The last three months were really difficult, working under the dark shadow of Peter’s displeasure. Betty was obviously upset with me, too. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was disappointed. I felt gutted by her cool reaction – she was such an important figure in my life. But it was a decision I had to make: I felt it was right for my career.
My friends were gobsmacked at my bravery in telling Peter and my audacity in leaving London. ‘Oh my God!’, ‘Please don’t go!’, ‘I know why you need to go,’ and ‘I wish I had your guts!’ they all said.
My friend Jackie, a great organiser, seemed to know what was involved in moving across the globe. I was grateful for her help as I had no idea. Between her and Matz, things got done.
A crowd came to my apartment for a farewell party. Then, after my last matinee, the company got together in the studio and we said goodbye officially, with lots of tears. They gave me a high-quality suitcase, which I desperately needed. It was such a thoughtful gift. Betty presented me with a book, Sir Thomas More’s Utopia, which I came to treasure more and more as my life unfolded. Peter did not attend.
Friends had bought my furniture and the decor items so lovingly selected by Coralie. I wouldn’t be taking anything with me to the USA except a beautiful silver trunk given to me by Matz, and the suitcase from the dancers.
It was a late summer morning when I finally left. I hugged Matz and went to the airport alone. It didn’t feel like the end for us, even though we’d be so far apart. I was sad to leave him and my wonderful ballet family, but I had to spread my wings.
At twenty-seven, after ten years in London, including eight years at the Festival Ballet, I was off to live and work on the other side of the world for the second time. London had been such an important part of my life, but I was looking forward to a new beginning.
PART THREE
Houston
1985–91
As soon as we stepped onto the stage we were in that other place, with room only for the music and the movement and each other . . .
5
Ben Stevenson was an enormously gifted choreographer and teacher. I adored his choreography and the way he rehearsed. There was so much emotion and musicality in his coaching, which brought out the best in me. I’d had eight incredible years with London Festival Ballet, working my way from corps de ballet to principal dancer, and I would never forget those talented, inspiring people who had believed in me and taught me so much. Now I could hardly wait to start working with Ben.
When I walked out of the luggage area with my one suitcase and silver trunk, there was Ben waiting for me with his big smile and warm embrace. Outside the sky was blue, and it was hot. How I loved seeing those blue skies after the grey skies of England!
‘Mary, you must join me for dinner tonight,’ Ben said as we were walking to his car. This made me feel so welcome. It was a first – no director had ever done that for me in England.
‘I’ve arranged for you to stay with Rosie Miles,’ said Ben. ‘She’s English and was trained at the Royal Ballet School. She is a soloist here. You’ll like her. Her apartment isn’t far from our studio.’
‘You’re so thoughtful, Ben. Thank you!’
‘You’re welcome. It’s just till you find your feet, Mary. I’m sure you will settle in quite quickly,’ he said.
We set off in his big American sedan and drove along the wide, multi-laned highways, cars and billboards everywhere, skyscrapers’ windows glinting in the sun, until we arrived at an apartment complex in midtown Houston, not far from Ben’s townhouse.
I knew of Rosemary Miles. She was one of the dancers Ben had hired when he became artistic director of the company. The London background we shared would provide common ground. Rosie was there to meet me, vivacious and welcoming. She was a bit older than me, with dark hair and a pale English complexion. She very kindly showed me around the apartment and the complex. With a spacious living room, separate bedrooms, huge glass windows looking onto a swimming pool, it was a far cry from Mrs Woolf’s boarding rooms. I was absolutely delighted.
I unpacked and got organised for the next day. I chatted with Rosie and she drove me to Ben’s place for dinner. A few other dancers were there, including the Chinese principal dancer, Li Cunxin, who I’d met briefly in London. It was good to meet some of the people I’d be working with. Also there were Ben’s friend and ballet mistress Carmen Mathe, another Brit, and her Scottish husband, Gerry, who taught Latin at a private secondary school. The conversation flowed freely that night. Ben had a wicked sense of humour and we laughed at his endless jokes.
Rosie drove me to work every day. The studio stood on Grey Street, opposite a big bread factory that welcomed us with the delicious aroma of baking bread each morning. There were a couple of shopping centres close by, with a ‘drugstore’ and a large supermarket. Everything was large and the distances seemed vast, as Houston is quite spread out. The Houston Ballet studio was a newly renovated two-storey building, fairly bland to look at from the outside, but I was amazed to find six studios within – a significant facility for a smaller company. The studios were spacious and bright. You could look out the vast windows and see the blue sky.
On that first day I met again with Jeannot Cerrone, who was very happy to see me. Carmen introduced me to another female principal, Janie Parker, who showed me to the dressing room, which had plenty of space. I had replaced principal dancer Suzanne Longley following her tragic career-ending injury, so I simply took her spot in the dressing room. Janie was a country girl from the South, with a broad accent. After we got dressed, she then took me to the studio.
Most of the company dancers were American but a few had come from other parts of the world. Li was there at the barre and he came over. ‘Hello, Mary. You sleep well?’ he asked in his Chinese accent, with that big smile of his.
‘No, I didn’t really,’ I replied honestly. I hadn’t slept well on my first night, in a foreign country, on a foreign bed, jet-lagged and uneasy with anticipation for the following day. ‘Jet lag, I think.’ I shrugged my shoulders. Li nodded.
By this time, I could see that all the dancers in the studio were looking at me with interest. They must have been wondering what Ben’s newly recruited principal dancer would be like. I was getting a little uncomfortable under all those glances, and was keen to find a suitable spot on the barre, quickly. As though Li could see what I was thinking, he pointed at the barres and said with his gentle accent, ‘Mary, you stand anywhere.’
Rosie told me later that Li had defected from China when Ben brought him to the US as a scholarship student in 1979, with the help of none other than Vice-President George Bush, whose wife, Barbara, was on the Houston Ballet board! It made me think of Rudolf defecting from Russia. How incredible. I thought I was far from home, but at least I could see my family whenever I liked. Could Li go back to his family in China whenever he wanted to? There was obviously much more to his story, and I hoped I’d learn about it later on.
Ben introduced me to the company. Everyone was very friendly – especially the American dancers, who didn’t have that English reserve that I’d become so used to – it was refreshing. We did class with Ben, then my dance partner, Ken McCombie, and I went straight into rehearsals.