You Can’t Fall in Love With Your Ex (Can You?) Page 19

  It was true – I couldn’t deny that. But I couldn’t help resenting that he was able to make such a decision, spend so much money, without even mentioning to me that he was planning to. It felt symbolic of a shift of power in our marriage – a shift from us being equals to him being the one in charge, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  I thought about arguing with him, trying to explain how I felt. But what would be the point? He wasn’t going to change his mind, and it was – as he’d almost but not quite said – his money.

  Instead I said, “Shall I cook those chops for dinner then?”

  Chapter 16

  November 2001: Backstage

  After the announcement on the casting board, there was no more gallivanting for Felix and me. Our day off was spent studying the score of Sleeping Beauty until I started seeing seas of black dots in front of me when I closed my eyes. There was no time to go on adventures around London – not when there were endless videos of previous performances to watch. Felix even dialled down his partying and started going to the gym in the afternoons. We were in bed by midnight every night, although I often found it hard to sleep, however exhausted I was, and when I did, I was plagued by dreams of losing my pointe shoes and running through endless corridors looking for them while the stage manager called me over and over again on the PA system.

  Roddy kept us sane during those weeks of rehearsals. His good humour never wavered – he didn’t seem to know the meaning of nerves. One day he came home with a Jamie Oliver book, announcing that I wasn’t eating properly, and he was going to cook us cheap, nutritious meals every night.

  “Look at this,” he said. “Humble home-cooked beans. Pukka stuff, right? They’ll give your jumps added height if you’re jet-propelled by farts.”

  “What’s wrong with Heinz?” Felix grumbled. But we ate the beans anyway, because we didn’t want to hurt Roddy’s feelings, and even though the cooking phase only lasted about a week and we were soon back on our usual diet of toast and coffee, we appreciated the thought.

  Mel’s room remained empty. Felix was paying her share of the rent and we hadn’t had time to look for a replacement flatmate. Every time I came home and saw her closed door, every morning when I walked into the living room and she wasn’t there doing her Pilates exercises, I was reminded of the loss of her friendship. And it wasn’t just at home – every day at work I was faced with her cold indifference. She refused to speak to me at all, rebuffing my clumsy attempts to apologise until I stopped trying and ignored her back.

  At least I no longer had to share a dressing room with her – as a soloist, I’d been given my own. When Anna showed me to the tiny cubicle that was going to be all mine, I immediately started making plans to transform it into a glamorous boudoir worthy of a principal dancer. But that never happened – soon the room was cluttered with make-up, discarded tights and half-drunk bottles of water, and the smell of my sweat and deodorant joined that of its previous occupant.

  It was there that Marius came to find me the day before opening night.

  In rehearsals, he’d surprised me with his patience, encouraging me to push myself, never missing even the smallest error, yet never raising his voice, and praising and encouraging me when I did well. None of that stopped me being terrified of him, though: I knew that he had the power to demote me as swiftly as he’d promoted me; that my meteoric rise could be followed just as quickly by an ignominious fall.

  I was perched at my dressing table in a shabby cotton dressing gown, soaked in sweat from the afternoon’s rehearsal but too tired to shower or change into my outdoor clothes. I had no performance that night – Anna had told me to go home and rest. But I needed to prepare my shoes for tomorrow’s performance, cutting the satin away from the toes, breaking in the sole, sewing on the ribbons. It would take half an hour – I’d done it so often I could practically do it in my sleep, and right now I was so knackered I might well have ended up doing just that. Wardrobe wanted me to drop in for a final fitting of my costume. I was hungry – I should eat. I needed to file my nails. But instead of doing any of those things, I was just sitting.

  There was a tap at the door, but it opened before I had a chance to respond.

  Marius wasn’t tall, and he certainly wasn’t fat, but the room felt much smaller with him in it.

  “Good afternoon, Laura,” he said, closing the door behind him.

