Birth Marks Read Online Free PDF Page A

café. She was standing in front of a wall of mirrors in one of the practice rooms, one leg stretched out exquisitely along the barre—not a breath of a bend anywhere to be seem. She straightened up and stared at herself in the mirror: a long critical appraisal with no hint of vanity. On her shoulders I noticed a glisten of sweat. Then, after a while, she teased the leg even further out and slowly, gracefully curved her torso over until her fingers grasped her toes. I felt a stab of sympathetic agony shoot up my inner thigh into my groin. You can see why most ballet lovers end up in the audience rather than on the stage. Still, no pain no gain. I closed the door noisily behind me and clattered my graceless way towards her.
    â€˜You’re early,’ she said half into her toes without looking at me. ‘The next class doesn’t begin till two.’ And there was, I thought, an edge of frustration to her voice. Cherubim may not be the Royal Ballet School but at least some people were still trying.
    Once she’d uncurled herself it took her a while to place me, but eventually we got there. I promised to keep it short so that she could get back to work. Maybe it was my card, or maybe it was the fact that Eyelashes was no longer around to damage her shins, but she became almost talkative second time round. Yes, she had known Carolyn Hamilton. And no, she couldn’t tell me much about her. For the few months that she’d been at Cherubim Carolyn, it seemed, had been something of a loner, coming in, doing her classes and going away again. She had made a point of not hanging out with the rest of the girls; indeed she’d given the impression she was rather too good for them, which was a bit of a joke seeing as it was common knowledge she’d been chucked out of her last company for missing performances. On the other hand Left Feet First was a pretty stylish company, and maybe she was just sore at herself for flunking out. Most of the Cherubim girls would have given their eye teeth (I suppose if you were a dancer you could hardly give an arm or a leg) to have been so lucky. But if Carolyn had been feeling sorry for herself she certainly hadn’t let on to her.
    So if she didn’t confide in the girls, what about the boys? Well, as it so happened yes, she had been quite tight with Scott, or Eyelashes as he was known to the private detective fraternity. But then Scott wasn’t exactly one of the boys, if I saw what she meant. I said I did and asked her where I could find him now. She laughed and told me he was probably putting on his makeup. After all, it was only an hour and a half till curtain-up. Typical Scott. Luck of the devil. He’d only dropped in yesterday to rub it in. If I saw him I could tell him from her that they’d keep his place open, just in case the routines got too exhausting. And if they ever needed an understudy…When I glanced at her from the door she was back at the barre, muscles screaming, eyes hard into the mirror willing herself into another future, a long way from Cherubim.
    Back in the car I revelled in my spoils. Beneath the name Scott Russell was the address of a theatre in London’s West End. Even I was impressed. The listings mag I buy every week so that I can fail to see even more films told me Saturday was matinée day. I spent an hour trying to park the car and missed most of the first act, which is just as well since it was standing room only. Not that it mattered much: most cats are grey in the dark, especially in the chorus line. I slipped out during the curtain call and stood in line at the stage door. He was one of the first ones out and you could see he quite liked the attention. I wished I’d brought my autograph book. But as it was, it was mutual recognition. I got the impression he’d been waiting for me to pop up again somewhere.
    â€˜I told you, I don’t know anything about her.’
    â€˜I still need to ask you a