Hester's Story (43 page)

‘I heard that, Silver,’ said Hugo. He was smiling. She didn’t know any longer what she thought of him, which didn’t make life easier. It would have been much simpler if she could hate him. Then she’d have been much ruder. I’m not afraid of being sharp with people, she thought, but it’s very hard not to like Hugo.

She bent and swayed and fixed her eyes on a black mark on the far wall of the rehearsal room and went into the whirling storm of turns, all done
en pointe
and at top speed. She knew not many other dancers would have been capable of what she was trying to do. Hugo thought she was capable of it because she’d done so well with the famous thirty-two
fouettés
in Swan Lake. Okay, here goes, she thought. The arms. Trembling in the arms and don’t lose your footing. Keep it steady. Listen to the rhythm. Round and round and listen to the beat and fly and fly and round and round and more and more and shiver the arms and lift them and float
and leap and again and again. Silver had disappeared and there was nothing but a body moving through space; nothing but the body and the music and a burning sensation in every part of her lungs.

‘You’ve done it!’ He was hugging her in his delight and Silver felt her heart thumping in her chest. She was covered in sweat. Her face was running with it. She leaned against Hugo’s chest and stayed there for a moment. He was still speaking. ‘I knew you could! I knew you were better than you thought you were, better than everyone told you you were, and I’ve proved it.’

He stepped back a little and took hold of her hands. ‘Have I been a most frightful bully, Silver?’

‘No, not a bully. But demanding. You’ve been bloody demanding. And bossy. You always think you know best, like most choreographers.’

‘Well, I do!’ Hugo laughed. ‘I
do
know best. About
Sarabande
, anyway. And about you.’

He was looking at her in a way that made her feel most peculiar. She suddenly had the impression that it was getting increasingly difficult to breathe. She and Hugo were standing very close to one another and she could feel the warmth of his body. Was she imagining it? Where was the cheeky remark that she should have made almost at once? Silver found that she had no words ready to say. Nothing in her head except a sudden, silly desire to be held by him. Stop it, she told herself. Grow up and behave. He’s practically married to Claudia. He’s never shown the slightest interest in you except professionally. Don’t let yourself be carried away simply because you’re feeling good about having achieved something well-nigh impossible. She looked at him. ‘I hope I can do it again, Hugo. What if I can’t? What if that’s it?’

‘You’ll do it again. You’ll do it better. I have the utmost faith in you, Silver.’

He put out a hand and touched her hair, just at the nape of her neck, stroking it a little.

‘I’ll see you at lunch, Silver. Ilene and Andy’ll be here in a minute. Thank you.’

‘Yes, see you later.’

*

Hester got up to draw the curtains against the gathering dusk and the lamp on her desk cast a golden light into the room, dispersing some of the shadows. Edmund had joined the company for lunch and everyone had been thrilled to bits to have the composer of their ballet sitting with them.

‘It’s such terrific music to dance to,’ Andy told him and Nick and Ilene nodded in agreement. Hester heard Claudia saying, ‘You obviously understand women
so
well,’ and she was practically purring. It wasn’t surprising. Edmund was still handsome. He’d put on a little weight but Hester thought that it suited him. He looked solid and healthy. His eyes were just as blue as they ever were and the fair hair that used to fall over his brow was grey now and cut shorter.

Now everyone was in rehearsal and the house was quiet.

‘Tell me about the funeral, Edmund,’ she said.

‘It was a very moving ceremony. Very cold at the actual burial, but a great many people were there. I didn’t realise they had so many friends in America.’

Hester listened to him speaking and when he’d finished she said, ‘Thank you so much for telling me, Edmund. I’m not good at funerals. Do you mind if we talk about something else now?’

‘There’s just one thing though.’ Edmund hesitated. ‘I’m sorry, Hester. This might be painful. I’ve got a
letter for you. I suppose I could have left it until after the first night, but I want you to read it now. I think it’s important that you …’ He hesitated again before taking a deep breath and going on. ‘I think I’ve been wanting to say something like this to you for years, Hester, and never could till now. Adam’s dead and you have to face that fact.’

‘I
have
faced it, Edmund. What do you mean? I haven’t been … I haven’t thought about him for years.’

‘That might be how it’s appeared to you, but for me, well, let’s just say I always knew that Adam was still very much alive in your thoughts.’

