Antonette's Story A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright 2020

Chapter 9   Pas de deux

I started my final year at school and was studying hard. I had made up my mind that I would try to enter a ballet school, but if I failed, I wanted to have the 'Plan B' of gaining enough marks to enter either a teachers' college or study a Bachelor of Arts at one of the 'red brick' universities. I was realistic enough to know that I wasn't likely to get into Oxford or Cambridge.

Earlier, I mentioned the P.E. Teacher, Mark Simons, who started at the school on the same day that I did. I had wondered about the wisdom of appointing such a handsome young male teacher to a position in an all-girls' school, but almost all the girls treated him with the respect due to his position, all that is except Nancy Mudd. Nancy had a problem with men – she seemed to regard every one as a target for her seductive powers, and the harder they were to conquer, the harder she tried.

Mr Simons was not unaware of the potential problem of Nancy, and took great care to avoid any chance of being alone with her, but one day he slipped up. There was a storeroom for P.E. equipment at one side of the hall where we exercised, and needing something he went to the room and left the door open. Nancy saw her chance and slipped in after him and closed the door behind her. A number of us saw what happened. There was silence for about ten seconds and then the sound of a very angry male voice. There was a crash of equipment falling to the floor, and then the door flew open and Mr Simons emerged with disarrayed hair and 'adjusting his dress' as the saying goes. His face was red and he was very angry. He walked straight out of the hall, and a couple of seconds later, Nancy appeared in the doorway, quite unflustered at the audience of about twenty girls with open mouths.

“What a shame; we were just getting started,” she said.

This time Nancy had gone too far. It seems that Mr Simons went straight to Miss Nightingale's office and gave her an ultimatum, either Nancy left or he would. The result was Nancy was called to Miss Nightingale's office and given her marching orders. I can't help wondering if she achieved what she set out to do. I don't know what she did in the interim, but a few years later I ran into one of her 'cronies' in the street and after a brief chat, I was told that Nancy had changed her name to Estella and was working as a hostess at an exclusive 'gentlemen's club' in Soho. I suspected that she was now getting paid for doing what she loved and I could hardly criticize her for that, after all, I was being paid for doing what I loved too (although probably far less)!

By the way, Mr Simons married Miss Beaumont, the English teacher who started at Marion Ladies' College the same day that he did.

Time passed, and I still received the occasional letter from Gary but I was a much more regular correspondent with his sister, Kate. They had all settled in very comfortably in Australia and I noticed that the odd Australian expression crept into their letters. It was obvious that they weren't coming back any time soon, if at all. Their parents had now bought a house in an eastern suburb of Melbourne called Burwood since that was much cheaper than Camberwell, being further from the city centre.

Gary, who had been very successful in his final exams was accepted at Melbourne University where he would be studying maths, physics and science as he had always wanted, with a view to becoming an astronomer. Kate had chosen not to change schools, so they both took the tram each weekday from Burwood to attend their places of study.

Kate was doing well at school and also enjoying her ballet school. She told me that she had been to see some performances by the Australian Ballet which had its headquarters in Melbourne and enjoyed them very much. She always asked how my ballet training was going.

I received the results of my final GCSE exam and was very pleased with them as were the rest of the family. That meant that my 'Plan B' was operational if needed.

It was approaching the end of the year and my ballet school was rehearsing for the end of year show. I had made great progress according to Miss du Plessis, and she had chosen me to perform to Prokofiev's music, the 'Romeo and Juliet' 'bedroom pas-de-deux', with Jack French, our star male dancer. He was tall and athletic with dark hair, and very handsome. I think all the girls in the school were in love with him, but he didn't seem to notice. As for me, I didn't want to get involved with a boy again, it was too complicated, and ironically I think that made me more attractive in his eyes..

This is the most romantic scene in the ballet as it is the last time that Romeo and Juliet dance together. It was choreographed by Miss du Plessis and much simpler than the beautiful choreography of Kenneth MacMillan which is justly world-famous, but we were not professional dancers after all, and Miss du Plessis knew our limitations. Jack was very strong which he needed to be because at a number of points he lifted me up in the air and even spun around with me over his shoulders. I had total trust that he wouldn't drop me. We spent many hours together rehearsing and became very good friends. We even started to go out together when it became clear to him that I didn't want to be romantically involved. This was the first time I had gone out with a boy since my disastrous date with Charles.

There is a common misconception that all male ballet dancers are gay. While I don't deny that in many cases this is true, there is always the 'exception to prove the rule', and so it was with Jack. When I asked him why he didn't have a girlfriend, he just laughed and said there was plenty of time for that. In the meantime, he wanted to be the best ballet dancer he could be and join a professional company, so he didn't want the distraction of romances. I felt the same way, with the added issue of me being 'trans', which I made sure Jack knew about from the start. He immediately said it was not an issue for him. “I thought you were a beautiful young girl when I first saw you and nothing you've told me will change my opinion,” he said. So it was that our relationship was more like brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend, and this suited us both perfectly.

It might not surprise you to learn that our first 'date' was to the Royal Ballet's performance of 'Romeo and Juliet'. It was so beautiful; the dancing, the costumes, the sets and the music, that we were absolutely stunned. I said to Jack that at least we would have the music in common with the Royal Ballet, even if ours was from a recording. He laughed and said he would like to try some of the lifts we had seen. I actually thought that Miss du Plessis had 'borrowed' a few of the moves from Kenneth MacMillan, but she had very sensibly toned down the steps to something we could manage.

