It is raining by the time we arrive back on our street, so August stops the car outside our house and lets us make a run for cover. Rudi is waiting for me, seemingly unfazed by the rain and gazing down the tree-lined road towards the heath. His hair is soaked and his curls hang looser than usual around his angular face.
‘You want to be careful,’ I say as I approach, my coat pulled over my head for cover. ‘Our neighbourhood lookout is terribly vigilant and you look like you’re up to no good.’
He grins, a Cheshire Cat smile that reveals all of his teeth. There is a glint of mischief in his eyes. ‘I’m always up to no good, Clem. That’s why you like me.’
‘I thought you had plans with Anna,’ I say, lifting my chin sharply to scrutinise him. ‘You couldn’t wait to get away earlier.’
‘I never said I was seeing Anna.’ He raises an eyebrow sceptically. ‘I simply said I had somewhere I needed to be. I have been there, and now I am here.’ He spreads his arms open, a smug smile spreading across his face and I fight every urge in my body to stick my tongue out at him. Grace is still waiting for me by the front door, shielded from the rain by the porch awning. Rudi glances in her direction. ‘Can you get away for a bit?’
‘Wait here a moment,’ I tell him and I skitter up the front path to where my sister is patiently waiting with a small smile upon her face.
‘Is it alright if Rudi and I go for a walk?’ I ask. ‘We just need to talk through this afternoon’s rehearsal—’ I start, but her smile widens and she shakes her head a little, as if she is privy to some inside information that I know nothing about.
‘Whatever the two of you are up to, I don’t want to know,’ she replies, then looks towards Rudi who is now waiting by the gate. ‘Just keep my sister out of trouble please, Rudolf.’
‘Always,’ he responds solemnly, sweeping into a low bow, the rivulets of rain dripping from his hair.
‘Don’t be too late, Clementine,’ Grace warns as she opens the front door. ‘And I would recommend you take a brolly.’ She hands it to me and waves goodbye, closing the door behind her.
I look at Rudi suspiciously. ‘So, why are you here?’ I ask, but before I can question him further, he takes me by the hand and begins dragging me back down the street.
‘You ask too many questions, solnyshko. Just follow me.’
I pester Rudi for clues on the bus, but he won’t give me an inch until we reach Covent Garden. The rain has stopped, thankfully, but the wet cobbled streets glisten like silver as we pass over them.
‘Come on.’ He stands abruptly. ‘This is our stop.’
I follow him off the bus, past public houses full to bursting with drunken patrons. He draws closer to me as a man with red cheeks and a swaying gait lunges across the street, singing merrily to himself at the top of his lungs.
‘Stay close, Clem,’ he murmurs, taking my hand in his, then looking down at me with a jovial smirk. ‘I don’t want to get in trouble with your sister.’
He leads us down a cobbled street, then takes a left and stops in front of the Royal Opera House.
‘What are we doing here?’ I ask, gazing up at the grand limestone structure with its domed glass conservatory.
‘A friend of mine works here as an usher,’ he says, reaching into his pocket for a ring of keys and waving them in front of me. ‘He owed me a favour.’
‘You can’t be serious!’ I hiss. ‘Rudi, we can’t break into the Royal Opera House. What if we get caught?’
‘Stop worrying, Clementine, it will be fine,’ he insists, trying each key in the lock until finally it clicks. He raises his eyebrows and smirks, pushing the door open and ushering me inside.
‘What about the security guards?’ I whisper as he closes the door softly behind us, engulfing the hallway in darkness.
‘I have conveniently timed our excursion with the shift changeover,’ he replies, striking a match on the wall and cupping it with his hand as he searches for the light switch. ‘Ah, here we go.’
He flicks the switch and I shield my eyes as they adjust to the light.
‘Come on,’ he says, striding ahead. ‘This way.’
I hurry after him, eager not to be left behind as we wander down corridor after corridor. I have no idea where he is taking me until he makes a sudden stop outside a door to our right.
‘Are you ready?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know!’ I whisper. ‘I have no idea what I am supposed to be ready for.’
His face cracks into a lopsided smile and he pushes the door open.
‘After you.’
I take a deep breath and cross the precipice into the unknown.
‘Close your eyes,’ he instructs and I do as I am told. I hear him flick on the lights, then his hands are on my shoulders and he is gently pushing me forwards. ‘Keep them closed. There’s a step here, and another.’ I feel the surface change beneath my feet from carpet to something hard and springy, a surface I know well. It feels like a stage. ‘OK,’ he murmurs, releasing me from his grasp. ‘Now open them.’
