Louisa the Ballerina

by Adele Geras

  I took a deep breath. Tony was beginning to sound quite cross. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him if I went on and on about Miss Matting’s. An idea had just come into my head. I put on my kindest, best voice. “OK,” I said. “You don’t have to come to class if you don’t want to, but what if I taught you some stuff? I could teach you all the things we do. How about that?”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Everything. We’ll start with the five positions for the feet. You’ve got to know what they are. Come on.”

  “Can’t I do some more jumping?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said. “We’ve got to begin at the beginning. Miss Matting says a good foundation is very important. Let’s go to my house, because I’ve got the right music.”

  “Yes, Miss,” said Tony, and followed me inside.

  Chapter Three

  TUESDAY IS MY best day of the week because I go to ballet straight after school. Tricia’s mum picks me up in the car at four. I always get my suitcase ready on Monday night before I go to bed. Miss Matting says that real ballet dancers always make sure their ribbons are properly sewn on, and that their leotards and cardigans are clean. For the last couple of weeks, I’d enjoyed the lessons even more than I usually do, because as well as concentrating on my own dancing, I was also watching Miss Matting to see what real ballet teachers did, and trying very hard to remember all sorts of things which I could pass on to Tony at home.

  He was a very good pupil. I never had to show him anything more than once. Miss Matting didn’t tell us how good we were very often, but I told Tony all the time. I thought he’d like it. I also never stopped nagging him about coming to class with me, but nothing I said made any difference. I’d made him watch all kinds of videos, and he liked them a lot, and copied steps from them, but he wouldn’t come to Miss Matting’s with me, whatever I said to him.

  Then one day in the car on the way to our ballet class, Tricia said, “Miss Matting’s going to tell us something exciting today, do you remember? I can’t wait to see what it’s going to be. Maybe there’ll be another show.”

  “No,” I said. “She only does one a year. It won’t be that.”

  “Here you are, girls,” said Tricia’s mum. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  We ran into the changing room. I love getting changed for class. I’ve never told anybody, not even Annie, what I pretend while I’m getting ready. I pretend I’m in Russia, at a proper ballet school, and that this class is for all the dancers in the corps de ballet of a real company. I pretend that Miss Matting isn’t Miss Matting at all, but some very famous ballerina who’s too old to go on stage and is passing on her knowledge to the next generation. I don’t know many Russian names, so I think of my self as Louisa Posnansky. I’m sure Mrs Posnansky wouldn’t mind if she knew, only of course she never will know, because I’ll never tell anyone.

  We always do exercises at the barre first. Miss Matting had a barre put up along one wall, but there’s no mirror we can look into, so I usually imagine that as well. Some people don’t concentrate on the barre exercises, but I always do, and today I was listening extra carefully to everything Miss Matting was saying, because I knew I’d have to go back and teach Tony all the things I’d learned.

  “Back straight, Linda . . . Keep your toes pointed, really pointed, Alan . . . Jane, bend your knees, please, and lift, lift that arm . . . Grace and poise, Pamela, you’re not about to throw a javelin, dear!”

  After the barre exercises, we did more exercises in the middle of the room. I pretended I had blocked shoes on, and was going to do point work, even though I knew it would be years and years before I was really allowed to go up on my toes. It’s only when your feet have grown strong that you can dance like that, and lots of girls don’t understand this and try to go up on points much too early.

  After the exercises were finished, we all sat on the floor. Miss Matting said, “Well, I promised you a surprise last week, and now I’m ready to tell you about it. I think you’re all ready to make up a little dance of your own. I want you to do it in pairs, please, and I’ll ask to see your efforts in three weeks. So, find a partner and being to think about it. Please choose someone who can practise with you at home because, of course, there won’t be time during class and in any case, I wish to be amazed by your performances. Making up the steps of a dance is called ‘choreography’, as I’m sure many of you know, so I want you all to become choreographers as well as dancers. Keep it simple and about three minutes long, please. It sounds like a very short time, but I promise you, once you start to plan your steps it’ll turn out to be much longer than you think.”

  The moment Miss Matting started to tell us her surprise, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I’d make up a dance for me and Tony. In my head, I could see myself wearing a pale lilac tutu with roses in my hair, and Tony dressed in a blue velvet jacket. We weren’t going to be dancing in costume, of course, but I couldn’t help imagining it. I was going to dance with him and no one else.

  “Will you be my partner?” Tricia asked.

  “No, Weezer, be mine,” Maisie begged.

  “Louisa,” I said, but I was so busy daydreaming that I knew I didn’t sound even a bit cross. “No, I’m sorry, Tricia, I’m really sorry, Maisie, but you two will have to do your dance together. I’ve got a secret partner.”

  “Who is it?” Maisie asked. “Is it Pam? Or Linda?”

  “I’m not saying,” I told her. “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, would it?”

  “I think you’re a real meany,” said Maisie, “not to tell us.”

  “It’ll be a surprise,” I grinned at her. “You’ll see.”

  “Have you told anyone else?” Tricia asked.

  “No,” I said. “I might tell Annie. Or I might not. I’ll decide later.”

  I did tell Annie. I told her all about it.

  “But you must absolutely swear,” I said, “not to tell a soul. Not a single, solitary soul.”

  Annie said, “OK, but I don’t see how you can possibly get away without telling Tony what he’s doing.”

  “If he knew he was going to have to dance at my ballet class, he’d never agree. So I’m just going to pretend a bit, that’s all.”

  “He’s sure to find out,” said Annie.

  “No, he won’t,” I smiled at her. “Not if you don’t tell him. I’ll think of a story for him, don’t worry.”

  “And what about Tricia and Maisie? They’re always coming round here to play, and they’re bound to find out that you and Tony are dancing together.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” I said. “I’ll go and play at their houses for a bit, that’s all. I won’t tell them any lies. I’ll tell them they can’t come round here because I’m preparing something special for Miss Matting, but that it’s a deadly secret, and that’s true.”

  “Won’t they be hurt?” Annie asked.

  “Why should they be?” My sister has some very funny ideas sometimes.

  “Because they’re your friends and friends aren’t supposed to keep things secret from one another.”

  “It won’t be secret for ever,” I told her.

  “Anyway, they know it’s a dance I’m hiding from them, and not anything else.”

  “You’re hiding Tony from them too,” Annie said.

  I sighed. “I’ll tell them everything in the end,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Tony was getting better and better.

  “I’m really pleased with you,” I told him. “You’re getting to be a proper dancer. I’m going to take you to meet Mrs Posnansky.”

  “Oh no, Weezer, please . . . I don’t know her . . . I’ve only ever said hello to her once. Why do I have to go?”

  “LOUISA!” I shouted. Then I said, “If you don’t call me Louisa, I’ll call you Ant.” I knew Tony hated being called Ant because he’d told me so. I went on, “The reason we have to go is because I want her to see what a good dancer you are. I’ve told her all about you and all ab
out our lessons. Also, I want to ask her advice about something . . . steps and stuff.”

  “What does she know about ballet?”

  “She knows a lot. Her mum was a proper dancer in a real ballet company.”

  “I know,” Tony said. “You showed me the headdress she wore in Swan Lake which Mrs Posnansky gave you . . . but I won’t know what to say.”

  “I’ll talk,” I told him. “You won’t have to say a thing.”

  Tony sighed. “Do I have to come?”

  “Yes,” I said. “You do. She always gives me chocolate. Sometimes she gives us cakes. And her house isn’t like our house. It’s different. You’ll like it, you’ll see. She won’t eat you. She likes children.”

  “OK,” said Tony. “I suppose I’ll have to come or you’ll never stop nagging me.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “I won’t.”

  I knew the chocolate and cakes would persuade him. I think boys are greedier than girls.

  Chapter Four

  I LOVE GOING to Mrs Posnansky’s. Her house is more like a house in a fairytale than any other place I’ve ever seen. All her furniture is made of dark wood, and there are velvet curtains at the windows. She has lots of framed photographs up on the walls of her lounge, and Annie and I love looking at them. Everyone in them is dressed in old-fashioned clothes and some of the men have very long moustaches and they’re wearing big fur hats because it’s very cold in Russia during the winter.

  Mrs Posnansky took one look at Tony sitting rather uncomfortably on the sofa and said to him, “Today I have special cinnamon cake. This you like?”

  “Oh, yes please,” he said. “That sounds lovely.”

  “My Little Swan . . . she likes my cakes.”

  Tony looked a bit puzzled, so I explained. “Mrs Posnansky means me. She always calls me that. I was in the Dance of the Little Swans, you see.”

  “It suits her,” Mrs Posnansky said. “She is full of gracefulness and has long white neck, like a swan. Also, like swan, she loves to eat. When she comes, I have chocolate. You like too?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Tony. “I like chocolate. I like it a lot.”

  “You shall have,” said Mrs Posnansky. “After the cake. I will go and bring.”

  “I’ll help you,” I told her, then I turned to Tony. “Just wait here,” I said to him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  While I was alone in the kitchen with Mrs Posnansky, I told her all about my plan to make up a dance with Tony as my partner.

  “But he won’t come to the ballet class with me,” I told her, “so what can I say to him? How can I make sure he agrees to dance with me?”

  Mrs Posnansky was pottering around, opening and shutting drawers, filling the kettle, and putting a plate full of slices of cake on to a trolley, together with some glasses for the lemon tea she always gives her visitors. “Tell him,” she said, “that there is a show somewhere. How do you say it? A competition to see who is best.”

  “You mean a talent contest?”

  “I mean this . . . yes, my dear Little Swan. A talent contest.”

  “What a clever person you are!” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Not very clever,” she said. “Only old. Now you help to push this trolley in for me, please.”

  Tony became a lot chattier after he’d eaten the cake, and by the time the chocolate came out, he and Mrs Posnansky were the best of friends.

  “I hear from my dear Little Swan,” she said, “that you are very strong dancer.”

  “Oh, well,” Tony said blushing. “Weezer exaggerates a bit sometimes.”

  “Louisa,” I hissed.

  “Sorry, Louisa . . . Yes, I like dancing. And she’s a good teacher.”

  “This I am sure of,” Mrs Posnansky said, smiling. “I am sure she is of the strictest kind with no nonsense. This is for ballet the best sort of teacher. A soft teacher is not so good.”

  “She’s not soft,” Tony said. “She makes me practise every day.”

  “So,” said Mrs Posnansky, “I wait eagerly to see you dancing together. You will be good partners, yes?”

  “I don’t know really,” said Tony. “I haven’t ever danced with her . . . not properly.”

  “Well,” I said, taking a deep breath to get me ready for the lie I was going to tell, “when we go home, we’re going to start working out a dance to do together. There’s a talent contest in a couple of weeks and I’d love to win it. Wouldn’t you?”

  “A talent contest?” Tony’s eyes shone. “With prizes?”

  I hadn’t thought about that. I didn’t want to promise prizes that we were never going to get so I just said, “I don’t know what the prizes are,” and then I began to talk about something else. After a while, I said, “We must go home now, Mrs Posnansky.”

  “Yes,” said Tony. “I want to go and start working on our dance.”

  Mrs Posnansky walked slowly to the door with us, leaning on her stick. “Goodbye, Little Swan, and goodbye, Tony,” she said. “Please come to show me your dance when it is ready.”

  “We will,” I told her. “Thank you for having us.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Tony, and Mrs Posnansky said, “It is always a pleasure,” and she waved at us as we crossed the road.

  “Have you thought about what we’re going to do?” Tony said as soon as we were in the lounge of my house.

  “Not really,” I said. “The dance has got to be about three minutes long. That sounds like a tiny amount of time, but it’s long when you have to fill it up with steps.”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking,” Tony said.

  “When have you been thinking?”

  “Ever since you told me about it across the road . . . anyway, listen. I reckon it’d be a good idea if we . . . well, it sounds stupid, but what if we danced a whole story?”

  “In three minutes?” I laughed. “You’re barmy, honestly.”

  “No hang on. You don’t understand. I mean a really short story.”

