Beneath the Parisian Skies Read online

  Penny shrugged.

  ‘Maybe the answer’s in her diary.’ Lily looked at Natalie’s diary while she wrestled with her conscience. ‘No. I can’t do it. Let’s give it a bit more time.’

  ‘But what if something bad has happened to her?’ Panic came out with Penny’s words.

  ‘Do you think she’s in danger?’ asked Lily.

  ‘It’s impossible to tell with Natalie’s behaviour lately. She’s been erratic and so very moody.’

  ‘She’s always been prone to that,’ said Lily.

  ‘True.’ Penny nodded. ‘But she’s done some really weird things, you know? Lots of talking to herself and being so demanding with everyone. It’s like her favourite pastime is making mountains out of molehills.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I know that side of her well.’

  ‘She’s definitely not herself.’ Penny let out a long sigh. ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘I think we should wait.’ Lily wrapped her shaking arms around her torso. She hoped this wasn’t the second worst decision of her life.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Paris, 1917

  Diaghilev strode down the hallway, banging his fist against the closed doors of the rehearsal rooms as he went. His long fur coat flapped behind him as a couple of offsiders hurried to keep up with Diaghilev’s long strides.

  Viktoriya stood to the side, her back against the wall. Diaghilev’s beefy frame swept past, his dark eyes fixed straight ahead. Her shoulders dropped with relief when he didn’t register her presence.

  Twenty feet down the hall, Diaghilev halted then turned. Viktoriya’s temperature rose a few degrees and her body was quickly covered in a sheen of perspiration.

  ‘Budian!’ he barked and marched over to her, his large frame towering above.

  ‘Yes?’ She straightened her back, trying to gain an extra inch or two.

  ‘You’re the understudy for Alla Ivaneko in Parade.’ His stormy expression sent chills up her spine.

  ‘Yes.’

  He removed his top hat and raked his fingers through his thick, wavy hair. ‘Mariya is now in that role.’

  It took a moment for the words to register. Without thinking, she opened her mouth. ‘But I’m the understudy and we’ve been rehearsing and tomorrow is opening night and—’

  ‘The stupid girl Ivaneko is pregnant. She is out, Mariya is in.’

  Pregnant? By who? Why hadn’t her friend confided in her? The poor thing must be devastated. She needed to find Alla as soon as she fixed this with Diaghilev. Surely he’d made a mistake. ‘I’m the understudy, shouldn’t I be taking Alla’s place?’

  He grunted like he was the long-suffering victim of stupid dancers. ‘Mariya is dancing the schoolgirl. You will be dancing the lead role of Zobeide in Scheherazade.’

  Lily held her hand to her stomach when she heard the name of the ballet that had caused so much controversy. Scheherazade had been the first Ballets Russes creation that wasn’t borrowed from their Russian homeland. The costume and set design by Bakst had created a rage that swept through Paris after patrons couldn’t believe anyone would be so bold as to combine blue and purple, red and yellow, and green and orange in the set and costume design. Add the eroticism of the plot set in a harem and Nijinsky dancing with scantily clad dancers, moral outrage ensured Scheherazade’s success.

  Why would Diaghilev want to revisit a ballet from 1910 and why do it now, when the season had been meticulously planned, dancers chosen, costumes and sets designed, music composed? And why on earth would he choose a ballet that no doubt brought back painful memories of his relationship with Vaslav?

  Viktoriya blinked slowly, not grasping his words. ‘I don’t understand why you want me to do this.’

  ‘It’s a private performance for a potential backer and Scheherazade is his favourite. It won’t be the full production—just you and Pankov.’

  ‘Alexei? But he’s understudy for the Chinese Conjurer in Parade.’

  ‘He still is. Massine isn’t pregnant and throwing up everywhere, is he? Pankov can still be understudy. In the meantime you and Pankov meet Irina tomorrow at nine to go over Fokine’s choreography. You have a week to get it right.’

  ‘A week?’ How on earth could she perfect one of the most famous roles in her dance company’s history in such a short space of time?