  “Good afternoon,” I said. I was very conscious, suddenly, that I was naked underneath my robe, and that my nipples were clearly visible through it. At least I hadn’t been undressed. But dancers’ bodies were nothing to Marius, I told myself – we were just tools, instruments to be analysed, tuned, brought as close as possible to perfection.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m a bit of a mess. I was just going to head home and shower.”

  “You’re cold,” he observed, glancing at my chest. “You know you’re not allowed to get cold. The muscles tighten up, recovery is slowed down – but you know all that.” He smiled warmly. “I don’t need to tell my newest soloist things she’s known since she was six.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, “I do know all that, of course. “It’s just…”

  “You were having a moment of reflection,” he said. “It’s only natural. How are you feeling, my dear? Nervous?”

  I hadn’t been, until he said it. “A little. I don’t want to let anyone – to let you down.”

  “Or your boyfriend,” he said. “Little Mr Lawson. He’s highly talented, as you know, but sometimes I wonder if his attitude isn’t just a little lacking.”

  “He’s been working incredibly hard,” I said, automatically leaping to Felix’s defence. “We all have.”

  “Oh, Laura,” he said. “You are sweet. Like a vixen protecting her cubs. Does he make you happy, then?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He really does. And he – I mean, I think I’ve been dancing better, since we’ve been together. I must have, or I wouldn’t have got this part – this amazing opportunity. Would I?”

  “It’s a remarkable thing to see the flowering of a talent,” Marius said. “And it’s my privilege to be able to nurture the very best. But it involves taking risks, sometimes, like I’ve done with you.”

  “Was I a risk?” My mouth was suddenly dry – my voice sounded croaky. Was he about to tell me I wasn’t good enough – that, even after all my hard work, I wasn’t going to dance tomorrow night? That Suzanne had recovered sufficiently from her torn meniscus to take the role that would normally have been hers by right?

  “You certainly were,” he said. “If you could have been a fly on the wall in the meetings when we were discussing casting this show, Laura – you would have laughed to hear me making the case for you. ‘Pick her, pick her,’ I said. And ultimately it was my decision, so I got my own way. But then, I generally do.”

  “So I hear,” I said. That was the thing with Marius – he expected you to flirt, and however hard you resisted, you ended up doing it anyway – we all did. It was just easier that way.

  “Oh, Laura,” he said, mock-sorrowfully, “what have they been saying about me?”

  I blushed. “Nothing. But of course you get your own way – you’re in charge. And you’re a genius – everyone does say that.”

  “A genius with a pair of very sore knees right now,” he said. “And I’ve been here five minutes and you haven’t offered me a seat. That’s poor manners, Laura. That’s a black mark in the book I’m sure you all believe I carry around with me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, jumping to my feet. It was true – he’d been standing all this time while I slumped on my dressing-table stool. It hadn’t even occurred to me how rude that might seem. “Please.”

  “There’s plenty of room for both of us,” Marius said, perching on one end of the seat and patting the worn red velvet next to him.

  I hesitated. There was no fucking way I wanted to squeeze myself into ten inches of space right next to Marius. I was deeply regretting lingering in m
y dressing room – right now, I could be at home, with Felix, perhaps soaking in the closest thing our flat could produce to a hot bath.

  “Laura. There’s something I need to discuss with you,” Marius said.

  Reluctantly, I sat down, trying and failing to preserve a paper-thin distance between his thigh and mine.

  As he’d done all those weeks before, in what felt like another world before Felix and I were together, before I’d got this undreamed-of part, he raised his hand to my face. But whereas before he’d gripped my jaw between his finger and thumb, almost clinically, now he laid the palm of his hand against my cheek and turned me to face him.

  “You’re very beautiful,” he said. “Not classical. But your eyes are lovely, and you have a charming profile. I think perhaps you could be great, one day.”

