"Come little muse." Sasha was stretching at the bar as Manfred told him the back story for this particular piece, a dance is for a charity concert. No pay but very prestigious. The event to be televised and with the Princess Royal in attendance. Manfred continued with "I was going to use the young soloist at the English National Ballet, but the boy is conceited and self-centered, so difficult already. You Alex are still modeling clay who I can mould fully to my whims. You bring my dreams to life, you are my Zephyr. A gift from the Gods."
Alex went through the steps, but as usual Manfred was still not happy.
Alex then asked "What do you wish to portray? Its not just the movement after all. What charity is it, anyway?"
"Amnesty international"
"Maybe I'm imprisoned, tortured. I'm in my cell between interrogations. I dance for freedom, for a dream of a life in the past, of lost innocence, of hope for the future." Alex said, looking at his reflection, trying not to see the shadow of Julius and Razim in his haunted eyes.
"Yes, it would fit the dance." said Manfred as he stepped forward to envelop his beautiful Sasha in a hug, to remind his lost boy that he was safe, loved and protected here.
"Can I make a suggestion? Change the tape start with South American football match, then tune over to music. I am sitting on the bed in the cell, I get up to listen to the match then I dance .." It would fit, pathos and hope.
"Perfect. Perfect. Now dance, show me what my piece has been missing. Show me your fractured soul, show me all your hurt, darling." Manfred knew Alex was now not dancing alone, the ghosts of his former life were there in the studio with him. Here this eighteen year old was exposing his demons for Manfred to see. It was a part of healing to confront to accept, to just be. Past, present, future played out in the blur of movement.
Costume and props were basic. Lighting would give the impression of the cell. Next in came the make up artist. It was two days before the dress rehearsal and Manfred was being a fuss pot. "You must look abused, maybe tortured."
Sasha then pulled out a book of photos from the library, the work of a young revolutionary in Argentina, who had catalogued the lucky survivors of the Junta. Pages and pages of the tortured, raped and abused.
"Oh, dear god. This is horrific!" gasped the German maestro.
"Just some ideas, OK" Sasha stripped to his boxers, as his costume was just a pair of football shorts. His body still had the faint lines of various past hurts. The old Polish make up artist took in this young boy's body, covered in signs of misuse. The boy had known pain. The old man used these marks as the start for his art, painting to refresh the old marks. Sasha looked in the mirror to see Alex Rider surface once more.
...
"I saw you dance at the Palladium in 2006, You were the best thing on the entire program." said Sergeant Cooper. He had suggested that Cub call him Bernie bit the young man called him Sergeant. That dance piece had been jarring and haunted. It spoke of true brilliance as both Manfred and the young Sasha Makarov had gained rave reviews.
"Umm, it was a very personal piece. I think Manfred got to see my very soul then, I gave myself fully to him. There was no more masks after that. I told him everything the night after that concert. I.. I came to Brecon under threat of loosing my home and my guardian, darling Jack. It too fifteen months for MI6 to take everything from me and they did. I was so so lost. I tried to go back to normal life but I was a poor actor. I met someone who showed me how to dance, how to fuck, how to drink and how to get so high nothing mattered. When I met Manfred I had lost my way again, he showed me true discipline, Dancing is everything. It gave me a reason to stay clean and I worked hard. Your niece has played at life, she must learn hard lesson's to not just survive but to triumph. I will train with her and maybe she and I will dance at some open auditions. I do not hold much hope for her in a ballet company. I would suggest more original work. There are more companies in America for that. We will have to work hard to get noticed, but I think se could be a true maverick. Different enough to be refreshing."
"I don't know. Cindy wants to be a prima ballerina."
"No Cindy needs to dance. Classical ballet has already rejected her. I will broaden her horizons. If she fails she can choreograph or teach. Her journey now is to try her hardest to succeed. It is a hard road, lots and lots of rejection. This world is full of petty bullies, primadonnas and gossips. I find the gossip the most amusing."
"Yeah, they even printed that you were the bastard son of Vladimir Stravenkov."
"My father was Lt. John Rider of the SAS. He died when I was 3 months old. Vladimir is more like a long suffering mentor. I love staying with him and his family. It gives me a glimpse of what I never had. I do so want to be a real boy." Sasha smiled a brilliant smile. He had decided to go back to the grind of auditions and looking for work, back to being a small fish in a large pond, gone was his lovely cocoon that Manfred provided. Now he would deal with the petty jealousy and the fact most saw him as just as Manfred Schnagel's boy toy. The next few months would be as hard for Alex as the were Cindy. It would temper them both.
"So Uncle B, what were you and Sasha talking about?' asked Cindy after the class had finished.
"Sasha's dad was in the SAS, it was the first time he's spoken of his past. He had a rough few years as a teenager. He told me of his adopted mother, the Prima Ballerina Maria Makarova. She was a maverick. She said Sasha was one too. I think Sasha thinks your a maverick too. If you path takes you to become a teacher like Maria, you should embrace it. I think Sasha would make a great dance teacher, he's a strange one too. Look he's willing to take you on, but its going to be hard. Neither of you are established and its a dog eat dog world. Just a warning, follow your dream but don't let it break you. You always can come here and chill with your sad sack uncle. This is not the only path, OK pumpkin."
The young girl wrapped a large cardigan around her tall, thin frame. She had lost weight i the past month, weight she had not needed to loose as she was looking a bit gaunt. "Sage advice. I'll give it two years. Maybe I'll join up if it all goes pair shaped. I definitely do not want a boring normal job. What will be, will be. I guess I'm moving back to the big smoke then. At least I can stay at Saha's house in Chelsea. Thanks for everything Uncle B, you are the best, you truly are."