The school year was ending at Marion College. The sixth form had a final dinner together and you can imagine that there were many tears shed. I promised April that we would still see each other regularly. Jeanette had told me that is was so easy to lose touch with old school friends when our paths after leaving school took us in different directions.

Frank and I spent many hours rehearsing at the studio, but we wanted to rehearse even more, so I approached Miss Nightingale at the school and asked permission to use the school hall and she very kindly agreed, on condition that I organised a couple of tickets for her to see the performance.

The big day arrived. The 'pas de deux' was to be the 'pièce de résistance' of the show, so, no pressure! We did have the advantage of having the orchestral music rather than Miss Morris on the piano. One of the dads was an electrical engineer and set up a really nice sound system. As I've discovered many times since, dancing to beautiful music really carries me along. A spotlight had been set up to follow Jack and me as we danced and another father made a video recording of the whole performance, which I have to this day.

I can smile at it now; Jack and I thought we were Nureyev and Fontaine, but really we weren't too bad. Jack wore a standard male dancer's costume with white hose and I wore a rather diaphanous gown, meant to represent a nightdress, and with my hair free and flowing, something not often seen in ballet. The audience gasped and applauded at some of the lifts, especially when Jack was spinning around with me over his shoulders. At the conclusion of our performance, the audience gave us a standing ovation. The next day, Miss Nightingale phoned to say how much she had enjoyed the show and how she didn't realise they had had such a talented dancer in their midst!

I haven't mentioned that I was still regularly visiting my local GP when the time came to get another script for my puberty blockers, Dr Benson was convinced by now that I was definitely destined to live my life as a female and eventually I received the long-awaited referral to a specialist in 'gender dysphoria'. I don't really need to go into all the details of the visit which have been recorded by many other young trans-women, Suffice it to say that after a thorough examination and some blood tests, I received the first script for hormones which would see me on my way to becoming as fully a young woman as I could possibly be. I wouldn't be totally satisfied until I had surgery of course, but I knew that that was some years off.

After a few months, I noticed the changes taking effect with my skin softening and my breasts beginning to grow. I didn't want big breasts of course as no ballet dancer has them, but it would be nice not to have to wear a padded bra.

The next step would be to get into one of the professional ballet companies' schools and after inquiries I found that many of them had summer schools – a few weeks of intensive training which were designed, I suspected, to weed out the potential students who were not really committed to the professional ballet life.

I arranged an appointment with Miss du Plessis to discuss my ambitions, taking Mummy along for support.

“I'm not at all surprised at what you are telling me, Antonette,” she said. “My advice to you is not to try and get into the Royal Ballet School. That's where everyone wants to go, so the number of applicants is huge, the competition fierce, and they can pick the very top of the cream. Don't get me wrong, you are one of the best female dancers it has been my pleasure to teach and your work ethic is second to none. You might miss out on being selected at the RBS by pure chance. No, what I suggest is that you apply to one of the other schools, and there are some very good ones I can name, and then audition for the Royal when the time is right, and see what happens.”

I took her advice; after all she had been around the professional ballet scene for many years. She suggested I apply to the Imperial Ballet Company which was based in London and would be holding a summer school in May of the following year. It was also her own 'alma mater'.

Later, when chatting with Jack, he told me that he had also spoken to Miss du Plessis. As a male dancer, he had the advantage that there are far fewer men dancing and the demand for them is high. However, she still suggested he try somewhere other than the Royal Ballet. After comparing notes he decided to apply to the Imperial Ballet Company too. “I'd love to still dance with you as we progress,” he said. Both of us were successful in our applications and went out for a coffee to celebrate.

The summer schools certainly sorted the wheat from the chaff. The pressure is enormous but both Jack and I thrived on it. We were getting tuition from some of the top dancers and teachers working with the company, and perhaps we were better than we thought because we seemed to be singled out for extra attention.

When the school came to an end, a small number of dancers were invited to join the ballet's school, and Jack and I were two of them. We hugged each other in delight when the announcements were made. This was the next step in our quest for a professional ballet career, though we both realised that the hard work was just beginning.

There was a problem which I had to face at this point. I could no longer conceal that I was 'trans' from the company executive. If they found out by some accident, I would probably be immediately dismissed. I made an appointment to see Miss Higgins, the ballet mistress and I was terribly nervous when I entered her office.

I explained my reason for seeing her, knowing that I might immediately have the offer to dance with the school withdrawn. I saw the shocked look on her face and waited for the axe to fall.

There was a pause and I held my breath. Then she said: “I see, And who else here knows about you?”

“Only my friend, Jack French, and he would never reveal it to anyone.”

There was another pause, and my heart was going 'boom, boom', surely loud enough for Miss Higgins to hear.

“Well Antonette, this is something I've never come across before. May I ask why you didn't tell me this before?”

I was blushing scarlet. “Well, Miss Higgins, I wanted to get a chance to prove myself as a potential dancer with the company, and I was afraid that if you knew at the start, I wouldn't get that chance.”

She actually smiled. “You are probably right. So what are your long-term intentions, Antonette?”

“I am already on hormones, and I am saving up to have surgery so that I am as complete a female as I can possibly be,” I replied. “There is no turning back for me, I am a woman in my mind and want to be in my body too.”

“Well, you are already a very promising dancer, better than some of the other girls, so this is what I am going to do. What you have told me today must not go outside the walls of this office. If it does and I am challenged about it, I will deny that this conversation ever took place, do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Higgins.”

“Very well. You can retain your offer of a place in the ballet's school, and I hope you will never give me cause to regret my decision.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Higgins,” I said, a huge wave of relief sweeping over me as I stood up. Our interview was obviously at an end.

To be continued.

Next time A wedding