‘She has a tiny waist,’ Nadine said.‘She’s hungry.’
‘For the stage?Or in her belly?’
‘With the young singers, is there a difference?’
Across the room, Freya scrunched her skirts, then laughed as she looked at Sidonie, who sat chatting and calm while waiting for her turn to be measured.Sidonie, a contralto and seasoned performer, had recently married a Parisian bank clerk, and the man could not believe his good fortune in securing the affections of a woman of the stage.He adored her and was travelling from Paris for opening night.Sidonie had ambitions, but they were different.She worked for love and money, but she was not hungry.Not in the way Nadine meant.
The tape whizzed against the cotton of Odette’s chemise as Nadine whipped it away.‘Done.Next!’Nadine called, pointing at Sidonie, who dutifully leapt from her seat and crossed the room.Odette pulled her robe on and tied it.Freya, now alone, caught Odette’s look, then cast her gaze to the floor.She buried her hands in her pink skirts, tickling at the fabric.A dress too good for theatre rehearsals.It reeked of both love and desperation.
Odette hunted through Nadine’s box of trims and lace until she found a long length of peach-coloured ribbon.She pulled it from the assortment with a swishing sound, then rolled it around her fingers as she strode through the room to stop before Freya, right beside a polished, silver-backed mirror.
‘Who picked this dress for you?’Odette asked.‘Your mother?’
Freya shook her head.‘No.She… I mean, I don’t have… I chose it myself.’
No mother, then.That explained the hair.‘That pink,’ Odette said, ‘is common.Take this.’She held out the ribbon.‘It is a better colour for you.’
‘The tailor said it was the most popular shade of the season.’Freya grasped the ribbon, her voice a blend of apology and fire.That was a start.She would need the fire if she was to last for more than a summer.
‘Which means it is worn by every second woman in London looking for a husband.Areyoulooking for a husband?’
‘Maybe.Perhaps, one day.’
‘You can only have one.The theatre or a husband.Pick one,’ Odette demanded.
‘The theatre,’ Freya said, perhaps a little louder than she needed to, but emphatic and fast.‘I mean, I love the theatre.I love the stage.More than anything.’
Odette beckoned the girl forwards.Freya pushed herself up, and Odette took her hands to pull her closer, then spun her so that she faced the mirror.
‘This dress,’ Odette said, ‘needs a corset.’
‘Yes,’ Freya agreed, with a nod.
‘You are playing a peasant girl.Both as Lisette and perhaps as Marietta.’
‘I… I am.’
‘Is that how you want Nadine to measure you?To fit your clothes?To show your shape, your features, your body?Does your peasant girl wear a corset?’
Freya’s eyes widened, and she mouthed a word that looked likecorsetto her reflection.‘Yes.I mean, no.I mean…’ She gazed at Odette in the mirror, imploringly.‘Does she?’
‘My Marietta is not yours.You want a career?To survive?You need to learn how to write your own stories for the lives you live onstage.’
Freya fidgeted, drawing circles on the inside of her palm with the opposite thumb, occasionally meeting Odette’s gaze before looking away.
‘My… my Mariettadoeswear a corset.It makes her feel secure.It’s familiar.But it… it binds her, too.’
Odette spun Freya towards her so they stood toe to toe and eye to eye.‘Next time, do better with your characters, even those you only have as an understudy.I will not have people come to my opera and be sad that I wasn’t there.Understand?’
‘Done!’Nadine called.‘Next!’
Freya threw a look over her shoulder as she darted away to take her place before Nadine.Nadine grumbled, and the two women worked at the buttons of Freyas dress.Well, that was done.The young soprano could take the advice Odette had offered or decide she knew better and throw it away.She could draw on her courage and come to Odette’s door, but she could also walk past if she preferred to make her own way.And if she was seeking a soft touch or a woman to replace the mother she’d lost, she now knew she would not find it in Odette.
‘Arms!’Nadine barked, and Freya extended them over her head.
As the tape measure whipped around Freya’s midsection, the damn ringing started in Odette’s ears once more.Too loud, too harsh.She pressed her hands to the sides of her head as the hum smothered everything, resounded everywhere.Nadine asked a question that Odette could see but not hear, and Freya pursed her lips, then peered at her.‘…iss Delaney?Are you well?’
The sound faded, then disappeared.
