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‘I’M VERONICA BUT MY mum and everyone else calls me Ronnie. Ronnie Kelly.’ Veronica had one hand on the bar as she emulated the movements of Miss Laverne. This was their fifth lesson and it was the first time she’d found herself next to the only boy in their class.
She already knew his name from Miss Laverne having said, ‘Gabriel, sink deeper into your plie.’ Hayley had giggled loudly hearing this and Veronica had overheard her say, ‘No wonder he does ballet, he’s got a girl’s name.’
She’d have liked to have been the kind of girl who said what she thought because if she was, she’d have told Hayley to shut up and mind her own beeswax, nobody cared what she thought. She wouldn’t do that, though, not now the birthday invitation was within sight. So, she’d stayed quiet, letting Miss Laverne tap the cane she used to count the beat in irritation as she told Hayley not to talk in the middle of a lesson.
‘Everybody calls me Gabe, apart from Miss Laverne,’ Gabriel said, looking back over his shoulder. His brown eyes reminded Veronica of Bambi and they were wide as if he was surprised, she’d spoken to him.
She eyed Miss Laverne but she was too busy correcting Ruby’s posture to notice she was chatting and not, as per her instructions, extending her leg, knees straight, toes alone touching the ground in a position she’d called tendu. This ballet business was all very strange, she thought, each time she heard a new exercise called out. ‘I think Gabe suits you.’
A slow smile spread across his face and Veronica was pleased with herself. She turned her attention back to Miss Laverne who was now instructing them to move their legs out to the side.
Something unexpected had happened during that first class. Veronica, despite her best intentions, had enjoyed herself. She’d loved watching Miss Laverne’s fluid movements, and wanted desperately to be able to appear as graceful as she did, like the swan she’d seen floating down the River Hawthorne on her way to school. Best of all though, she had what Miss Laverne had told her mummy after the fourth class, a natural aptitude. She didn’t know what that meant but Mummy had explained that Miss Laverne meant was she was good at it.
It seemed the girl who never paid attention during hockey and netball, who was always the last to be picked for the sports teams at school, could dance, and nobody was more surprised by this than Veronica. Mummy hadn’t been surprised though, she’d said she was her mother’s daughter and that much was obvious, though Veronica didn’t know what she meant by it but she didn’t ask her to explain.
The rest of the lesson flew by with Veronica losing herself in the motions of the elevés as she lifted up on the balls of her feet in each of the five positions. A highlight of their hour and three-quarter class was when Hayley couldn’t get the hang of her elevés in fifth position, her arms arched overhead as she wobbled like a tree in the wind. The girl who was good at everything at school, flushed pink with annoyance at not being able to master this basic step. The fact it came easily to gawky Veronica irked Hayley and she’d steered Megan away after class without so much as a glance in her direction.
Veronica tried not to let the snub hurt as she took herself off to get changed back into her uniform in the Ladies. The other girls and Gabe didn’t bother, they jumped in their mum’s cars and went home in their leotards. Not that Gabe wore a leotard; he’d look silly if he did. He wore a white T-shirt, black shorts, and black ballet shoes with white socks. He was very lucky in her opinion not to have to wear a leotard that crept up his bottom. She pulled her tunic over her head. She couldn’t very well walk home in her leotard with ballet slippers on her feet and she’d feel stupid with her clumpy T-bar shoes on her feet. The excited chatter that marked the end of a lesson had quietened off and she’d best get a move on. She didn’t fancy finding herself locked into the centre for the night.
Veronica set about putting her shoes and socks on and then shoving her things into her school bag then pushed her way out of the bathroom. Mummy hadn’t stayed to watch her lesson this week like she had all the others. All the other mum’s apart from Gabe’s and hers talked to one another about what they were having for their tea and that sort of thing but Mummy and Gabe’s mum stood off to the side from the others as if they thought they were better than everybody else. Mummy never took her eyes off her and she’d seen her lips moving as she counted the steps along with Miss Laverne. Today though, she’d had to take Abigail who’d been sniffling and coughing these last few days, to the doctors. The appointment had clashed with the lesson and Veronica had been told to wait on the steps of the community hall if they weren’t back by the time class finished.
The hall had indeed emptied out and Miss Laverne was the only one left. She was packing her music tapes away and looked up on hearing Veronica. A rare smile softened her features which were made sterner by the bold ruby-red she chose to wear on her lips.
‘Ah, Veronica, and how are you enjoying the lessons?’
Veronica didn’t need to think about her answer. ‘I love them, Miss Laverne.’
‘And why is that?’
It was a funny thing to ask her and this time she did think for a moment or two trying to find the words to explain how the music and movements made her feel. ‘Because, well because I feel as if someone else has taken over my body.’
