Then one day I bumped into Anna Veretennikova, the sister of my old Rocky friend Nina. It turned out that she also lived close to us and was running a small ballet school, Dance Partners, in an old chapel just down the road. Incredible! I was so pleased I’d bumped into her. Anna and I had both been trained by Miss Hansen, and I knew Anna would be a good teacher. We went for coffee to catch up, reminiscing about our childhood and sharing stories of our lives since. When she learned that Sophie was at the National Theatre Ballet School, she suggested that she attend Dance Partners instead. I agreed that it was a good idea.
Anna was thrilled. ