her in good stead. It drove the trembling from her body. When the spot came on in readiness for Ley-Ah's entrance, Lucie too put her hands together to applaud. Her throat tightened unbearably, but she would never cry. Camilla looked wonderfully exotic and the set had already had a tremendous impact on the audience. Who was going to notice that she lacked the soft, melting quality Julian had intended? 'Strong' was the word Lucie always thought of to describe Camilla's dancing. Her footwork was brilliant and she had many enthusiastic admirers.

  Lucie's hands fell back into her lap, very pale and slender against the glowing scarlet satin of her dress. But they were not permitted to rest there long. Julian took the hand nearest him and thrust his long, elegant fingers through hers, a purposeful gesture Lucie at first saw as a kind of conquering, but which in reality stopped her conditioned agonising and any further disintegration.

  In under twenty minutes, her eyes had become his. This was the dance that she loved, and if her own dancing days were over, she was lucky she was still alive. What had Doctor Herrington said? Life was a celebration and the good Lord had shown her how to manage.

  Once she leaned her gleaming head towards Julian, speaking in the merest undertone. 'The little one in the corps. . .

  'Lisa.'

  Lisa, of course. She hadn't recognised her in that black wig.

  'She's good.'

  'Um.'

  For all she was matching in with the rest of the corps de ballet, little Lisa, with a lovely singing line, was standing out. Now, with the best part of her mind, Lucie was weighing the performance as a professional. There were no flaws in Camilla's performance. As an ex-principal dancer of the Company she didn't even want to see them. It was just that she didn't jell with Julian's vision. Both of them saw that with clarity.

  By the end of Act One, Lucie had lost all sense of self-pity. She was even, though she wasn't yet prepared to admit it, enjoying herself. Black Iris unquestionably was a most spectacular and exciting ballet and Julian had created it. The part wasn't irrevocably hers. The ballet would live, but ballerinas only had a short golden age.

  Now, with the lights up, they were recognised, as though the one gave the clue to the other's identity.

  'That's himV a girl hissed on a raucous note, and jabbed her boy-friend. She loved those tall, dark foreign-looking guys with flashing black eyes and high, cheekbones. 'You know, Strasberg1.'

  'You've been recognised, Julian,' Lucie said quietly.

  'All the time.'

  Lucie smiled. She could see that he couldn't care less. Some people were born to move through life turning heads. There were dozens now sitting forward, cranning heads, looking surprised and pleased. It was terrific if a man of vision was also as handsome as a movie star.

  'Let's see the rest of this from backstage,' said Julian. 'I don't really care to be out front.'

  He took her agreement for granted, holding her hand tightly while they brushed past knees. That was Julian. He didn't ask, you just obeyed.

  'Where the devil have you been?' Camilla demanded of Julian as soon as she saw him. 'You saw what that fool Damien did when I went on points. I could murder him!'

  'Sorry,' said Damien, and flushed.

  'Ready yourselves,' Julian snapped at both of them, his eyes icy.

  But now Camilla had seen Lucie and for a moment her triangular face looked like a spitting cat's. 'What's with you, a persecution complex?'

  'In what way?' Lucie lifted her delicate black brows.

  'You won't be doing this again, will you?' Camilla's face was a mixture of triumph and satisfaction.

  'Oh, I don't know.' Lucie said it casually, just to shut her up.

  'Well, I do!' Camilla snapped her small white teeth together, but her hostile face had lost its certainty. 'You've seen the danger. You'd be a fool to try.'

  The curtain went up. Applause and Camilla kicked off.

  'Here, Lucie.' One of the boys brought her a high chair so she could watch from the wings. 'You're looking sensational!'

  'Quiet!' Julian snapped. It was obviously beginning to get to him, the artistic flaw in Camilla's performance. He
had to stand there while Camilla acted the dazzling seductress. She wasn't even supposed to do that double turn, but she couldn't resist showing off.

  Heavens, she was a formidable woman, Lucie thought. Rarely if ever pleasant, at least to her fellow dancers. But she and Julian had had an affair. He had been interested in her for a while.

  '. .. Imbecile!'

