Authors: Louise Forster
“Yes. No—never mind.” She moved up and stood next to Jack.
Dave yanked at his sleeve. Jack moved aside and Dave took his place.
Interesting
, Jack thought.
“G’day, Leandra.” Dave nodded once.
Okay, he was going for the relaxed Aussie approach.
Don’t blow it
. From the corner of his eye, Jack noticed Leandra turn her head. Eyes narrowed, she looked at Dave across her shoulder and gave him an extra hard cheesy grin, adding chilli and lemon to the mix. Dave ‘The Man’, undeterred, stood firm under the blast of Leandra’s comprehensive artillery.
“I saw you at Lake Louise,” Dave began. “Your downhill skills are legendary, and it showed. The conditions were atrocious; it’s a wonder you didn’t take a spill.”
Leandra’s short sharp reply went no further than, “Thanks.” She folded her arms, leaned forward and peered at Jack.
He knew her body language was saying, ‘Hurt my dear friend, and I’ll find you and stick my ski stocks where they’ll do the most damage.’
Jack suppressed a grin. “Let’s cut to the chase,” he said. “I gather that look in your eye is saying don’t underestimate the power of true friendship.”
Leandra tried to suppress a grin and playfully quirked an eyebrow. “You catch on fast.”
As the orchestra tuned their instruments an expectant buzz rippled through the audience.
The lights dimmed and the heavy crimson velvet curtains slid noiselessly aside as Tchaikovsky’s music soared through the theatre.
The first item on the program was the Lilac Fairy’s Dance from
The Sleeping Beauty
ballet. Jack didn’t know all that much about ballet; nevertheless, he thought the soloist was great. Wild applause erupted throughout the audience. ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ came next. Katherine’s uncle had made sure the program appealed to everyone, especially the children.
The curtain closed and Pierre came out onto the stage with a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great sadness I have to inform you that our principal dancer, my darling niece Katherine Bell, is retiring.”
Shuffling and murmuring rippled through the audience. Jack knew it was a show of regret.
“We are all very privileged to experience her last performance, which Katherine insisted should be in her home town.” Pierre kept pace with the curtain as it slid aside. He held out his hand and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, Katherine Bell.”
Ludwig Minkus’ music started, and Jack’s heart leapt with pride as he noticed a flash of red in the wings.
Katherine
, he breathed silently. He focused on her expressive face and saw she was oblivious to everything except her performance. She held a fan, and Jack wondered what ballet she was going to dance.
He turned to Leandra, “Is Kate dancing the firebird?”
“Not tonight. She wanted to perform something up-beat, festive. She’s dancing ‘Grand Pas Kitri Variation’ from
Don Quixote
.”
On toes, Katherine entered centre stage, and applause erupted. A red spotlight illuminated her black and fiery-red costume. The light played over her slender arms and long strong legs, and bathed her skin with luminescence. She was stunning, dancing with vigour, her steps athletic and impassioned. Jack watched, intoxicated. Her red and black jewel-encrusted mini-frou-frou thing, he’d since learnt was a tutu, bounced as she danced on her toes. Everything about her blew him away.
Christ
, his heart beat harder.
Fear settled through him.
How can I possibly live without her?
Katherine’s performance ended with her dancing off into the wings as the curtain slid silently across. Applause and whistles roared through the theatre. Seats clapped up as people stood for a standing ovation. The curtains slid open, and the whole troupe waited in a line to take their bows and curtseys. The principal dancers received bouquets, and posies were given to the rest of the performers.
After several raucous encores, the curtains closed for the final time on Katherine, standing alone in the spotlight.
A hand touched Jack’s arm; it was Dave. He pointed at Leandra. Hand over her mouth, she’d moved away from them and, gazing at her friend, she sobbed silently.
“Idiot!” Jack whispered. “Give her the handkerchief in your tux pocket.”
Dave nodded, pulled it out, and Jack pushed him in Leandra’s direction. Leandra took the handkerchief, dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. Dave turned Leandra around and pulled her in close. She buried her face in his chest and mumbled something. Dave nodded and stroked her hair.
The poignant moment made Jack smile.
Leandra came up for air, dabbing her eyes again.
“I might go and check on Kate,” Jack said, pointing in the general direction of her dressing room.
