Prima Donna Read Online Free PDF Page B

mathematically
– the proportion of his neck to his hand, the distance between his jaw and his eyes . . .
    Even relaxed, his body was astonishing. The curve of his calves was more sculpted than any mere man could attain from rugby or running, the swell of his thigh harder and more sharply contoured;
his shoulders were like boulders, and his forearms – after years of bench-pressing ballerinas – were as big as most men’s biceps. His was the body beautiful incarnate – Man
as da Vinci sketched; Man as Rodin chiselled; Man as God intended; Man as she dreamt about.
    Time passed slowly, but he didn’t complain or move or fidget. His body had been trained in the art of being still, as much as it had been trained to move. The more junior the dancers, the
longer they had to hold single positions for long periods of time and though Adam’s senior status meant he was in a permanently dynamic mould, he had paid his dues and worked his way through
the ranks. His body remembered it well.
    ‘So tell me how you met Pia,’ he said after a while, keeping his head lowered.
    ‘Just the usual way – through an agency,’ she replied. ‘She’d been through everyone else on the list and I was the last person they had to put forward. They were
getting desperate and I guess she was too.’ She shrugged. ‘To this day I don’t know why she hired me. I can’t type for toffee, I’m the most forgetful person
you’ll ever meet and I don’t have a qualification to my name.’
    ‘You don’t? But you’ve always looked overqualified for the job to me – and incredibly well organized, whatever you might say to the contrary.’
    ‘Well, that’s just down to the reign of fear that hangs over me. If I wasn’t so damned frightened of losing my job every day, I wouldn’t get anything done. This is the
only job I’ve had where I wasn’t fired in the first month. I was temping before this and, honestly, some of my bosses couldn’t stomach my
coffee
, much less my
spelling.’ She shook her head, baffled. ‘I don’t know why she puts up with me really.’
    ‘Funny. It’s not how I see you at all.’
    You see me? Sophie thought, forgetting to draw.
    ‘So is this what you’re doing during rehearsals? Sketching?’
    ‘Yeah. Mainly.’
    ‘I always thought you were making up lists to keep the Pia roadshow rolling forward.’
    ‘Pia does too. But I don’t think she cares, so long as I’m on top of everything for her.’
    ‘Well, be careful. She’ll get jealous if she thinks she isn’t occupying every single waking thought in your head.’
    Sophie smiled, rolling her eyes. ‘That’s for sure.’
    Adam watched her. Trailing behind Pia she always seemed so . . . not subdued, but diminished somehow. Shadowy, like she was only there in body, not spirit. But she looked different behind that
easel. Stronger, more vibrant, empowered. Beautiful, even.
    ‘So why are you a PA and not an artist, then?’ he asked. ‘Even just watching you now it’s clear this is where you’re meant to be.’
    ‘I wish,’ she shrugged. ‘But there’s no money in it.’
    ‘There’s no money in ballet either. Not really. Not unless you make the top one per cent—’
    ‘Which you have,’ Sophie interrupted.
    ‘Luckily,’ he said. ‘But I had no guarantees of making it. And I would have done it for nothing anyway. Just getting to spend my days dancing is the privilege. I can’t
imagine life without it.’
    ‘That’s because you’ve trained all your life to get to where you are now. It’s part of your DNA. It’s not the same for me.’
    ‘You’ve never had any formal training? You sure look like you know what you’re doing.’
    ‘Well, I was invited to apply for a place at the Slade in London, if that counts for anything—’
    ‘Invited? You mean you didn’t take them up?’
    ‘I couldn’t. I didn’t have the formal qualifications to get in,’ she sighed.
    ‘So then why did they invite you?’ Adam asked, baffled.