The Whispering Grove Page 16

  ‘Not really, but I’d love a cup of tea,’ she said longingly.

  ‘I’ll tell Ellie to make some, and I’ll keep Juliet out of the way. You look as though you could do with a good sleep.’

  All trace of his anger had gone now; the protective kindness was back in full force. She sighed as he went out, and reached for a dress hanger, then realized that nothing except a session on the ironing board would restore the slept-in dress. Ignoring Justin’s suggestion, she showered and changed, got Juliet ready for school and prepared to pick up the day-to-day threads again.

  Marise made one of her impromptu visits that afternoon, jubilant because her wedding outfit was almost complete.

  ‘All blue. My shoes and bag came this morning. I was worried in case they mightn’t be exactly right, but they are. It’s only three weeks — what are you going to wear, darling?’

  ‘I hadn’t given it a thought,’ Toni admitted, striving to assume a brighter mood as she dispensed tea and biscuits to her stepmother. ‘I hadn’t realized it was getting so near.’

  ‘We’ve decided not to go away,’ Marise chattered on. ‘When we’ve got straightened out we’ll have a proper holiday later. I’d love to go to Durban and see some decent shops. I wish it wasn’t such an expensive trip. Justin did you proud, darling, even though it was only a few days. And that beautiful ring.’

  “Yes.’ Toni twisted it restlessly and wished she could shake off the weariness that had dogged her all day. ‘More tea, Marise?’

  “Yes, please. By the way, did you know Lucy Sandanna was home?’

  The chink of Marise’s spoon against the saucer sounded unnaturally loud. Toni replaced the lid on the biscuit barrel, tightening it very carefully as she said: ‘Yes. We met her last night. We ate out last night at the hotel.’

  ‘What did you think of her?’

  ‘She’s very attractive. We - we didn’t talk to her for very long. She was with Roger Drew.’

  ‘Roger? He’s engaged now, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Marise’s brows lifted expressively, then she shrugged. ‘I doubt if that’ll worry Lucy if she’s lost for an escort. Thank goodness you and Justin got settled before she came back. She’s — Toni!’ Marise interjected sharply, ‘you look awfully peaky today. Are you all right?’

  Yes, of course.’

  ‘Well, you don’t look it.’ Marise frowned, obviously forgetting Lucy Sandanna as a fresh possibility suggested itself. She lowered her voice slightly. ‘Toni, you’re not ...?’

  ‘Not what?’

  ‘Oh, darling!’ Marise smiled. ‘You must remember, you are married now. But I suppose it’s a bit soon.’

  Comprehension came to Toni. She felt colour surge into her cheeks and she said almost angrily: ‘Well, I’m not.’

  ‘All right, pet, I was only asking. Plenty of time yet.’ Marise suddenly decided it was time to depart. She stood up and brushed a crumb off her skirt. At the door she paused. ‘I think you’d better get some make-up on before Justin comes home. You mustn’t let yourself go. Men soon notice.’

  Yes, but would Justin? she wondered bitterly after Marise had gone. She stared into the mirror and turned away impatiently. She did look dreadful; a real hangover couldn’t have looked much worse.

  Mechanically she changed into a dark slim skirt and a soft, very feminine, misty pink blouse, and methodically applied a light but subtle make-up. Once again the mirror showed a cool, rather sadfaced young girl who was looking as attractive as she ever could, except that the mouth was curving a little with a cynicism new to it as the listless hands raised a perfume spray and the mist of fragrance floated on the air.

  Of what use were feminine wiles and a battery of cosmetic aids to seduction? A scrubbed shining face and the most shapeless of casual wear elicited exactly the same response from Justin as the final product of the pick of her wardrobe and every high-powered toiletry the bathroom shelf and her cosmetic case could supply.

  His greeting that evening was as always; a friendly smile, a touch on her shoulder, and a light kiss brushed on her cheek before Juliet launched herself at him like an avalanche. For the first time she wondered what would be his approach if Juliet were not present, then dismissed the thought as stupidity. Without Juliet she would not have been here in the first place, and, the dismaying thought came, without Juliet as the central link her position would be untenable.

