I am so sorry for the delay in updating (this apology seems to be a usual thing). I also forgot to say on the last chapter that the newspaper reviews were lifted from the actual papers quoted and the names changed - I cannot take credit for those. I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always - review, review, review! Pips
Chapter Fifteen
ChristmasI think a little part of me died with Eric's goodbye. I didn't know what I would do for I had come to depend on him so much, emotionally and practically and whilst moving out had given me a degree of independence, he was still never very far from my thoughts.
Yet it was difficult to fully catalogue my feelings. I couldn't weep and mope for after all he was not my boyfriend, he hadn't dumped me and yet I felt nothing but sadness and depression that sucked at my soul and dragged me down.
Once again I battled the demons, trying to keep a happy face, trying to continue with a normal routine for Tess sake if not my own. My little baby was now a healthy bouncing one year old, happily cruising around our tiny living room and destroying almost everything in sight. I knew Eric would be delighted to see her and yet I didn't know how to contact him, didn't know how to find him.
Unhappiness killed my appetite so that my weight fell away making my teachers and colleagues remarked on my skeletal frame. Even James who liked me slim and light so I was easy to lift showed concern at my vanishing waist. A cruel article in a gossip magazine held me up as an example of the anorexic role models of today. It raised my ire enough to purposefully be seen and photographed eating a huge pizza.
But on the inside I kept asking myself the same question. Why? Why did I continually reject him? Why did I always hold him at arm's length? Even I could no longer answer the question and yet it tormented whenever I let myself relax and empty my head, until I almost screamed with frustration.
Time and time again I replayed various scenarios in my mind, from saying yes when he first told me of his infatuation in the kitchen; to the hundreds of moments I could have given in to him when we lived together, to the moment I very nearly did in his old bedroom.
I missed him so much, I missed his parents and I missed the life we had started to build together. Every few weeks, Helena would leave sweet messages on my phone and on a couple of occasions we had a stilted conversation, but I could not find the courage to go and see them. The house was too full of memories of what almost was.
Thank heavens for make-up. Hiding behind it's smoothing surface, I could dance on stage until my feet were blistered and bruising and no one would ever know that I was weeping. All they saw was the princess, the fairy; the swan that was dancing her heart out, who loved her life and found her prince.
The public had taken James and I to their hearts as principle dancers and as our notoriety and success increased, so did our positions as celebrities of the dance world. Suddenly we were on the covers of magazines; called upon for our opinions on a variety of subjects, ballet related and otherwise and invited to numerous events and openings.
It was the life I had always hoped for and I life I could not embrace, practically due to the childcare needs of my daughter and emotionally because my heart was elsewhere.
And so I accepted as much work as I could and danced my life away. In the months since he left I had led thirty-two ballets; an obscene amount for any dancer. I knew I was pushing myself; punishing myself even and that I was doing great harm to my body, but it was better then sitting at home alone.
It was therefore unsurprising that I was to dance the role of Cinderella three times during it's Christmas run, twice before the twenty-fifth and then the day after on boxing day. Not having any claims of family I did not mind sacrificing my holiday for the entertainment of others.
I sat there after my first matinee performance, unwrapping the ribbons and slipping the shoes off my blistered and sweat soaked feet. With a groan I pulled off my tights, kicking them into a little sweaty pile and stood there in front of the mirror naked. The costume department had already reclaimed my elaborate bead encrusted tutu and I wore nothing but the paste crown pinned to my head and the heavy stage makeup.
I had precisely twenty-five minutes to get changed and leave, catch the bus home if I wished to give Tess her bath and put her to bed instead of the babysitter. But all I wanted to do was sit down and rest my aching feet. Exhaustion was a constant bedfellow and if I let it get a hold of me then I would never stand up again. Do not think Ali, just get out with it. To allow myself the luxury of stopping was paramount to disaster – it would not do!
I unpinned my crown and slowly let my hair down, feeling the tingle from the rush of blood back into my scalp as the tension was released, although the style half held due to the vast amounts of hairspray that had been used on it. I brushed it out with practiced strokes, until my hair hung down my back once again. Only then did I make a go at removing my makeup.
Up close it was garish and over the top, huge kohl rings to my eyes, large false eyelashes and pinked cheeks on top of heavy foundation. Yet it meant that even for those sitting at the top of the house, my features were still visible. After all we were simply actresses who stood on our toes.