  “How short?”

  “What about a nursery rhyme?”

  “A nursery rhyme? Are you mad? Nursery rhymes are for babies!”

  “But everyone knows them, and if we do the one I’m thinking of, it will give us a chance to do some really brilliant things . . . really difficult steps, I mean. And there won’t be that many people doing ballet in the talent contest, so at least we’ll be different.”

  I gasped. I’d almost forgotten about the talent contest. I said quickly, “Which nursery rhyme were you thinking of? I don’t fancy being Miss Muffet.”

  “What do you think of Jack and Jill? We could have fun working it out.”

  “Let’s try it,” I said. “Jack and Jill . . . right. Well. Come on, give me your hand and we’ll start by walking up the hill.”

  We worked out the steps for going up the hill and Tony thought of a clever extra bit where we both started pulling on the handle of a pretend bucket. Then we worked out how we’d look down an imaginary well, and how we’d take turns winding the handle to bring up our bucket of water.

  “The hardest bit,” said Tony, “will be tumbling down the hill. We don’t want to hurt ourselves by falling properly.”

  “I know,” I said. “Can you do cartwheels?”

  “Yes,” said Tony, “but that’s not real ballet, is it?”

  I didn’t know if it was or not, but I knew that cartwheels were fun to do and I was good at them, so I said, “It’s modern ballet. We can have a sort of quarrel over who’s going to be carrying the bucket down the hill and then I’ll give you a push and you can go into two or three cartwheels. Let’s try it.”

  “I can only do one cartwheel in here.” Tony said.

  “Never mind. Let’s just see what it looks like.”

  Tony grabbed hold of an invisible bucket that was very heavy. We took turns to pull at it, and then I gave him a tap on the shoulder. He raised his arms above his head, and then spun into a perfect cartwheel, ending up on the carpet with his arms and legs bent in
to a funny shape and his face twisted in pretend pain. I clapped my hands.

  “That’s lovely,” I said. “I’m going to do that, too. Watch!”

  I did a cartwheel and tried to copy Tony as closely as I could. I ended up next to him, clutching my back.

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s going to be great.” He stood up. “Now . . . we must work on those steps at the beginning.”

  Chapter Five

  TONY AND I practised every day. We found a piece of music that fitted the Jack and Jill story really well. It was a march by Chopin, and whenever I heard it, it made me feel like striding out, up the hill. We rehearsed our cartwheels in the garden.

  “Are you sure,” Tony asked, “that the stage will be big enough for us to do three cartwheels?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, and started talking about something else. I couldn’t tell him we wouldn’t be on a stage, but would have the whole length of St Christopher’s church hall to do our dance in.

  On the Monday afternoon before the class, we went over to show Mrs Posnansky what we’d been rehearsing. She clapped her hands and said we were magnificent and splendid, and she gave us some chocolate to take home.

  When we were back at my house, we ate all the chocolate, and then Tony said to me, “What are you going to do about your ballet class tomorrow? You’re going to have to miss it, aren’t you? To do this talent contest. Won’t Miss Matting be cross?”

  “Umm . . .” I hadn’t thought about this. I said, “Oh, I’ve already told Miss Matting. She doesn’t mind at all. Not just for this once. And I’ve told Tricia not to pick me up in the car tomorrow.”

  This was true. I’d said that Annie was bringing me because she wanted to see the dances that everyone had made up.

  “What do you think we should wear?” Tony asked. “For Jack and Jill. We haven’t thought of that.”

  I knew I was supposed to wear my tights and leotard to class, but I did want us to look as much like a brother and sister as possible, and I knew we both had red tracksuits. I could have my ballet stuff on underneath, and take the tracksuit off when the dances were finished and the proper class began. But what if the dances came last, after we’d done all the exercises? And what if Tony took one look at St Christopher’s and saw that I’d tricked him? I’d told him the talent contest was being held in the sports centre. He’d go straight home. He’d probably never speak to me again. I was beginning to think that having Tony as my partner was not such a bright idea, but then I remembered what a good dancer he was, and I decided that I’d make him come into the hall with me, whatever he said.