  Julian wasn't caring much for Damien's dancing, but then wasn't he noticing how Camilla was upstaging him? Of course he was. Julian noticed everything. Afterwards there were bound to be heated words.

  Act Two over, Camilla pulled Julian's face down and kissed him. 'How was I?' she asked, her tawny eyes blazing.

  'Perfect beyond description,' said Julian in a voice that brought forth a general gasp.

  'Stinker! So I'm not doing it right?'

  'To be truthful, no.'

  'Okay, so get somebody else!' Camilla's eyes flashed.

  Damien's brown eyes doubled in size. 'God, you wouldn't do anything horrible like that, would you?'

  'Why not?'

  'Go and get Sally,' Julian told him.

  'Sally? Now wait a minute,' Camilla saw her mistake. 'Isn't this fabulous! Are you throwing me out, Julian?'

  'Didn't you say you were leaving?'

  He does it perfectly, Lucie thought. Of course he's crushed me in the past, and now from triumph, Camilla was looking drooping and wretched.

  'You know I wasn't serious. I could never be serious. I could never leave you.'

  'How extremely improbable,' Julian drawled, looking bored.

  'Please, darling, I'm so sorry.'

  'I only wish you would dance Ley-Ah instead of acting like a wanton.'

  Lucie wished fervently that she might pick up her feet and run away, but they were all trapped by the conversation.

  'If you must be bloody spiteful,' Camilla snapped.

  'Did you hear that?' Damien hissed in Lucie's ear. 'From that bicth, Camilla!'

  Then all further communication was over. .The orchestra started up, gaining power, and Julian said curtly, 'Get on.'

  Afterwards, though the audience appeared to have thoroughly enjoyed themselves if one counted the curtain calls, there were many destructive words said. Camilla went on endlessly, always coming back to the same thing. Julian was a fiend.

  'Gosh, I loathe women,' Damien told Lucie. 'Though I always fancied you. You're a wise girl, getting out of this company. Come to think of it, it's been terrible since you left. Julian was never as slashing as this. I mean, he used to give you hell, but you have to think he loved to see you dance.'

  'Ah, little Lucie!' Camilla came up to them, still in her stage make-up. 'So beautiful! Poor unlucky little Lucie, had a dreadful accident.'

  'You'll be having one yourself in the not too distant future,' Damien said gamely. 'Leave Lucie alone.'

  'But how is it, darling,' Camilla opened wide her heavily made-up eyes, 'you inspire this protective feeling? Is it because you're such a frail little thing or because you've led such a blameless life?'

  'Where on earth did you get that idea?' Lucie drawled with masterly sophistication, and even Damien glanced at her sideways.

  'You sort of do look different at that.'

  But Camilla wasn't being humorous. A look of fear crossed her face that instantly vanished. 'When are you going to marry your boy-friend?' she asked.

  'Oh, I think marriage spoils things,' Damien said quickly. 'I mean, it's so hideously restricting.'

  'Shut up,' Camilla said with charming rudeness. 'What exactly is it you're doing here anyway?' she asked Lucie sharply. 'I mean, it's so stupid to torture yourself.'

  'You never know,' Lucie said sweetly, 'I might be coming back again.'

  'Over my dead body!' Camilla shook her head violently. 'Take my advice, marry your rich boy-friend.'

  She swept past them and Damien drew an exaggerated sigh of relief. 'I don't know whether to hate that woman or feel sorry for her. Can it be true that she and Julian once loved each other?'

  'Or some such situation.'

  'You don't think Julian could love anyone?' Damien asked.

  'What about you?'

  'He's a man of strong feelings,' Damien said thoughtfully. 'Very strong feelings indeed. I suppose in a sense he builds a cage around himself. I suppose most creative artists do. He simply has to have the time and the quiet to create miracles like Black Iris. Of course, what got into him tonight was the memory of you. You were absolutely perfect. I got high just partnering you. You have some power that makes your partner match you. It's always like a contest with Camilla. She's a show pony first and an artist second.'

  Whatever she was, she could dance, Lucie thought. And I can't. Too damn bad.

  Along the passageway a boy was wandering around with a huge basket of flowers, and Lucie went forward to help him, though she knew they were for Camilla.

  'Miss Price?' He pushed the basket of flowers at her as though he hardly cared.

  'I'm afraid she's already left the theatre.'

  'Then where am I supposed to leave 'em?'

  'I'll take care of them,' Lucie offered. It was a magnificent bouquet and it must have cost a fortune; roses, carnations, gladioli like pink swords. The note was attached to the basket with more pink ribbon. Without choosing to, it was easy to read what was written in a heavy black hand.

  To my beauty and joy, Ever your Julian.

  Julian. There had to be at least a hundred dollars' worth of flowers there. The basket alone was a work of art. Well, she had always known of their relationship.

  Flowers from Julian. She had received bouquets galore after she had danced Black Iris, but nothing from Julian, only a kiss. The briefest, glancing acknowledgment, unequalled by anyone but him, before or since.

  It was Camilla who had earned the distinction of flowers. Obviously, for all their antics and intense clashes, they were bound by a million threads. Lucie had known that at the outset. Camilla had a position in his life, a stature she could never have.

  Lucie glanced around quickly, her eyes resting on Julian's tall, striking figure as he stood talking to Alistair Thomas, the country's most influential ballet critic. His beautiful, expressive hands were slicing the air and Alistair Thomas was looking up at him in fascination. After all, he had already acknowledged Julian as a genius.

  The bouquet released her, though the pain would never heal. The most terrible thing was that he had never lied to her. He had never told her he loved her. Love was her disease.

  'Well, what are you standing there for?' Damien asked, and looked down at the floral basket with a show of amazement. 'Flowers from Julian for Camilla? Never, never, never. She probably sent them to herself.'

  All of a sudden Lucie felt very tired. She put the basket down and gave a little helpless gesture, turning herself in an instant into poignancy incarnate.

  'Would you give these to Julian?' she said. 'He probably didn't realise Camilla would leave so hurriedly.'

  'Sure.' Damien plucked the basket off the floor. 'Sweetie, you look ready to cry.' 'No.' Lucie shook her glossy head. 'I'm just a little tired.'

  'If you give me a moment I'll run you home,' Damien offered.

  'Thanks, Damien, but I have the car.'

  'Right then. Be careful, love.'

  Lucie drove most of the way home in a daze and ran up the path to the open doorway where Jessie was waiting.

  'What's this, you can't wait to tell me?' In truth Jessie had been very anxious, but Lucie had insisted on going alone. Then too, as Jessie had omitted to mention, Julian had called to ascertain the number of Lucie's ticket.

  Lucie didn't answer until she was right through the door. 'A full house,' she said with forced composure. 'Camilla was brilliant without taking on the essence of the role.'

  'And you?' Jessie was looking at her searchingly, 'how do you feel?'

  'Released, Jessie,' Lucie said quietly.

  'Well then,' Jessie was aware of her upset, 'I've made supper.'

  Lucie ma
naged to smile. 'I'll just slip out of my dress. Won't be long.'

  She was half-way through to her room when the phone range.

  'Nqw who could that be at this time of night?' Jessie demanded from the hallway.

  Don't let it be Julian, Lucie prayed.

  It was Julian. Lucie took several small jerky steps towards the phone, but Jessie answered it for her.

  'I'll get it. Why, hello, Julian.' Jessie looked up at Lucie's face for a long moment, mixed feelings chasing across her broad, reliable face. 'Well, she is here, an' all. A few moments ago. . . . Quite all right. .. . Didn't she? How odd. Oh, I don't know, Julian. If you must.'

  'Is he coming here?' Lucie steadied herself against a chair.

  'What did you say, Julian. I didn't hear that.'

  'Tell him I never want to see him again.' Lucie's legs were shaking so much she had to sit down.

  'Tell him yourself, love.' Jessie held out the phone.

  She couldn't sit there sickly like a coward, so she got up and took the receiver from Jessie, who patted her hand comfortingly.

  'Hello, Julian.'

  His voice was at its most cutting. 'Is there any chance at all that you're going to grow up?'