Chapter Text
It was one of the days, when one wakes up and realizes that one exists, but a solid two inches off their physical body, following it around like a shadow, watching from aside as it glides through the day on autopilot, the distance between mind and body gradually stretching. Anne watched her body step out of the train onto the platform and make its way through the crowds in the stuffy London underground air towards the stairs that would eventually let her out of the humid heat and into the humid cool of a late September rainy morning.
She imagined the weight of her age-old briefcase against her fingers, the worn leather handle rubbing against the calluses on the pads on her palm and fingers, how the briefcase bumped against her right leg heavily as she went. She imagined the relief on her temples, when she took off her wide brim felt hat as she ascended the stairs. She imagined the cold misty droplets of water on her face, when she stopped at the exit and watched on, as her body continued towards the Floral Street entrance. She was left standing at the station entrance, in between the sweaty, hot air and smell of dust from below and the humid coldness of the perpetual spray of rain above ground.
She was well acquainted with the phenomenon, and so she knew to expect a loud noise, a painful bump into somebody, the ring of her phone or something else that alerted her and would drag her mind back to, or at least within close proximity of, her body. This morning, it was a sharp slit of pain on the tip of her right index finger that reeled her from the exit of the tube station through the busy crowds all the way to the Floral Street lobby.
“Fucking hell---” she cussed under her breath and pulled her hand out of her pocket and saw a good cut on her finger tip. She frowned, but brought the finger to her lips and sucked the blood off, before gingerly sliding her left hand in the pocket to dig out whatever it was that had cut her. She found a big piece of green glass and remembered she’d picked it up in front of the house on her way out. There was a puppy next door; she’d picked up the shard, but had been too far away from her bin and a bit too late from work to walk back, so she’d just pocketed it and gone her way.
“Stupid…” she mumbled acerbically to herself. She looked around for a bin, her right index finger still on her lips, briefcase and hat squeezed against her side uncomfortably.
“Good morning, Miss Lister!”
Anne’s head snapped towards the cheerful greeting from the front desk.
“Ah, Amanda,” she responded. Perfect. Amanda, their lobbyist, was regularly her saviour, so she waddled her way to the desk, “you wouldn’t have a plaster, would you?” she managed to blurt a second before her briefcase slipped from under her arm. She grimaced lightly at the loud thump it made when it hit the floor.
“You know I would” Amanda replied and vanished behind her desk for a moment, “I hope it’s nothing too serious.” She stood up and handed Anne a box of plasters.
“It’s not a gushing wound, no, but will make life harder for me for the next few hours, if I don’t---” Anne muttered and tried to operate the box with one hand, “could you---?” she pleaded, but Amanda was already at it. Anne looked at the cut briefly and then put her hand up, feeling the blood drip down her finger and palm towards her wrist.
“Oh, dear. What happened?” Amanda asked and prepared a plaster for Anne. Anne let out a spent exhale and closed her eyes.
“I was trying to help a puppy out. Never mind.”
“A noble cause” Amanda smirked and handed Anne a paper handkerchief. Anne wiped her hand and applied the plaster.
“Mhh, yes, well, you reap what you sow, apparently” Anne frowned, “where are we today?”
“405” Amanda replied, and upon seeing Anne’s blank expression, continued, “lift to 4th, turn left, right at the end of the corridor.”
“Thank you” Anne nodded and rummaged through her pockets, remembering what it was that made her put her hand in her pocket in the first place, “goddammit---” she dug her breast pocket a bit too violently, and could hear the lining tear.
“Looking for something?” Amanda asked, and Anne did not care for the mockery in her tone.
“I can’t find my ID ca---” Anne spat and looked up at Amanda, but stopped when she saw her card in Amanda’s hand, “where was it?” she peeped under the stern look Amanda gave her.
“Linbury. Again” Amanda replied coolly, “you know, one day I’ll forget what you look like, and you will be in trouble.”
Anne managed a smirk and raised a brow.
“Well, until that, I thank my lucky stars for you” she took Amanda’s hand and pressed a quick kiss on the back of it. She had been casually flirting with Amanda for years now, and in return, Amanda tolerated her incessant forgetfulness and the absolute disinterest she took in her surroundings and belongings. Amanda rolled her eyes and pulled her hand back.
