Page 48 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz

Edith blushes and Cath takes her arm to lead her to the table.

I beam, unable to hide my delight.

‘I hope you don’t mind me joining you,’ Edith sounds a little shy as she addresses everyone. ‘I just love the routine. It is such a contrast to the numbers my group normally dances. I’m honoured to be allowed to dance with you.’

‘The honour is all ours,’ Asha signs ‘thank you’ with her fingers to her chin. ‘Your “Fix You” performance was outstanding.’

‘That’s kind of you to say. Thankfully, we are doing that later in the finals show. I had to check the programme before agreeing to come and try out “Dancin’ Fool”. You know, give me time to change costume and get into a different frame of mind.’

I hang onto Edith’s every word, delighted with the reception she has been afforded by the others.

Clarissa goes to the breakfast table to help herself to some food and Ruby and Monica stand to greet Edith across our table.

‘Edith, I’m Ruby. Welcome to the DICKs,’ Ruby laughs as she points to the insignia on her top.

Edith peers at the badge and then giggles.

‘It is supposed to read D-E-C-K. Dance Excellence – Clarissa Kirkland,’ I quickly interject. Trust Ruby to lower the tone.

‘Yes, welcome. I’m Monica.’ Monica and the others introduce themselves to her.

‘Please don’t be upset if I don’t remember all your names, but I’m delighted to meet you. I can’t wait to dance with you. I loved your costumes too.’

‘Oh dear.’ I look at Edith’s trim figure. ‘I fear my outfit may be rather large on you, Edith. I am a couple of sizes bigger than you, I am sure.’

‘I can sort that.’ Monica smiles. ‘I knew there had to be a reason for bringing my sewing kit and at least you are both a similar height.’

Edith is invited to get some breakfast, and I sit back and listen as she tells them about herself. She answers much more readily than if I had asked and I am able to glean a little more about her life.

I learn she and one of the male dancers in her group, Peter, are a couple and Corps et Ame performs in bars on the French Riviera for tourists.

‘How exciting. I would love to visit the South of France. And Monaco particularly,’ Asha says.

‘We performed in Monaco once. In fact, we learnt afterwards that the Prince of Monaco was in attendance, although I am glad we didn’t know it at the time. I might have been overcome with nerves.’

I find I am holding my breath in anticipation of Edith’s responses and I force myself to relax and savour her answers.

‘I bet it gets a bit tiring to perform in public on a daily basis,’ Ruby comments. ‘I mean, I love dancing, but every single night? Just one day of this competition has knackered me.’

Edith smiles, despite Ruby’s crude remark.

‘It can get tiring dancing night-in-night-out, and there’s no guarantee we will have bookings every week so it can be a bit hand to mouth. But I’m hoping there may be an opportunity here in Paris.’

I sit up straighter to hear more.

‘Ooh. That sounds exciting,’ Bonnie nods enthusiastically. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, since dancing in the heats we’ve been approached by a professional dance company in Paris with a view to joining them.’

‘Wowzers.’ Bonnie claps her hands. ‘How marvellous.’

‘This is very good news. You must be very happy,’ Ingrida adds.

‘The director’s coming to watch us today in the finals. To be honest with you, that did influence my decision about doing the “Dancin’ Fool” routine with you. The contrast will hopefully show my versatility. And of course, I just love Clarissa’s choreography.’

Clarissa beams at Edith and I cannot help saying, ‘Dancing with a professional Paris dance company. It is like a dream come true.’

Edith gives me a strange look but smiles all the same.

When the breakfast plates have been cleared, we take coffee in the hotel lounge and I manage to speak to Edith by myself.

‘It really is very good of you to help us out, Edith.’

‘My pleasure. I am sorry about your leg. How is it?’

‘Sore, but they warned me there would be a lot of bruising on the site of the injury. I am supposed to get my crutches later today, but I am not keen on using them. I do not want to fall over and do myself a worse injury. Plus, they are charging a small fortune – I would have to buy them outright – and the insurance may not cover this cost. So, I plan to only use a wheelchair until I can weight-bear. I have to return this one to the theatre but Hazel has arranged to purchase for me a folding chair – here in Paris – that I can use on the journey home. It is being delivered to the Opéra Bastille this morning.’

‘Very generous of Hazel.’

‘Indeed. She wants to donate it to St Ann’s Hospice when I no longer require it.’

