Page 83 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
When the music starts, we will run on from the wings holding our matched coloured scarves high in the air, so they float behind us. We must keep the scarves high as we cross through each other. Clarissa, she tell us it is lethal to slip on the material, so we must be careful to stop it dropping to the floor.
Once we are in our actual positions, we must each tie our scarves around our waist as our hips move with the beat of the music. We will then begin the fast mixture of Indian steps. It is a complicated dance with many arm movements.
I am in Janine’s place right at the front of the line.
I say a quick prayer, please God, let me dance this well as I am not as confidence in the footsteps, and I do not want to make mistake.
My heart is beating very loud in my head. We rush onto the stage. I am holding my scarf high and when I reach the other side of the stage, I turn and run to cross between Ruby and Monica and then Fay and Bonnie. I feel as light as air in my ballet shoes. The steps are still in my feet even if they are not in my head. I feel wonderful.
We surge – Clarissa loves this word, surge – to the front of stage in two groups, then I hear a loud scream, follow by Bonnie’s voice.
‘Oh dear.’
I turn and Fay is down on the floor. One foot is bent back beneath her. It is wrapped up in a pale blue length of material. Her eyes, they blink and I think she has hit her head on the floor. I can see she is badly hurt, so I drop my scarf and rush to her side.
The music stops and the main lights go on.
I am no longer a dancer but a professional nurse. My training takes over and I call for help.
24
Fay
My leg is broken. I felt it crack. The X-ray shows a hairline fracture of the fibula just above the ankle. I am to wear something called an airboot and use crutches until I can weight-bear again. I have no idea what this will cost, and I am concerned what excess my insurance will expect me to pay.
Still, I must consider myself fortunate not to have a bad head wound, just bruising. At least I will be allowed to travel home provided that it is by train. Perhaps Janine did me a favour after all when she did not use our money for flights? Going home by aeroplane would have been out of the question.
‘Attendez ici s’il vous plaît?’ a nurse asks me.
I look blank, so she asks, ‘Êtes vous indienne?’ pointing to my outfit; I am still dressed in the sari costume.
I shake my head and reply, ‘Ju-swees-englaze.’
She smiles and says, ‘Wait here, please.’
I sigh. As if I can do anything else.
It will no doubt be a long wait to have this boot fitted and I will probably miss the dinner cruise on the Seine, now my only opportunity to see a little of Paris. And when on earth will I be able to get changed?
Pull yourself together, Fay. It could have been a lotworse.
I am glad I am by myself. I sent Ingrida and Asha back to the theatre – thankfully just a short distance away – as soon as they confirmed I could be a while. Ingrida kindly said she would come back for me. I was most appreciative she was able to translate the doctor’s diagnosis.
Goodness, it has been a day full of incidents, and I decide to relive it as I sit in the treatment area of the Saint Antoine Hospital.
The accident was not my fault. But it is true to say my mind was not on the Bollywood dance, that is for sure. The conversation I had had with Edith in the café was going round and round endlessly in my head.
It had been such a relief she had indeed recognised me just before we went on stage to perform the Adele number. She had not known I had hidden in the wings to watch her dance at close quarters. “Fix You” was magnificent and the applause in the amphitheatre had been thunderous.
‘Bravo.’ I had clapped when they came off stage. ‘Edith, you were superb.’
She had half-smiled, unsure how to respond. However, I was unable to engage in a lengthy conversation as I had to rush back to the dressing room to change for “Dancin’ Fool”.
‘Will you meet me in the foyer café after our next dance? We are on again soon.’
She had nodded, but her face betrayed a degree of uncertainty. Indeed, she appeared to have clamped her mouth shut. Perhaps she feared saying the wrong thing. I realise this is exactly how I felt. I did not want to sayanything that would cut off communication before it had begun.
I decided there was insufficient time to change after “Dancin’ Fool”, so I threw on my coat over my costume and rushed to the café, forcing down a rush of unchecked emotions. This was not the time to be losing my head.