“You can’t flirt your way out of everything, you know?” her tone was sour, but Anne could see she was barely able to contain her smirk.
“Oh, I think we both know that I absolutely can” Anne mused grinning, before picking up her case and hat, “thank you” she nodded her head to Amanda, turned and strode off towards the lifts.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she heard Amanda, “YOUR CARD!”
Anne turned sharply and scurried back to the desk, casting Amanda an apologetic smile.
“Thank you” she took the card from her, “what would I do without you?”
“I really don’t know,” Amanda sighed, “Go. You’ve got 2 minutes, and you know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Anne took the card, muttered her ample thanks to Amanda and dashed for the lifts. She swiped her card and pressed the button. Just as she was about to step in, her mind went blank and she stepped back.
“Where am I going---” she started at Amanda.
“405!” Amanda didn’t even look up from her computer. Anne put her foot between the doors to stop the lift from going.
“Thank you” she muttered as the doors slowly opened again and she slipped in.
***
Anne often felt like they’d barely done and dusted the Nutcracker for the previous season, when they already had to start planning it for the next. They finished the production early January every year, and she knew the drill all too well, but somehow September still felt like it hadn’t been quite long enough since she’d last thought about the piece. She reached for her calendar and leafed through it, oblivious to the conversation around her.
“Anne?” She was alerted when someone called her name.
“Mhh?”
“When will you be on?” Phil, their Rehearsal Director addressed her.
“Oh, I---” Anne turned her eyes to her calendar and turned the pages rapidly, “I’ll do November through Christmas Eve. Tom will take a week there--- December 10th to 18th. Adrianne is on for January.”
“November? Aren’t you doing Giselle?”
“No, that’s Lawrence,” Anne replied, her eyes still on the calendar. She looked at her hasty scribbles over December 24th, 25th and 26th.
Boys with Mary
The hurried state of her handwriting brought a lump to her throat. This last Christmas was supposed to have been hers. She’d cleared her calendar a week before Christmas and two weeks after to make sure she had all the time in the world with her boys. Two days before they were supposed to drive up North together, Mariana had informed her she’d rented a chalet for them in Switzerland, and she’d be taking the boys with her.
“We’re going to Halifax in two days, Mary!” Anne had gnarled to the phone, “it’s not like that’s news to you.”
“Oh, well, they’ve made it very clear that they’re not too happy about spending their Christmas in a cold, moldy old shack--”
“Shibden is not a shack---!”
“Whatever, Anne, you can’t expect them to want to go there---”
“Fine, we’ll stay in London, then” Anne had declared.
“They want to go with me.”
“Do they, now? How convenient” Anne had whispered, “they were supposed to be with me this Christmas. You had Easter--”
“Will you for once think about what they want?”
“Are you ser--- Me? Will I think about what they want? Need I remind you, that we’ve joint custody---”
“And do I need to remind you to put their well-being first?” Mariana had cut her off, “The thing’s been set. They’re coming with me.”
“And what am I supposed to do, then, hmm?” Anne had fought back angry tears.
“Go to work. That’s what you always do.” Mariana had ended the call. Anne hadn’t heard from any of them until Christmas Day, when Percy, her youngest, had called her. They’d gotten back from Switzerland in time for their semester to start, and Anne had only seen them sporadically since then, save for the two weeks during the summer, when she’d dragged them to Shibden with her. Percy had suffered from a nasty hay fever and Theo had nearly sprained his ankle helping her out in the garden, which is why Anne suspected they’d fled back to their mother, to her and Charles’ villa in France, come the first chance, for the rest of the summer.
Anne patiently and well in advance kept informing Mariana about her schedules, and she tried to respect whatever it was they’d agreed on in the first place, but Mariana was very clever coming up with last minute changes, which gave Anne a morning here, an afternoon there with her boys. It vexed her on a daily basis, but mostly she was too tired to challenge Mariana.
“Anne?” She was gently brought back to the present moment by Phil.
“Mhh?”
“We’ll go through with the casting next week. Will you inform your team?”
“Yes, yes of course.”
“Great. We expect you to meet up with the Ballet Master and the rest of the production management, when the casting’s been set.”
“Naturally. Is this in your tender care, then?” Anne looked over to Gilbert, who’d been staging the Nutcracker for years.
