Page 9 of Tendu: Dancing in the Castle

I took a detour round by the majestic white Opera House, stopping by the bronze statue of the little dancer tying her shoes. “Don’t you just love her?” I asked, touching her cold smooth hands.

His face suggested that he didn’t like her at all, and I worried that I’d made a terrible mistake. Maybe the place had bad memories or connotations for him? I glossed past the odd moment, assuring him that he would love the cake, and led the way downhill towards the high columns of the Piazza.

A silver living statue sprang to sudden life, causing a passing woman to scream. “It’s Amalphia Treadwell!” the statue announced to the street, arms wide.

“Jordan,” I said, recognising a former student from college under the metallic face paint. He waltzed me round in a circle and turned to Aleks. “And would your – shit – really famous friend like to dance too?”

Aleks shook his head in strict refusal.

“What was it you said?” I reminded him as we continued down over the cobbles. “We should all train with different teachers, learn more methods, be pushed in new ways? I mean, have you ever danced with a living statue?”

He shook his head again and almost laughed which I considered an achievement.

We sat outside my usual café in the Apple Market with coffee and slices of many layered chocolate cake. A rainbow of scarves fluttered in the breeze on a nearby stall, while the sound of a busking flautist echoed and bounced off the high glass ceiling above. Aleks was very quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet with no need to make mundane conversation.

“You haven’t eaten much,” I said.

“I am not so hungry for cake.”

“I was, but then I didn’t have any breakfast. There was no food left in our flat. Have you been to the puppet shop?”

“No,” he said, as if to an absurd notion.

It instantly became a challenge. “Oh, you have to see it. There’s ballet things. And historical theatres – they’re so beautiful – little puppet ones, you know? Replicas of old staging? Come on.” I got up and pulled at his hands. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

He laughed and let me dance along in front of him, still holding his hands, until even I became aware of the unseemliness and walked sedately beside him.

He found a set of Matryoshka nesting dolls, in the back of the shop, that were painted like dancers. “Is like you,” he said, opening the toy up. “The many layers of the woman. Look: the dancer, the most sensuous of lovers, the mother, and the childlike delight of the smallest.” He bought the set and handed it to me.

“You don’t have to buy me things,” I said, unsettled by the expensive gift and the ‘sensuous lover’ thing. Was the day turning into some sort of date? Of course not, I told myself sternly, recalling the sophisticated beauties seen on the internet.

“I want to. This is a good day,” he said as if such a thing were rare. The urge to hold him was strong again but gallantly resisted. He was, after all, just being polite.

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s always lovely here, sort of like a break from everything. The rest of life should be more like today, more like Covent Garden, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he said very definitely.

“I need to go the candle shop too,” I said, returning to practical matters. “We’ve run out.”

“You are paint a grim picture of your living conditions. Is sounding Dickensian. No food, and lit by candles? I want to rescue you from this.”

“Candlelight makes everything more beautiful,” I told him as I bought a few pillar candles. I gave him one, evening things up a little on the buying front. As the long wax shape changed hands, the phallic appearance of its design became obvious. I blushed and it was a relief to turn my head away to read a text from Justin.

“Oh, I have to go,” I said, disappointed to be bringing the afternoon to an end. “There’s this thing tonight…”

“We get you a taxi.”

“No, it’s only a couple of stops on the tube.”

He walked down onto the platform with me, where the gusting wind from the approaching train already blew. I turned to him, wanting to do something wildly inappropriate, but modifying just in time.

“Thank you for today, Aleks. It started badly, then it was nice.” I stood on tiptoe, or demi-pointe, and kissed his cheek, acutely aware of my lips against his skin and the faint soapy scent of him like the day before in the studio.

I stepped onto the train and looked back round into dark brown eyes. His hands held my face as he placed two soft, lingering kisses on my mouth.

He stepped back onto the platform. The doors slid shut. There was a wolf whistle from further up the carriage. I stared out at him, hand pressed to the cold glass of the door as the train pulled away all too fast. I could feel the blood pumping through my veins. The abdominal lurch I’d experienced at the touch of his mouth reverberated round my body. His voice, his words, ‘the most sensuous of lovers,’ resounded in my mind as he vanished out of sight.

Chapter 4

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