My vision is blurry at first. All I can see is the warm glow of a hundred lights, and colours, so many colours. Deep velvet red, glimmering gold and duck-egg blue, like the first September skies. Slowly the details come into focus and I realise where I am. This is the stage of the Royal Opera House. Row upon row of red chairs surround me in a horseshoe shape, rising up into the rafters. There must be well over a thousand seats, each section separated by Corinthian columns of cream, decorated with rich gold leaf. Every box is surrounded by gilded oak wreaths and acorns, connected by a continuous stream of overflowing roses and other flowers. I spy cupids, their tiny wings aflutter, and the heads of satyrs, boys with harps, and large festoons of fruit and foliage. I lift my head towards the domed ceiling and my jaw almost hits the floor. It is like standing in the bow of the most magnificent ship, and my heart swells in my chest with excitement. This is it! This is my dream.
‘Rudi …’ I murmur, awestruck. ‘It’s-It’s-’
‘There aren’t quite words for it, are there?’ He smiles, gazing up at the Renaissance-styled panels. ‘This is the home of so many musical memories. The operas, the symphonies, the ballets that have been performed here …’ He crosses the stage. ‘This very stage has been danced upon by Nijinsky and Pavlova.’
I can picture them gliding past us, their glittering costumes of tulle and brocade catching the light and glistening like stars. I can almost hear the ghost of the applause. This room has a magic to it, like it has stored up all the beauty, the power, the passion of every performance and absorbed it into its splendour. I shake my head, returning to the real world as Rudi strides across the stage into the wings.
‘Where are you going?’ I call, my voice echoing around the cavernous theatre.
He returns moments later, dragging a gramophone onto the stage. ‘It is time to make your dream a reality, Clementine,’ he says, placing the needle down on the record as the opening notes of our pas de deux begin to play. ‘You are letting the pressure of this talent scout get to you, when really, this is where you belong. Now, are you ready to perform?’
I grin, pulling my pointe shoes from my bag and taking great effort to carefully tie the ribbons in place. I straighten my back and take my place on the stage. This time, when we dance, it is effortless. We are not dancing for an audience, for Madame Lebedev, for a scout from Vic-Wells, we are dancing for each other, for the sheer joy of it. I laugh as we play out the scene, plucking the petals from the flower. I feel weightless, and every movement comes easily. Despite how tired my legs must be, I simply don’t feel it. My whole body is coursing with adrenaline as Rudi and I dance side by side. We kick our legs out in perfect unison, bringing them back in with tempered control, then he spins to face me, his hands on my waist once more and he leans in, ready to kiss my cheek. For one moment, I think he is going to actually kiss me, and my heart stutters in my chest. He draws in so close that I can smell the scent of cloves on his neck. My skin bristles, almost as if it is clamouring for his touch, but his lips never quite touch. I feel his breath like the whisper of a kiss and then he retreats. My breath hitches momentarily, and my chest grows tight as he skips back across the stage and blows me one last ardent kiss before disappearing into the wings as the music dwindles.
He reappears a second later, clapping his hands together and with a huge grin on his face. ‘We did it, Clem!’ He rushes towards me and picks me up with ease, spinning on the spot as the lights blur in a kaleidoscope of colour. ‘We danced on the stage at the Royal Opera House, and it was the best we have ever danced! Don’t you think so?’
I nod enthusiastically, my face wreathed in smiles, fighting back tears. I don’t know why I feel like crying. Perhaps it is the adrenaline, perhaps I am just overtired from rehearsing too much. A single tear rolls down my cheek and Rudi stops spinning instantly and places me gently back down on the ground.
‘Are you OK, solnyshko?’ he asks softly, wiping the tear away with one slender finger.
‘Yes!’ I croak. ‘Honestly, I’m fine. I don’t know what came over me … Thank you, Rudi, this was wonderful, utterly wonderful!’
His hand is still resting on my cheek. I can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. It is beating like the wings of a hummingbird, just like my own.
‘Clementine, I—’
‘Hey!’ Someone calls from the back of the theatre and our heads snap in the direction of the sound. An old security guard is hobbling towards the stage as quickly as he can, weaving between the red velvet seats.
Rudi looks at me, his eyes wide. ‘Run!’
He drops his hand from my cheek and grabs my arm, pulling me behind him as he sprints from the stage. He runs so fast that my feet fly out behind me in my attempt to keep up with him. He smashes through the door where we entered as the guard calls for us to stop. Then we are rushing down the darkened corridors once again, past the changing rooms and costume cupboards, weaving out of the way of abandoned rails as we hear more voices and the sound of footsteps catching up with us. We make it to the stage door and Rudi pushes it open with all his might, practically flinging me out onto the cobbled street. He doesn’t bother to close the door behind him, but grabs my hand once more and again we are flying as fast our feet will carry us down the empty streets, the leather soles of my ballet shoes slipping on the slick cobbles. Rudi’s maniacal laughter echoes off the buildings as we run. I don’t know how he has the breath for it, my own lungs are burning with the exertion.
We finally stop running when we reach the river. Sharp, shooting pains are running up my shins and I bend over to rub them as Rudi climbs onto the wall and dangles his legs over the side. I straighten up and join him on the wall, looking out at the inky black water.
