Match Pointe. Indigo Bloome
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dare some young Russian upstart from the Bolshoi Ballet replace her! Just because the company had recently appointed a new renegade choreographer, Xavier, who preferred the Russian dancer’s style and chutzpah! It was she who was the lead ballerina of this company, she who had been classically trained at this very school for more than a decade, she who had only just been promoted to the iconic position of Principal. Unfortunately, it was also she who had nothing else to live for now the role of her career had been snatched away …
Unaccustomed to not being in control of her emotions, Eloise was seething as she threw open the door of the company director’s office unannounced. Her slight frame trembled as she stared daggers at Sir Lloyd Barclay.
He could barely make eye contact as he shifted hastily from behind his desk to close the door discreetly behind her.
‘Ah, Eloise, I’m assuming you have seen the cast sheet.’
As he uttered the words she saw her life shatter into tiny pieces before her eyes.
‘That was my role, Lloyd! It was promised to me!’
With uncharacteristic vengefulness she pinned the piece of paper to his chest with her finger, though it merely floated to the floor as he stepped back behind his desk, which provided him with a physical barrier of authority and immediately diluted the emotive force between them.
Lloyd still avoided looking at her. ‘That’s nonsense, my dear. You know as well as I that nothing is guaranteed in this business, and that disappointment is part and parcel of being a dancer. Someone with your experience knows that anything can change at a moment’s notice. Naturally, this is hard news for you to take in, but you will still be Natalia’s understudy, of course, and –’
His words permeated her thoughts. But the Royal Ballet isn’t business; it is art, culture and beauty. It’s my entire life!
For the first time ever, she wasted not a moment in interrupting him.
‘I will not tolerate being the understudy or a soloist. You know I don’t deserve such a demotion. The role of Manon was mine, anything less is insulting!’
She furiously spat the words towards him, astounding herself with her aggressive behaviour. She had never spoken an angry word to anyone in her life, having always kept a tight lid on her emotions until they could be expressed onstage via another character.
Lloyd seemed to change tack. ‘Under normal circumstances I would agree with you, Eloise. But you know as well as I that this role is demanding – both emotionally and physically. It will put your ankle under too much strain. We can’t take the risk, and, well, decisions have to be made and, ah, well, have been, I’m afraid – as you have seen.’ His facial expression tensed then softened in an attempt to placate her fury.
‘My ankle has nothing to do with this!’
‘You need to be patient, my dear – give Xavier some time to understand your true talent and your body time to heal.’
‘Then why isn’t he giving me the chance to prove that the role should be mine? You know I can dance through pain. It has never affected my performance.’
Even though they weren’t particularly close, Eloise had always considered Sir Lloyd her ally, her dancing guardian, almost like the grandfather she had never known. Now the person before her seemed nothing more than a condescending old man determined to destroy her career.
Eloise took a deep breath to ensure her voice was measured. She could barely whisper her next words, her anger – or was it fear? – barely contained beneath the surface of her skin.
‘I know my ankle isn’t the real reason, Lloyd. You owe me the truth.’
‘Well … you have to understand that this is Xavier’s first ballet with us. He is looking for more depth and emotion, I suppose, for a role like this. He believes Natalia has your technical ability … but also dances with more passion and verve. It’s in her genes. She has more life experience to draw upon for the complex role of Manon.’
He rose from behind his desk and placed his hand on her shoulder, which she deftly shrugged off. He shook his head, not sure what to do next. He, like everyone else, had never encountered this side of Eloise. Up until now she had always addressed him with deference.
The more Lloyd tried to convince her of the wisdom of Xavier’s decision, the more blurred his words became to Eloise as his voice faded into the background of her mind.
‘Natalia has more grit … edge … emotional depth …
‘We know you are technically brilliant but your desire for perfection and control is inhibiting your performance …
‘Ballet has been your entire life for more than a decade … Perhaps you should take a break if you’re not content with being a soloist … explore something new for a while … get some perspective … At twenty-two there’s still time to find yourself, discover who you really are, what you truly want in life … I’d be more than happy to approve a leave of absence given how upset you are …’
I am a ballerina.
It’s who I am.
It’s all I ever want to be.
I am a ballerina.
This mantra was on replay in her head like an old-fashioned broken record as his monologue continued chipping away at her depleted ego.
‘There are so many bright, talented dancers currently rising through the ranks, and oh, the Russians, their skill, their grace, their exquisite beauty …’
Eloise imploded emotionally. Her deeply rooted feelings of never having truly belonged were allowed free rein to retranslate his words in her brain.
I am ugly!
I am imperfect!
I lack grace!
Ballet was all Eloise knew. Since before she could remember she had devoted every waking moment to becoming the perfect ballerina. Prima Ballerina! she screamed in her mind. Not Number Two, not Number Three. Number One! The Principal Ballerina of the Royal Ballet and she made it, only to have it abruptly snatched away because one man – Xavier Gemmel – preferred Russian dancers over her.
Her peers sometimes thought her myopic mindset was a little naive and unrealistic and they encouraged her to socialise more with them, live a little. She became determined to prove to them that dedication such as hers was what enabled success, and anything less would result in failure – and she had proved exactly that. Until now!
How could she face them now? What would they think? Would they agree with Sir Lloyd’s and Xavier’s decision to demote her, sniggering behind her back, thankful that they hadn’t been as invested as she? Of course they would! Long ago she had removed herself from the pettiness of their discussions to focus on perfecting her craft so she could turn it into majestic art. She was a child when she arrived and now it was as though the only family she had ever known were rejecting her – spitting her out of the only place she had ever belonged.
Her mind closed down, blocking out the last of Sir Lloyd’s words, and her body took over.
She was unaware of her own movements as she held her head high, refusing to cast her eyes back on the life she was heartbreakingly leaving behind. She gathered her few belongings as if on autopilot, not noticing any of the commotion around her as she reached the corridor. The voices pleading with her to stay, to calm down and talk to them might as well have been thousands of miles away, they were so muffled in her mind.
She gingerly placed her beloved music box in her bag, not daring to capture a glimpse of herself in the mirror, lest she embed the image of the broken failure she had become.
The doors slammed behind