  ‘Massine says you’re ready to step up, so you must be. If you tell me different you can leave with that tramp Ivaneko. Do you have a problem with this?’ His dark eyes dared her to say yes.

  She lifted her chin. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Go and see Olga in wardrobe.’

  ‘Thank you for the opportunity.’ She had a sudden urge to curtsey but figured that would be way too dramatic.

  ‘Don’t waste time thanking me, just work the hardest you ever have. God knows there are others who would kill to be in your position. Do not mess it up.’ With that, Diaghilev clasped his hands behind his back. ‘Tell Pankov to come and see me.’

  She nodded and took a step towards the rehearsal room.

  ‘One more thing. Thanks to your friends Alla and her lover Ivan, the rules have changed. Make sure Massine informs everyone from now on I will disallow intimate relationships between dancers and anyone caught fornicating with another member of the company will be fired—no second chances. I’m not having another dancer get in the family way and destroying my reputation.’

  ‘What about relationships already in existence?’ The question could set off a chain reaction but she had to ask. There were a handful of other dancers who hadn’t bothered hiding their affection for each other so Diaghilev could easily think she was referring to them.

  ‘Too bad. I’m running a dance company not a bordello.’ Diaghilev ended the conversation by turning and stalking down the hallway, his minions rushing behind. As he rounded the corner, his coat-tails snapped farewell.

  Viktoriya stared after him, unable to move a limb. In the space of a few minutes she’d been handed an opportunity of a lifetime but now risked losing the one relationship she valued most in the world. How could she break up with Alexei when they now had to dance so closely?

  It didn’t seem fair that life would give so freely yet snatch something else in return. Then again, life had never been just. Viktoriya’s mind filled with images of her family sheltering in the hovel of bricks and mortar on the outskirts of Petrograd. Since the Romanovs had been thrown out, the provisional government, despite their efforts to gain political reform, had angered the people and the country had dived deeper into destitution and hunger. The only way to get her family out was to succeed in this role—and it had been handed to her on a silver platter. Although now that Yana had taken up residence with her, she had someone else to worry about. Not that she minded, helping a young girl was the least she could do, especially after Dina…

  Viktoriya stared at her feet. Fresh red blisters had formed on top of old ones, her toes looked crippled, and her skin appeared to be that of an eighty-year-old. This was the price for the years of slaving across floorboards, clinging to the hope that one day she could make a difference not only to her life, but for her family, the audience, the set designers, the choreographers, the musicians, her countrymen…

  The door to one of the rehearsal rooms opened and out streamed a handful of dancers. Alexei trailed behind, his head bowed, like he was giving something great thought. Rushing over, she touched him on the arm. Alexei flinched.

  He said, ‘Irina’s on the warpath because you didn’t return.’

  ‘I was with Diaghilev.’ Viktoriya cast her gaze up and down the hall. ‘We need to talk.’

  His fingers wrapped around hers as a slow, sensuous smile spread across his handsome face. His nearness made her body ache for his touch, his love, his caring…

  Drawing her close, he whispered, ‘We can talk in many ways. Let’s go to your apartment.’

  ‘We can’t.’ She pulled back, scared Diaghilev or one of his cronies would see them.

  ‘Why
not? We’re done for today.’ He furrowed his brows. ‘Are you afraid someone will see us? This isn’t the Imperial.’

  ‘Things have changed; besides, Yana will be there.’

  Alexei grunted. ‘So much for her staying one night.’

  ‘She needs me.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alexei, resignation in his tone. ‘You’ve done a good thing for her, even though she’s an ungrateful little—’

  ‘She’s just confused. Look, I don’t expect you to understand her or why I’m doing this, but it’s something I want…have to do, all right?’

  Alexei shrugged. ‘Your heart is going to get you in trouble, one day.’

  ‘Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. All I know is that if I don’t listen to it then I’m not being true to myself.’ Viktoriya glanced up and down the hallway. Seeing it empty, she gently squeezed Alexei’s hand, and his fingers tightened around hers. ‘My heart tells me how much I love you.’

  Any hardness in Alexei’s expression faded away when his lips formed the special smile he reserved only for her. ‘I love you, too.’

