Page 85 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
‘Should have sought some assistance. I mean, you and Bethan were quite a force…’
‘Oh, here we go.’
‘What I am trying to say is I am sorry—’
‘And?’
‘I am sorry we have drifted apart.’
‘Oh, you’re not sorry for turning your back on us when we most needed you.’
I sat back, startled. This was not going at all how I had planned.
I saw some of the other ladies joining Ruby at her table. I did not want them coming over to me, so put my head down and studiously ignored them.
We sat in silence for a good long time. I sipped at my coffee and Edith finished her bottle of water.
Eventually, Edith looked at her watch and began to tap the table with her fingernails.
I knew I only had this one chance, and it was fast fading, so I turned to her and tried again.
‘Edith, I know we cannot turn the clock back. We cannot alter the past. But I do not want to be a stranger toyou or Bethan. I was hoping we could…’
‘Play mother and daughters? Glance over those years where you ignored us and pick up as if they hadn’t happened?’
I knew then she was not in a receptive mood, and this had been an error of judgement on my behalf. I slowly moved my chair back and stood up. ‘I am sorry. This was a mistake. I had only wanted to say I was sorry. I also wanted to have… well to have some contact… but I can see I have misjudged the situation. Edith, I am happy I have seen you. I am delighted you are dancing. I hope you… well, I hope everything will go well for you in life. Please send my… my regards to Bethan.’
Edith had stared at the table, and I had walked away.
I forced myself to go to the dressing room. If it were not for the final dance, I would have left the theatre that instant and wandered around Paris to gain some equilibrium, but I was duty-bound to perform with the others. I could not let Clarissa down.
And now this. A broken leg. I can hardly take it in. They wanted me to inject myself daily with an expensive drug for the next week. Apart from what will no doubt be a ridiculous cost, I have a deep-seated fear of injections dating back to my school days when I was held down for a tetanus jab. This is more than being a little squeamish. I was diagnosed with trypanophobia, an extreme fear of medical needles after that. I had to see a specialist doctor to have gas and air in order to have my Coronavirus vaccines. I would be unable to explain this to the young French doctor who asks if I know how to inject myself. I merely nod. I am given seven days’ supply. The hypodermics arethankfully hidden in a box. I am deeply relieved I do not have to look at them. I have absolutely no intention of using them and will leave them on my chair. I heard them say the wordpréventif, so I know the medication is only precautionary. I just want to get out of this hospital.
I press my fingers into my forehead as I contemplate what lies ahead. There will be so much to sort out. Insurance, transport, weeks of rehabilitation and no more walks or dance for months. How will I manage stairs? Getting in and out of a bath? Going to work… I quickly stop myself before sinking into a quagmire of self-indulgent pity. This is not the way I was brought up. Perseverance, steadfastness, and practicality; I can visualise Sister Josephine telling me so.
I stare at my swollen foot. I am unsure exactly what happened; it is all a bit of a blur. One minute we were crossing through each other, our scarves held high; the next minute, I was on the ground. I banged my head on the floor and my ankle was in agony. I tried to stand up – I certainly did not want to make a spectacle of myself – but my leg would not hold my weight. It was dreadful to be out there, everyone looking at me. I had to be supported to get off the stage. Monica was on one side and Ingrida on the other. I could not have been more embarrassed.
They deposited me on a chair in the green room and Ingrida placed my foot up on a low table. She carefully removed my ballet shoe and examined my ankle while they fetched the theatre first aider.
‘It may be broken, or it could be sprain.’ Ingrida had turned to one of the backstage staff to ask, ‘Avez-vous unbloc de glace?’
‘What is that you are asking for?’
‘Ice. I am afraid this willuxbriest… what is English word?’ Ingrida puffed out her cheeks.
‘Swell up?’
‘Ja. Swell up. You need rest leg.’
I stared down at my foot and realised my foreshortened toe was on display for all to see. Ingrida must have seen the look of alarm on my face as she gently placed my scarf over the foot to hide it and smiled at me. I have not been wrong in judging her to be a kind soul.
Monica shook her head and sat down next to me. ‘You’ll not be able to dance for a while, Fay. Even if it’s only a sprain, sometimes that can be worse than a broken bone. James was weeks recovering from a sprained ankle playing rugby last term.’
‘I think you are right,’ I responded. ‘I may have some difficulty getting back to the Charbon Hotel. Oh dear, I do not know how this happened. Perhaps it was my scarf? Did I drop it?’
‘You tripped on part of Bonnie’s sari – it’d come loose at the back.’ Ruby crouched down next to me. ‘Poor you.’
I must say, they were all being very kind.
