Page 25 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz

Fay

I am not used to drinking. Even though I only had a couple of small brandies, they have upset my stomach and it has taken most of the morning for it to settle.

The breakfast in the café near our hotel was cheap and not a good example of French cuisine.

It is a sorry discovery to find a dry, almost inedible croissant in Paris, the culinary capital of the world.

I know we are close to the outskirts of the city, but I had expected this basic food would be excellent wherever we ate.

I suppose standards here are slipping as much as they are in the rest of the world.

To my surprise, I have found I am enjoying being with the other women in our shared room. I am a little cross with myself for letting slip I had gone to Saint Eulalia’s, but I doubt if any of them realise it was an orphanage back then. It is, after all, a boarding school now.

Ingrida is turning out to be as kind-hearted as I had hoped.

At first, I had been rather taken aback when I learnt she had married her employer, apparently within weeks of his proposal.

Did this confirm my suspicions that she was using him to get British Citizenship?

However, there is no indication this is the case.

And with a bit of research, I discovered she does not need this in order to work in the UK.

She is counted as a skilled NHS worker with or without a British passport, although why she had to explain this to the French customs officers at St Pancras, I have no idea.

My concerns regarding Neil replacing his wife so quickly have also diminished.

Apparently, two whole years have elapsed since the poor woman died.

I had thought it was less. Some men just cannot manage without a partner – look at Andrew installing a substitute for me in a scandalously short time.

No, I did Ingrida an injustice, and I am sorry I did.

I also find, somewhat to my surprise, that I am warming to Ruby.

I am sure she noticed my deformed toes, but she did not say a word.

I am grateful for that; it means she can show a little discretion.

I have observed her being kind to Ingrida and I believe there is a little camaraderie growing between us as she also notices every incorrect saying Bonnie utters.

Sadly, I cannot say I have connected with Monica.

I had hoped to converse with her more during the trip.

She is, after all, better spoken than all the other dancers and has great poise and decorum.

However, she has stayed aloof so far, and her demeanour is often one of total abstraction.

Aside from one moment when she comforted Ingrida with Asha and then joined in our impromptu rehearsal in our nightwear, Monica has a permanent faraway look etched on her face.

As Monica and I waited to check-in at the front desk of the theatre, a group of young adults dressed in shorts, crop tops, and trainers joined the queue behind us.

They were chattering loudly in French and pushing each other in some sort of childish game.

One pushed me – thankfully lightly – into Monica, so I turned to admonish the individual, but she quickly held up her hand and said, ‘ Pardon. Désolée, Madame …’ She did look genuinely sorry, so I let it go.

I leant into Monica to say, ‘These entrants look young. Clarissa said all those participating had to be over eighteen.’

‘They do, but at eighteen they are still teenagers.’ Monica shrugged, and I recalled her twins are aged fourteen.

‘They are clearly in high spirits. Are your twins well-behaved?’

Monica cocked her head to one side and answered, ‘They have their moments.’

This would have been an opportune moment to talk about Edith and Bethan and the difficulties I had experienced with them during adolescence, but Monica turned away.

It is good to go on the tour of the premises of the Opéra Bastille , a diverting occupation for my mind.

While the building is not to my taste, with its modernistic architecture and vast airport-like foyers and walkways, one cannot deny it is impressive.

Our tour guide is speaking in rapid French, and I do not have the patience to await Ingrida’s translation, so I wander around the spaces a short distance from the group.

I have read up on the history of the building and was amused to learn of all the issues.

There was controversy and scandal between the various directors, which could have constituted the plot of an opera in itself.

Then the building construction was fraught with difficulties, not least being when the limestone cladding on the facade began to drop off.

In the early 1990s, safety nets had to be put into place to catch the panels as they fell.

The director made a widely praised joke when he dubbed them ‘condoms with holes’.

I can only think this is comical to the French humour, as I do not find it remotely funny.

Anyway, the entire cladding was eventually replaced in 2009.

We are shown into the main theatre, where the finals will be held, and I have to say it is extraordinary with its vast hanging balconies.

I am not surprised it has been dubbed a vessel as each balcony is reminiscent of a ship – although I have read that in French the term vessel is intended as an insult when compared to the praise given to traditional opera houses.

I have to say the place is somewhat soulless, not a patch on period theatres.

I am slightly daunted at the prospect of dancing on the main stage, but this may as yet not happen. We would have to win through the semi-finals today, and there is no guarantee of this. I just hope we can get a respectable placing above Sheila Bold’s group.

I have craned my neck to look for any sign of Sheila and her band of women, quite sure we would hear them before we see them. It is a relief there has been no hint of them so far. Clarissa’s ladies are far superior in both presentation and manner.

Our tour over, we all sit in the smaller and preferable amphitheatre. The warm wooden flooring gives it a cosy feel and we commandeer a section of the black, padded circular benching. We sit and wait for Clarissa, and I quickly calculate our expenses to date.

‘Ahem.’ I stand in front of our group and wait for them all to give me their undivided attention.

‘Before Clarissa arrives, I just thought you should know what we owe Monica so far. I used her card – thank you, Monica – to purchase the three-day Metro tickets for our entire group so with that and the train fares, including the Eurostar, our running total works out to be four-hundred-and-twenty-two pounds each. Of course, we will have the hotel to add to that, but this is, thankfully, a relatively small sum…’

‘Hey, there’s something good to be said for the Smut Hotel, then?’ Ruby mutters, but I ignore her as I notice Ingrida is chewing her lip.

‘Please do not worry. I plan to get back everything we have paid to Janine, and I have taken the first steps towards this.’

‘You said you’d reported it to the police—’

‘Yes, I did, Ruby, and I have no idea why you should look so irritated that I have done so. Someone had to. I went online on the Greater Manchester Police site – I did it first thing when you were all getting dressed. I reported her theft of our Paris money, and I also reported my suspicions that Janine had embezzled our lottery money…’

‘You did what?’

