Page 61 of Tendu: Dancing in the Castle

If Aleks had heard himself referred to as a prick, it was causing him no distress. At the beginning of class in the dungeon, he walked over to me and smiled. “As you are no longer to have individual lessons, Amalphia, I will push you harder here. Do not think it is me picking on you.”

The professional teacher side of Aleks had returned, and while it was a relief that he hadn’t become ill again, it was also a shock to realise just how quickly he’d got over me. I pushed the selfish thought aside and concentrated. I had to. Where double or triple versions of any exercise or step were possible, he demanded them. He made me hold my legs up in extension long after the others had lowered theirs. Class was over in a flash of struggle and sweat and sore limbs. For an hour and a half, everything had been okay.

But as I stood with Will and Justin, waiting for the elevator, my whole body stiffened in pain, and I gasped.

“Sounds like trauma,” said Will, when I explained what I was feeling. “Any other symptoms?”

“In the night my heart was beating really fast, and it was hard to breathe.”

“Panic attack,” he said. “You should tell that new teacher. We’ve got her for Pilates this afternoon. She does other things too, though, like meditation and massage.”

The new teacher, Teresa, proved to be happy and bubbly, and somehow shiny seeming. Her cherry-red frizzy hair parted now and again to reveal dangling parrot earrings. Everyone was welcome to take her classes, even the other teachers.

We did therapeutic massage at the end of a relaxing stretchy session in which no strenuous Pilates took place. Will and I worked together and got a lot of attention and guidance. Justin was annoyed at being placed with Sadie again, while Simone delighted in running her hands all over Aleks’s back.

The sight of them touching caused a hard rock to form in my stomach. Thin tomato soup ran round it at dinner.

“Did you say something about me to Teresa?” I asked Will, having noticed how she’d gone out of her way to be kind to me.

His nod was reluctant.

“You’ve got to stop blabbing to teachers. I won’t be able to tell you anything.”

He looked uncomfortable.

“What else have you done?” I asked.

“Zolotov asked me how you were today.”

“And you told him everything. No more telling things, or there’ll be no birthday cake.”

“I’m getting a cake?”

He was so delighted, my anger melted away. I would enjoy making him a cake and putting candles on it. I would enjoy getting a card and present sorted. These felt like normal and nice things. Living in the castle was neither nice nor normal. The thought that we were going to stay for months was too much to contemplate, and small ideas of departure had begun to form in my mind. The contemporary teacher was very taken with Will and me, to the point where she felt we should transfer somewhere else to specialise. Did I want that? I loved contemporary. I loved ballet. But I loved Aleks too.

It was comforting to see him chatting and eating across the room, but that might change with time. Not being with him hurt so much. I wanted to be like Will, and apparently Aleks: love them and leave them with barely a backward glance.

His door stood open, seven inches open, that evening. All seemed quiet and calm within, but I walked valiantly past.

The week wore on. My body hurt at random moments. I cried in the toilets and the meditation room.

Michelle was absent on Wednesday afternoon, and as we descended in the elevator, Mr. Timms seemed rather excited by the fact.

“Without Miss M. and her computers, we will do something different,” he said. “Romeo and Juliet. Balcony scene, four sets of lovers. The studio is big enough for everyone to work at once. We will love it up.”

“Not feeling the love,” moaned Justin as we wandered into the huge cold dungeon.

“Is good,” said Aleks. “A small performance reminds us of what it is all about. I suggest we make it interesting, and have a competition to see which is best partnership.”

Simone looked smugly confident beside him.

“It’s entirely unfair,” I said to Aleks, surprised to find I could speak quite normally to him. “You must know the choreography already.”

“Not all versions, Zolotov?” asked Mr. Timms. “I suspect you know Cranko, and Ashton, but what about Macmillan?”

Aleks admitted he was not familiar with it.

“Ha!” I said. “Will knows it. We saw it once years ago.” Befuddled looks met the statement. “It’s his amazing brain, you see,” I said, placing my hands on either side of Will’s head. “He remembers everything. We’re gonna win.”

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