Pas de Deux A novel by Bronwen Welsh A Sequel to 'Antonette's Story' Copyright 2021

Chapter 16   Coppélia and an unwelcome revelation

The first ballet of the New Year's season was to be 'Coppélia', with music by Léo Delibes, parts of which are very well known. The choreography was by Arthur Saint-Léon and revised by Marius Petipa and Enrico Cecchetti. It's amazing how often Petipa's name crops up in choreography of classical ballets. Born in Marseilles, in 1818 to a father who was also a dancer, he was originally a dancer as well as later becoming a choreographer, and performed in France and later St Petersberg where his double career continued. Although he died in 1910, you will still find his name mentioned in association with almost all the classical ballets.

The story of the ballet is as follows: It opens in a village square in Gallicia where the villagers are preparing for the harvest festival. The mysterious Dr Coppelius lives in a house on the square with a life-size doll he calls Coppélia. and refers to as his daughter. She causes an argument between Swanilda and her fiancé Franz, when he sees Coppelia on the balcony and becomes entranced by her. Neither Swanilda nor Franz realise she is a doll.

In the second act, Swanilda and friends enter Dr Coppélius's house when he is out find Coppélia and realise it is just a doll. The doctor returns and chases them all out except Swanilda who hides. Franz climbs up to the balcony to get a closer look at Coppélia and the doctor attempts to steal his spirit to use to make Coppélia a living person. Meanwhile Swanilda has dressed as Coppélia and appears, fooling the doctor into thinking the doll has really come alive. She rescues Franz and they both escape. After they have left, Dr Coppélius finds the lifeless doll, realises he has been tricked, and is broken-hearted.

The final act takes place outside the village church where all the couples gather to get married, among then Swanilda and Franz. Dr Coppélius arrives and demands compensation for damage to his doll. This is given and the villagers celebrate the weddings by dancing.

I played the part of Swanilda, Jack played Franz, Charlotte de Tomas played Coppélia, and Alfredo Ashton played Dr Coppélius. There are a number of other minor parts and the corps played the villagers.

The season had already started and was a great success, when one morning, upon Jack and me arriving for the usual class and rehearsal, I was asked to go immediately to Miss Higgins's office. I was rather surprised as I didn't know of any problems, but I went there as quickly as I could. She greeted me with a smile which seemed to be a good sign, and asked me to sit down.

“Antonette, have you seen today's 'Daily Planet'?” She asked. Newspaper usually come in one of two sizes, 'tabloid' or the larger 'broadsheet'. The 'Daily Planet' (not its real name) was a tabloid, and in Britain this has another meaning as a paper which specialises in gossip.

“No, I never read it,” I replied.

“I thought not, but I'm sorry to say that you feature on the front page of today's edition,” she said, and turning over the paper on her desk, showed it to me.

I was shocked. The front page in huge black letters said 'STAR BALLERINA BORN A BOY' and to make it worse, there was a picture of me dancing with Jack. The actual article was quite short and read:

It's been revealed that Antonette French, Prima Ballerina of the Imperial Ballet Company who dances under the name Antonette de Pré, was born Anthony Burton. Originally a prize-winning gymnast, Anthony changed to ballet at the same time as undergoing gender transition. As Antonette, she joined the Imperial Ballet Company and rose through the ranks to be appointed their star dancer. Asked for a comment, a spokesperson for the Ballet said that a person's past was of no consequence so long as they are able to perform well, and Miss du Pré, who is married to a principal male dancer at the Company, Jack French, is one of the best dancers in England.

As I finished reading the article, I felt the room starting to spin around me, and Miss Higgins rose quickly from her chair, hurried to me, and put her arm around my shoulders.

“Put your head between your knees and take slow deep breaths, Anotonette,” she said.

After a few minutes I felt better, although I'm sure I looked terrible.

“Why?” I asked.

“That's what I said to the young reporter who spoke to me,” said Miss Higgins. “What possible good could come out of this revelation? He asked if I already knew and of course I said 'yes, and it makes no difference to your dancing'. I didn't tell him that you are married to Jack by the way, I know that's how it reads. I don't know where the information came from, and I begged him not to publish the story but he insisted it was his editor's instructions he was following. Then I said 'How would you feel if the paper published a banner headline saying you were sleeping with your best friends wife?' and he replied 'How did ...?' before stopping abruptly. It seems I struck a nerve there”

She paused, and I looked up. “I will hand in my resignation immediately,” I said, almost in a whisper. Miss Higgins' reply surprised me.

“Why would you do that, Antonette?” she replied.

“Because I care about the Company, and if I stay here there'll be a follow-up story that the Ballet is running a drag show.”

“Well, Antonette, if you offer your resignation, I shall refuse to accept it, but in offering it you go up even higher in my estimation, if that is possible. Since this happened yesterday, I have discussed it with the Executive Committee of course, and they are one hundred percent in support of you. I don't think I've ever told you that my brother is a reporter – not for the 'Planet' of course. He told me it is one of those stories that makes a big splash one day and it gone the next, while a new sensation takes its place. Besides, I doubt if many of the Planet's readers are interested in ballet, and probably have never heard of you. That is their loss. Now why don't you find Jack and tell him what has happened, then have a cup of coffee and go down to the rehearsal room?”

“Thank you, Miss Higgins,” I said “I am forever in your debt.”

Jack was furious when he heard about the article. “I always thought it was a gutter rag, and this proves it,” he said. "I've a good mind to ring them up and tell them what I think of them."

"Please don't, Jack," I said. "That would be really playing into their hands and there would be another banner headline tomorrow."

"I suppose you're right," he replied, but I've never seen him look so angry.

We did what Miss Higgins suggested, had a cup of coffee,and after that I felt a lot better. Everyone at the Company was very nice to me, which helped me recover.

The next thing I had to face was that evening's performance. How would the audience react? Would they boo me off the stage? The makeup artists, dressers and hairdressers reassured me, but I confess, I found it hard to stop myself from shaking as I counted down the seconds to my first appearance. It is common practice for the principal dancers to receive brief applause at their first entrance, but as I appeared, the audience started to applaud, and it was thunderous applause and didn't stop for at least thirty seconds. I was stunned; tears in my eyes (thank goodness for waterproof mascara), and not really knowing what to do. I gave them a deep ballerina curtsy in acknowledgment of their spontaneous show of support and then another one. I even broke the first rule of ballet and spoke, saying "Thank you! Thank you so much!" over and over, although I doubt that anyone could hear me. The orchestra conductor, Benjamin Boult actually stopped the orchestra to wait for the applause to die down, and then said just loud enough for me and the orchestra to hear 'Da capo', meaning that he would start again from my entrance..

After that amazing vote of confidence from the only people who really matter – the audience, I'm sure I gave the performance of my life, and at the final curtain, the applause seemed to go on for ever. Even the rest of the cast were clapping as we took curtain call after curtain call, It must have been about a dozen, to a standing ovation. After the curtain finally came down, I went around and hugged everyone and thanked them for their support.

“I was so proud of you,” said Jack as he hugged me in the taxi home from the theatre.

“I'm so glad that I found the strength to go on this evening,” I said. “And I know I got it from my wonderful husband.”

I told the story to Harriet when we met some months later.

“Something similar happened to me when one of those gutter rags exposed me,” she said. “I'm proud of you for sticking it out and refusing to resign.” I didn't say anything but perhaps my burning cheeks gave me away. If they did, she made no comment.

To be continued.

Next time: Hello Dolly