  A couple of dancers came out of a nearby rehearsal room and Alexei and Viktoriya quickly let their hands go.

  Alexei massaged his temples.

  ‘Do you still have that headache?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Any dizziness?’ she asked. This headache had gone on for way too long.

  ‘A little. Look, I’m fine, I’m just overworked, like we all are. Everyone’s bodies have different ways of coping and mine seems to be headaches and dizziness.’

  ‘Maybe you should get your eyes checked.’

  Alexei gave a lopsided smile. ‘Maybe you should keep up this nurse business and later on we could—’

  ‘Stop it,’ she whispered loudly. ‘Someone might hear. Besides, I’m worried about you. Will you please go and see an eye doctor?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, but she didn’t believe a word. If she had to drag him herself, she would.

  Knowing this topic was well and truly over—for now—she said, ‘Diaghilev wants to see you right away and I have to see Olga. Meet me at Bar du Sully in three hours.’

  He balled his fists on his hips. ‘What’s with the secrecy?’

  What was with his annoyance? Calmly, she said, ‘Just meet me at the bar and we’ll talk then.’

  ‘Fine,’ he huffed. Alexei’s tall, lean frame carried him down the hall and towards Diaghilev’s office. Resting his hand on the knob, he turned to her and looked at her like she was a stranger. It was impossible for him to know about Diaghilev’s new rules but the usual spark in Alexei’s eyes had faded. She just hoped that after they spoke it wouldn’t disappear altogether.

  * * *

  Viktoriya stood on the table of the large sewing room, allowing Olga to fuss over her. With so many young dancers in the company, Olga had taken on the role of mother hen and even though her demeanour could be brash, she had a heart as large as her ample bosom. If Viktoriya closed her eyes, she could take herself back to Olga’s sewing room at the Imperial, when she first started treating Viktoriya like she was her own child.

  Olga clicked her tongue, bringing Viktoriya back into the present. Fussing with the costume, Olga frowned and made strange noises as she let down the hem to cover Viktoriya’s extra-long legs.

  ‘You’re losing too much weight,’ Olga said as she pulled in the waistband of the costume. ‘You’re skinnier than the last time I measured you.’

  ‘Things have changed since Petrograd.’ Viktoriya didn’t take offence at Olga’s words as she’d never been reticent in speaking her mind. ‘I’ve missed you, you know.’

  ‘Pfft.’ Olga waved a hand. ‘You always were one for soppy sentiments.’

  Viktoriya didn’t hide her affectionate smile.

  ‘Look at these,’ Olga pointed at the decoration of brightly painted gelatine circles on the belt of the harem pants, ‘they’re beautiful but not practical. All it needs is too much perspiration or heat from the stage lights and they’ll disintegrate. One day someone will come up with something better.’

  ‘You could invent something,’ said Viktoriya.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Olga tugged the hem of the pants. ‘And look at this material! This rayon costs more than our wages put together.’

  ‘It’s so beautiful, though. I’ve never seen anything like it,’ said Viktoriya.

  ‘There’s too much money spent on these things,’ mumbled Olga. ‘No wonder Diaghilev spends all his days chasing people to fund his dreams.’

  ‘Any chance you know who this anonymous potential benefactor is?’

  ‘The one you’re dancing for?’ Olga fluffed out the harem pants. ‘He’s not anonymous.’

  Viktoriya stared at her. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Have I ever not known anything?’ Her grin showed off her missing eyetooth.

  ‘True.’

  ‘Baron Erik Cheverin is the man requesting this performance. Not only does he own half of northern France, he has castles and entire villages over most of Eastern Europe.’

  ‘So what does he want with our ballet company? Does he want to buy it?’

  ‘No, no. Diaghilev would never sell; besides, I’ve heard this baron is very astute and knows when to keep people around. Diaghilev knows how to get the best out of every artist—dancers, musicians, choreographers, set and costume designers—he can do that with his eyes closed. Diaghilev’s also good at schmoozing patrons, so if he lands Cheverin, the ballet could be set for years to come.’

  ‘That would be nice.’ With the war and its impact on all of Europe, they’d been extremely fortunate the ballet company hadn’t folded. ‘I’m going to miss Alla and Ivan.’

