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Pas De Deux Redux by Adele Evershed

28/3/2021

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They were the only two in the garishly lit basement. The fluorescent lighting was harsh and unflattering; it made Hannah feel as if she was on a stage. Looking over at the other girl she could see the lighting had completely washed her out, her blonde hair seemed translucent, it was as if she had stepped into this room and started to disappear.
 
Hannah striped down to her leotard and started to tie the ribbons on her slippers.     She had always danced and she was looking forward to taking this new ballet class.   Out of the corner  of her  eye she noticed the other  girl was slightly over-weight as    she crossed the ribbons on her ballet shoes. Shaking her arms to loosen them up Hannah smiled at the girl. Silently they both went through elaborate warm-up stretches, once they were flexing their toes Hannah turned to the girl and said in a well-practiced tone, “Hi, my name is Hannah, this  is  my  first  time.  I’ve  heard  so many good things about this class.” The  other  girl  didn’t  offer  her  name  but  did nod, “I’m going to like  this class  I’m  sure”, Hannah  declared. Again the  girl  nodded  in affirmation and this gave  Hannah  the  courage  to  continue,  “My  Mum  told  me that when I was a toddler I would point my toes, raise my arms over my head and    spin until I fell. She used to call me her little sugar plum fairy”  Hannah  didn’t add, “Now she just calls me sugar plum!”
 
Hannah knew she was over-weight. She had gone through chubby, big-boned, buxom and even full-figured. The last label was her Nan’s who liked to think of herself that way even though she was a heavyset woman with swollen legs. Tracing a circle in the air with her nose Hannah tried to concentrate on getting her Mum’s negative voice out of her head. The girl studied Hannah, she was frowning and a line like an exclamation point was etched between her over plucked eyebrows.
Realizing what she was doing she smoothed the line and as Hannah watched her she gave out a small laugh. Hannah wasn’t sure if it was in amusement at the story she had just told or in embarrassment at the way Hannah was staring at her. “I   love to dance”, the girl said. Hannah echoed her but with more force, “I LOVE to dance!”
 
Hannah’s fingers were lightly resting on the bar fixed to the wall. As Hannah looked down at her hand the girl’s gaze followed. Hannah quickly snatched her hand back and curled her fingers to hide her bitten nails. She had tried everything to break  her habit and sometimes she was able to stop long enough to grow the nails to the tip of her finger. When that happened Hannah would think, “I might be able to get   a manicure soon”. But then her Mum would make a cutting comment about her weight and Hannah would go to her room and rip her nails with her teeth until they were bloody and she got the taste of coins on her tongue. Hannah moved away from the girl so her hands would not be seen.
 
“Shall we go through some simple moves while we wait?” Hannah asked quietly. In reply the girl moved her feet into the elongated distorted V of first position her arms in a low curve as if she was carrying the lightest basket in the world. As the girl moved smoothly through the basic ballet positions Hannah studied her turnout. Hannah had been doing her ballet since she was five and knew that this had undoubtedly helped her own turnout. She knew a dancer’s ligaments and bones were more flexible before puberty, she was fifteen now and had only started her periods a year ago so that had given her an added advantage. The girl said, “Think of turnout as a rose blooming from the inside out”. Hannah nodded and added, “I used to try and walk with my feet turned out thinking it

would improve my turnout. All that happened was I got nicknamed the ‘incredible waddling Han’ and people would quack when I walked past them in the hall”. The girl looked at her, understanding in her eyes, “Just shake it off”, she said, “What do they know anyhow!”
 
Hannah retrieved her water bottle from the depths of her bag and took a deep sip as she rooted to find her phone to check the time. The basement had no clock and although Hannah knew she was early she felt that some of the other members of
the class should be there by now. “Where is everyone?” she asked the girl, “The class should be starting in a couple of minutes”. The girl just shrugged and took another sip of water.
 
“I suppose we could make the most of having all this space to ourselves” she said turning to the girl, “I’ve got a Bluetooth speaker in my bag so I  can  play  some music. What do you fancy?” After a pause Hannah answered her own question,
“How about ‘The Nutcracker’?” She queued up the music. The whimsical notes of ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ rang around the hollow basement. “Great acoustics”, said Hannah almost to herself as she started to dance on pointe across the floor. The girl followed suit. Hannah and the girl moved in unison executing pirouettes, and finishing with a perfectly executed ‘rounds de jambe’. They both came to a stop as the music died away and slumped down on to the floor. Patches  of sweat darkened the pale pink of their leotards. Hannah had almost forgotten why she was there she had become so caught up. When she was dancing her body seemed lighter as if she was a sylph or air spirit. The girl beamed at her in the mirror that took up one whole wall in the musty room. They were both startled by the sound of clapping.
 
A man with a long face was leaning against the wall in shadows by the door, he was holding an oversized broom. “Bravo but what are you doing in here?” he asked. His voice was soft with over use and had the same singsong quality that reminded Hannah of her Welsh Nan. “Um just passing the time waiting for the ballet class”, Hannah answered feeling her face glowing with being caught. “Oh lovely class was cancelled. Miss Carol had some bad news and had to go home for a few days. She’ll be back next week though. She was supposed to let everyone know” the caretaker said kindly.
 