“This is my baby,” Gilbert nodded and touched his heart briefly. Anne smiled faintly, nodded and closed her calendar.
“Excellent.”
“Alright, everyone” Phil clapped his hands, “good. I think we’re done for today. Anne, if you could agree with the dates with your team and let me know--”
“Yes, I’ll drop you an email” Anne crammed her calendar back in her jam packed briefcase.
“Good. Alright, thank you.”
Anne waited for the room to clear, before she put on her hat and tossed her coat over her shoulder.
“Lunch?” She turned her head towards the door. Phil was leaning against the door frame and nodded towards her.
“Oh, no thank you. I’m going to Upper School. Theo’s finished with his morning class soon, and I’ve agreed to have lunch with him.”
“When’s he joining the company, then?” Phil mused, smiling. Anne couldn’t contain her smirk, and a flicker of pride tickled under her sternum.
“Well, I’ll have him graduate first” she replied, “we’ll see after that.”
“Is it his last year?”
“Penultimate” Anne nodded, “But I really think he’s made great progress. Objectively--” she added and Phil laughed.
“Of course.”
“And he works so hard. I mean, they all do---” Anne hurried, but Phil only chuckled and nodded.
“Mhh. They do. Oh, you might see a few new faces for the Nutcracker. There’re some White Lodge students visiting today.”
Anne’s face dropped.
“Thanks for the warning” she added, not bothering to hide her vexation. Phil let out a hearty laugh.
“Oh, come on, Anne. It’s the children who make it fresh” he coaxed her.
“It’s the children who make it noisy” Anne concluded. Phil shook his head.
“You’re hopeless.”
“I’m realistic” Anne raised a brow and came to him. He patted her on the back gently.
“Go on, then. Say hi to him from me, will you?”
“Will do.”
***
By the end of Act 1, Anne had already known the tickets had been worth fighting for, but now, with a pensive, quiet boy next to her on the train bench, obviously deep in his thoughts, she would’ve paid twice the price. He’d been quiet since they left the Opera House; he’d only asked her if he could get the poster for the show, but unfortunately they’d all been sold out. He gingerly held on to the program now, and Anne judged by the slightly increasing weight against her side that bedtime was approaching fast.
“Mum?” he mumbled faintly as they approached Oval.
“Mhh?”
“I want to be the Sugar Plum Fairy.”
“What, right now?” Anne mused, biting her lip. She expected a giggle, but only received a quiet headshake.
“No. When I grow up.”
Anne raised a brow and tightened her hold of him.
“Well, you better get dancing, then.”
Theo nodded. Anne noticed his eyes were keen on the cover of the program. The Sugar Plum Fairy cast them both an alluring smile over her shoulder.
“Can I start tomorrow?” He turned to look at her. Anne tilted her head and combed back her hair to buy herself some time.
“Well, it’s 2 days to Christmas. But maybe we could sign you up for a ballet class in January.”
“When’s that?”
“After New Year’s.”
“Will I need to practise?”
“For the ballet class?” Anne specified. Theo nodded, “No, I don’t think you need to practise. But you can, if you want to.”
“I will need music. Will you play for me?”
Anne chuckled softly.
“Of course. We could set up a little ballet studio in the living room.”
“Mama wouldn’t like that” Theo gave Anne a knowing smirk.
“No, I don’t think she would. But we could still do it” Anne smiled and winked. Theo exhaled deep and slumped down on Anne’s lap.
“Will I ever see her again?” he sighed and fiddled with the program.
“Oh, I don’t know. They’re elusive, fairies. Come and go as they please.”
“The Sugar Plum Fairy too?” Theo sounded defeated.
“Well, I suppose you could expect to see her around Christmas time next year. I have a feeling she’ll be around to wish everyone a merry Christmas then, too.”
“Hmm. Merry Christmas, mum.”
“It’s still a couple of days, darling.”
“Not from me” he exclaimed, “from her!”
“Oh. Well, merry Christmas, Theo.”
***
“Miss Walker!”
Ann tore her eyes from watching the last minutes of the Upper School 2nd year’s morning class, and turned towards the small voice that had called out to her.
“Yes, Louise?”
