I walked back to the studio for rehearsal, looking for Matz. I didn’t want everyone to hear, so I called him aside and told him the good news. He was so happy for me. I was reticent to tell the other dancers, even my friends, for fear of seeming too superior. Everyone knew that only a few of us would ever make it to the top. But I decided to tell my friends Jackie and Johanna. ‘Congratulations, Mary! You so deserve it!’ They were so thrilled for me.
On my way out, I passed Betty Anderton in the hall and she gave me a wink. I knew she was happy for me too.
As soon as I got home I rang Mum and Dad. ‘How wonderful, darling! Well done!’ they exclaimed, and I knew I’d made them proud.
Promoting from within was John’s agenda. Being one of the first dancers he promoted to principal, I was determined to prove that his faith in me was justified. It really did seem that I was on my way. This promotion motivated me to work even harder, to be even more focused.
My continued hard work began to pay off, and later that year saw me preparing for my first White Swan Odette and Black Swan Odile in Swan Lake, at the age of twenty-three. It was a real milestone. I was young to be dancing this kind of leading role. John had made a gutsy decision in selecting me so early in my career. He obviously believed in me.
As a professional dancer you can never learn enough about Swan Lake – it’s one of the hardest of all the classical ballets. I knew I would perform the role of the dramatic Black Swan well, because it required excellent technique, which was my strength, but I would have to work hard to develop softness and vulnerability for the lyrical White Swan. It was going to be a challenge.
John paired me with the most wonderful dancer and partner in the company, Jonathan Kelly – an internationally recognised Australian principal who was tall, handsome and princely. We would look good together on stage. Luckily for me, he was knowledgeable and had danced the role of Siegfried before. He and I would have to carry Swan Lake between us. Was I up to it? I thought so – I hoped so! I worked very hard on the two roles, especially the White Swan. Jonathan helped me a great deal. We practised on our own and he coached me all the way through. He was caring and encouraging, which gave me confidence.
When John put me on a Saturday night at the Coliseum I felt added pressure. It was a big deal to be trusted to carry off a full-length ballet on a Saturday night, which was also the closing night of a season. Closing nights are as important as the opening nights. On top of preparing the White and Black Swans, I had to perform the demanding jumping solo in Act One and one of the two big swans in Act Two throughout the whole season. Both were very taxing roles. And I would have to do them the night before my first Swan Lake lead role. It was a killer week!
During my final run-through rehearsal Friday afternoon, both of my calves started cramping so intensely that I could barely walk. I started to panic that I wouldn’t get through the evening or, worse, would not be able to make my debut in the principal role the following night. My parents had come to London especially to see me dance – it was very important to me that they be there for my first Swan Lake as principal. I tried to continue the rehearsal, but ended up in tears. The pressure was obviously getting to me, too. My friend Jane Devine’s masseur boyfriend managed to come to my rescue, massaging my calves for over an hour to relieve the pain.
The next morning I woke up and tenderly checked my calves. To my immense relief, the muscles felt much better. In fact, I felt refreshed and ready to go. I was performing my first principal role in Swan Lake! To say I was nervous would be an understatement: I was petrified. I caught a black cab in to the theatre feeling sick. I’d worked so hard – especially on the White Swan’s very first step on her entrance, which I’d practised at least 100 times just in that week. It’s a dramatic jeté, a leap with legs in full splits, that requires you to look like you’ve flown in from the sky. And I needed to then hold it together for three poses in arabesque until frightened by the entrance of the prince and his bow. I’d analysed the exact number of steps needed to land my correct foot in the centre of the stage.
Suddenly, it seemed, I was standing in the wings ready to enter. ‘Hail Mary, full of grace . . .’ I prayed, and off I flew! Once I’d started, I just did what I’d practised, with Jonathan to support me. Everything went nicely, but I was a little disappointed that I didn’t manage to complete all thirty-two of the famous consecutive fouettés as I had easily done in rehearsals.
Before I knew it, it was over. For the first time I walked out alone, centre stage, to take my bow and receive the applause and adoration. It was wonderful! I could actually feel the applause like live music against my skin. More important to me was that I knew in my heart I had performed well. I was filled with pride and happiness. My wonderful partner Jonathan joined me on stage, and then the rest of the company. Once the curtain came down for the last time, Jonathan hugged me tight and said, ‘I’m so proud of you. Well done, Mary!’ The other dancers crowded around in a blur of hugs and congratulations.
John brought my parents backstage and Neil George said to me excitedly, ‘You were splendid, darling.’ He gave me a huge hug that I’ll never forget. Mum was ecstatic and relieved. ‘It was just sublime,’ she told me, with her gentle smile.
‘Were you nervous for me, Mum?’
‘I had to calm my nerves with a couple of Scotches beforehand,’ she replied.
I arranged to celebrate with them at the Lemon Tree. We were surrounded by dancers, musicians and members of the crew, spilling out onto the street in the pleasant night air. Many came to congratulate me.
I went to bed that night exhausted, but sleep eluded me. I couldn’t stop thinking about what John Field had done for me. To work on something as big as Swan Lake was a gift. I thought about how wonderful it had felt to dance both lead swans, how the music had got into my bones and into my blood, how light I had felt, how open, how in the moment, how Jonathan had lifted me as though I were weightless. I thought about the curtain calls and the applause, and my parents sitting there watching me.
The main roles in large ballets like Swan Lake can take a whole career to master. They are challenging for both body and mind, and they force you to be resilient and courageous. In subsequent years I had the opportunity to perform Swan Lake many more times, and my skills in tackling the major roles grew. I became more and more confident in being able to perform the lead in a full-length ballet.
I decided to move into a flat in Hammersmith Road with Chris Mercer, one of the boys I’d shared a flat with previously. It was a small place on the second floor of a plain three-storey building. There was a pub on the corner, a Pakistani-run supermarket and a little Italian restaurant, which became a regular haunt. It was close to the Royal Albert Hall and Kensington Palace, and also close to the studios in Jay Mews and Festival Hall. So I had a better commute, and it was fabulous living without the distractions of a share house. Everything seemed to be a little easier, and my career started to take off.
Matz hadn’t been happy with the level of principal work offered to him at the company. He was a virtuoso dancer but a bit shorter than most of the girls and it was hard to match him with dance partners. So I wasn’t totally surprised when he told me he planned to audition for the Nederlands Dans Theater.