At this thought I glanced down at my abused feet with a grimace and a sigh wishing for the magic of Eric's hands to manipulate and sooth them. I had bought myself a footbath, which helped a bit, but I missed the intimacy of lying on the couch whilst he rubbed my feet. Damn it, I just missed him full stop!
Thankfully just as I was about to let myself sink into the blues a knock sounded on my dressing room door. "Ms de Theale you have a visitor," the doorman addressed me politely through the planks, causing me to frown. It could not be anyone from the company for even if anyone observed the courtesy of knocking, they rarely waited for a reply and would walk straight in if the door was unlocked. We were far too used to sharing cramped quarters to care about our privacy.
Therefore the formality of the request made me hesitate and cover myself in the tattered dressing gown that hung on the back of my door. "Yes" I opened the door with a polite smile, unsure whom I would find on the other side. But instead of some over eager fan who had managed to blag their way into the inner sanctum that was backstage, I stood face to face with Helena St. John.
"Hello Ali," she said with a smile that displayed a hint of nerves, unsure of what she had to let herself in for.
"Oh goodness, what a surprise!" My inane comment was as much for the benefit of the doorman, who stood subtly to one side, obviously concerned that my guest was truly a close friend. "Come in, come in." I shot him a thankful smile and ushered Helena into my small box of a room, closing the door firmly behind her.
She stood in the middle of the floor space, her head swivelling around, taking in all the details and for once I could see the room through her eyes. My dressing table with its clutter of makeup, the photos stuck all around the mirror, the pile of dirty tights and leotards in the corner and the slightly ominous drip of the shower behind the curtain in the corner. It was far from glamorous.
"It's home," I shrugged with a smile, facing her and was thankful when she returned it; scared that she would be put off by the unappealing surroundings.
"I would have thought they would give a principle a better dressing room." Concern marred her voice.
"It is," I assured. "A few months ago I was sharing with ten other girls. This is luxury!"
"Oh you poor thing," she pulled a face before turning and facing me properly. "How are you my dear, it is so long long since I've seen you. Both you and Tess." She moved forward and I willingly fell into her welcoming arms, glad for the support and comfort they offered.
To my horrendous embarrassment tears welled up in my eyes and before I knew it I was sobbing on her shoulder, all signs of the sophisticated dancer vanished as the tears ran down my cheeks.
"Ali, Ali, Ali," Helena soothed, her hand softly stroking my hair and gently wiping the tears away. Oh sweetheart, what is the matter?"
"I'm just really glad to see you," I sobbed, raising my wet cheek off her shoulder and wincing at the wet patch I had left behind on her smart blazer. With a sniff I stepped back and claimed a tissue, wiping my eyes and nose.
"I've missed you too my dear," she reassured calmly, "and when I found out that the WI had organised a trip to the ballet, I had to come and see you. It was a bit of a battle trying to get in backstage though."
"Yeah, Dan is rather a battle axe to get through, but it is amazing the tales that people tell to try and get in. Especially the parents of over-enthusiastic little girls." I giggled slightly and blew my nose enthusiastically on a tissue. "But I'm very glad that you managed to get past him. It's lovely to see you."
"Ali, are you all right?" Helena's voice held a controlled anxiety as she took me in and I knew I looked a fright with my barely controlled hair, eyes bloodshot from crying. My dressing gown could only be called threadbare at best and my bony wrist stuck out of the sleeves by a good few inches.
I shrugged, not wanting to reply in case it set off a new wave of crying. I was okay; no better then normal; but no worse. "I'm fine."
"I have an hour until my train," she commented with a wise look. "If you don't have to rush to pick up Tess, shall we go for a coffee?" Her kindness was nearly my undoing and gave my killer watt stage smile to hide the tears once again pricking in my eyes.
"That would be lovely, I just better grab a shower and get dressed. Um, do you want to wait here," I glanced around realising that there was nowhere for her to sit and no privacy and bit my lip; not sure where I could let her go. Whilst I am sure Eric's mother would not go wandering around backstage, it would still be more then my job was worth if she were found unguided where she shouldn't be!
"Why don't I meet you at in the market, that lovely coffee shop in the middle. I will just go and grab a table, how about that?" She suggested, subtle and gracious.