“I need to go to the bathroom” the girl looked hesitant and apologetic. During the last 2 months or so, Ann had learned to keep her emotions at bay, but the bus drive from White Lodge to Covent Garden had been especially arduous this morning, and so she couldn’t help a slight purse of her lips.
“Well, be quick about it then, they’re about to finish. D’you know where it is?”
“Yes, miss” the girl breathed and turned on her heels, heading down the corridor and turning right by the lifts. Ann returned to watching the class. The boys were moving on to their jumps, gathering at the back of the studio, forming lines. A few of them noticed the children outside and briefly smiled and waved at them. It erupted a wave of shy giggles from the kids. Ann shook her head minutely and tried to hear the boys’ teacher.
“Sissonne fermé, sissonne fermé, sissonne ouverte, relevé détourné, step through” Ann caught herself muttering the pattern out loud as she watched the teacher walk through it, ”glissade, assemblé.” She couldn’t really hear him, but she heard his voice in her head. The only thing she heard was when he clapped his hands for the first group of boys to start.
“And ONE!” his tone was sharp even though it came through to her and her students in the corridor muffled.
It was a special day for the Year 7 students. They’d only started at the school a few weeks ago, and this was their first visit to the Upper School, where many of them were likely to continue after their time at White Lodge. They’d meet some of the older students, some teachers and after lunch they’d get to see the older students practicing partnering. Many of them had been hyperactive the whole morning, which had resulted in loud chatting in the bus and excited, high pitched shrieks, when they’d arrived at the school.
It was a special day for Ann, too. She hadn’t really been at the School since she graduated. Even when she’d danced with the company, she hadn’t really had a reason to venture into the school building. Things hadn’t drastically changed, she found. She had instantly felt welcomed by the warm, dusty, slightly sweaty smell.
“And a-ONE!” Ann heard the teacher again, but the sound of rapidly approaching, sharp steps made her turn her head. She only had the time to briefly register the heavy, black coat on their arm, their dark, long hair and a wide brim hat on the head of the person approaching, before disaster struck. The person had just passed the lift lobby, when Louise appeared behind them, running to return to her classmates.
“Louise!” Ann had the time to shriek, before the girl ran right into the person with the hat, bumping them so hard they lost their balance and fell flat on the floor. Their briefcase flew from their hand and landed across the corridor with a loud thump, and they dropped their takeaway coffee, yelping as its hot contents partially spilled on their arm.
“Oh---!” Ann exclaimed and quickly made her way to them to help them up.
“MRS ROBINSON!” the person on the floor bellowed. Ann jolted minutely and stopped on her tracks, and couldn’t blame her students for backing up.
“I’m afraid it’s only me” she replied, trying to appear calm, “I’m so terribly sorry. Louise, what did we agree on just this morning?” She turned her eyes to the terrified girl, who, miraculously, was still standing and looked unharmed.
“N-- No running around, miss.”
“Exactly. Go on then, fetch some paper towels. I’m so sorry about that” she crouched and offered her hand to the person attempting to get up. The person refused her hand and instead sat up, leaning against the wall, taking off their hat. They dropped the hat on the floor and looked down, their chest rising steadily as they panted. Ann couldn’t help raising a brow at them. The woman (she assumed) had a strong jaw and high cheekbones and dark circles around her eyes. Her hair was a wild mane of waves, almost unkempt, and it cascaded down her shoulders all the way to her waistline. Her eyebrows were thick and furrowed, and she raised her eyes to look at Ann, as she rolled up her sleeve, looking at her like she didn’t quite expect to see Ann. Ann glanced at her exposed arm and gasped lightly.
“Are you hurt--?” Ann pointed at the large, nasty red spot on her arm. She was cut off by the woman.
“Where’s Mrs Robinson?” she commanded more than asked Ann. Ann felt her chest tighten and her cheeks blush; she felt hurt by the woman’s abrasiveness.
“That would be me” she crossed her arms, feeling the need to stand her ground, “Mrs Robinson retired this summer. I started at White Lodge late July. Ann Walker” she held out her hand to the woman the second time, and wasn’t refused this time round. The woman looked confused, but allowed Ann to help her up “good morning.”
“Is it?” the woman muttered and raised a brow, “thank you.” She pulled her hand back and tried to brush off the dust on her waistcoat and trousers. Louise returned with a few paper towels. She stopped a few steps away from the woman and extended her arm. Ann could see she was nearly trembling.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am” she squeaked. The woman turned towards her and sighed.
