9781789543087 If I Can't Have You Read online

  One poor second-year loser had been forced to let them walk him through the corridors on a leash for a week in the hope of getting an invite, and they still hadn’t invited him. He had turned up anyway, drunk and vengeful, and pissed on the shoes of the guests who were queueing outside to get in. Later on he had been found, passed out and naked, tied to a tree.

  You didn’t mess with Bibi and Dell.

  ‘No way, I’m not going to kiss their arses, they can get lost! Anyway, I’m nothing like the people they hang around with. They’ll never invite me.’

  ‘Of course they will! And once we’re there I can introduce you to Jared-Carl. He’s friends with Thomas, so it’ll be easy! Oh my god, wouldn’t that be amazing, best friends going out with best friends?’ she squeaked.

  Just the idea made me want to throw up, but I had no choice.

  In the evening, Mum came up to see how I was doing. I could tell she was still angry, but she’d put it to one side for the moment, because I was ill.

  ‘Are you feeling any better?’ she asked, sitting on the bed next to me.

  ‘A bit,’ I answered with what little voice I had.

  She looked around her and I realised my room was a pigsty. My gym bag full of sweaty dance clothes was thrown into a corner and smelled of wet dog, and the rest of the floor was strewn with shoes, books, empty yogurt cans, and rotten banana peels.

  ‘I’ll tidy up when I’m feeling a bit better,’ I said, guessing what she must be thinking.

  ‘Never mind that. All I want is for you to tell me once and for all what you’re going to do with your life, and then I guarantee you won’t hear another word from me.’

  ‘Mum,’ I sighed, wriggling into a sitting position, ‘I wish I could make you happy. I wish I could tell you that I dream of working in an office, or opening a pastry shop. I would love to be a brilliant student like Nina and make you proud, but all I know is ballet. I know it doesn’t seem much, and I know.you’re disappointed in me, but there has never been a day when I wanted to be anything else. Please can you just accept me for who I am?’ My eyes were bright.

  ‘I don’t want you to be someone else, Mia. Don’t think I’m the sort of mother who tries to clip her daughter’s wings because her own dreams didn’t come true. I just want you to be prepared, because life out there is hard and there isn’t much room for dreams.’

  ‘Why are you so cynical? Everyone has to start from somewhere.’

  ‘Yes of course, but not everyone has the safety net of a healthy bank balance!’

  ‘Money isn’t everything Mum! ‘

  ‘I know it isn’t, but passion won’t put food on the table, or let you buy new ballet shoes!’

  ‘Are you trying to say that I’m the problem? All I eat is low-fat yoghurt and bananas, it’s not me who eats all that crap from Sainsbury’s!’

  I was sorry as soon as I’d said it.

  She stared at me for a moment as if struggling to find the right words, then she seemed to give in, and said, ‘You’ve grown up to be a real bitch.’

  She had never called me anything like that before. I must’ve really upset her. Still, she did eat a lot of crap and complacency had never done anyone any good, that was the first lesson Claire had taught me.

  ‘Well then, seeing as you’re a spiritual genius, nourished only by art, and I’m just a fat idiot who sits around stuffing my face all day, from now on you can look after yourself. Feel free to follow your muse and live on fresh air, I won’t interfere. And if you need any advice you can go to your dad. or Nina, or whoever you consider to be on your level!’ And she went out, slamming the door.

  I was really in the shit this time.

  The next morning I felt better, but I stayed off school anyway. I waited in vain for my mother to come and see me, but she didn’t, and when I heard her close the door, my heart sank.

  I got up and went to the mirror.

  I watched that pale, thin figure, and I saw her bow like Zakharova, smiling in surprise and gratitude to an imaginary audience, feeling the warmth of their standing ovation. I could feel the emotion that I would have felt up there on the stage, blinded by the floodlights, flowers falling at my feet and cries of ‘bravo’ echoing around me. It would make all the pain and the effort worthwhile.

