Chapter Thirty-one
Sylvie approached Penmenna School tingling with nervous excitement. The morning had dawned clear with a nip in the air. The seagulls, no respecters of weekend lie-ins, were circling overhead, their cries noisy but reassuring. This was just another day for them, nothing momentous happening here.
But Sylvie wasn’t a seagull and today was the first day of her dreams becoming a possibility.
She kept trying to downplay it in her mind, just another class, nothing special, but her heart hammered out the rhythm dream-come-true-don’t-mess-it-up-dream-come-true-don’t-mess-it-up as she marched up the granite steps and turned the key in the heavy iron lock.
It was scary enough being responsible for the opening of the school, let alone anything else.
She had never had to do that before and the huge bunch of keys that Rosy gave her jangled with burdensome responsibility.
The key jarred in the lock, the door heavy, and Sylvie felt the rush of panic as she struggled to get the clunky metal key to turn.
As she jostled it in the lock and muttered up a little prayer she felt it shift a little and then turn.
The other, slightly more modern, locks undid easily and her shoulders relaxed back down into a normal human position.
They had practically been as high as her ears as she imagined not being able to get into the building on the first day that the Sylvie Williams School of Ballet came into being.
She would have had to transport everyone to Lovage Farm and watch Tom drop dead on the spot as a class of ten pre-schoolers started trying to twirl and spin all over the hay shed.
The door lumbered open, creaking like an ancient beast arising from sleep.
Sylvie put her bags down on the step and raced inside the door; she had thirty seconds to get to the alarm and enter the code correctly before it started alerting the whole of the village that someone was breaking into the school.
This was the bit Sylvie was dreading the most. She dashed to the box and managed to put the code in, then stood, breath held, as the box flashed a sequence of lights before settling down. Phew, she was in.
Grabbing her bag she wandered through the school, putting the lights on as she went.
There was something very surreal about being here when it was completely empty, lifeless.
She might be an adult, a one-time professional ballet dancer, mother to a budding genius and niece to the grumpiest man on the planet, but she was still freaked out by silence.
Inside the building she couldn’t even hear the screech of the gulls. Nothing.
She started to hum to herself as she pulled the weighty door to the hall open and put her things down.
Then the first thing she did was put some music on.
As the opening chords of Romeo and Juliet crashed through, the building suddenly felt more alive.
She took a deep breath. This place was Penmenna School, there was no more fitting place for her to trial this.
She had been teaching for years, and the only difference was that today she was working entirely for herself, not some faceless leisure corporation.
She could do this. She had faith in herself.
In her ability. This was going to be fine. Another deep breath.
She started to sing. It was hard to be anything but optimistic with the powerful music filling the hall. If nothing else it reminded her she was a fighter. Now she just had to fight her way through the PE equipment cupboard and pull out the mats before the children came filing in.
She had six classes planned for Saturdays, and felt a little guilty that so many of her children from the leisure centre had switched allegiance and signed up with her.
She had the pre-school class first, then her primary class for beginners, followed by her Grade One ballet class, then a Grade Two, Grade Three and a Grade Four class.
It was going to be a long old day and she had scheduled breaks between all of them, but still it would be a marathon with each class lasting forty-five minutes.
Sylvie started to do some stretches when she heard a voice join in with her humming; it was a little off-key but knew the music.
Hmm. Interesting. Although she rather hoped it wasn’t a new parent who was super-ballet-obsessed; they liked to try and run the class themselves, explain how she was doing it all wrong and that little Annabel had come out of the womb humming Tchaikovsky and the whole family knew she was a star in the making.
She stopped and watched the door to see who the humming belonged to.
‘Hello, dear, I do love this. Prokofiev? I thought I’d come along and watch.’
‘Ah, hello, Sheila. That’s kind of you. I’m not sure that watching…’
‘No, of course not. That wouldn’t be right.
I meant support, I came to support.’ She started to rustle in her bag but, not appearing to have any success, she took her glasses from the top of her head.
‘Such a useful thing, this chain thingy, should have got one years ago. Anyway, in here somewhere…’ She rifled through again, but looking as she did so this time.
‘Aha!’ Her triumphant sound pierced the air and she pulled out a large Tupperware container. ‘Here, oranges, for half-time.’
‘Ohhh…’
‘I was watching a programme, my dear, only the other night and do you know what? They say that ballet dancers are a lot stronger than football players, stronger than many athletes, so I was thinking if it’s harder than football and they get oranges at half-time then I should cut some up for your little ones.
So I did. Here.’ Sheila proffered the very large Tupperware container filled to the brim with little orange segments.
‘That is so kind. I’ve never dished out oranges before. I think they’re going to love them…’
But before she could finish her sentence, Sheila was back to rummaging through her bag.