  ‘Me too. Although, I did have my suspicions…Well, I guess we all know now.’ Olga continued tacking the hem. ‘You know what Diaghilev is like—burn him and you’re sent to hell.’

  ‘He gave Vaslav an extra chance,’ said Viktoriya.

  ‘What? Nijinsky’s New York performance last year?’ Olga raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Diaghilev went to a lot of trouble to get Vaslav out of that Hungarian prison and on to New York. You don’t do that unless you’re giving someone an extra-large second chance.’

  ‘He was exchanged as a prisoner of war.’

  ‘Just because he’s Russian—like us—doesn’t mean he’s an enemy to the Allies.’ What had gotten into Olga?

  ‘I’m not saying he’s…Oh, forget it. This war is making us all insane.’ Olga ran her fingers along the waistband, checking the fit. ‘Well Vaslav made a mess of his second chance when his wife started carrying on about money in New York.’

  ‘That was owed to him,’ Viktoriya said.

  ‘Regardless, that woman caused more trouble than she’s worth. The way she trapped Vaslav into marrying her—when she knew exactly how Diaghilev would react—was an absolute disgrace. If Romola had stayed her distance then Diaghilev would have more trust in people and Vaslav could have been back here with us. Imagine that?’

  Viktoriya had imagined it—many times over. So much so, that the lines had blurred between hope and reality. It wasn’t unusual for her to dream that her mentor and friend was right there in the room with her, encouraging her to stretch further, leap higher, turn faster. A long sigh escaped Viktoriya’s lips.

  ‘I miss him.’

  ‘We all do,’ said Olga. ‘I wonder how everyone is going to cope with this new rule.’

  Viktoriya’s body stiffened and Olga looked up at her.

  ‘About what?’ asked Viktoriya.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, don’t pretend you haven’t heard. He’s being ridiculous if you ask me. Some of the best dancing this company has ever experienced has been between lovers.’ Giving a slight tug on Viktoriya’s hem, Olga said, ‘Take it off then come back tomorrow for a last try on.’

  Viktoriya got off the table, gently peeled off the costume and handed it to the seamstress. She then donned her street clothes and picked up her bag. ‘Thank
you so much.’

  ‘I’m always happy to help.’ Olga put down the costume and grabbed Viktoriya’s hand so tightly she almost let out a yelp. ‘Make sure Diaghilev doesn’t catch you and Alexei.’

  ‘What?’ Viktoriya extracted her hand and rubbed the red skin. Smoothing down her skirt, she lifted her chin and said, ‘There is nothing going on between me and Alexei.’

  ‘If you’re going to lie, you need to practise a bit more.’ Olga raised a bushy brow.

  ‘I’m not…Heat rushed up her neck and across her face.

  ‘My darling girl,’ Olga placed her warm, stubby fingers on Viktoriya’s arm. ‘There are many of us here who know the history between you and Alexei.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You may have thought it was a secret at the Imperial but we knew. It’s very difficult to ignore the electricity when you two are in the same room together.’ She squeezed Viktoriya’s arm. ‘Remember, people who purport to be your friend will turn on you in an instant if there’s a chance of getting you out of here and making way for their own rising star. This is a brutal business and no one can be trusted—apart from me, of course.’

  Viktoriya bit her lip. Leaving Russia and the Imperial had crushed any hope of returning and her and Alexei’s only chance was here, with Diaghilev and his company. They couldn’t risk being fired. It would be nigh impossible to stay away from the one man she loved with all her heart, but what could she do? They’d just have to wait it out as best they could and pray that Diaghilev’s latest change to company policy lasted as long as his love affairs—briefly.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Paris, 1917

  Viktoriya stood in the hallway, staring at her apartment door. Her emotions had run the gamut today and now she felt nothing but drained and confused.

  Sticking the key in the lock and opening the door, Viktoriya entered her tiny abode, happy she’d have the place to herself for a little while longer as Yana had taken to walking for hours every afternoon. Viktoriya had no idea what Yana did or where she went, but usually by dinnertime, she had returned.