It was the girls’ first overseas trip. They were in awe of London at Christmas time with all the lights, double-decker buses and decorated shopfronts. The Nutcracker opened at Festival Hall on Boxing Day, as was the tradition. I didn’t feel like I could eat much on Christmas Day as I had to get into my tutu the next day.
The Nutcracker is a magical show, at a magical time of year. People flocked from all over the country to see this most family-friendly ballet complete with snowflakes, Christmas tree, toys that come alive, sweets galore and the famous Sugar Plum Fairy. There were festive lights in and around the theatre and all along South Bank, lifting the dark winter days and nights, and snow fell quietly as if to order, which made the experience extra-special for my sisters.
Dad didn’t offer an opinion about my living with a guy above a pub: he and Mum never questioned my choices. Kevin was very mature and looked after us wonderfully. He took us for Sunday drives and traditional roast meals at quaint little pubs with fireplaces, and doors so low we had to duck to get in.
By the end of the Nutcracker season it was time for Dad, Brig and Jo to return to Rocky. I was sad to see them go but relieved that I was finally able to collapse, as the company gave us a precious week off. I was exhausted. Sometimes, I didn’t even have enough energy to be nice to Kevin, and we saw very little of each other due to our different schedules. I came to realise we didn’t actually have that much in common. We were growing apart.
The next year, in early spring 1978, we started the tour in Bradford, where Scottie’s parents lived. That was a complete treat because I went with her to stay with her family instead of in the usual digs. Their house was warm and her mother cooked us delicious food, including the most wonderful chilli con carne and the best banana bread I ever had. I was very grateful for their kindness.
After Manchester, we headed back down the country to Wolverhampton, Eastbourne and Oxford. Soon the days grew longer and warmer, and the world seemed full of possibilities. Oxford in springtime was picturesque with its charming historic buildings, open parkland, river with painted narrowboats, and smart undergraduates everywhere. Our Sunday off that year coincided with the famous Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race and we watched it from a bridge across the Thames.
After the long tour we were back in London, preparing for an overseas trip to New York and Washington with Rudolf and his Romeo and Juliet, as well as a whole suite of other ballets, including Giselle, The Sanguine Fan, Le Conservatoire, Le Spectre de la Rose and Scheherazade. New York! I couldn’t wait to dance at the Metropolitan Opera House. I would be away for three weeks and realised this would be the end of my relationship with Kevin. We both knew it. We had drifted apart over the winter, especially after my family left. I wanted to be as free as a bird; he was the salt of the earth. In another life our complementary relationship could have worked, but not at this time. And I was still only twenty.
I moved in with Chris Mercer and John Carney, two boys from Festival Ballet, quite far from central London. It was challenging as late at night I had to get the tube, then an overground train, and walk through the suburbs to get home. The trip took over an hour. Eventually, my friend and fellow dancer Anthea Neal offered me a bedroom in her parents’ apartment in Marble Arch, just around the corner from the ballet. She was living with her boyfriend in a little cottage mews house. Anthea’s parents had a stately home in Wales and only used the apartment when they came to London. It was spacious and gorgeous, with four bedrooms, a long hallway and tasteful decor, and I stayed there by myself. Occasionally Anthea’s parents came to visit. They were the loveliest people. Anthea’s mum also invited Coralie to stay with me. They subsequently became good friends and enjoyed catching up with each other on what became Coralie’s annual visits.
Mum or Dad would come most years during the five-week London season and stay with me, cooking and looking after me. They were divine. Some years they came together and had the best time. Only in their forties, they were still young, full of curiosity and energy – on one visit they travelled on the Orient Express to Italy. Dad adored the architecture in Italy but not the food – he just wasn’t a pasta type of guy. He was able to work a holiday around some of the bigger projects he was designing in Central Queensland, including the library at the Capricornia College of Advanced Education (now Central Queensland University) and regional hospitals.
They were always generous when they came. Coralie would set me up with more stuff – things like rugs and lamps that put homely touches to my decor and that I didn’t have the time or interest to shop for. She’d cook and help with the laundry – bliss! – and made my life very easy. Their generosity was extended to my friends too: they would take us out to dinner and pay for everyone. They were delightful company. Coralie was always so charming that everyone loved her, and Neil George was funny and brilliant. He was always in such good humour.
Before long it was time for the New York tour. No digs on this trip: we were staying at the famous Mayflower Hotel on the Upper West Side. We’d never seen anything like it. Each room had its own little kitchen and sitting room and it was true New York, with a concierge at the door and views of Central Park. It was only a walk around the corner to the iconic Metropolitan Opera House (the Met) at the Lincoln Center, where we were to perform. The Lincoln Center was home to the New York City Ballet, and the Met was home to the American Ballet Theatre, where Mikhail Baryshnikov was a star. Here, we were experiencing it all.
Our first day in New York was the only free day of the tour. We walked around the city, pointing at landmarks as we ate bagels and waffles. I didn’t know food like this existed! It wasn’t great for a dancer’s figure. Then it was straight back to rehearsals in the theatre.
The Met is truly remarkable. It’s one of the biggest theatres in the world and seats nearly 4000 patrons in the stalls and five levels above. It is decorated luxuriously in red velvet and gold, with beautiful, enormous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The grand lobby also featured many levels and chandeliers, and huge Chagall murals adorned the walls. The stage is huge, as is the orchestra pit, and the acoustics are so good that even quiet music can be heard anywhere in the auditorium. This is where Rudolf’s Romeo and Juliet would open on 18 July 1978.
We were thrilled to be bringing it to an American audience. Once again I was to play one of the four Montague servants in the first half. As a group, we understood the momentous occasion of performing at the Met and wanted the season to go well for Rudolf. Once on stage I didn’t have time to think, because halfway through I had to do that quick change in the wings to become a court lady. Again I battled with the foot-high wig and changed into the long velvet gown and velvet shoes.
At the end of our first performance, the theatre erupted. We received a standing ovation and took something like nineteen curtain calls. The applause hit us like a physical thing and we looked up into the five tiers of seating and let it wash over us. We just kept beaming at each other, incredulous.
I’m sure Rudolf and the stars had a big afterparty, but as members of the corps de ballet we just took off our make-up and walked out the stage door into the steamy New York evening. The fans were waiting to catch a glimpse of Rudolf or get his autograph. We called in at one of the little bars on the way to the Mayflower. After a performance like that, it is nearly impossible to go to bed and sleep. We were on such an adrenaline high – but tomorrow it was back to class, then to the theatre for the evening performance.