  He made no reference to the incident, except for a casual inquiry as to whether she felt better, and appeared his normal, good-humoured self. And yet was there now a subtle sense of restraint in his manner towards her? Not quite wariness, not quite doubt, but something indefinably between the two. Or was it imagination on her part because the episode was still too raw in memory to have had time to dull into past perspective?

  The feeling that Justin was retreating inwardly from her became more disturbing as the days passed, more so because there was no tangible indication by which she could pin down the nebulous impression, and the more it possessed her the more difficult it became to be natural and at ease in his company. Sadly she tried to dismiss the perturbing uneasiness along with the painful memories of its cause and concentrated on working out a simple practice syllabus for Juliet, thankful that in that she could forget for a little while each day.

  Juliet’s determination to take the first steps up the long thorny stairway towards the ballerina’s pinnacle was still undaunted. She had now decided that it wasn’t quite as essential as she had believed to have the complete equipment of demis, tights, practice tunic and bandeau before she could set foot on that first rung.

  ‘Will it really take so long for my shoes to come?’ she fretted. ‘Doesn’t anybody in the bazaar sell them?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Toni told her sympathetically, fully understanding the little girl’s impatience. ‘You see ballet shoes are specially made for the job. That’s why we’ve had to send away for them.’ She thought for a moment, then suggested: ‘But we could make a little practice tunic for you and while we wait for your

  things to come we could start you on port-de-bras’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘All kinds of arm movements designed to give you lovely graceful arms which don’t betray the strain of the work your body is doing.’

  This idea was seized on enthusiastically and the search began for something expendable which could be cut up to make the tunic. Then Toni had a better idea; she would alter one of her own leotards to fit Juliet.

  On this particular morning Justin left them to it and went out wearing a rather mysterious smile. Some time later he returned as the first fitting was taking place and now the smile was one of triumph. Juliet waved at him and then grumbled that the pins were sticking in her when he beckoned Toni from the room.

  Out of the curious Juliet’s earshot, he handed Toni a small package. ‘Before she sees these will you see if they’re going to be any use? If not, don’t worry, they can be put away for Christmas or her birthday.’

  She unwrapped the parcel and revealed a pair of exquisitely worked Indian slippers. Of softest jewel-blue kid with thin supple soles, they weren’t proper ballet shoes, but they were the nearest substitute.

  ‘Hearing her mention the bazaar reminded me of noticing these a week or so ago,’ he explained, watching her test the flexibility of the soles. ‘I had the notion then of buying them, though not for dancing in. Be any good?’ His expression held the typical male uncertainty of being faced with something totally out of his ken.

  ‘I’m sure they will.’ She had a sudden longing to hug him. Instead she thrust the slippers back into their wrapping and said calmly: ‘Go and give them to her. She’ll be thrilled.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He went towards the door, swooping on something in passing and tossing it carelessly towards her. ‘Catch!’

  Leaving her to exclaim her surprise, he went to Juliet. Toni unwrapped the second similar package, knowing what she was going to find. Dimly she heard Juliet’s excited s
queals as she looked at her Indian slippers, identical to Juliet’s except that they were rose-coloured. In the moments before the child burst into the room she held them, her heart in her eyes, then laid her face tenderly against the soft rose and silver thread embroidery.

  Justin had cleared the big spare room at the back of the villa and fixed up the record player in it. With its varnished wood floor and wide windows it made an ideal practice studio and the lessons had commenced, early in the morning before the heat of the day became too enervating and in the evenings. At first, Justin had been sternly forbidden to watch.

  ‘They’re all just exercises we do at first, not a bit like proper dancing,’ his daughter informed him in slightly condescending tones. ‘All my muscles have to be strengthened till they have perfect control and flex - flexibility. It’s all co - co — ornation, you see.’

  ‘Co-ordination,’ Toni supplied in a whispered aside.

  ‘Co-ordination,’ said Juliet firmly.

  ‘I see.’ Justin’s mouth twitched.