“Let me go in first,” Leandra sniffed. “She’s probably changing.” She fiddled with Dave’s handkerchief, perhaps worrying whether to give it back, and looked up at them, her red rimmed, brown eyes glistening. “I’m no cry-baby,” she said, chin crinkling as her eyes welled with more tears. She took a deep breath to pull herself together. “But that was the most unforgettable, heart-rending, stunning performance I’ve ever seen Kate give. I hope you both appreciate
what
my friend has given up.” Leandra hurried off.
“Jesus,” Dave mumbled.
“Yeah,” Jack agreed.
Twenty minutes went by, and Jack was beginning to feel like a loose wheel. Another fifteen went by and finally Leandra waltzed across the broad expanse of timber stage. She’d changed into a dress that rippled around her feet like a pearly silver cloud. A floor-length black fake fur coat that looked more like a cape billowed out behind her.
Jack glanced across his shoulder at Dave, who had his mouth open and looked stunned.
“Dave, your mouth’s open,” Leandra said casually.
Molars clunked as Dave’s mouth shut abruptly.
“At least he’s not drooling,” Jack pointed out helpfully.
Leandra gave Dave a look and turned to Jack. “Kate’s having a shower and getting dressed up; then she wants to catch the bus with the troupe for the last time. They won’t be long. We can wait for her at the Banff Springs Hotel. I’ll get a taxi out.”
“Why not come with us?” Jack nudged Dave, hoping he’d second the invite.
“Yeah, we’re happy to take you, there’s plenty of room,” Dave echoed.
Pierre called out, “Leandra, your taxi’s here,” and hurried towards them with Jack’s and Dave’s overcoats.
Oblivious, Dave went on, “Not that I want to push you into anything …”
“That’s enough, Dave,” Jack whispered through his teeth. “Breathe,” he told him.
“Thanks, Pierre,” Leandra said. “I’ll go with these two, show them the way.” She turned to Jack. “Please tell me your car is in the downstairs car park.”
“Sorry, I’m outside behind the theatre. You can still grab Pierre.”
“No!” Dave yelled, then pulled an embarrassed face. “Um, we can get the car and bring it around.”
Go Dave!
Jack thought, and did his best to control his smile.
Outside, the front steps were clear of ice and snow, and the granite steps salted to stop more ice forming.
“Wait here, I’ll get the car,” Jack told them. He could’ve jogged, but he didn’t want to risk falling on his arse and splitting the purple pants. The car was freezing. He revved the engine, hoping it would help warm up faster. He came around the front of the theatre and parked. Clouds of condensation billowed out as he waited for Dave and Leandra to hop in.
Jack peered through the ice-encrusted windscreen at the two on top of the stairs. Leandra nearly slipped on the first step, and Dave held out his arm. To Jack’s surprise, she took it without hesitation, while muttering something about heels. She didn’t look happy needing Dave’s help.
After negotiating slushy and sometimes icy roads, Jack arrived at the Banff Springs Hotel. The majestic building, built in the style of a nineteenth-century Scottish baronial castle, stood between the Rocky Mountains and the Bow River, a grandiose and perfect setting. A valet, dressed in a black goose-down snowsuit rushed down the steps. He opened the front and back doors of Jack’s car simultaneously. A blast of icy air greeted them. Jack quickly handed the valet his car keys, and Dave ushered them through the revolving doors into the lobby.
Jack walked up to reception and explained they were with Pierre Garneau’s party. The receptionist informed him that Mr Garneau hadn’t arrived yet, and would they like to wait in the bar? Jack nodded and moved to join Dave and Leandra. Looking up, he marvelled at the beautiful interior of the hotel. He admired its warm timber walls and imposing pillars. Christmas decorations sparkled and drifted above him under the cream, domed ceiling. The massive Christmas tree standing in a corner, its many lights winking and blinking, finished it off. The effect was one of tasteful opulence.
The trio made themselves comfortable in a quiet corner. Thoughts rambling through his mind, Jack gazed out the window at twinkling lights glowing in nearby hills as black as the night sky.
“Come on, darlings, hurry out of the cold!” Pierre’s voice rang out as he urged his ballet troupe through the lobby. Peals of laughter echoed through the room. “And stop playing with the revolving doors!”
Pierre strode swiftly across the lobby towards them. “You made it.” He greeted them happily, hands out, clearly in a party mood.
“Pierre!” Leandra exclaimed. “Are you criticising my navigational skills?”