‘How could you have known? I said nothing. Nothing at all.’ And, she thought to herself,
you were otherwise occupied with one or another of your women, anyway
.

‘I watch you, Hester. I’ve been watching you since you were a young girl. I see things you think you’re hiding. I want you to read this letter, whatever it says. I think you’ll feel better after you’ve faced whatever’s in it.’

‘Have you read it?’

‘No, of course not. The envelope was addressed to me, but what I found when I opened it was another sealed envelope and that’s got your name on it, as you can see. Virginia gave it to me after the funeral. She found it among Adam’s things and it wouldn’t have occurred to her that it might be for you. Or if it did, she hid it very well.’ Edmund took an envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. ‘Shall I go? D’you want to be by yourself?’

‘No, please stay. I’m fine.’ Hester took the folded page of thick, cream paper out of the envelope. The sight of Adam’s handwriting made her throat close up. She shut her eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

Dearest Hester,

I’ve wanted to write to you many times in the years since we last spoke to one another. I have left Edmund, in my will, a yearly allowance which is to be paid to you until your death and after you die, to your heirs whoever they may be. I hope that you won’t feel you can’t take this gift from me. I am doing it through Edmund because he’s my oldest friend and because I don’t want Virginia to discover after my death that I have thought of you every single day. With almost every breath, I’ve agonised over what happened between us and mourned the death of the only child I’ll ever have. Edmund has told me about you over the years, and I’ve followed the public story of your career and felt a mixture of pride in your achievements and despair at my own behaviour. There have been so many times when I’ve nearly done it. Left Virginia and come to find you, Hester, but in the end, as in the beginning, I couldn’t, could
not
, do that to a woman whom I saw as much weaker than you were; much more dependent on me for her survival. There’s nothing else I can say now, Hester, except that if you’re reading these words then I am dead and I have loved you all my life and will go on loving you from beyond the grave, if there is a beyond. Believe me, my darling. Adam.

Hester folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. She looked down at her lap. Her hands were shaking. A mass of sorrow had gathered in her throat and she felt that if she tried to speak, no sound would come out of her mouth. Her eyes blurred with tears and she was trembling. She made an effort to breathe and put her hands over her face and covered her eyes. I’m in shock, she thought. This is shock. I haven’t seen
Adam’s handwriting for thirty years, and now, there it is, right in front of me. It’s like seeing a ghost. I must make myself calm. She forced herself to breathe in and out and gradually began to feel more normal. She thought of Adam’s words:
I have loved you all my life and will go on loving you from beyond the grave, if there is a beyond
. She tried to hear his voice saying them, but couldn’t. It was as though the whole of him, his voice, face, everything, was fading and disappearing, like a stain dissolving in water.

‘Hester?’ Edmund’s voice brought her back from her reverie. He’d come over and was crouched down beside her. He took her hand. ‘Are you all right?’

She still couldn’t trust herself to speak. She looked at him and nodded.

*

Claudia took a spoonful of the orange-coloured soup in front of her at dinner and wondered why even her normal small appetite had disappeared. She was aware that all around her at the table, the rest of the company seemed to be having a good time. Nick, in particular, was right up the other end (how did that happen when she tried her hardest to sit next to him or opposite him at every meal?) and giggling with Ilene and Andy like a young kid from the
corps de ballet
. She stared at him, hoping to make him aware of her presence, but it wasn’t working. Instead, she had Ruby on one side of her and Hugo on the other and both of them were as far from pleasant dinner companions as it was possible to be. Ruby was talking to Alison on her other side and Hugo seemed fascinated by George’s stories of the good old days, when he was a young feller-me-lad, out every night on the town, betting on the horses and not being too careful about the amount
he drank. She could hear most of the anecdotes from where she was sitting.

Claudia sighed and looked at Alison, who seemed to be enjoying herself and who had, indeed, just laughed out loud. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Before coming to Wychwood, Claudia thought that having her daughter with her would be a pain, but it hadn’t worked out like that. So why was it that instead of rejoicing she was faintly peeved? She wasn’t in the habit of analysing her own feelings too closely, but the annoyance she felt towards Ruby, for no good reason in the world, must have been partly because Alison was so keen on her. I’m jealous, she thought. Jealous that Alison finds it so easy to chat with Ruby and so difficult to say a civil word to me. How ridiculous is that! She took another mouthful of soup and then put her spoon down. I will throw up, she thought, if so much as another drop crosses my lips. She noticed that Alison was tucking in as usual and had helped herself to a second roll with her soup, but she said nothing. They all, she reflected, looked at me as though I was beating her with sticks the last time I tried to stop her stuffing herself. I’m not saying a single word now.