“No worries. Are you hurt?” she asked Louise. Ann was grateful her tone was a notch softer now.
“No, ma’am.” The woman took the paper towels from Louise and rolled down her sleeve, pressing the towels on the coffee stain. Ann wanted to tell her to keep the sleeve up and find something cold to put on the burn, but her ability to speak was temporarily out of order.
“Good” she nodded and gave Louise a brief smile, “no harm done, then.” Ann glanced at the briefcase still lying on the floor, its contents partially spilled at the feet of her students, who’d gotten curious and had started to gather around again.
“Ma’am?” Dominic raised his voice, “I think your briefcase is broken.” He crouched and timidly picked up the briefcase, “the handle’s come off.” The woman sharply turned towards him and sighed, exasperated, bringing her hand up to hold the bridge of her nose.
“Excellent” Ann heard her breathe.
“I’m sorry, ma’am” Louise’s gasp was barely audible. The woman brought her hands to her waist and licked her lips before nodding determinedly.
“No worries. It’s perfectly in line with how my day’s been so far” she made her way to Dominic and took the briefcase from him, getting down on her knee to gather the spilled papers back in the sorry case. Dominic handed her a few slips that had flown a bit farther, “thank you” she took the papers from him and shoved them in the briefcase. She got up with a huff and glanced at the class still in full swing. Ann hurried to collect her hat and the coffee cup from the floor.
“Here---” she handed the hat to the woman who slipped the briefcase under her arm and squeezed it against her side, “I think there’s still a drop of coffee in---” she started, but the woman took the cup from her and downed the rest of the coffee, before crumpling the cup and tossing it over her shoulder. Ann was mesmerised, when the cup landed in the bin gracefully. The woman nicked her hat from Ann’s hands, and Ann blinked and frowned to awaken from her momentary mental slumber.
“Thank you” the woman nodded hurriedly and picked up her coat on the floor, “excuse me.” She then turned and strode down the corridor as fast as she’d arrived, taking a sharp left at the end of it and vanishing into the building. Ann was only alerted when Louise crouched and started wiping the spilled coffee from the floor with the paper towels the woman had just left there.
“Miss?” Dominic broke the silence, “who was that?”
Ann shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“A banshee?” came a suggestion that caused a burst of laughter.
“Joshua!” Ann turned to the boy, attempting to give him a scolding look, although having to admit his suggestion wasn’t far off the mark. The boy just shrugged and raised a brow.
“Not a fan of Mrs Robinson, that’s for sure” Louise huffed and got up. They were interrupted, when the door opened and happy, but exhausted chatting poured from the classroom into the corridor. The morning class was finished.
***
Anne had returned to her office, run some cold water on her burn and changed into a clean shirt (thank heavens she kept a few spare ones always available). She’d texted Theo and apologised that she’d be approximately 5 minutes late and would wait for him at the front door; she would not risk another encounter with the White Lodgers and their new Mrs Robinson.
She looked at her beloved briefcase that she’d placed on her desk. The handle had come off and now Anne also noticed that a seam on the right corner had also torn. It really looked like there was nothing that could be done for it, and she knew she only had herself to blame. With how she’d treated the case, it was a miracle it had lasted with her for nearly 25 years.
In its current state, Anne couldn’t dream of lugging it around with her, so she opened the front pocket and dug out her wallet, painkillers, lip balm and cigarettes. Her morning had been just a notch away from abysmal, and when she took the cigarette pack in her hand, she was tempted to take them with her and light one as soon as she could be considered out of the building. Slowly, she put them back on the desk and took a deep breath.
Not before a meal.
She’d seen a doctor about her perpetual headache a few weeks back. Apparently she was anemic, malnourished, sleep deprived and underweight, and so she’d gotten a full lecture on the importance of sleeping, eating and generally looking after herself. So far, she had only managed to promise herself she would try and have lunch every day. The doctor had used a solid 10 minutes to berate her about smoking, too, but when she’d barked back at her asking if there was anything she could actually do, instead of just feeling miserable for living the way she did, the doctor had quieted down and kindly suggested she avoid smoking before meal times to not scare away her hunger, and to seek help if she really felt miserable. Anne had taken her first advice and made it effective immediately.
