A French Pirouette. Jennifer Bohnet

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СКАЧАТЬ a good thing. I’ll certainly have time to listen to, and maybe, if it’s not too late, do something about the ticking.” She’d certainly have all the time in the world to just be herself, whether she liked it or not.

      She sighed. It was just that the word ‘retirement’ made her feel so old. So past it.

      “OK, guys. Let’s take a short break. Back in fifteen,” Malik said. Suzette, along with the rest of the dancers, breathed a sigh of gratitude.

      The company had arrived in Monaco three days ago—days that had been filled with rehearsals and little else. Today was the final one before the dress rehearsal tomorrow. Opening night would be Friday with Prince Albert and Princess Charlene in the audience.

      Back in her dressing room in the Grimaldi Forum, Suzette poured herself some water and did a few stretching exercises to keep herself limbered up. Although initially she’d found Malik’s choreography challenging she was enjoying dancing this modern ballet now she’d finally broken through and mastered its intricacies.

      Her partner, Zac, a young and up-and-coming Russian, was good and Suzette had rapidly felt confident in their onstage chemistry.

      A gentle knock on the door before Malik entered. He’d always been considerate—never assuming he could just barge in on her.

      “You ready for the last scene in Act Three?”

      Suzette nodded. It was a long complicated piece with her doing several grand jetés in mid-air, before an emotional dance with Zac, which involved her jumping into his arms.

      “Think so. Bit worried about doing the splits in mid-air actually,” she said. “My dancing repertoire hasn’t featured them much recently.”

      “Relax. You mastered them fine yesterday,” Malik assured her.

      Back down in the theatre, Suzette went through her pre-dancing stretching exercises while Malik put the corps de ballet through their routine.

      Standing in the wings waiting for her introductory music to play, Suzette felt the shiver of nervous stage fright she always experienced before she danced on stage. This is what she lived for. How would she survive without a regular dose of ballet-filled adrenalin anticipation?

      Zac, in the opposite wing, smiled across at her, before striding onto the stage ready for the first of their pas de deux. Five seconds later Suzette joined him and their bodies synchronised together in the flowing ballet movements and everything else faded away as they lost themselves in the evocative music.

      Suzette executed a final perfect allegro when disaster struck. Landing badly she end up in a crumpled heap on the wooden stage.

      “Stop the music!” Malik shouted as he rushed to her side. “Get the doctor.”

      “No,” Suzette said. “I don’t need the doctor. I’ll be fine. Just give me ten minutes and a cold compress. Help me up, please?” She held out a hand to Malik.

      Even as Malik gently pulled her onto her feet before placing an arm around her shoulders to steady her before helping her off stage, Suzette knew she was in trouble. Real trouble. Experience told her that this injury was not going to heal overnight.

      After the cold compress had been applied, Malik insisted she take a cab back to the hotel. “You know it is impossible for you to dance again today, Suzette. Maybe with twenty-four hours rest and ice.” He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

      Suzette could tell he was already mentally assessing the options he had.

      Once alone back in her hotel room, Suzette gave way to the tears that had been threatening from the second she’d fallen. She knew that final jump had been perfect. How could she have been so stupid as to mess up the landing? And ruin everything? Thank heavens it hadn’t happened on opening night in front of Prince Albert and Princess Charlene. Her shame would have been absolute.

      Malik arrived back early evening and insisted she ordered some food from room service before opening the bottle of champagne he’d brought with him.

      “I’m hardly celebrating,” Suzette snapped at him.

      “This is medicinal—to make you feel better,” Malik answered, handing her a glass. “Suzette, ma chérie, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to give the role to Donna,” he said quietly.

      “Every understudy’s dream,” Suzette said. “The show must go on.” She took a long swig of champagne from her glass. “Maybe I should have retired like you after Manon at Covent Garden. That was a truly magical production, wasn’t it? Des Grieux was a perfect last role for you.”

      Malik smiled and nodded as she continued.

      “Whereas my acclaimed performance of one of the greatest female ballet roles ever is being overshadowed and all but forgotten by all the injuries since then.” Suzette wiped an escaping tear off her cheek with her free hand. “All I’m going to be remembered for is being forced to retire due to injuries.” She smiled wanly at him as she held out her empty glass for a refill.

      “Not true,” Malik said carefully pouring the champagne. “People still talk about it, us, and your wonderful interpretation of the role. You’ll always be remembered as one of the best.”

      He turned at the sound of a discrete knock and opened the door to room service.

      Watching in silence as the waiter placed the food on the small table, Suzette sensed the stress coming from Malik. Even as he urged her to sit and eat she knew what he was preparing himself to say.

      “I can’t stay long, Suzette,” Malik said, looking at his watch. “Donna’s rehearsing right now with Zac. I have to get back down there.”

      “I could be back before the show ends. A couple of days and my ankle could be strong enough to dance.” Even as she said it, she knew she was lying to herself as well as Malik.

      This injury would take weeks rather than days to heal, which meant yet more RICE time before battling her body back into dancing fitness. There was no point either in telling Malik about her bruised and sore arm, which in its own way was as bad as her ankle and would make any port de bras movements difficult for weeks to come.

      Malik shook his head. “I can’t take the risk.”

      “No I suppose not.” Suzette sighed, facing up to the inevitable. “Wish Donna luck from me. You’d better get back down to the Forum.”

      “You’ve got everything you need?” Malik said, clearly relieved she’d taken the news so well.

      Suzette nodded. Of course she had everything she needed—except a functioning ankle and an unbruised arm. No doubt the side of her body would be a mass of interesting colours by the morning.

      As Malik closed the door behind him, Suzette pushed her salmon salade away untouched before downing her glass of champagne and immediately pouring herself another one. It was one way to drown both the physical and the mental pain. Besides, Malik had said it was medicinal.

      Collapsing onto the bed, she switched on the TV and began to flick through the channels. Football, quiz games, reality shows, talk… Hang on that was the show she’d recorded weeks ago. She recognised the woman crime writer.

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