Page 69 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
Monica’s phone buzzes and she slides it out of her trouser pocket.
‘You cannot take a mobile on stage, Monica,’ I cry.
‘I forgot it was there.’ Monica checks the screen. ‘Oh, a message from Clarissa. She says, I do not need to wish you all good luck as luck has nothing to do with the outcome. You are all not only capable but wonderful dancers, and Hazel and I know you will put everything into your performances.’
Monica gives a little cough and looks slightly embarrassed as she reads the final part of the message.
Ladies, sprout wings on your feet, reach for the sky, let your souls soar, and do your absolute best.
Clarissa loves this sort of gushy language, but I can see the others appreciate her sentiments, well perhaps not Ruby, who stifles a giggle. We all nod our agreement with Clarissa’s good intentions.
An official opens the door, and the previous entrants pour past us, fresh from their dance, all glowing and slightly breathless.
The official checks her sheet and asks Asha, ‘Êtes-vousle groupe DICK? Excusez-moi – DECK?’
‘That’s us.’ Asha winks at the rest of the group.
The official indicates for us to go out on stage.
‘Monica, what will you do with the phone?’ Asha asks. ‘There is no time to take it back to the dressing room.’ Monica flounders, unsure what to do with the device.
At that moment, the four dancers fromCorps et Ameenter the room and I freeze to the spot as Edith walks straight past me. She is dressed in a stunning, pale blue chiffon dress cut on the bias with a rustically styled multi-layered hem. The other female dancer is in a matching dress and the men wear three-quarter length cream leggings with an open pale blue shirt. They are all barefoot. Even without lighting, the four dancers look superb.
I realise Edith has not seen me and would probably not recognise me even if she had. Not with me in costume and all made-up. Why should she? She will have no idea I have returned to dancing, let alone entered a Paris competition where she is also competing.
Ingrida grabs Monica’s phone and places it on a chair. She points to it and speaks directly to Edith in perfect French.
‘Excusez-moi, pouvez-vous garder ça pendant que nous dansons?’
‘Mais oui,’ Edith replies in a beautiful French accent.
‘Merci beaucoup,’ Ingrida smiles and we all enter thestage door. I am the last to go through, so when Edith calls, ‘Bonne chance.’ I turn and call, ‘Thank you.’
I do not have time to see if she recognises me as we all move to our starting positions.
The theatre lights dim, the audience goes quiet. This is it. My daughter will be watching from the green room. Clarissa and Hazel will be watching behind the line of judges. I certainly am going to do my best to put my body and soul into it and give the performance of my life.
20
Asha
I have been feeling a little nauseous all day and as we step onto the stage, for one horrible moment I think I am going to throw up. I had not expected my nerves to get the better of me. Thankfully, the feeling subsides the moment the lights dim. We all stand facing the audience, heads dipped down, one hand outstretched towards the floor. All I can see are my feet. My heart pounds and I take a deep breath.
The first notes fill the air. One heel beats to the rhythm as our heads slowly lift and the arm simultaneously reaches up to the ceiling, fingers spread wide. We are in perfect unison with Adele’s opening words about a fire within… We move across the stage threading in and out of each other. On the worddarkand in canon, we lift our arms into a wide full circle, jack-knifing towards a raised leg with pointed toes. Our isolation moves are sharp and coordinated with head rolls on the title words. I do not think about the audience or the judges.
When we get to Monica’s solo, the rest of us spread out in a semicircle behind her. Our moves are slow and exaggerated, hers are fast, a synthesis of jazz and balletic styles. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, and she is incredible. This has to be the best she has ever danced her part.
On the same count, as Adele repeats her reflection about what could have been, we move as one to the edge of the stage, reaching out our hands to the audience, all at different levels. None of us smile. Clarissa has rehearsed us to glare and simmer in this number and I can feel power emanating from our every step. I can see members of the audience sitting forward in their seats as the pace of the dance intensifies.
We come to the line about souls and doors, and Fay and I turn to face each other as the other dancers swirl towards their designated partner. This is where we do our high five – our joke for the move – which is in fact a most effective hand slap that stops before it connects before flying above our heads as we go into jazz reaches. I give Fay a double take, she is usually a little expressionless, but I can feel her eyes burn into mine as she puts her heart into it. I have never seen her dance so well. At one time she could be accused of cutting short some of the movements, but not today. It spurs me on to dance with equal fervour.
When we reach the end of the dance, turning in canon, hands raised in fists and heads lifted to the sky, we hold our positions, and I am breathless.
There is rapturous applause from the auditorium. We stay frozen in tableau and wait for Monica to move first then all drop to a low bow. Even our exit has been rehearsed and we peel off one by one, departing the stage with shoulder rolls and drag walks.
I swear I see Ruby give a low wave to someone out in the audience, but I cannot be sure, and I am so ecstatic we danced so well I miss looking in the direction she waved.
So, this is what is like to feel as if you are walkingon air.
