Spring 1940
My favourite part about teaching ballet is teaching the really little children, when they are about five years old and can barely point their toes, but are filled with an unbridled enthusiasm. At that age, there is no telling if they will be the next big thing, or if they will drop out as teenagers. We are all there simply to have fun.
Today is an even more special class, because today Grace has brought her daughter Polly along for her first lesson. She clings nervously to Grace’s skirt as they enter the studio, but her face brightens when she sees me.
‘See, I told you!’ Grace smiles. ‘Auntie Clem is here to take good care of you. It will be lots of fun.’
She looks so sweet in her pink leotard, her tawny-coloured hair swept into a bun. Luckily, Grace had plenty of practice helping with my hair when we were children. It is possibly the neatest bun in the studio. Not that I should be surprised; Grace has always been a perfectionist. Baby Arthur starts gurgling in his pram, and she looks down at him benevolently.
‘Don’t you start making a fuss too,’ she coos, then wraps an arm around me. ‘Hello, Clem, how are you doing?’
‘Oh, you know.’ I shrug. ‘Not too bad. Business has fallen a little as some families have taken their children to the countryside, but we’re confident they will return.’
‘There’re still plenty of families like us who won’t be leaving London,’ she reassures me.
‘There’s nowhere I’d rather be.’ I smile, just as Rudi walks into the studio, lighting up the room as only he can with his wide grin.
‘Grace!’ he cries, opening his arms wide and giving her a big hug. ‘How’s the family?’
‘We’re doing very well, thank you.’ She beams. ‘Exhausted, but happy. When are you two going to have some children of your own?’
‘Calm down, Grace, we only got married a few months ago!’ I squeak. ‘Besides, how will I teach if I can’t touch my toes?’
‘We will cross that bridge when we get to it.’ Rudi winks, wrapping his arm around me. ‘For now, we have more than enough children to look after, thank you very much.’
‘Yes, well, here’s one more!’ Grace laughs, giving Polly a little push forward. She bends down and looks her in the eye, ‘You’ll have a great time with Auntie Clem and Uncle Rudi, then they are going to bring you back to Mummy and Daddy’s bookshop, OK?’
Only Jacob and Grace would think it a good idea to open a bookshop during a war. I think they spend so much time with their noses in books, they are completely oblivious to what is going on in the real world. But then, I suppose Rudi and I aren’t much better with our ballet. We have certainly seen a dip in income since Germany marched on Poland, but we get by, living comfortably enough in the small flat above the studio. Business is still busier than when I started, and while I was away with the Vic-Wells Ballet, before the war broke out, Madame Lebedev had expanded into the building next door. Now we can run twice as many classes, and Madame is only a stone’s throw away in the flat beside ours.
Rudi finds it hilarious that I still call his mother Madame, even now we are married, but old habits die hard and I cannot seem to break it. Secretly, I think she quite likes it.
‘Have you seen this?’ Rudi says, unrolling a copy of Pointe magazine from his pocket with a smug look on his face.
‘What is it?’ I ask curiously, taking a step closer. ‘Oh my goodness, that’s the last person I want to see!’ I exclaim as I realise it is Paul on the front cover.
‘Ignore the picture. Read the headline!’ Rudi insists gleefully as he taps the magazine.
DUBROVSKY DROPPED FROM VIC-WELLS BALLET FOLLOWING AFFAIR SCANDAL
‘Gosh …’ I say, a little lost for words, and counting my lucky stars I didn’t go through with marrying him.
‘The full story is inside, but it looks like he was having an affair with the producer’s wife.’
‘Oh, poor Mr Webster,’ I reply, feeling genuinely quite sad for him. ‘He put up with so much aggravation from Paul. How could he do this?’
‘Well, he has got his comeuppance,’ Rudi replies smugly. ‘Serves him right for the way he tried to bad-mouth you after you left.’
‘Yes, well he didn’t have much luck with that, did he?’ I shrug. ‘As soon as Sophie stepped into my place as the new principal, she made sure everybody knew the truth.’
‘Hopefully this will be the last balletomanes have to see of Dubrovsky,’ he says, dropping the magazine on the piano. ‘He was such a nasty piece of work. I’ll never forgive the way he treated you.’
‘I never give him a second thought, darling,’ I reply soothingly, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
He smiles, and his grey eyes shine silver as he looks down at me and I brush a hand through his bronze curls.
‘And you don’t miss all the fancy hotels and the grand stages?’
‘Not even for a moment,’ I tell him truthfully. I have finally found everything I ever wanted: I get to dance with the man that I love every day, and I wouldn’t swap it for any audience applause, ever again.