She glanced at the clock on the office wall, before popping three ibuprofens out of their little capsules and gulping them down with the leftover Coca-Cola from yesterday still on her desk. She left her hat on the coat rack, but took her coat and dropped her essentials in her pockets before stepping out of her office and locking the door.
The School’s main entrance was across the street from Anne’s, so it didn’t take her long to cover the distance. Theo was already waiting for her by the door, browsing on his phone, looking bored out of his wits. Anne put her hand up and tried to wave at him from across the street, but he didn’t lift his eyes from his phone.
“Hey” Anne put on a bright smile when she reached him. He looked up and scanned her from head to toe, before slipping his phone into his back pocket.
“Hey” he replied. He looked a bit pale and Anne could still see some sweat glistening on his temples.
“Come here” she nodded and opened her arms, stepping in to hug her son, “how are you?”
Theo hugged her back lightly and looked down when they parted.
“Yeah, alright. Why do you smell like an old cupboard?” he frowned and took another look at her, “and what’s with the shirt?” He turned his nose up at it; Anne had had the shirt (blue with a much too lively floral print to her liking, but Mary had bought it for her) since he was 6. She really only kept it and a couple of other shirts just as far from her preferred colour and style in her office cupboard for days exactly like this one. She was, to some degree, known in the house for spilling her coffee.
“Oh, I---” Anne glanced down at her outfit, “I’m afraid I had a little accident and had to change--”
“Was that you? With the White Lodgers?” Theo raised a brow. Anne pursed her lips and tried to fight back a blush.
“Yes.”
“I thought I saw you.”
“Hmm. I was hoping you wouldn’t. I didn’t want to disturb your class.”
“Then just wait outside” Theo sighed and tossed his head back, “if I see you, it always disturbs me.”
“Yeah, alright” Anne exhaled, pained, “what do you want to eat?” she tried to smile again and took Theo by his shoulders.
“Subway.”
Anne frowned and shook her head in confusion.
“Really?”
Theo groaned.
“Yes, really! Jesus, mum, why else would I’ve suggested it?” he scoffed and turned on his heel, “come on…”
The nearest Subway was closed and so they had to walk a little extra, and Anne had to wonder how zealously her son wanted a sub, if he was willing to spill the precious minutes of his lunch hour trying to find a restaurant. Anne didn’t really mind; she hadn’t been with him for over a week now, and the latest dinner they’d had the three of them at a chip shop close to home had been quiet and moody. Anne had felt the whole time like she had done something wrong, but couldn’t figure out what it was. She tried to ask him how he was, but received only one or two word replies.
“How was class?” she asked when they were queueing for their sandwiches. Theo had asked if he could get a foot long with extra toppings. Anne had agreed; anything to make him smile for a second at least.
“Alright.”
“Just alright?” Anne coaxed, verging on the edge of losing her patience with getting a shrug as an answer to every question.
“Yeah” Theo rolled his eyes, “just alright. Basic. It’s just a morning class. Nothing special. Thanks” he said to the cashier and took his sandwich, while Anne proceeded to pay for them. Anne sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, before punching in her pin and thanking the cashier as well. Theo was waiting outside the restaurant.
“Alright, where’d you want to eat these?” Anne approached him. He gave her yet another shrug, and Anne refused to play any longer.
“Theo, have I done something---” she put her hand on his shoulder, but he turned and slapped it away.
“No!” he exclaimed, “you bloody well haven’t, and that’s the problem!” Anne took a step back and watched as he smashed his sandwich on the ground.
“Here’s for Christmas” he gnarled and stomped on the sandwich, “here’s for Easter and here’s for… the lousiest summer… ever!”
Anne’s stomach turned and she tried to approach him.
“Theo, I’m so--”
“No, FUCK OFF!” he raged at her and gave her the fingers, before storming off. Anne couldn’t move; her eyes were on the stomped remains of the sandwich and she sought for her breath. Finally, she took a quivering inhale and willed back the rising pressure under her sternum, biting her lip. When she was able to move, she turned and threw her sandwich in the nearest bin and promptly made her way around the corner to a shabby little kiosk at the end of the street. She stepped in and made her way right to the till.
“A pack of Marlboro Gold, please.”
***