Page 93 of Tendu: Dancing in the Castle

“Under here, Phi,” said Holly, indicating a bowl of salad and then, unseen, pouring a substantial amount of olive oil into it.

“Do you do that often?” I asked, once Michelle had taken her salad and gone.

“Every day. Fit ye needin’? There’s chocolate cake.”

I sat by Justin and Will among the buzz of people and found that all the extra company felt good. I had downplayed the misery of the preceding week to my friends. Michelle had been cool and polite in front of Aleks, calmly observing his affectionate behaviour towards me, but when encountered alone, she was sharp and unpleasant. Gone was the friendliness of last term. I was no longer Amalphia, her favourite, but Miss Treadwell, a name always said in derision. She sneered at my ironing and cooking, but it was an overheard conversation that had been the most upsetting.

“You will be discreet about it, won’t you, Aleks?” I’d heard her say. “It would look highly unprofessional in front of the new students. She’s little more than a child herself…” I hadn’t heard his reply, but her tone inferred he was indulging in a whimsical activity or passing fancy. I sat in the stone circle a long time that day, missing a meal to avoid the two of them.

Back in the dining room, with my newly returned friends, I looked over at the staff table. Aleks and Michelle were deep in discussion. I directed my attention to Goth Girl who was laughing at something Justin had said.

“So you’re a dancer here,” she said to me. “Do we all have to do chores?”

“No, I was just giving Holly a hand today.”

Questions shot back and forth across the table, about the place, its facilities and staff. I told the new students that their cottages were nice, having been hired out as holiday lets in the past.

“Better rooms than us?” asked Justin.

“They’re cosy, more homely than ours. Four students to a cottage, I think.”

“What’s our teacher, Mr. Zolotov, like?” asked Bekah, as I had gathered Goth Girl was called.

“What would you say, Phi?” asked Justin. “Sum him up in a few words for us.”

“He’s a good teacher,” I told her. “You’re lucky. We’ve got Colin for morning class every day, and not a single lesson with Aleks.”

That news had been distressing. But my friends were back, classes didn’t start till the next day, and I suggested a swim.

“There’s a pool?” was excitedly asked by a few people, and everyone wanted to join us.

“But we’ve got a tour with Mr. Zolotov this afternoon,” said Bekah, perhaps not quite as rebellious as her outward appearance suggested.

“Let’s ask him if it’s all right, shall we?” said Justin, then calling across the hall: “Oh, Mr. Zolotov, will you allow your class to come swimming with us? Or are you going to be very strict and boring, and forbid it?”

Aleks came over. “Of course you can all go swimming. I will come through in a while. You are getting to know each other?”

“Oh we are, Mr. Zolotov, we are,” beamed Justin.

Swimming with the younger students was fun. Their arrival changed the energy of the place, making it seem somehow brighter and new. Will grabbed my waist from under the water as I bobbed at the edge, and thanked me for his present, confirming that he did not already have the latest Arsenal strip. “It’s going to be different this term, isn’t it?” he said.

“Not better different.”

He glanced towards the door as Aleks walked in. “Remember, Malph, I’ll always be here for you.” He kissed me on the cheek and darted away under the water.

Aleks called out to his class to get changed, and they all clambered out of the pool and disappeared into the changing rooms.

“Is good to have your friends back?” he asked, dance trainers squeaking on the damp tiles as he crouched by the side of the pool to speak to me.

“So good. And your new little ones. They’re all calling you Mr. Zolotov. Is that a thing now?”

“Ah. Michelle, she feels we should…” He cleared his throat. “We should develop a more professional relationship with these, our first-year students. Is not the right time for you and I to be open, after all.”

“Yes, I caught some of that conversation.”

“Later. We talk later,” he said, and moved away from me to await his pupils.

I knew it wasn’t true. We wouldn’t talk later. We never did.

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