‘And look dear, while I was doing it I had an idea and I thought, oh, go on, why not? So here, have this as well.’ Sylvie had to take a step back as the school secretary brandished a cheese-and-pineapple hedgehog at her. A hedgehog with a little bit of tissue and some bag fluff stuck to it.
‘Thought a bit of protein wouldn’t go amiss, and look, I’ve given him sultanas for eyes.’
‘So you have. This is great, thank you. Um… the thing is, though, I don’t think I’m supposed to let people wander in and watch…’
Sheila’s face fell. It would appear this was how she planned to spend her Saturday.
‘…but I could really do with an assistant. Just for today, the first day. What do you say?’
‘Oh yes, yes, that would be grand. I’m very good at assisting. Very good. And I wouldn’t want any payment. I can hand out the oranges – what else should I do?’
‘This first class will just be the little ones, so nothing very tough or formal, just playing some music, getting them to respond to it, playing with some props, practising First and Second Position, some toe work, that sort of thing, that’s all we’ll be doing for today.
You can just keep your eyes peeled and make sure everyone is OK. How does that sound?’
Sheila’s face broke into a huge grin but before Sylvie could continue the children started to pile in.
Sylvie switched straight into professional mode and soon all the money was collected and ten very little children were standing in front of her.
None of them particularly still bar one; the Annabel of the class, Sylvie guessed.
She stood in front of them and smiled a welcome at them all – she loved this – then she looked up.
Up at the parents who all stood along the back wall of the hall waiting for her to do something.
Her heart sped up again. In the leisure centre parents had to view lessons from behind the glass; now they were in here with her, watching, listening, waiting.
Boom, boom, boom. Her heart was bound to explode out of her chest at any minute now, splattering the class and ending the Sylvie Williams School of Ballet before it even began.
Surely it wasn’t meant to beat this fast?
Another deep breath and with any luck the parents would just think she was a leading example of Zen calm. Not frozen with fear at all.
The parents might have been fooled but the line of four-year-olds in front of her was beginning to shift and fidget. One little girl with the cutest plaits was picking her nose and another one suddenly dropped to the floor on her bottom and started to try and take her ballet pumps off.
Boom boom boom. She needed to do something.
Der… der… der… der… Suddenly the introduction from Swan Lake was playing, the calming notes gliding through the hall, all the children suddenly still and transfixed and waiting to see what would happen next.
Before she knew it, she was in full swing, the music having picked her up and popped her right within her comfort zone.
The children were soon caught up in the exercises, lying on the mats, kicking their legs up as elegantly as four-year-olds can. Making their toes as pointy as can be and then having a go at First Position and Second before finishing it off by taking turns at being butterflies.
The session flew by. As she showed the children out, each clutching an orange segment, she couldn’t stop the grin crossing her face.
‘Sheila, that music saved my life. I could kiss you.’
‘Ooh, OK then.’ The school secretary stood on her tiptoes and closed her eyes as Sylvie gave her a great big kiss on her cheek.
‘No kissing in class.’
‘Ah, hello, Alex, come on in. Hi, Ellie, just in time for your class. Are you excited?’
‘Yes, and so is everyone who has been waiting. I’ve told them all that you’re the best dancer in the world and they are really looking forward to it.
I said I wouldn’t be surprised if you did a giant leap and flew out of that window.
’ She pointed up to the skylights in the ceiling of the school hall.
‘Do you think you could? I sort of promised.’
‘Ellie, Sylvie may be the best dancer in the world, definitely the best vampire dancer by the way, but I don’t think she’s going to make it out that window today.
And you need to not tell people things like that.
In fact, you need to tell them all that Sylvie will not be leaping through that window, and you need to do it now. ’
‘Da-ad.’
‘Hi, come in, everybody, come and find yourself a mat. Mums and dads, Shelia is happy to take the fees.’
‘Oh yes, and look, a ledger, a proper ledger. This takes me back.’ Sheila sat at a table in the corner and waved Sylvie’s membership fees book at them all.
‘Everyone, Sylvie won’t be flying through the window. Dad says I have to say that. OK?’
A dissatisfied murmur arose from the group of children.
‘But what we will be doing is teaching you guys how to get so good at ballet you’ll be able to leap through the air all by yourselves one day, which has to be more fun than just watching me do it. So, if you all grab a mat.’
This time the parents didn’t faze her quite so much.
Having Alex standing there gave her a focal point.
It reminded her a little bit of when she was onstage, getting a flash of stage fright; she would look out to the seat her mother always chose, slap bang in the middle of the theatre, and be calmed by her presence, or in her absence the knowledge of her pride was enough to puff her up again and get back to doing the best job she could.
Having Alex there was like that. And she never thought she’d experience that security, that surety again.
She tried to express her gratitude, and her respect, to him in a look. Although how one said all of that in just a look she wasn’t sure.
As he cocked his head to one side in response and smiled back at her, she knew she had managed. He understood.