But, if I were being honest with myself, it was because I knew that one night with Lira would never be enough – it had not been then, and it definitely would not be now.
As we walked along the corridors backstage, I thought she might have been thinking about our connection too, because suddenly her cheeks were redder than they had been before, and she could not properly look me in the eye.
‘We must focus on the show,’ said Lira earnestly. ‘That’s all that matters, right?’
‘Right,’ I said, convincing myself as much as her.
‘And I know how muchSlow Burnmeans to you, too. I won’t let you down.’
‘Of course you will not, that I am sure of,’ I said, stopping outside of my dressing room.
Lira carried on walking, glancing at me over her shoulder.
‘See you later,’ I called to her before opening my door and going inside.
At around 5.30, after Daniella had led us through the warm-up on stage, Carlos gathered us all together for a pep talk. The air was thick with anticipation – in ninety minutes’ time, the audience would begin filing into the auditorium. In two hours’ time, the first piece of music would be piped through the speakers and we would be waiting at the side of the stage, ready to begin. It did not feel possible that, just three weeks ago, I had had no idea who my leading female dancer would be, and now here we were, with the dances I loved performing most being the duets I had with Lira.
‘I want to express my gratitude to you all,’ said Carlos, ‘for your hard work and dedication these past few weeks. As you know, our schedule wasverytight, and without your complete and utter focus, we would not be performing a show of this calibre tonight.’
The cast murmured their appreciation, a few clapped half-heartedly. Everyone was nervous, everyone felt the weight of responsibility. I was on stage for all but ten minutes of the running time, which was entirely taken up with costume changes. If I did not dance at my best, it would affect things for everyone.
I kept my eyes directly on Carlos, not wanting anything – i.e. Lira – to throw me off. If the first time I properly looked at her tonight was when we were on stage together, that would be the best thing. I would retreat tomy dressing room after this and then I would harness all my pent-up energy into my performance.
‘I hope you all have family and friends coming again tonight to cheer you on,’ said Carlos.
I glanced furtively around me – there were lots of nods and ‘yesses’. I did not dare look to see if Lira was nodding away, too. Was I the only person who did not have somebody coming to watch them, to support them, specifically; somebody who would tell me I was wonderful no matter what? Sure, I could tell myself it was because I was Italian, because my friends and family were over there, not in London. Yes, that was the reason. When we took to the stage in Florence, people would come to see me, and by then my performance would be perfect: I would make my mother and father proud.
After Carlos had finished speaking, I headed directly for my dressing room. If somebody stopped me to say good luck, I said the same back to them, but I did not want to engage. Annoyingly, however, Daniella seemed determined to talk.
‘Good luck tonight,’ she said. ‘You know you’ll be brilliant, right?’
‘Thank you. I hope so,’ I replied.
‘If you fancy relaxing afterwards, let me know,’ she said. ‘We can have our own private press night celebration.’
She winked at me. I forced myself to smile, because I did not want her to feel bad, but really? Did she think sex was on my mind, at such an important moment for mycareer? And honestly, even if it had been, it would not have been Daniella I would have been daydreaming about having it with.
‘We will have cast drinks,’ I said, as gently as I could manage. ‘And then I will be heading home to get some sleep. The last few days have really taken it out of me.’
Luckily, we had reached my dressing room and I pushed open the door, shutting it behind me with another cursory smile at Daniella. When the time was right, I would have to explain to her that I was not interested in her romantically, nor was I interested in anyone else. For all the attitude she gave about us being casual, about it being sex and nothing more, I sensed she had feelings for me. I supposed I was flattered in a way, but it only served to hammer home how completely incapable I was of taking things further, of having an actual relationship.
One day, perhaps, I would work out why that was. I knew it was not because I did not enjoy being with the women I slept with – being withsomebody, full stop – but because I had this need to keep anemotionaldistance that I could not quite explain. My father had repeatedly told me that dancing was for girls. The kids at school had teased me relentlessly for doing ballroom dancing lessons instead of football. Sometimes, I wondered if this was my way of showing everyone just how much of a red-blooded alpha male I could be.
As if she could somehow sense my thinking, my mother called. I nearly did not pick up, I should be preparing forthe show, but she was probably calling to wish me luck and it felt mean to let it ring out.
‘Ciao, Mama,’ I said, putting my feet up on the dressing table and letting myself relax. I had a little while until I had to be on stage, and speaking to my mother might be good for me. At least it would stop me worrying about not having any friends who wanted to come and watch me perform in the biggest show of my career.
‘Is now a good time?’ asked Mama, sounding more subdued than usual. Something was wrong.
‘What’s happened?’ I demanded to know, sliding my feet back onto the floor, sitting up straight. ‘Is it Papa?’
There were a couple of beats of silence. It was Papa, then, and whatever it was my mother was about to tell me was not going to be good.
‘He had a fall,’ she said. ‘Out in the vineyard.’
I swallowed hard. ‘Cazzo.Is he okay?’
‘He’s been checked over by a doctor. Apparently, he needs to ease up – they say he’s been working too hard.’