Edith studies me for a few minutes. ‘It’s had an amazing effect on you.’

‘What, the broken leg?’

‘No, being with these lovely women in Clarissa’s group.’

‘Yes, I wish I had found it sooner.’

‘Me too.’

There is a short and awkward silence between us.

‘How is Bethan?’

‘She’s good. She’s living in Melbourne with her partner.’

‘The one she was travelling with? I have forgotten his name.’

‘No, a different one. And he is a she.’

‘A she? Oh.’ I do not know what to say.

‘She’s called Emma.’

‘Right.’

Edith scans my face, and I am quite sure my reaction will dictate her opinion of me, so I fight to find the right words.

‘Is she happy?’

‘Very. She’s selling real estate over there. Bethan and Emma have just purchased a fantastic place outside Melbourne close to the sea. I hope to go and visit next year.’

‘I am told Australia is wonderful. Erm… Edith, I would love to contact Bethan. Perhaps you would ask her if I could have her phone number or email address?’

‘Yes, I will.’

‘Thank you. And Edith, thank you so much for dancing in my place. It means a great deal to me.’

‘No problem.’

Hazel retires to her hotel room to save her energy for the finals show and Ingrida pushes me the short distance back to the theatre. Returning to the Opéra Bastille , I watch Edith chat with Ruby and Monica, realising it is a long time since I heard her laugh so heartily.

My new folding wheelchair has been delivered to the theatre and I sit in it to one side of the stalls in the main auditorium when rehearsals are underway.

The space is immense. I realise I would have been quite daunted to dance in front of such a large audience. Tickets to the final have been sold to theatre and dance schools across Paris. We are told the theatre will be almost half full. Just over a thousand people. Extraordinary.

Our ladies run through the “Dancin’ Fool” routine several times. They repeat sections when required and also incorporate Ingrida’s impromptu change from yesterday as part of the sequence. They are not in costume, but they use the bright bowler hats as props.

Edith is magnificent. She is a natural dancer, and I can see she is having a positive effect on the others, who all up their performance in an attempt to match hers.

Clarissa is on stage with them, giving instructions and sharpening up the moves. From here I can see precisely what she wants as she issues her instructions.

‘Bonnie, arms higher and fingers wide…’

‘Ingrida, exaggerate those shoulder rolls more. This is large theatre, and we must magnify each movement.’

‘Ruby, keep low on those three-step-turns… down into the ground, jazz-style.’

‘Monica, can you demonstrate the lyrical sequence to the others? Please pay attention to Monica’s arms and how she finishes every move which melts into the next…’

‘Splendid Edith, you have a wonderful stage presence…’

They are part-way through a full run-through when the music is suddenly cut and a male voice over the speaker says, ‘ Pardon. Excusez l’interruption . Clarissa Kirkland, is it possible for you to come to the stalls for to be in a meeting, tout de suite? Merci .’

Clarissa leaves the stage – where the ladies continue – and ends up standing next to me.

She leans in to tell me, ‘This will be about Bold as Brass. I am glad you are here, Fay… Ah, Frédéric.’ Clarissa steps forward to greet the French organiser who, a giant of a man, emerges from the closest theatre entrance.

He folds her tiny hand inside his huge ones as he beams at her. ‘ Bonjour , Clarissa. Merveilleux de vous voir, ma belle dame. ’

He kisses the back of her hand but Clarissa’s wide smile freezes on her face as Sheila then emerges from behind Frédéric. She stands next to him and folds her arms tightly across her chest.

‘Clarissa.’

‘Sheila.’

‘ Mesdames , we must talk about the forthcoming show together.’ Frédéric ushers Clarissa and Sheila into the seats in front of me.

They leave an empty seat between them and Frédéric moves to the row forward of theirs and kneels on the chair to face them.

His large frame only just squeezes into the chair, but he covers his grimace with a smile.

‘Clarissa, félicitations. Votre chorégraphie est fantastique… Sorry, I am saying…’

‘Yes, I understand, Frédéric. Thank you. But we are here to discuss the Bold as Brass rendition of “Roxanne” and I can assure you it is entirely my choreography that they have used.’

‘Not all of it,’ Sheila objects.

‘Every last step and I can prove it.’ Clarissa holds up her phone.

‘Indeed,’ I echo from behind the group, keeping perfectly still as I know full well we do not have the clip Monica had promised now her phone is smashed.