  I could smell his breath, laden with something strong and minty. Up close, the whites of his eyes weren’t white at all, and his skin sagged slightly along the razor-sharp line of his jaw. But his hand on my face was terrifyingly strong.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Marius’s hand left my cheek, and he trailed his finger down my neck to my collarbone, then further, brushing my breast through my cotton gown, and down to my waist. In spite of myself, in spite of how much he frightened me, I felt a shiver of something halfway between revulsion and excitement.

  “You’ve lost weight,” he said. “That’s good. You used to tend to be a bit podgy. Take that thing off, and let me have a proper look at you.”

  So much for not getting cold, I thought. If he’d done this a year ago, I’d have complied – I would have been too frightened and too flattered not to. But now, the way I felt about my body was different – Felix had changed that. I knew I wasn’t just an object to be relentlessly used and disciplined, scrutinised and adjusted. But I’d been conditioned through years of training to do as I was told, and I couldn’t find the words to say no; I just sat there, frozen with shock and fright.

  “Too shy?” he said. “Then I’ll do it for you.”

  He tugged the belt of my robe loose and pushed the fabric down over my shoulders, and suddenly he was kissing me, hard, his tongue and his breath penetrating my mouth, his hands crawling over my breasts.

  “No!” I said, trying to get my hand to his chest to push him away, but my arms were trapped in the sleeves of my gown. I flung my body away from him, toppled off the stool and ended up in a heap on the floor.

  Marius laughed down at me. “You really are an innocent,” he said. “Pretty girl. Off you go home now and make sure you’re fresh as a daisy tomorrow.”

  He stood up and flung open the door of my dressing room.

  “We should do this again soon,” he said and walked out.

  He almost collided with Felix in the corridor.

  I don’t remember how I got home that night. Well, I must have walked, of course, as I always did, the few hundred yards through the familiar streets. But I didn’t see the throngs of commuters heading down into the Tube station. I didn’t see the bright shop windows, incongruously filled with Christmas lights, paper snowflakes and empty boxes wrapped in shiny foil. My eyes were fixed to the ground, but I didn’t see the chewing-gum splattered paving stones, either. All I could see was Felix’s face – the look of utter shock and disgust he’d given me as he recoiled, turned and ran away.

  With no clothes on, I couldn’t follow him. I called his name, but he didn’t listen. So I retreated into my dressing room, dressed and came home, numb with shock and hurt.

  I lay in the bath for almost an hour, long after the water had lost what little heat it had started out with. I scrubbed my skin until it was red and sore, trying to rid myself of the memory of Marius’s touch. Even after I’d cleaned my teeth, I could still taste his tongue in my mouth. Eventually, too cold to stay in the water any longer, I dried myself and dressed, shivering, pulling an old jumper of Felix’s on over my jeans, as if it could provide the comfort I needed from him. I made tea and sat on the sofa, the jumper pulled over my knees, cradling the mug for warmth. I couldn’t drink the tea, though – when I tried to swallow my throat closed up and I felt as if I’d be sick. I dialled Felix’s phone over and over, but he didn’t answer.

  At last, I heard a key in the lock and felt a wave of relief – but it was only Roddy.

  “Hey, Laura,” he didn’t flop down on the sofa, or go into the kitchen, or fling open the fridge and complain that there was never any fucking food in this place, as he usually did. He hovered in the doorway, looking at me.

  “Roddy,” I said. “Something’s happened.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I saw Lawsonski earlier. He’s not a happy bunny.”

  “It’s Marius,” I said. “Roddy, he…”

  “Laura, don’t drag me into this. Seriously, you guys need to sort it out. You’re my friends, but I’m not getting involved. Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

  I gripped my mug harder, shock hitting me like a punch in the stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “Look, you aren’t the first person to do what it takes to get a part, and you won’t be the last. It’s just – you guys seemed so happy, that’s all. You must’ve known he’d find out.”

  “But I didn’t!” I said. “Is that what Felix told you?”

  He shook his head. “That’s what the whole company is saying.”