  ‘So you can’t watch us yet. Not for a few lessons, until I’ve got it off. Besides, Toni says she’s as stiff as a rusty old handle and she doesn’t know how her foot’s going to stand up to it. So it’ll be better if we don’t have an audience.’

  ‘I see,’ Justin said again, maintaining an admirable gravity as he surveyed the small earnest form of his daughter clad in a miniature replica of Toni’s black leotard and the dazzling new slippers. ‘Is that the uniform?’

  Suspicious of his expression, Juliet nodded.

  ‘It looks more like a bathing dress with long sleeves and a frill round it.’

  ‘It isn’t a bathing dress. You don’t go swimming in tights,’ she said scathingly.

  ‘But I don’t see any tights.’

  ‘Mine are on order. They’ll be like Toni’s.’

  Justin’s glance shifted and lingered rather thoughtfully on Toni’s long-limbed slenderness revealed by the skin-fitting garments. ‘I can’t say that you remind me exactly of a rusty old handle,’ he observed dryly. ‘However, I know when I’m not wanted. Don’t work too hard - and watch that foot.’ He departed.

  Juliet persevered with her first steps and to Toni’s delight showed a remarkably lucid grasp of the theoretical side, mastering the technical terms and ‘the special reason why’ for each exercise. The use of French as a dancer’s language tickled her and she delighted in reciting her new knowledge to her father when he inquired each evening as to progress.

  ‘This is a degage devant,’ pointing her toe to demonstrate, ‘and this is a rond-de-jambe.’

  ‘What! Those funny little wiggles with your toes?’ Justin would tease, and she would hurl herself at him indignantly.

  ‘But seriously, I never imagined there was so much to this business of being a dancer,’ he said the evening when Juliet had proudly demonstrated her first enchainement to him before departing happily and breathlessly to bed.

  ‘That isn’t all.’ Toni slipped off her shoes and curled up on the lounger. ‘A dancer must know music, she must learn something of the allied arts and the history of dance forms to give her a wider understanding and help her to express herself more fully.’

  He nodded, his face thoughtful. ‘It also occurs to me that a dancer’s achievement is perhaps the greatest and most difficult of all. A musician has his instrument ready made, be it violin, piano or penny whistle; it awaits his mastery. But a dancer’s instrument is her body. First she must mould it, train it and discipline it until it

  is ready to do her bidding.’

  Toni stared at him, surprised at his perception. She said slowly, ‘Yes, that’s why it’s such hard work and why so many start and then find they can’t stay the pace.’

  He said quietly: ‘Until recently I often wondered why you didn’t make any attempt to pick up the threads of your career again. I’d seen you walk, run, gambol with Juliet, even, on one occasion, dance.’

  She glanced up sharply, the moment of relaxation instantly dispelled, but he was looking past her with eyes that seemed remote. With a slight sigh she settled back as he went on:

  ‘You seemed to have no limp that I could see. I felt sure that the foot had healed perfectly and with the strength and quick recovery powers of youth there was no reason why you shouldn’t go back, one day. But now I understand after seeing you work with Juliet. An instrument with the tiniest flaw will no longer serve or satisfy the artist.’

  ‘No.’ She smiled and tried to keep her voice steady. ‘It’s a pity I can’t buy a new one because one key has cracked.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He lapsed into silence and she turned her head, watching the crimson and saffron sunset light the garden with glowing colour. She let her gaze drift along the sun-glazed greens beyond the veranda and the scarlet hibiscus flaunting over the trellis, knowing that very soon the lilac dusk would pass and change rapidly, almost before one’s eyes, into deep violet dusted with stars. With a flash of surprise she realized it no longer seemed alien, nor did the island, the insects, and the sudden bursts of warm torrential rain that usually chose the afternoon hours to descend. It was the past which now seemed remote, far away.

  ‘Wake up!’

  With a start she saw Justin standing above her; she had not heard him move. He held out a glass and smiled: ‘I think it’s doing you good. No, not the sundowners - this new interest of Juliet’s. I hope it doesn’t fizzle out. You look,’ he hesitated, ‘happier now.’