Frédéric indicates for Clarissa to continue but thankfully Sheila, shuffling awkwardly in her chair flicks her hand in the air and says, ‘Fine. It is Clarissa’s dance, but I have enhanced it with our costumes and dramatic interpretation…’

Clarissa starts to object, but Frédéric turns to her and opens his hands. ‘The dance, it is yours, Clarissa. It will be announced it is yours. You will get the fullest accolade for this wonderful number.’

Clarissa pauses, as though deep in thought before adding, ‘I would not normally agree to such a proposition. It is, after all, dance plagiarism.’

Sheila tuts loudly, but Frédéric throws her a warning look before continuing.

‘I must inform you, Clarissa, we have many, many more people coming to watch the show tonight. Indeed, we are épuisés … that is, sold out. Yes, c’est vrai . Every seat has been sold overnight. Any idea why? Clarissa, they want to see your “Roxanne” dance.’

‘I do not understand.’ Clarissa glances back at me and I shrug.

‘The final section of the dance, it was on the French television last night. The clip has gone viral on the internet…’

‘Bold as Brass are properly famous…’ Sheila starts.

‘Infamous,’ I mutter under my breath.

Frédéric flaps his hands to shush Sheila and appeals directly to Clarissa.

‘Now the theatre, it is full to capacity and they all want to see your incredible routine…’

‘I do not for a minute think it was my choreography that caused this public interest.’ Clarissa glares at Sheila, but before Sheila can retort, Frédéric quiets her with a finger to his lips before turning to Clarissa.

‘It will be the largest audience ever in the history of the Expression competition. And Clarissa, you know what they say, there is no such thing as bad publicity. Indeed, this could be the making of the Expression show. Think of the press interest, the exposure…’

I bite my tongue.

‘…our dance competition could finally hit the big time: un succès retentissant !’

‘Yes, well, I can see that.’

Frédéric holds his breath as Clarissa rubs her forehead.

‘Very well. Providing I am acknowledged as the choreographer for “Roxanne”, Sheila’s group may perform it later today.’

Frédéric reaches forward and clasps Clarissa’s hands. ‘Excellent. Thank you, Clarissa.’ He turns to Sheila and nods at her expectantly.

Sheila picks at her nails, shrugs and mumbles, ‘Right. Ta. I must get going.’ She gives Frédéric what I can only describe as an unashamedly insincere smile and leaves the auditorium.

‘Well, she could have apologised at the very least,’ I say.

‘Sheila does not know the meaning of the word apology.’ Clarissa shakes her head.

Frédéric stands, rubbing his squeezed thighs. ‘Regrettably, it is too late to change the programme, but we will ensure it is announced that “Roxanne” is your dance.’

‘Thank you, Frédéric.’

Frédéric then approaches me and – much to my surprise – drops down into a crouch position to address me. ‘Fay, how is your leg?’

‘Thank you for asking. As good as can be expected.’

‘The press, they would like to interview you, Fay.’

‘Why on earth would they want to do that?’

‘You know, about your unfortunate accident…’

‘I hardly think that is headline news.’

‘And the wonderful coincidence of discovering your daughter, Judith…’

‘Edith.’

‘Edith. That she is in the same competition…’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It makes a wonderful story, how you say une histoire réconfortante? A comfort to the heart? You know, your long-lost daughter reunited with her mother and how she… a sauvé la journée by dancing for her maman in the final of the competition…’

‘No. Absolutely not. I will not have my private life bandied about by the gutter press. And gutter press they must be if their interest has only been prompted by pornographic images of Sheila and her dancers.’ I turn to Clarissa to appeal to her, but her eyes are focussed on the stage and the rehearsal.

‘But Fay,’ Frédéric opens his huge hands to plead with me. ‘It will be additional publicity. And I understand a well-known director is coming to the finals to watch Judith…’

‘Edith.’

‘ Oui … Edith, your daughter, with a view to recruiting her to a Paris theatre. It would reflect well on her; do you not think? Her magnanimous act to save Clarissa’s dance, yes? Perhaps you could be interviewed together?’

I find myself speechless and Frédéric rises, pats my shoulders and leaves, presumably under the impression I will comply, which I most certainly will not. I rub my forehead. I have a bad feeling in my bones – from my head to my broken ankle – about all this press interest.