  I thought of the hours I’d spent alone in my dressing room, or rehearsing my solos with Felix, and I imagined it. I knew how it worked – our lives were so insular, our days in many ways so repetitive, that any juicy piece of gossip got handed round and chewed to death until it was flavourless and finished, and the next bit of news got started. It had never occurred to me that people would talk about me – invent lies about me and Marius. Just thinking about it flooded with a full-body blush of mortification.

  “Roddy, I didn’t!” I said again. “Jesus, what do you think I am? He’s old, he’s disgusting. He must be almost fifty. He’s our boss.”

  “All the more reason to shag him,” Roddy said. “Because he’d be extra grateful.”

  “He came to my dressing room and groped me,” I said. “It was awful. I didn’t know what to do. And then Felix saw us. It was just this afternoon – he never, ever touched me before and I hope he never does again.”

  My breath was coming in shallow gasps, and I started to cry. Roddy disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a wad of loo roll. He sat down next to me and put his arm around me.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” I sobbed.

  “Look, everyone knows Marius is a dirty old bastard,” he said. “But he’s never exactly been short of offers, if you know what I mean. People know what’s in it for them. It’ll blow over, Laura.”

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong! He… he assaulted me. And everyone’s going to listen to a load of gossip and not believe me.”

  “It’s your word against his,” Roddy said. “People are going to say you were fucking him and you didn’t want your boyfriend to find out, and then when he did you cried rape. I believe you, Laura. But I don’t think a lot of other people will. Did he – I mean, what did he do exactly?”

  I told him.

  “Oh, babe. That’s horrible. But you’re okay, right? He didn’t hurt you?”

  I wanted to explain to him how I felt, the crawling horror of Marius’s hands invading my body, the shock and helplessness I felt when he kissed me, the shame of knowing that everyone thought I’d offered myself to him in exchange for a promotion I wasn’t good enough to earn any other way. But I couldn’t. I wished Mel was there – she would understand. Or she would have done, back when we were still friends.

  And then, with a sickening lurch, understanding came to me.

  “Roddy, Mel started this story about Marius and me, didn’t she?”

  “I couldn’t possibly say,” Roddy said. “You know how it is – no one’s talking about something, then everyone is. If it was her, you won’t be able to prove it, same as you can’t
prove he did what you’re telling me.”

  I stared at him. His face was full of concern, but his words belied it.

  “Are you saying there’s nothing I can do about it? Are you telling me I just have to suck it up?”

  “No! Well, actually, yes, I guess I am. What’s the alternative?”

  “I could go to management. Talk to our union rep. Tell Anna. There must be something I can do.”

  “Laura, if you did that and you couldn’t prove anything – which you can’t – it’ll totally fuck your career. You know that.”

  I mopped my eyes with the loo roll, which was soaked through with my tears. I knew he was right. I imagined going through months of meetings and tribunals, reliving what Marius had done over and over again, until the telling became more real than the thing itself and I could barely believe myself any more. I imagined having to face Marius and accuse him, and how he’d laugh at me and deny it all. I imagined where that would leave me when eventually it all came to an end – relegated to the Corps de Ballet, until the time came for my contract to be renewed, and then it not being.

  And, I thought, if I did persuade Felix to believe me, and he took my side and supported me, he’d be tainted by association, our careers crashing and burning in perfect unison, a pas de deux of failure.

  “It would, wouldn’t it?” I said to Roddy, outrage and disbelief fighting the certain knowledge that he was right.

  “Babe, it just would. None of us like it, but there it is. So there’s no point getting yourself worked up about it. Talk to Lawsonski tonight, tell him what happened, kiss and make up. Then put it behind you. Walk on that stage tomorrow and be a star, prove to everyone that no matter what they think, you are good enough. And everyone will move on to the next juicy bit of scandal soon enough. That’s my advice.”

  Roddy was my friend – my oldest and closest, since Mel and I weren’t friends any more. I trusted him – I thought I was doing the right thing to follow his guidance. Even with hindsight, it probably was right – or it would have been, had things turned out differently.