  She evaded his glance and observation. ‘It could be a craze, children have them.’

  ‘Yes, but I wasn’t thinking of Juliet,’ he said rather pointedly. ‘I was thinking of your restored self-confidence.’ A trace of amusement came into his face. ‘Still feel like that rusty old handle?’ The unexpected reminder made her smile. ‘Not now, but the after-effects of the first work-out were agony.’

  ‘Morning after the night before?’

  ‘Yes, something like that,’ she said after a hesitation.

  He moved to the window, to stand darkly outlined against the last glow of the setting sun. He said slowly, ‘Perhaps time might prove that the damage is not as serious as you thought. Doctors are the last people to claim to be infallible. I’m sure in your case they’d be overjoyed to be proved mistaken.’ Abruptly he swung round to face her. ‘I’m not trying to raise your hopes, but I’ve been thinking for some time now of a second opinion. There’s an extremely good orthopaedic man in Cape Town, say the word and I’ll arrange for you to go and see him.’

  At her startled exclamation he gestured. ‘Why not? Wouldn’t it be worth it? Isn’t it what you want, more than anything else in the world?’

  Long after her stumbling uncertain answer, and his changing of a subject she so obviously found painful, his question continued to haunt the long night hours.

  Isn’t that what you want, more than anything else in the world?

  A few months ago no answer would have been needed.

  Now ... Yes, she still longed to dance, longed for that wonderful freedom which eclipsed the years of disciplined training and made her soaring limbs and heart at one with the music which set free her spirit. But the unbelievable miracle had happened; the new longing had assuaged that other desire. But the new longing was as unattainable as that other star. She wanted to dance, and she wanted Justin’s love.

  What had prompted Justin’s suggestion about the Cape Town specialist? Was he looking ahead to the day when she ... ? Three years would soon pass. Nothing had changed. Would he want his freedom?

  Panic and despair raged in her heart as she turned restlessly on her pillow. She had to face that possibility and consider her own future. A career in classical ballet would be out of the question, but there were other openings in the world of the dance; TV, stage musicals, cabaret ... But she didn’t want those, she didn’t want anything except ... Why he had suddenly thought of the possibility of her dancing again? Was it ...? The chill answer crystallized into certainty. Was it anything to do with Lucy
Sandanna’s return ?

  The first gleam of dawn found her seeking the small, tissue wrapped package which had laid hidden in her case since the day of her arrival on the island. Slowly she unwrapped the new pink satin blocked ballet shoes. She had to settle this first, escape this particular indecision. The shoes were the forbidden key. The simple movements she had danced with Juliet meant nothing, whatever Justin hoped, compared with the steely strength and control demanded by the intricacies of pointe work.

  Her breathing quickened as she donned her practice things. This was the only way to resolve the question which was tearing her apart; this would forge or sever the frail link holding her to the past. As though performing a ritual she raised first one foot, then the other on to the edge of a stool, smoothing the broad ribbons and crossing them over her instep, tying the tiny bow behind the ankle and tucking in the ends so that the fastening was almost

  invisible.

  Slowly she rose to the tips of her toes, hands gliding into a graceful arc over her head and coming together before her forehead in a movement that was a prayer and an invocation. Her tiny tentative steps forward made soft tapping sounds on the polished boards before the mirror and quickened as she turned, poised, travelled back, forward, and then winged out of the room to the studio.

  She could dance again! She could, she could, she could!

  For the moment everything else was forgotten in the sense of triumph hovering almost within reach. Feverishly she threw open the shutters and switched on the record player. Like one possessed she scrabbled through the records and set the turn-table in motion. The cascading strings of the Lilac Fairy’s variation filled the room and the white walls receded as though into another dimension. Time and space ceased to exist, and the old magic flooded back to capture her in its spell.

  Faultlessly and effortlessly she executed the lovely and intricate variation, a poetry of motion in which she became as one with the haunting strains of Tchaikovsky’s music, completely oblivious of the small figure that had crept to the doorway to watch with spellbound eyes.