Match Pointe

‘You look like you’re dressed for a job interview.’ He slipped into an easy stride next to her, even though she was much smaller and wearing heals that slowed her pace.

‘I suppose, in hindsight, I could say yes to that.’ She shook her head at the thought, wondering if she should consider Caesar’s offer that way. She had never had a real job before.

‘But you’re having trouble deciding what to do? Can’t be that hard, can it? All of life is an opportunity. Have you talked it over with friends, family?’

‘No, not really …’

She reflected on this. Outside the ballet, she didn’t have anyone to confide in or to ask for advice, nor had she ever needed to – her only goal had been to become Principal Ballerina of the Royal Ballet, and everything she’d required to achieve that goal had fallen into place. All she’d ever needed was discipline, dedication, physical and mental stamina and to follow the instructions she was given. That was her entire world: to lose her mind to her body in dance. Her acknowledgment of this reality was disturbing, and suddenly she felt like a very young, inexperienced twenty-two year old who had been thrust into the harsh reality of an unknown world, in which dance played no part.

‘It’s just that I’m not sure if this is a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘Ah, I see. But does the job involve doing something you enjoy?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose it does. Just in a different way from what I’m used to.’

‘Then how much of a risk can it be? Everything in life is a risk waiting to be turned into an opportunity. Change can be great for us, it can challenge us in unexpected ways. Tell me, what are the upsides of this new role?’

They walked across the steel footbridge and over the Thames as they continued their conversation.

‘Dance, travel, lifestyle, security, diversity …’

‘Does it pay well?’

‘It would probably set me up for life.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘That’s the problem: I think it’s almost too much, that maybe I’m missing something … and it would mean giving up my ultimate dream of performing on stage for a while.’

‘There are many roads to achieving your dreams; I reckon the key is to choose the path that is flowing freely right now and be open to adapting as needed. All you can commit to is to be the best you can be, right now.’

‘Are you always so positive?’ His sunny attitude was infectious and she couldn’t help but let some of it rub off on her.

‘Trust me, it’s the easiest way to live life. It helps smooth out all the bumps so you can sit back and enjoy the ride.’

‘Sounds like you’ve had some experience at this.’

He nodded, still smiling at her.

‘And if it doesn’t smooth out the bumps?’ she asked, suddenly tentative.

He stopped as they came to a crossroads and turned to look into her eyes. ‘Then let me know. I’ll come and save you.’

His thumb gently caressed her chin, causing her lips to part ever so slightly. The intimacy of his touch astounded her, caught her breath. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it – his gorgeous face staring down at her momentarily clouding her mind.

‘I don’t even know you; all we’ve done is talk about me.’

‘And I’ve enjoyed that very much … but unfortunately I’m going to have to dash. I fly to the US tonight.’

‘Oh! OK, well have a safe flight.’ Disappointment washed over her as the special moment they’d shared evaporated. ‘Liam?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thanks for the chat to a confused stranger.’ As she smiled her face lit up, before the concern crept in once again.

‘The pleasure has been all mine.’ He smiled back. ‘Best of luck with your decision.’

‘Well, thanks.’ She was flummoxed by him. ‘And best of luck with the rest of your life.’

‘That’s the attitude, Elle!’ he said with a wink and a smile. No one had ever called her that before. ‘Until we meet again …’

He said it as if he were certain they would, deftly placing a European-style kiss on each of her flushed cheeks.

Their eyes met briefly before he winked, turned away and jogged off into the swell of London’s human tide, promptly disappearing from her life.

Decision

That night, Eloise couldn’t shift the unusual events of the day from her mind. Meeting with Caesar and his bizarre proposal. Her fortuitous albeit brief encounter with Liam. It was as though she had been cast out into the real world for the first time. Her tiny apartment didn’t feel quite so lonely and she was surprised that her appetite was back; even after the lunch at the Tate Modern, she was ravenous.

With that thought, she ordered some home delivery of tom yum soup and honey-steamed fish with Asian greens and completely tidied her messy apartment while awaiting the food’s arrival, something she hadn’t done for weeks while she’d been wallowing in misery.

With food in her stomach, and feeling more emotionally stable than she had for some time, she settled herself onto her bed to read the contents of the offer in detail.

Eight grand slams.

Two years. She could do that. If she was lucky the Russian dominance of ballet would have dissipated by then …

All accommodation and expenses included.

No problems with that, and she could save on London rent.

A three-bedroom apartment in Belgravia, fully transferred into your name at the completion of the contract.

That was really quite unbelievable. After her childhood in foster care, she had never imagined such luxury could be hers without the safety net of ballet. Actually, she hadn’t believed she would ever own her own place in London, so this was simply incredible. But as she’d said to Liam, what was the catch? She wondered …

An annual payment of £100,000, indexed to inflation for twenty years.

This sounded obscene! Only the best of the best dancers in the world could ever hope to aspire to such a salary, and that would be with endorsements. She wondered whether Caesar had more money than sense.

These two years would give her complete independence.

To realise her dream.

To follow her passion.

To dance!

On her terms …