She looked up and caught Silver, on the other side of the table, staring at Hugo. Her gaze was intense. Why? Why was she gawping at him like a love-struck youngster? Surely they couldn’t … ? No, of course not. She would have spotted it. Hugo was still absorbed in conversation with George, but he, too, must have felt the force of Silver’s eyes on him. He glanced up and saw her. What was he doing? Claudia could hardly believe it. He had raised his glass to her as though it were full of champagne and he was smiling. Only his profile was visible to Claudia but she would have given anything to be able to see the expression in his eyes. Silver raised her own glass in response and
smiled. What did that smile mean? Probably nothing. It was pointless to wonder about it. Claudia went back to looking at Nick and imagining what would happen the next time they were alone together. She closed her eyes briefly and shivered with pleasure. Fantasies like this could banish almost anything from her mind. They weren’t as good as the real thing, but they came pretty close.

*

George, Hugo thought, was a good sort, but you had to watch it, or he could become boring. He was the kind of man who was always called a charmer. His hair was grey but still wavy, and his blue eyes did a great deal of twinkling. He was full of stories, which took the place of real conversation. Sometimes they were amusing and sometimes they weren’t and, at the moment, Hugo was so taken up with thoughts of
Sarabande
that he was finding it hard to take in what the older man was saying.

George was momentarily distracted by his food and for a few seconds didn’t say a word. What bliss the silence was, Hugo thought. Then he became aware of someone staring at him from the other side of the table. He looked up, thinking that perhaps Nick and Ilene and Andy were talking about him, and found himself gazing into Silver’s eyes. He smiled at her and raised a glass, as though making a toast. He’d always known how beautiful she was. It was one of the reasons he’d chosen her for the part of the Angel, but this morning at their rehearsal he’d felt something else, an attraction so powerful that it made him feel a little breathless. He put his glass down quickly and blinked. Silver. He would have to think about what he was beginning to feel for her. They’d been a little at odds until today. She often told him how bossy and
dictatorial he was, even though, admittedly, she was smiling while she said it. She’d been quite brilliant today, and perhaps part of the emotion had to do with the dancing and not him. There had been, till today, no sign from Silver that she was interested in him, but now here she was, looking at him intently, and he wanted to reach out and touch her hand. She was smiling at him as though she had a secret that she was longing to share. Was he imagining a blush? Yes, he probably was. Wishful thinking, he told himself. Get yourself under control. There’s Claudia sitting right next to you and looking like a thundercloud. You do not need complications. But as he helped himself to biscuits and cheese, he couldn’t help wishing for the time to go more quickly. He found that he was looking forward to the next rehearsal with Silver on her own. Looking forward? No, Hugo wasn’t in the habit of deluding himself. He was longing for it.

*

The dinner had been fantastic and now there was an apple pie on the table which no one seemed to be eating. Alison, hoping she was safe from Claudia’s attention on the other side of Ruby, helped herself to a big slice and added some cream from the jug in front of her. Her mother seemed out of sorts. Alison knew that this mood usually came over Claudia when she was being thwarted in some way. Not getting what she wanted. What could she possibly want that wasn’t coming her way? Was it to do with Nick? It seemed to her that if anyone had a right to feel pissed off, it was her and not her mother. I’m the one whose dad doesn’t answer letters. I’m the one who wishes Nick would think of me as something other than a nice kid. And I’m the one who has to go back to school and leave Wychwood. She realised, as she ate her apple pie, how
much she would miss the place. She would also miss Hester and Siggy and Ruby, who was the only person she’d ever met who treated her as though she were just another person. Not a difficult teenager. Not a fatty who needed her food monitored. Just another pair of hands, getting everything ready. And Ruby was going to let her decorate the dining room. That showed she trusted her. Alison was feeling better than she’d felt for ages. The apple pie helped.