‘You don’t like being in your own body?’ Miss Laverne had no eyebrows and Veronica stared at the two arched lines that looked as if they’d been drawn on with a brown felt tip pen. This time she pursed her lips and frowned because normally when an adult asked her a question, she would try her very best to give them the answer she thought they were wanting to hear. She instinctively knew this wasn’t what Miss Laverne was wanting from her and so she answered truthfully. ‘No, I don’t. Sometimes when I’m around other people it feels like it isn’t even mine and I’m not good at sport and things like the other girls. I suppose I’d be alright if I could make myself enjoy it but I can’t see what the point of trying to snatch a ball off someone else or hit a ball with a stick is. I don’t suppose I’d be very good at roller skating either but I’d like to try it. When I’m dancing, I know what to do without having to think about it. I feel as if I could do anything. And I forget about this,’ she held her arm out and the teacher made a sympathetic murmur at the sight of the openly weepy patch of skin.
She didn’t add that it gave her a break from worrying about her mum and dad and their fights which were getting worse. Her mind emptied of everything and the only thing that mattered was the music and movement of her body when she was here.
Miss Laverne looked pleased by what she’d said, although Veronica wasn’t sure why. ‘There was a light in your eyes when you spoke, Veronica. It’s a light that tells me you’re a dancer. Dancers feel the music here.’ She put her hand to her chest. Her bust under her leotard was tiny, unlike Veronica’s mummy’s. Hers jiggled and bounced when she walked and Veronica had seen men in cars staring out their window at her in a way she’d didn’t like. She didn’t think Daddy would like it much either, even though he didn’t want to be around Mummy much anymore. She wondered if she’d have bosoms like her mummy’s or small mounds like Miss Laverne’s when she grew up. Small mounds would be much more comfortable, she decided, and easier. She stopped staring at her teacher’s chest as she realised she was asking her a question once more. ‘You feel the music in your heart too, I think. Yes?’
Veronica nodded, she wasn’t sure if she did or she didn’t but she did know dancing made her happy. It was simple. The dance teacher patted her on her shoulder in a gesture of affection that seemed an uncomfortable fit and returned to her task. Veronica hovered, in no rush to leave. Mummy had shown her a book she had at home after her first lesson. Veronica had never seen it before given it was right at the top of the book shelf. Mummy had gotten it down and dusted it off, telling her to be careful with it because it was heavy. She’d also told Abigail she wasn’t to touch it. It had made Veronica puff up proudly to be trusted with the book and it had been most satisfying when Abigail began to cry that she wanted to look at the pictures and Mummy had told her to cut it out.
The book was full of colourful, shiny pictures of ballerinas and men with legs that looked like they had ropes under their tights. Veronica had turned the pages slowly, in awe of the dancers’ elegance as they were frozen in mid pirouette or as they leaped airborne across the stage. Velvet red drapes adorned the stage, framing the magical beings trapped in the glossy pages. Now it occurred to her that Miss Laverne might have been one of those dancers. Mummy had said she’d been a prima ballerina and there was something about her; it set her apart from other people. It wasn’t the fact her hair was fire-engine red either. ‘Miss Laverne, did you ever dance on a stage with red velvet curtains?’
She looked taken aback by the question, as though she’d expected Veronica to have gone by now and amusement flickered in her dark eyes. ‘I did. I was with the Royal Ballet for many years. Then my mother got sick and my body was tiring of professional dancing even though my spirit wasn’t so I came home and decided to teach.’
‘Did you dance for Princess Diana?’
‘No, but I did dance for the Queen.’
Veronica wondered if she should courtesy or something.
‘Do you miss being on stage?’
‘Sometimes, yes.’ Miss Laverne would not tell this child who was all long gangly, limbs and hopeful bright eyes she missed it with all her being. A child couldn’t understand, nor should they, how it felt when part of you died because you could no longer do the very thing that defined you. A recurring injury to her hamstring had culminated in a labral tear in her hip and her time in the spotlight had faded into the wings, to watch while younger dancers took her place. It was akin to being a great beauty and growing old. It was a cruel thing to have a passion and to no longer be able to fulfil it. But, as the saying went, it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. There was something about this girl, Veronica, that sparked a memory of her younger self. The child was looking at her now, an expectant expression on her pretty features. ‘But now I get to pass on all I’ve learned to my students, and to teach is a wonderful thing.’
Veronica nodded, satisfied by the reply.
‘I’ll see you on Thursday,’ Miss Laverne said by way of dismissal. The girl was stirring emotions in her she’d long since buried when her decision to end her professional career and move into teaching had been exacerbated by her mother’s illness.
‘Yes, see you on Thursday.’ Veronica remembered her manners. ‘And thank you, Miss Laverne.’ She thudded across the floor, her feet no longer fairy light now she wasn’t wearing her magic slippers, and out the doors.