  I had made my decision: I wanted to be a dancer at all costs, but I still had no idea how I could afford to attend the Royal Ballet School and even if they would accept me.

  That afternoon I went to talk to Claire.

  ‘You have a very good chance of being accepted if you work hard and improve your balance and your port de bras. But they want everything: blood, sweat and tears,’ she said, crumbling a piece of rosin into a box.

  ‘But Claire, even if they take me, I still don’t know how I’ll manage. Mum is adamant we can’t afford it,’ I said, rubbing the powdered rosin into the tips of my ballet shoes to stop them slipping.

  ‘There are always scholarships.’

  ‘I thought they were only for really poor people, or extraordinary talents.’

  ‘No, they offer some financial help to less wealthy families too.’

  ‘We need psychological help in my family! Anyway, Mum’s too proud to accept help, so I still don’t think she’d go for it.’

  ‘We’ll work something out. Now, get into the centre, let’s go.’ She tapped me on the calf with her cane, a sign that Ms Claire had taken possession of her.

  I walked to the centre of the room and got ready for the routine.

  I breathed, I waited, and when the first note sounded I raised myself to the tips of my toes.

  ‘Don’t get ahead of the beat,’ said Ms Claire sharply.

  It was going to be a long day.

  She was particularly hard on me that session. She made me hold a developé for what seemed like hours, my leg stretched out in the air next to my ear, muscles screaming with the tension, and the sweat running down my back, until my entire body shook with the effort. Then she made me repeat the sequence over and over until I could physically do no more. And then she made me do it one more time.

  Claire’s tough-love approach to teaching may have seemed cruel, but it had taught me to overcome the pain of cramps, ingrown toenails and blisters. And now I had more painful lessons to learn, such as how to overcome my impatience when things went wrong, or how to deal with competition from other dancers. I wasn’t sure I was ready.

  ‘From fear to pain, and from pain to freedom,’ she would repeat to me, but at the moment I still was stuck somewhere in between fear and pain.

  After the lesson I went back to her house. I didn’t want to end up fighting with Mum again, and I thought maybe if I kept out of her way for a while it might give us both time to calm down. Claire’s house was a shrine to dancing memorabilia: photographs, scores, awards, CDs and even old shoes. The strange thing was that they weren’t her memories. They had all been bought from markets or on eBay. It was as though she regretted her own career not being as long or as eventful as she might’ve liked, and had built a different story using fragments of other people’s lives.

  ‘Claire, have you ever been in love?’ I asked, sipping my tea.

  She smiled sadly, behind her cigarette.

  ‘His name was René. He was from Paris and we danced together in Don Quixote when I was with the American Ballet. He was an incredible principal dancer; tall and strong, with brown curls and black eyes. We were in perfect harmony, without even needing to say anything: if he needed to hold back to allow me more momentum, or wait an extra beat for me to create a better arabesque, I knew I could always count on him. Everyone knew we were together, so the others kept their distance, and for five months we were in love, and everything was perfect.’

  And then?’

  ‘Then I asked him to marry me.’

  ‘You asked him?’

  ‘Why not? He hadn’t asked me yet, and I wanted to make things more...definite.’

  ‘Definite?’

  ‘For peace of mind more tha
n anything. It’s not an environment where relationships tend to last very long, and every new dancer was potential competition. At least if we were married, I could claim some right to him.

  ‘Wow, so romantic.’

  ‘Practical!’ She waved her hand dismissively and drew in a puff of smoke.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I think he was very flattered to start with, but when I tried to set a date he got nervous and started making excuses.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Oh God, that his mother would never forgive him if he got married in a foreign country, that we had to wait, that there were shows to do first and blah blah blah.’

  ‘Was there someone else?’

  ‘A dancer from one of the rows.’ She blew a cloud of smoke from the corner of her mouth in disgust.