"I will be as quick as I can," I promised, all thoughts of my aching feet momentarily vanished. To be with Helena was almost as good as being with Eric. I could at least hopefully find out where he was, maybe get a message to him.
I was true to my word and took the quickest shower, tided myself up and rushed out the door, slap bang into a horde of autograph hunters. I was still surprised at the public's reaction to me and had forgotten that there would be hundreds of little girls patiently waiting; their pastel autograph books and glittery pens at the ready. Still remembering the graciousness of my waiting hostess I spent ten minutes repeatedly signing my name and chatting to them, hearing their sighs of romance and their desire to be just like me. I did not have the heart to tell them of the hard work and pain that it took and potentially break their dreams.
Finally slinking off in the opposite direction to the one I needed to go to, I took advantage of the warren of lanes and allies around Covent Garden and took a detour towards the apple market and Helena. She was sitting at a table, a pot of tea in front of her and a number on a stick. Almost the moment that I sat down a waiter placed a steaming hot Panini in front of me.
"What's this?" In my surprise I was unintentionally rude but Helena simply smiled.
"I am sure you are starving after dancing like that and as I dragged you out for coffee, I thought you might like a bit. I am rather hungry as well." As if to make a point she took a dainty bit of the scone in front of her causing me to feel a rumble of hunger inside my belly.
I was too tired to feel guilt at consuming so much fat and calories and so ate the greasy cheesy sandwich with gusto, just about resisting the urge to lick my fingers afterwards. Helena said nothing but simply pushed another plate containing a second scone and jam in my direction.
It was only when I picked up the scone and ate it more daintily, obviously having sated my initial hunger that my hostess started chatting again, asking me about my daughter and how I was finding my new position. The smile that graced her face never quite reached her eyes as I talked about all that I had achieved, how wonderful it was to have been promoted and how I enjoyed the buzz of performing. I thought I was lying rather convincingly but it did not seem to pass muster with her.
"And how is Tess?" She asked when I had paused for breath in the glowing dialogue of my dancing life.
"She's…" I found myself hesitating, how could I describe my gorgeous, beautiful daughter without thinking about the man who loved her as much as I did. To my horror I felt the prick of tears in the back of my eyes again. I mustn't cry; I mustn't. It may me realise how much my carefully controlled façade was simply that; nothing more then a flimsy false barrier, with no more substance then paper mashie. All it took were a few kind words, an understanding pair of arms and I was all over the place.
It would seem that Helena was very good at listening to the conversation behind the words and picking up on the nuances of what I wasn't saying for as I drew to an end with a hesitant smile; she reached forward and with a motherly hand pushed a lock of hair off my face.
"They are keeping you busy aren't they dear?" I nodded in agreement with a wry smile. "Are you having any time off over Christmas then?"
"Oh yeah, we all get two weeks. I have a performance in three days and then I am off until Boxing Day. I was going to see if you wanted tickets but I guess…" I shrugged.
"Are you down at your Father's for Christmas with Tess then?" The encouraging smile on her face again.
"My Father's?" I stumbled over the word, the syllables almost foreign on my tongue. "No, he's in um Saudi Arabia for Christmas I think; or maybe Spain; I am not sure. It depends where Rani chose to go, somewhere where there is sun at the very least."
"Oh," Helena looked shocked that my family would not sweep me and my daughter to their collective bosom for the festive season; but it had never been like that in our family; at least not for a long time. "But they have been to see you perform?"
"Hmm, oh yeah, they came and saw me a couple of months back," I shrugged; it was no consequence to me. I had stopped being disappointed by my father a long time ago. My stepmother had been quite charming to me that evening and whilst I tried to return the compliment; I knew the shallow two-faced woman was just basking in the associated glory of my promotion.
"But my dear that is…" she paused obviously trying very hard to not utter the damming words against my family. "Well, would you like to come and stay with Edward and I then my dear, we would love to have you and Tess to stay for as long as you would like. We do miss seeing both of you." The smile she beamed at me was genuine; the invitation offered with hope and warmth and I couldn't turn her down.
Their kindness stopped my Christmas from being utterly miserable. Whilst I was used to dealing with the festive season in my own way; to have the family I had adopted around me was even better. I was there when the tree was bought in; helping to unpack the beautiful heirloom decorations and hang then on the thick fir branches so they reflected the hundreds of white fairy lights that wound up and down the eight foot of foliage.
With Edward's help and Helena's directions, I helped to tack up streams of cards from the beautiful corniced ceilings and fill the house with fresh holly and fir. All in all it was a beautiful warm and festive welcome and I could not even object when my hostess hung out a stocking for my little girl and myself.
There was only one thing missing and that was Eric. I could tell that Helena almost craved his presence at much as I did; but like me was used to a certain degree of disappointment with his absence. From the few things she said; for she was not one to gossip, I gained the impression that he had not been the most dutiful and loving of son's over the past few years and had in fact been difficult; demanding; wilful and on occasion down right rude.
I had to hide a smile when Helena tactfully described her son's less then desirable behaviour; for I had witnessed some of it first hand and it made him much more of a rounded young person then the saint that she wished him to be. It also made me desperately want him even more.
It did not help that every morning, I would entrust Tess to Helena's care and then climb the two flights of stairs to Eric's attic room. It was the only place in the house with a wooden floor and as carpet was not suitable for dancing on in Pointe shoes; it was the only place, apart from the kitchen that I could do my exercises.
There in the garret room, I could put my on my shoes; stick on a CD of music from the collection that littered the shelves and for an hour go through the range of stretches and lifts that I did every day of my life; almost without fail. A couple of times Eric's mother had come and sat on the sofa, watching me and I could tell that like many people she was astounded at the ability of our movements. There always seemed to be a mystique surrounding ballet dances; probably because our sport was so locked away from everyone else and we were only bought out to parade in front of an audience.
Still, it made me proud to be able to show off for her slightly, to astound her with my ability to put my leg up by my ear whilst standing on my toes. It was nice to receive unabashed praise, rather then the critical eye of my teachers.
And so for a week before Christmas, the routine of my days settled into an hour of exercise in the morning, a lazy lunch, a walk with Tess and a fine dinner. Helena and Edward were kindness itself and treated me like a daughter; determined to leave me wanting for nothing. I was as happy as I could be; for the one thing I wanted they could not give me.
Christmas Day dawned, quiet and dark the sort of morning that made me want to snuggle down under the duvet and cuddle up. I tried to but unfortunately my daughter had other ideas. Standing up in her cot; she howled the house; demanding that I pay her attention. In desperation I finally took her into bed with me; scared that her yelling would wake the other sleeping occupants in the house. As luck would have it; she promptly fell asleep; her face buried into the crook of my arm; leaving me not quite awake, but not asleep either.
As insomniacs will know; the early hours of the morning are cruel; as night seems to stretch into every corner of existence leaving the awake with only their thoughts for company. So I lay there; listening to the sounds of an old house as it was settled for the night; the comforting wheeze of the boards settling; the ticking of the clock in the hall and the occasional muted sound of a passing car. Finally after what seemed like never ending hours I once again drifted into repose.
Morning seemed to come too early after that and it was not long until daylight once again poured into the room. It was Christmas Day! I should be full of seasonal joy; ready to spring out of bed and let my daughter enjoy the pleasures of ripping paper off a hundred presents. Instead I snuggled further into the cocooning warmth of the bed and tried to ignore the wriggling beside me.
I must have dozed off again for I woke with a start; only to find that Tess was next in bed with me! Panic flooded through my body and I leant over the side of the bed wondering if she had wriggled off the side. Nope, there was no sign of my daughter; I was alone in the room. I dived out of bed, shaking with fear, trying to reassure myself that last time this happened she had been with Eric. But Eric wasn't here and I knew that Helena and Edward would not cross the boundaries of politeness and enter my room whilst I was asleep.
I did not even stop to put on my robe, but dashed out the room; practically throwing myself down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was empty and eerily quiet, the only sound was the spitting of the Turkey in the oven. Otherwise the kitchen was spotless.
Then I heard the sound of carol music coming from the living room and laughed pathetically in relief! Of course it was Christmas day – everyone would be gathered around the tree doing what families did on Christmas day – I had almost forgotten it had been so long since I had a real family gathering.
I enter the living room; humming the carol under my breath and stopped dead; shock freezing my features. He turned towards me away from where he had been admiring my efforts at tree decoration, Tess sitting on his hip.
"Hello Ali. Merry Christmas."