Hannah started untying ribbons and shrugging on an over large hoody, “Sorry I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. I must have missed the email”, she said. The caretaker held the door open for her, “We’ll be back next week then”, Hannah said as she walked out of the basement. The caretaker looked a little puzzled but didn’t say anything until Hannah was half-way up the stairs and then he called her back, ‘Oi Margo Fonteyn I think you’ve forgotten something”. Coming back into the basement she scanned the room and saw her water bottle in the corner. Hannah hurried over, bending from her waist she picked it up; as she straightened she looked at herself in the mirror. The girl in the mirror looked back at her, she shrugged. “See you next week then”, Hannah said to her reflection.
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    Issue 6 & 7

    November 2020
    December 2020



    The Stories & Poems

    All
    ​After The Lockdown By Sabdapalan
    A Helping Hand By Christina Westwood
    A Little Hard Work By Carrie Hynds
    ​All Hallows Eve By Jane Bidder
    A Party? By Felicity Edwards
    A Red Breakfast By Graham Crisp
    Autumnal Muse By Yasmin Nabavi
    ​Autumn Equinox By Hilary Taylor
    Bartlett
    Beached By Maisie Bishop
    Bloodrite By Dean Hodsfry
    Bob & Phyllis By Liz Breen
    ​Broken By Allison Xu
    ​Cherie By Paul Warnes
    Christmas Cheers By Elaine Peters
    Cloak Of The Wizard © Steve Lodge
    Come The Morning Stars By Conor O’Sullivan
    ​Cursed By The Sun By Hope Nguyen
    Delight In Every Bite By Nathalie Roos
    DIY By Andrew Ball
    ​Double Trouble By Vivienne Moles
    ​Dusk Hound By Sylvie Edwards
    Eve By Hilary Davies
    Evergreen By Samantha Priestley
    Exuding Chirpiness By Jonathan Hunter
    Faces Of Home By Michelle Weaver
    First Impressions By Jeff Jones
    First Kiss By Andrew Ball
    Footsteps By Savanna Naylor
    Forever Gone By Hilary Taylor
    Gargoyles By Stephen Isle
    Glass By John Morris
    Hologram Futures By Alyson Hilbourne
    Home Remedies By Eva Bell
    ​How I Lost My Lover By Liz O’Shea
    I Don’t Like Cheats By Patsy Collins
    I'll See You When I Get There By Thomas Morgan
    Imaginary Friends By Andrew Ball
    Interconnected By Ena Catlin
    Isodel By Darren Smith
    Kings And Pawns By Dutch Simmons
    ​Letting Go By Carrie Hynds
    Log Me In By Paul Warnes
    Mask Dilemma By Elaine Peters
    Mavis’s Cosy Christmas Cottage By Jonathan Hunter
    ​Misty Mountain Feliz Piez
    Mixed Signals Or Moonbeams By Steve Lodge
    Monster Under The Bed By Patricia Green
    Mrs Stepney's Stepdaughter By Betty Hasler
    Murderous Intent By Jeff Jones
    Nifty-Fifty
    Number 69 By Eve Naden
    One Each By Andrew Ball
    One More Week By Liz Breen
    On The Meeting Of Two Minds By Ronald T Hardwick
    Pas De Deux Redux By Adele Evershed
    ​Peace In Our Time By Eve Naden
    Phil In Real Life By Sam Szanto
    ​Quantum Entanglement By Ingrid Wilson
    Roisin's Party By James Ellson
    ​Rounded Over By M H Pitcher
    Shielding By Graham Crisp
    Something Fishy Going On By Adele Evershed
    Sorry By Elaine Peters
    The Apology By Graham Crisp
    The Avenging Ghost By Eva Bell
    The Best Jest By Shelley Crowley
    The Big Issue By Steve Goodlad
    The Day With The Birds By Liz Breen
    The Dog And The Old Sailor By Ronald Hardwick
    ​The Eye Of The Shrike By Crescentia Morais
    The Full Moon By Dipayan Chakrabarti
    ​The Greater Handful By Stephen Goodlad
    The Grief Eater By Christina MacKinnon
    The Healing Stone By Katie Winkler
    The Hourglass By Madelaine Taylor
    The Last Time By Pat Mudge
    The Making By Madelaine Taylor
    The Mourner By Hilary Taylor
    The Perfect Date By Hilary Taylor
    The Phone Call By Elaine Peters
    The Plan By Hilary Taylor
    The Post-Lockdown Holiday By David A Jones
    The Queen Of The Forest By Renee Gerald
    The Ransom Note By Steve Goodlad
    The Secret To Staying Young By Saul Greenblatt
    The Tap By Beverley Byrne
    The Thing By Taqwa
    The Visit By Graham Crisp
    ​The Wanderer By BC Nwata
    The Wedding Dress By Elizabeth O’Shea
    The Winter Tree By The Somnambulist Society
    Volume Control By Grace Tierney
    ​Washing Up RJ Gardham
    Watching By Natasha Weber
    What's In A Name? By Ian Inglis
    Where Do We Go When We Die? By Matt Allen
    Wilhelmina Turns Eighty By Anita G. Gorman


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Secret Attic - Founded March 2020