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘He broke my heart, and didn’t even have the guts to tell me. I caught them together in our bed.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘What could I do? I had to grit my teeth and dance with him for three more shows, with the whole company laughing behind my back. Then he signed up to the Paris Opera and I never saw him again. I never got involved with anyone from work after that.’

  ‘What a sad story!’

  ‘C’est la vie. And you? Who are you in love with?’

  I almost choked on my tea.

  ‘What are you talking about? I’m not in love!’ I stuttered, looking at my nails.

  For a moment I was almost tempted to tell her my secret, but only for a moment.

  ‘You must think I’m an idiot,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at me, ‘Do you think that after all these years I can’t tell when one of my dancers is in love? I’ve been doing this job for a lifetime, I can see it with my eyes closed.’ She poured a drop of rum into her tea.

  ‘A dancer expresses her emotions through her body. She feels things intensely, suffers deeply and learns to dominate her emotions, but she can never hide them. She absorbs them and transforms them into art. And you, my girl, are no exception, not to mention that I’ve known you since you were five, and I can read you like a book!’

  I smiled stupidly. I felt like I was naked in the middle of the high street. I couldn’t risk her telling my mother, or anyone else for that matter. Gossip spreads like a cold around here. Anyway, she couldn’t read me that well if she’d only just noticed it.

  ‘Well, there is this boy at school,’ I began, twisting my fingers, ‘Who I kind of like…’

  ‘I’m happy for you Mia,’ she cut me short, ‘But it’s very important you don’t let this compromise your preparation for the audition.’

  So that’s why she wanted to know. Just as well I didn’t tell her anything.

  ‘Don’t waste your time with love now, my dear. Focus on your future, and put everything into fighting for your dream. Love fades with time, but a successful career as a dancer would be fulfilling in ways you can’t begin to imagine. And if you’re as good as I think you are, you could travel the world and dance in the most prestigious theatres in Europe.’

  ‘Like Diana Vishneva?’ I asked hopefully.

  ‘Oh darling, maybe not quite like Vishneva, but you’ll do well enough.’

  ‘Claire, tell me honestly, am I making a fool of myself?’ Because if I am.’ Then what? What would I do?

  ‘Mia, I’ve told you before, you have natural talent. You’re strong, intuitive, you have great musicality and a good memory, but you lack connection with the outside world. It’s like you’re trapped in a maelstrom of emotions that you don’t know how to express, and unfortunately that is something you can only learn in the field. I can’t teach it to you.’

  I walked home in the cold, feeling more confused than ever. When I got in, Mum had already gone to bed, without even leaving something for me to put in the microwave.

  The war had begun.

  The next day at school Nina ran up to me.

  ‘I did it, we’re invited!’ she crowed, waving two tickets shaped like pink feathers under my nose. ‘It was easier than I thought!’

  ‘To the Crapdashian party?’

  ‘Duh! They didn’t argue at all, I don’t think they know exactly who we are. So anyway, they said yes and I asked Patrick to drive us. He’s picking us up at eight.’

  ‘Patrick’s driving us to the party?’

  So here it was. I was going to a party I didn’t give a shit about, to meet a boy I didn’t give a shit about, all to keep my friend happy. And now the boy I did like was going to drive me there.

  It was ridiculous. I wouldn’t do it.

  ‘Yeah, isn’t that nice? He’s on leave for a week, so he offered to take us.’

  ‘He offered?’

  ‘Well not offered exactly, but whatever, it’s going to be mental!’

  ‘Mental’ was right.

  The truth was that I would’ve loved to go to the party and enjoy myself like everyone else, but I already knew that as soon as I got there I’d feel awkward and out of place, and I wouldn’t be able to say a word to anyone, while Nina could make friends with the furniture if she wanted.

  ‘I don’t know what to wear,’ I whined.

  ‘We’ll find something.’

  ‘I don’t know anyone.’ I was trying everything I could think of at this point.

  ‘You know me and Thomas, and you will know Jared.’

  ‘But you won’t be with me all evening and if he doesn’t like me then what?’ I was pathetic.