‘I much prefer the Thames at night,’ he says. ‘You can’t see how murky it is. With all the lights and the moon shining on the surface, it almost looks inviting.’
‘I think we’ve had enough excitement for one evening without taking a dip in the river,’ I breathe, rolling my neck back and forth.
I feel him turn to look at me. ‘Would you say it was worth it though?’
‘Absolutely.’ I grin, facing him. As I meet his eyes, I am reminded of that moment, right before the guard caught us. His hand was resting on my cheek and he wore such an earnest expression. ‘What were you going to say earlier?’ I ask. ‘Before the guard caught us.’
‘Oh, that,’ he says, looking back to the water. ‘Nothing really, I was just going to ask how things were going with the American.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call him that,’ I reprove.
‘And I wish he wouldn’t call me Rudi.’ He shrugs.
‘Well, at least that is your name—’
‘It’s what my friends call me,’ he interjects, his eyes narrowing. ‘That man is not my friend.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just don’t like him,’ he replies, growing standoffish. ‘He’s foolish if he can’t see how great you are, and I have no time for fools.’
I feel my cheeks flush with heat and I duck my head, letting my hair fall in front of my face so he won’t see. ‘That’s a shame …’
‘Why?’ He sits a little straighter.
‘Because August wants us to join him and Grace at The Midnight Nest on Friday. It’s a jazz bar in Soho apparently.’
‘I know what The Midnight Nest is, Clem,’ he replies with an eyeroll and a small smile.
‘Well, I don’t!’ I exclaim in a flap. ‘I don’t know the first thing about jazz music. How does one even dance to it?’
‘It’s easy.’ He shrugs nonchalantly. ‘You just move to the music, as you would in ballet.’
There is no way it is that easy. Ballet isn’t simply free-flowing movement, it is a discipline, and it takes years of training to be able to do what we do and make it look easy. If his justification was meant to soothe my nerves, it has had quite the opposite effect.
‘Well, if it’s that easy, you won’t mind accompanying me then?’ I challenge him.
‘I don’t know, Clem, maybe this isn’t such a good idea,’ he says cautiously.
‘Going to the jazz bar or you coming with me?’ I ask, leaning forward to look at the water below and trying to mask my disappointment.
He is silent for a beat too long and I wonder what he could possibly be thinking. ‘Maybe all of it,’ he says at last, and my heart sinks.
‘But the plan is starting to work!’ I insist. ‘When we left our rehearsal this afternoon, I overheard Grace say she thought you loved me – isn’t that funny? – and August actually said we are not children anymore. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do, Rudi,’ I continue, trying to keep my tone light and jovial. ‘But I shall certainly be going.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to go dancing with you, Clem, it’s just … don’t you think you’re focusing on the wrong goal?’ He takes my hands in his and coerces me to meet his gaze. ‘We’ve got Giselle to focus on. There’s going to be a talent scout at the opening night. This could be everything we ever wanted! Why are you so fixated on The Amer—on August Draper?’
‘Why does it have to be one or the other?’ I shoot back. ‘I haven’t asked you to choose between dancing and Anna.’ He doesn’t understand; without the financial stability of someone like August, there will be no dancing in my future.
‘That’s different,’ he replies uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck.
‘How is it?’ I press him.
He sighs and clasps his hands. ‘Well, I’m more …’ He circles his hand in the air, searching for the right word. ‘Experienced than you. You are still very naïve in these matters.’
It feels like a punch in the gut.
‘You are such a pig, Rudolf Lebedev.’ I scowl, pulling my legs back up onto the wall and dropping down onto the pavement with a thud.
‘Clementine!’ he calls, following after me with a look of exasperation. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, I simply meant—’
‘I know precisely what you meant,’ I interrupt, placing my hands on my hips. ‘You think that because I haven’t left a string of broken hearts in my past, I can’t possibly know what I am getting myself into. Is that why you offered to help me woo August, because you think I need your assistance?’
‘No, of course not!’ he insists, frowning.
‘It’s so easy for you, Rudolf, you get to do whatever you please, and pick and choose whichever woman takes your fancy. You don’t have to worry about marriage, because you are a man. Everything will just fall into place for you, and one day, when you finally decide to grow up and stop using women like objects instead of beings with feelings and hearts, you can simply choose to marry because you want to. Not because your freedom and your livelihood depend on it.’
Before he can say another word, I stomp up the street and hail the approaching night bus to take me home. I flop down in my seat, sparing one singular glance back at Rudi who is standing in the middle of the pavement a little forlornly. I am still seething with anger, but perhaps there was some truth in what he said. I am inexperienced in real-life situations. I have always preferred to watch from the wings, rather than put myself out there. It is different when I am dancing, I can pretend to be someone else. I am whichever character the audience requires me to be. But when it comes to being myself, I still have a lot to learn about taking centre stage. It is time for me to take my place in the spotlight, and The Midnight Nest is just the place to do so.