In the story, the character I was playing had to flirt with the main character, Franz, played by a handsome young dancer, Stephen Sheriff – ‘Cher’ for short – and dance with him while his fiancée, Swanilda, became furious with jealousy. This was easy for me, as all the girls were in love with Cher. He had curly black hair and a cheery disposition, and he became a very fine dancer.
I danced well. I wasn’t overwhelmed and knew I just had to do what we’d rehearsed. It was only one show, but it was my first public performance in London and I understood that my teachers were really happy with me. ‘Well done, Mary!’ Nancy said. There was never any effusive praise given, so a ‘well done’ was a good sign.
I was relieved, but something was missing and I felt sad. I realised it was because no one close to me had been there to watch – no family or friends. How I wished my parents and Miss Hansen could have been there to see me in my first major role, on stage at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden – Mary McKendry from Rockhampton, dancing solo on one of the most prestigious stages in the world! I could hardly believe it had happened. I knew Mum would have been there if she could, but I understood how costly it was, and they had already organised for me to fly home in August.
I didn’t know then that Betty Anderton, ballet mistress with London Festival Ballet, had been in the audience that night and that she’d noticed me.
During third term, my parents phoned to say I had been offered a second year. Ballet students were constantly being assessed and nearly half of my class weren’t offered a second year. Sharon was one of them. She was devastated. I felt sad for her, but I had my own future to think about. Despite the expense, Mum and Dad had agreed that I would stay on. I hoped I would be able to get a job to relieve the costs for them once I finished my training. I was desperate to work as a dancer, but it was very difficult for any dancers to get a job in a professional ballet company as contracts were scarce.
I was still homesick when the English summer break came in 1976. I couldn’t wait for August so I could go home and be with my family. My longing to see them was becoming quite physical and I was counting the days. When the plane finally touched down in warm old Rocky, I felt overwhelming relief.
Although Ger, Mick and Matt were away, at university or working, it was wonderful to be home again. I had a marvellous time with Mum and Dad, Brig and Jo, Pat and Dom. The bookshelves were full, so I helped myself to a month of reading. Gone with the Wind was a favourite – I adored Scarlett O’Hara with her strong will and independence. I also read novels by great authors such as Charles Dickens, Charlotte Brontë and George Eliot.
Having home-cooked food was special – delicious local steaks, fresh fruit and salads, and Mum’s wonderful creations. She was no longer cooking for eight, so could take her time. Sometimes Dad came home for lunch, or Mum and I would meet him in town for a pub counter lunch. Neil George was still prolific in his architectural design work and was busy preparing for the biggest project of his life: the Pilbeam Theatre and the adjacent art gallery in Rocky.
Mum and I visited Miss Hansen, who had lots of questions as she was intending to send more students to the RBS. My friend Nina returned from her Australian Ballet School studies in Melbourne, so we caught up for a barre session and went out for a few drinks. I spent a bit of time with Mum and her close friends, including Nella Gillogley, Shirley Agnew, Keir Nutley and Jill Benjamin, over long lunches filled with interesting conversations. I’d left home as a rather naive girl and returned a young woman who relished their adult company.
Mum and I also visited Grandma Bridie in Brisbane and did some shopping before I left again for London. Sadly, Grandma Bridie had been diagnosed with cancer and I wondered if it would be our last goodbye.
I loved the warmth of family, but by the end of the break I had become agitated not dancing and was ready to return to England. After that trip I never got really homesick again. There was no question about it – if I wanted to dance, London was where I needed to be.
In September 1976 I started my second year at the Royal Ballet School. I changed to a new, larger room at Mrs Woolf’s – it had a view of the park and I no longer banged my head on the ceiling.
Although I was lucky to live across from a park and could see the seasons changing, children playing and buses passing, I didn’t notice too much of those things. My mindset and focus were totally on my dancing. Dancers aren’t really aware of their surroundings: their focus is on their body. You look at your body and think, ‘Well, I can fix that arm today, and I need to make that line appear longer.’ You stare at yourself in the mirror and concentrate on how you can improve. That’s it. That’s every day for over eight hours.
Sightseeing was not really in my budget, but I did get on the tube and go to Leicester Square. You went up the escalator and wow – all the theatres and restaurants were just waiting for you. Occasionally I’d go to a movie with a small group from the RBS and we’d then have a drink in Soho or Chinatown. By springtime in 1976 I knew London like the back of my hand.
One day, Mum’s Irish relative Roisin Kearns called to ask if I’d like to see a Sunday matinee of Billy, a musical that was showing at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. It was kind of her to think of me and I accepted her invitation immediately. I lived for anything that involved acting and singing and dancing, and had never seen musical theatre before.
I pulled on my cleanest tights, warm pants and my one and only woollen jumper and headed off. The atmosphere at the Theatre Royal was buzzing. It had magnificent chandeliers, steep tiers of seating, red velvet and gold ornamentation, and all around the walls balconied boxes for patrons who didn’t want to sit with the crowd. The musical tells the story of a Yorkshire boy who dreams of making it big in London showbusiness. I loved the lead actor, Michael Crawford, who subsequently became famous for the role, and Elaine Paige, who was at an early point in her career. Crawford could really dance and sing. I walked out of the theatre on a high. I thought the show was the most mind-blowing experience I’d ever had in the theatre. I adored spending time with Roisin and her wonderful Irish lilt. She later took me to see A Chorus Line and Sweeney Todd, opening the door to the world of musical theatre.
Theatre just connected for me – the music, the storytelling and the talent of the storytellers, whether actors, musicians or dancers. I always had an interest in people, and theatre was alive with their stories. After seeing Billy I decided to go to every show I could afford, in as many London theatres as possible. Tickets were much more affordable in the seventies. I was inspired by seeing actors such as Judi Dench, Anthony Hopkins and Ben Kingsley, who all rose to even greater stardom later. I admired what these stage actors could do, and they inspired me to bring more story, more drama, to my dance performances.
All through 1976 I was helped enormously by my second-year teachers at the RBS: former stars Miss Julia Farron and Miss Pamela May, and principal dancer David Drew. All three were now character artists with the Royal Ballet while also teaching at the school. I liked Julia especially. She had a great personality and was still performing character roles such as Lady Capulet in Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet. David choreographed a small piece for three of us as the three witches from Macbeth and as a result the Royal Ballet became a little more interested in me. But contracts with the company were limited. They would most likely take British dancers before someone like me.