Mimi shrugged and rejoined Colette and Belle tying on their ballet shoes. ‘I’ve been talking to Marie, J-F’s girl. She told me what’s been going on.’
‘We all know why you’ve got to dance tonight, Cat,’ said Belle, stretching her arms above her head. ‘She said it was J-F’s fault for getting you tangled up with his rival.’
‘So we thought you needed all the help you could get,’ added Colette, bending to touch her toes.
I smiled weakly. ‘I’m afraid that’s all too true.’
‘And, besides, you’re part of the company now, aren’t you? If you mess up, we all mess up,’ concluded Mimi.
On that thought, the threesome looked at each other. ‘Come on, we’d better get her ready,’ said Colette.
Before I knew it, they had swooped upon me and taken charge of my appearance. Face powder hid my reddened face. Competent hands fastened my hair back. My slippers were expertly tied.
‘There, now warm up. You can’t go on stage cold – you’ll never get past the first few steps,’ ordered Belle.
Obediently, I followed their routine. The worst of the nerves had passed. I no longer had a choice. It was too late to run for it as I had contemplated doing that afternoon. Only my promise to J-F to try my hardest had stopped me fleeing.
‘Why be nice to me now?’ I asked as we bent to loosen our calf muscles.
‘We thought you were here because Madame Beaufort had taken pity on you,’ explained Colette. ‘Thought you’d jumped the queue to join the troupe just because you’re Mr Sheridan’s favourite. You must admit you showed no promise as a dancer in London.’
‘But seeing you dance with J-F made us realize you’re not too bad after all. She was right to give you a trial,’ continued Belle.
They talked almost as if they were one person. Clearly the trio had discussed my case and decided on a joint approach.
‘Thank you.’ My insides as well as my muscles now felt a flush of warmth. Their praise had never been more welcome.
‘So you go out there and try to enjoy yourself. What have you to lose?’ said Mimi.
What indeed?
Standing in the wings with J-F, I watched the scene before ours unfold. Everyone danced so beautifully. They could do things with their arms and legs that I’d never even dreamt of. It was hard to believe that they were plain old Mimi, Belle and Colette in the dressing room: on stage, they seemed like goddesses.
‘Ready, Cat?’ grinned J-F.
Too anxious to speak, I just nodded. The strains of our entry tune were beginning. I could see Pedro bowing away next to the first violin, eyes fixed on the conductor. At least, thanks to the demands of the music, there was one friend who wouldn’t see the hash I was about to make of my debut. Frank, I knew, was somewhere in the galleries with Marie and Annette, keeping his distance from his parents who were sitting in ducal splendour in the box right opposite me.
‘I kept my promise, now you keep yours,’ whispered J-F.
‘I’ll try.’
‘Remember,’ he muttered as he seized my hand for us to run on, ‘for all you know, your mother was Terpsichore, your father principal dancer in the English ballet. This is our moment.’
With that, we were on. Hand in hand, we ran through the crowd of peasant dancers gathered for the festival scene and leapt centre stage. Immediately, the orchestra struck up the popular tune Renard had taught us. It was clearly a favourite with the audience for I heard a mutter of approval from all sides and a smattering of applause. On that signal – and I’m still not sure how it happened, Reader – something lit up inside me. I felt as if I had come home. Drury Lane might have been reduced to rubble, but its spirit lived on wherever there was an audience and performers. I realized that I loved this tune too. I wanted this dance because to me it meant friends in unexpected places, mops twirling in kitchens, freedom, the rush of the crowd through the streets demanding that justice be done. It meant ?a Ira – we, the people, will win. It meant Revolution. Le Vestris must have known this too and that was why he had chosen this ballet of the common people to play tonight of all nights: the night when the king returned to Paris with his tail between his legs. I didn’t care if I made a fool of myself, I just wanted to dance because I, Cat Royal, was one of the people too. I was going to prove that Drury Lane lived on in me.
J-F must have sensed a change in me for his face blazed with joy. For the first time, I was truly his match in the dance.
‘Terpsichore indeed!’ he breathed in my ear as I pirouetted into his arms.
‘No, just a daughter of the people,’ I grinned, catching my breath as Le Vestris moved forward with his partner.
Now we repeated the dance in unison. I didn’t even need to watch Mademoiselle Angeline: I just knew I was in step with her. The music was running through us like an electric current through a chain, binding all together. There was something special in the air tonight. I could feel it surrounding me: it was coming from the audience, from Mimi, Belle, Colette, from Madame Beaufort and Le Vestris, even from the Duke and Duchess of Avon as they urged me on to success from their box. But most of all it came from the touch of J-F’s hand on mine. Looking back now, I can tell you what it was, Reader: it was liberty, equality and fraternity – the essential ingredients of the spell cast by the stage in all ages. The only difference here was that in Paris this heady potion had spilled over on to the streets and people were trying to rule their lives by it.
The dance ended and the crowd erupted. Cries of ‘Encore!’ rang out. We had to obey our public. I looked across at Le Vestris and saw him smiling at me. To my astonishment, he handed his partner to J-F and took my fingers.
‘Again?’ he asked.