“Who, me? I would never.” Hand to his chest, Pierre shook his head. “I was merely referring to the terrible conditions on the road.”
Jack looked around, hoping to see Katherine’s familiar figure. “Is everyone here?”
Pierre frowned. “I would’ve thought so—why?”
“Where’s Katherine?” Jack asked.
“Isn’t she with you?”
“No, Pierre,” Jack said. “We haven’t seen her since she danced.”
“But wait a minute,” Leandra sounded panicky. “Kate said she wanted to join everyone on the bus, so where is she?”
Puzzled, Pierre shrugged. “She must have decided to come in her own car.”
“That would mean she went home to get it.” Leandra reminded him. “We came on Bo’s skidoo, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” Pierre’s eyebrows shot up.
“She has a mobile phone, give her a call.” Jack said, watching the remaining dancers walk by.
“Splendid idea.” Pierre pulled his phone out and marched around the lobby trying to get a connection. “Ah,” he said, triumphant, dialled and waited. “Hi, sweetie, it’s your uncle.” Jack sagged with relief. “We’re all here at the Banff wondering where you are.” Pierre clicked his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket.
“Well?” Jack asked while Leandra looked on expectantly.
“It went to message bank.”
Jack cursed.
“Oh good grief,” Leandra muttered.
“Stop all this angst,” Pierre frowned. “I have a company of hungry, thirsty dancers waiting and wondering. Come, have a glass of champagne, give her a few minutes, then we can all panic.”
“Sorry,” Jack said, quietly anxious. “Can’t do that until I know she’s not lying in a wrecked taxi somewhere, freezing.”
“Jack!” Leandra shuddered.
“
Merde!
” The air rushed out of Pierre’s lungs and his hand flew to his chest. “You sure know how to scare a man. I refuse to believe there’s anything wrong.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go in and see if the dancers know anything.”
“Good idea,” Leandra added, hurrying off.
As some of the dancers had gone home early for Christmas, two refectory tables were joined to seat his remaining troupe. Elaborate centrepieces of green fir branches, red ribbon, gold baubles and tall white candles added to the festive look.
Pierre stood at the head of the table and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Darlings!” As the chatter ended and heads turned towards him he continued. “Does anyone know where Katy might be?”
Hushed murmurs, hand gestures, shaking heads, some nodding, rippled through the dancers as they talked to each other.
The second lead dancer Charlotte turned to Pierre. “Everyone left the town hall together. The bus driver said Ms Bell was coming here with her boyfriend in his car.”
“Oh, pardon.” Pierre turned to Jack. “These are Katy’s friends: Jack Riley, and his friend, Dave Wilson. You all know Leandra Paige.”
“Well, who’s her boyfriend?” Charlotte asked. “Does Kate have another … boy …?”
Jack glanced at the doe eyed faces. It should’ve been a happy scene, but suddenly everyone looked worried.
Where the hell was she?
Pierre scanned his troupe. “Where’s Bianca? Don’t tell me she’s missing too.”
“No, she’s with Dean,” Charlotte said. “They’re coming in his car.”
“Hi everyone,” a woman behind Jack sang out; her Russian accent softened and rounded every word. “What is going on?”
Jack turned and saw the lithesome young soloist from the ‘Lilac Fairy’s Dance’ standing in the doorway.
“Ah, Bianca,” Pierre clasped his hands tightly in front of him. Jack noticed Pierre wasn’t as calm as he made out. “Have you seen Kate?”
“Yes, just before we left. I saw her talking to a man outside her dressing room.”
Every muscle in Jack’s body tightened until the roots of his hair hurt. He had a fair idea who the man was, but he hoped and prayed he was wrong.
“What did he look like?”
“It was difficult to see, he had his back to me,” Bianca shrugged apologetically, her eyes darting around the entire troupe. “Will someone
puh-lease
tell me what is going on?”
“We’re not sure, Bianca.” Pierre frowned, his fingers nervously rubbing his temple.
“Okay, this is what I think,” Jack began. “If everything was okay, Katherine would be here by now. She may have been caught up with fans, but something tells me she would’ve called.”
“Mobile connections are mostly non-existent around the mountains,” Dave put in. “But yeah, she’d find a phone somewhere.”
“Sounds to me like she’s been … delayed,” Jack said. He thought
delayed
was a better term than
waylaid
or
ambushed
, and have everyone panic. “I’ll go back to the town hall, and check it out.”