‘Chin up, chest up,’ she said, lifting up my head with her finger and pressing in my rib cage. ‘Carry on, dear.’
I was nervous, as I knew both Miss Shanleys were watching me closely, but I was also very determined. I managed to follow every step and carry on until the end, but I didn’t have a clue how it had gone.
‘Well done, Irene,’ said Miss Moira after class. ‘You’re a good little dancer. I think Miss Ruth wants you to go to drama and elocution now.’
She seemed very sweet and gentle compared with her fearsome sister.
I hoped it had gone well but I was terrified that I wasn’t good enough. I knew I could do ballet, but I’d only been to my little local class and I’d only briefly had a few tap lessons.
If Miss Toni was scary, the drama teacher was the most terrifying woman that I’d ever seen in my life. She was wearing a long fur coat that dragged on the ground behind her and a huge Russian fur hat.
‘Don’t mind Miss Margaret,’ one of the boys whispered to me. ‘She’s a bit of a dragon.’
‘I can see that,’ I said.
She was very theatrical and what people might call a bit of a ‘luvvie’.
‘Come in, de-arr,’ she said in a big, booming voice when she saw me lurking by the door. ‘I’d like you to recite some Shakespeare for the class today.’
My heart started to pound with nerves.
‘Up on the stage?’ I said. ‘In front of everyone?’
‘Yes, de-arr,’ she said. ‘Is that a problem?
‘N-no,’ I said.
I didn’t normally get nervous but suddenly I was the most frightened that I’d ever been in my life. It wasn’t the fact that I’d never done drama before that was bothering me; it was my stutter that I was worried about. Would they give me a place at stage school if they knew that I stammered?
My legs felt like jelly as I stood on the stage and Miss Margaret passed me the play. It was one of Macbeth’s well-known speeches.
The whole room was deadly silent and all eyes were on me. My hands were shaking as I scanned the words.
Is this a dagger which I see before me?
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
You can do this, Rene, I told myself.
I took a deep breath.
‘I-is th-this a d-d-d- …’
B’s and d’s were particularly tricky for me to say, and no matter how hard I tried, the words just wouldn’t come out. I completely panicked and started gasping for breath.
I seemed to be up there for ever, but finally Miss Margaret waved her hand to stop me.
‘I see you have a stammer, dear,’ she boomed.
‘Y-yes,’ I said, ashamed and completely mortified that I’d shown myself up in front of the whole class
‘Let’s leave it there, then,’ she said.
I felt sick afterwards. She didn’t say anything else, but I was so worried that I had blown my chances.
Next up was a tap class, where the teacher was a tiny woman with jet-black hair and bright red lipstick. I much preferred ballet to tap, but I’d done a little bit before and managed to follow all the steps.
At the end of the morning, Miss Conti called me in to see her.
‘Well, Irene, I’ve had a chat to the teachers,’ she said.
I could feel my heart thumping out of my chest. I didn’t know what I’d do if they didn’t want me. How would I tell Mum that I’d failed?
‘By all reports you’re a lovely little dancer,’ she said. ‘A few other areas need a bit of work but we’ll take you.’
‘Pardon?’ I gasped. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, dear,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll give you a list of what you’ll need to bring with you to class. You can start next week.’
I couldn’t believe it, I was on cloud nine. I’m going to be a dancer, I thought, triumphantly. I’d done it! I couldn’t wait to write to Mum and tell her the news when I had an address for her. It really was a dream come true. I was going to spend every day doing what I loved and was so passionate about.
‘Gaga, Papa, I got into Italia Conti!’ I told them excitedly when I got home.
‘Very good, Rene,’ said my grandmother, not even bothering to look up from her needlework. I didn’t expect to get glowing accolades, but it would have been nice for them to acknowledge it. After all, they always seemed so proud of their other grandchildren who were all very academic and had gone off to good schools and universities.
The only downside of starting at Italia Conti was that I would have to leave Honeywell Road Primary, where I was very happy. I had a wonderful teacher there called Mrs Ritchie, and I couldn’t wait to tell her my news.
‘Mrs Ritchie, I got into Italia Conti,’ I told her with a big grin. ‘I start next week.’
‘Well, that is excellent news,’ she said.
At the end of the day, she called me over to her and pulled out a chair from under the table.
‘Stand up there, Rene,’ she said in a loud voice. ‘Now tell the rest of the class what you’re going to be.’
‘I’m going to stage school and I’m going to be a ballet dancer,’ I said proudly.
The whole class clapped and gave me three cheers. She was the only person to recognise my achievement and it felt lovely to have someone making a fuss of me. It made me feel really special and I’ve never forgotten that.
Even though I was sad to leave school I couldn’t wait to start at Italia Conti. I spent the next week getting all of the things that I needed for class. Thankfully Mum had left me some money for any extras that I might need. My grandmother made my uniform, which was a black sleeveless satin tunic with two slits up the side and tied in a bow at the back, and black cotton gym knickers.
One afternoon I got the bus up to Covent Garden and went to Frederick Freed’s in St Martin’s Lane, which I’d heard was the place for professional dancers to get their shoes.
‘I’d like some dance shoes, please,’ I told the shop assistant. ‘I need some bright red tap shoes with bows, pink ballet shoes and pink satin pointe shoes.’
‘Well, that’s quite a list, Miss,’ she said. ‘Are you here with your mother?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m here on my own.’
Thankfully she knew what she was doing and fitted them for me. There’s something special about dance shoes when they’re brand new, and I loved every minute of it. The shop assistants made such a fuss of me and brought out about a dozen pairs of ballet shoes all in different shades of pink satin. I loved the pointe shoes the most, as I’d never done pointe work before and that was what prima ballerinas wore. They were stuffed with papier mâché in the toes.
‘They’re beautiful,’ I sighed. ‘I can’t wait to learn to dance on those.’
‘You’ll have to get your mother to sew the ribbons on,’ the shop assistant told me.
‘Oh, my mother’s not around at the minute,’ I told her. ‘I can do it myself.’
It was special pink ribbon that was satin on one side and cotton on the other, so they didn’t slip when you tied them around your ankles.
‘It’s important to get them just right,’ the woman at Freed’s told me. ‘Not too