‘Really, Ruby, you must let me finish. I did add this was only supposition, and I had, as yet, no proof, whereas I made it clear there was plenty of evidence she had stolen our competition trip money.’

‘Fay, I wish you’d waited until we got back to England…’

I was surprised to find Monica voicing her objection to my actions.

‘It just seems wrong to initiate police involvement before we have found out what happened.’

‘Hear, hear.’ Ruby crosses her arms, but neither she nor Monica make eye contact with each other.

‘I am sorry,’ I say with a degree of frustration I cannot keep from my voice. ‘But we need to be very clear that regardless of Janine’s reasons for stealing from us, she has, plain and simple, committed an offence. She must make restitution for what she has taken and pay the penalty.’

Bonnie and Cath shake their heads and one by one, the ladies turn to each other and talk in low voices about anything other than Janine. When no one responds to me, I sit down, more than a little piqued.

I could have told them that in all probability it will take an age for the authorities to act on my report.

One of the questions I had to answer on the website form was whether I was in immediate danger.

It made me appreciate there are others who will have been the victims of far worse crimes and that this theft falls more into the category of a scam.

But if the other women choose not to listen to me, I will not inform them it is unlikely to have the highest priority for the police.

A short blast of feedback resounds from the overhead speakers, making us jump and the theatre starts to fill up while announcements are made over the sound system.

‘ Messieurs dames, attention. Nous allons commencer la répétition détaillée …’

‘He say, we are to start the rehearsal,’ Ingrida translates.

‘ Afin de déterminer le positionnement et vérifier l’éclairage .’

‘It is for us to check positioning and lighting.’

‘ Et nous appellerons chaque groupe à tour de r?le. ’

‘Each group will be called in turn.’

‘ Veuillez écouter votre nom .’

‘Listen for your name…’

‘ Et s’il vous pla?t soyez rapide .’

‘He ask us to be prompt.’

‘This is it.’ Asha claps her hands together and we watch the first group take to the stage.

There are further blasts of music and feedback and after ten minutes of eagerly anticipating the first performance, nothing has happened.

The dancers, a group of eight women wearing bright leotards overlaid with sarongs, stand talking to each other as they wait.

The lights flash on and off in strange combinations and the opening bars of Dance of the Knights by Sergei Prokofiev play in repetitive and tedious snatches.

‘That’s the theme tune to The Apprentice .’ Cath nudges Bonnie. ‘Do you remember Clarissa’s skirt dance to this?’

‘I certainly do. It was incredible. We did it in the very first Expression contest, when only a few dance groups took part. Do you remember it, Fay?’ Bonnie asks.

‘Before my time with Clarissa, I am afraid. But Hazel has shown me a video and I have to say, it was extremely accomplished.’

Eventually, the rehearsal gets underway, and we sit forward to watch the first dancers perform.

There is polite applause at the end as Asha whispers, ‘It was nowhere near as good as Clarissa’s choreography.’

Thirty minutes later, we are still sitting waiting for Clarissa and only four more groups have run through their acts.

The sound of the music stop-starting in loud blasts is beginning to give me a headache.

I can also see these run-throughs will take an age, and it is frustrating to think the sights of Paris are only just outside our door and we are stuck here, unable to reach them.

The volume of the music lowers as a classical piece begins to play and a group of six male ballet dancers get into position.

‘Now that’s what I call tight tights.’ Ruby nudges Ingrida who stifles a giggle.

I ignore them and sit forward, eager to see a traditional ballet performance.

Everyone quietens, but as the dancers begin, there is a disturbance at the entrance on the opposite side of the auditorium.

‘Uh-oh.’ Bonnie shakes her head as shrieks of laughter resound around the theatre and Sheila’s group bursts into the space, talking loudly and oblivious to the disruption they are causing.

The audience turn as one to shush Sheila’s group who merely giggles before noisily taking over a row of benches opposite us.

‘Just like a bad penny,’ Cath whispers. ‘They were bound to turn up.’

I feel relieved to see Clarissa descending the steps towards us. We all wave quietly in greeting as she puts a finger to her lips, and we turn our attention back to the stage.

The ballet is rather strange. The music is, I think, from Giselle but the movements are rather jerky and have rather too many scissor kicks.

I expect it would be described as contemporary.

It is only part way through when a loud scream of laughter emanates from the direction of Sheila’s group and is followed by wolf whistles and more laughter.

The dancers on stage stop and glare, hands on hips or arms folded, and the music is cut short. The lights go back up and an official descends to the Bold as Brass group. We see him remonstrating with Sheila.

‘What is she saying?’ Asha asks.

‘I can’t hear, but judging from her body language, Sheila’s definitely taking issue,’ Ruby comments.

‘Ay-up,’ – Bonnie points – ‘they’re going to get slung out.’

The official points to the exit and – as one – Sheila’s women grab their bags and head out. When they get to the door, Sheila turns and shouts back to the man, her words crystal clear, ‘Stupid arse.’

There is a stunned silence quickly followed by the murmur of spectators and dancers conversing in their groups.

‘Well, let us hope that will get them ejected from the competition,’ I say to our ladies.

‘I rather hope they are not, Fay.’ Clarissa surprises us all. ‘I would prefer to knock them out of the competition by way of our superior dance numbers.’

She is, of course, right. We must triumph over these ill-mannered roughnecks without a doubt and I for one, want to immerse myself in the competition, the music and the atmosphere. I realise this is a wonderful opportunity to be part of something big and artistic; a new experience.

It dawns on me that Expression Paris has become synonymous with my sense of moving towards a happier future; I do believe I can feel it in my bones.