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Taryn
“TARYN! WHAT ARE YOU doing in here?” Madame finds me in the common room.
I’m the only one in here, and I’ve been researching the ballet that the company is going to be performing: A Midsummer Night’s Dream. After the dancers so rudely evicted me from the company buildings, I made my way straight back here, deciding I wouldn’t be setting foot back there on my own without Mr. Ngo. The problem was that I bumped into Miss Tavi on the way, and she told me Mr. Ngo had been delayed—by six whole hours.
“Oh, I’m just researching things,” I say to Madame now. Been doing this for a while. It’s proving quite interesting, too.
I’ve always been fascinated by how Roseheart produces modern twists on classics. The diploma and academy productions were always so much fun, but this proposed production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream looks spectacular. The company is using George Balanchine’s choreography and Felix Mendelssohn’s music from the 1962 premier of the ballet as the basis for their production, but our choreographers have tweaked a lot of things and added more scenes. There are now more pas de deux in the first act than in the original, and the second act isn’t so much a classical dance wedding celebration but rather evokes many of the fantastical elements that are present in the first act in its wedding celebration, with the divertissement pas de deux incorporating stunning costumes of fairies for the two dancers.
I’ve no idea what part I’ll be asked to dance, but the divertissement pas de deux looks amazing. Still, I know I haven’t got a chance of being in that role. Not when it’ll be my first time dancing for the company, and I’m only here on a temporary basis. I just hope I don’t get the role of Helena in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I don’t feel like playing a character with the same name as my dead sister. I feel haunted enough as it is. And of course, A Midsummer Night’s Dream was my sister’s favorite ballet. Reassuringly though, I know being cast as Helena is unlikely. She’s one of the main characters.
Madame shakes her head. “Taryn, my gem, you’re part of the company now. You need to be over there—and Mr. Ngo is about to arrive. Martyn has gone to collect him.”
I check the time. I’m not too sure who Martyn is, and all of a sudden, I’m nervous about meeting Mr. Ngo too. I know he’s older than me and has more experience. What if he also looks down upon me, just as the company dancers too? But I’m also curious about him. Even if he is six hours late.
We walk to the main reception of the company’s administration building quickly.
“You go inside and meet him,” she says to me. “I just need to check where he will be staying.”
I push the door open. No one is there, and I’m relieved. I take several deep breaths, glad to be here first, then a door creaks open from the opposite side of the room.
A lithely built—but clearly very strong—Asian man with neat, short black hair enters the room. He carries a rucksack on his back, and he’s dressed in jogging bottoms and a hoody. His trainers look brand new and expensive.
“Taryn?” He smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks tired, worn out, and his eyes are pink.
I recoil. There was a scandal at the Paris Ballet school recently to do with drugs and loads of their ballet dancers needing addiction help. God, if Mr. Ngo is addicted to some substance, then dancing with me isn’t going to be his main priority.
“I’m Jaidev Ngo,” he says. His voice has an accent, but I’m not sure what it is. I’m hopeless at identifying accents.
“Taryn Foster.” I keep my voice guarded as I study him.
He slings his rucksack onto the floor. Inside it, something clinks. “Well, it’s wonderful to meet you, Taryn. I understand I’m now too late for a studio session today with you, but we are to start first thing tomorrow?”
I nod. “Yeah. Studio 12 is booked for 7 a.m.”
Mr. Vikas hadn’t been happy about coming in on a Sunday, but he’d said needs must.
“Perfect. Now, can you show me where to get food? I’ve only had two cups of coffee all day.”
“Sure. We’ll just wait for Madame to get back with details of where you’re staying.”
It’s a relief when Madame returns, saving me from wracking my brain for what to talk about. Madame says Jaidev is to stay in Teddy’s room. So, he’s staying in the school, too, like me. It also means that taking Jaidev down to the academy’s canteen is easy—I definitely don’t feel like going to the café in the company block, and while I’m sure there must also be a canteen for the company that I hadn’t yet found, I do not want to risk bumping into any of those company dancers again. Guess I really will just have to prove my skills to them to get them to like me.
Jaidev grabs his rucksack and swings it onto his back in a movement that nearly has his elbow in my eye, then he thanks Madame.
“Is that all your luggage?” I ask. We’re standing by the Kieran MacQuoid memorial—a plaque for Xavier’s brother. He was a dancer here, too—before I joined. Eight years younger than Xavier, Kieran was in year three of the lower school when he was murdered. I’ve never heard Xavier talk about it directly, but everyone here sort of knows even though I can’t remember who told me. Kieron was shot along with four other people, when they were out in London, shopping, one day.
Jaidev shakes his head. “My suitcase is being sent later. I hadn’t packed it.”
I frown a little at that but don’t ask, just show him the way to the canteen.
Once there, I grab a baked potato with tuna and a small portion of lettuce. He does the same. I don’t know whether to be annoyed at that or not.
Sibylle is sitting at a table with Peter and Xavier. She waves me over.
“Is that him?” she stage-whispers to me.
I turn. Jaidev is now getting cutlery and a glass of water, but he is also looking at Sibylle. He clearly heard her.
“Be nice,” I say, feeling strangely protective of Jaidev. I give Peter a warning glare because if there’s one person I know who’ll be problematic, it’s him.
Peter gives me a sickly-sweet smile back. “I’m just simply delighted to meet him.”
Xavier doesn’t say anything at all, just cuts up his salmon into small, even squares.
But once Jaidev is over here, the tense atmosphere does dissipate and we’re all making small talk. I ask him what the Paris Ballet School is like, and he asks about Roseheart’s way of doing things. The conversation then descends into general natter about films and Bake Off, which Sibylle and Xavier have been binge-watching after their pas de deux rehearsals for months. Peter nods enthusiastically and claims he is the spitting image of one of the contestants, but I don’t watch it so I’ve no idea how accurate he is. I mean, Peter often thinks he’s more attractive than he is—Freya and Ivelisse are always saying that.
Alma joins us at this point, and we all talk for a good twenty minutes after finishing our food, and it feels better. Certainly better than how I imagine things would’ve gone if Jaidev and I had eaten in the company buildings.
“You must excuse me,” Jaidev says. He looks to Peter. “Would you be able to show me where my room is?”
Peter looks at me. “Which room?”
“Teddy’s.”
“Then you mean our room,” Xavier says. He sighs. “Teddy and I shared.”
“Ooh, drama!” Alma says.
Jaidev doesn’t look happy about not having his own room, and it’s understandable. I don’t think I’d want to share a room with someone I didn’t know and who was probably annoyed that I was getting a chance when they weren’t. That rules were being bent for me.
Because the company is bending rules, and I’m aware that it may not be making me favorable in the eyes of others. Xavier, especially. Maybe Sibylle, too, secretly. She’s just too nice to show it at all.
Jaidev, Peter, and Xavier leave. The moment they’re out the canteen, Alma turns to me.
“Did you hear?” Her eyes are wide and shiny as she lowers her voice. “He’s a psychopath. You need to be careful.”
“A psychopath?” I let out a small laugh. Then I stop.
Sibylle has frozen.
“Yeah,” Alma says. “His mother was hit by a car less than twelve hours ago, yet he’s still here. Dancing is apparently more important. If you ask me, that is the behavior of a psychopath.”