  ‘He will like you, and I promise not to leave you alone for a minute!’

  ‘I don’t think so. I might just stay at home,’ I tried one last time.

  ‘No way! You can’t live your life like a hermit. You need to go out and meet people!’

  I knew she was right, but like anything you know you really ought to change, I always preferred to put off dealing with it until tomorrow instead of facing it today.

  The entire class was in chaos. The girls were talking about what they were going to wear and the boys were talking about how much they were going to drink.

  The biology teacher had even let us out of class early for the party.

  I could’ve sworn the teacher saw them do it, but if he did, he didn’t say anything.

  If I was honest, part of me was impressed by how much power those two seemed to have, and I even wished I was a little more like them. Not exactly like them, but it would be great to worry just a little less about how to talk to the other kids, and what everyone thought of me.

  When I got home, Mum was sitting at the kitchen doing some work on her laptop, with a massive bag of crisps to keep her company. She pretended not to see me. She was an expert at maintaining a sulk. She could go for weeks without speaking a word to you until you gave in and apologised through sheer exhaustion, even if you were in the right. If she decided to punish you, she didn’t give an inch. The time I went to a Groove Armada concert without her permission, she made me do three weeks of ‘socially useful’ work on our street, walking people’s dogs, picking up their shopping and washing their cars. I think sometimes she thought she had to be extra strict because she was acting as both mother and father. As if my father had ever bothered to be strict.

  ‘What are you doing, are you working?’ I asked absently.

  ‘Yep,’ she replied, without looking up from the screen.

  ‘Listen, Mum. There’s a party tonight at my classmates’ house. Is it okay if I go?’

  ‘What are you asking me for? You can do what you like as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Mum, come on, don’t be like this. I give up, okay? I’m sorry!’

  She closed her laptop and took off her glasses, the way she did with her students when she had to tell them they’d failed an assignment.

  ‘Do you think I enjoy being on your back all the time?’

  ‘A bit, yes.’

  ‘Actually, Mia, I don’t enjoy it at all, but I worry about you. You are the most important thing in my life and I don’t want
you to make the same mistakes that I did.’

  ‘But Mum, times have changed!’

  ‘That’s true, they’ve got worse! It’s harder than ever to make ends meet these days.’

  I felt sure she could save at least a hundred pounds a month if she laid off the crisps, but I kept the thought to myself.

  ‘All right, Mum, why don’t you tell me what you want me to do.’

  ‘Honestly, I would like you to study engineering, law or marketing.’

  ‘But I’m useless at maths!’

  ‘If you apply yourself you’ll succeed at whatever you decide to do.’

  ‘Oh come on, can you really see me as an engineer, or a solicitor or a manager?’

  ‘Do you know how many half-wits I knew growing up who have made it just because they have an important surname or good contacts? If they can do it you certainly can. I want you to be successful and wealthy enough to make your own choices in life.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s what you want. Shouldn’t we also consider what I want?’

  ‘I just don’t want you to choose an unstable career and regret it later. Say you had an accident and couldn’t dance, then what would you do?’

  ‘What if I became a lawyer and then I slipped over in the bath and lost my memory? Or if I became an engineer and the bridge I designed fell into the river? Wouldn’t it be the same thing? If you only think of worst case scenarios you’ll spend your life locked in the house!’

  Eating crisps, I added silently.

  ‘Look, Mum,’ I said with a sudden rush of diplomacy, ‘Let me think about it, properly, and I’ll tell you my decision as soon as I can. How’s that?’

  Finally, it seemed that the storm had passed. She got to her feet, smiled, and hugged me.

  ‘This is how I want you to be, Mia. Reasonable and mature,’ she said, stroking my cheek.

  ‘You don’t ask for much, do you?’

  She took a handful of crisps and put them in her mouth. ‘So tell me about the party.’

  ‘It’s a party for two of the girls at school. It’s going to be a big thing, apparently.’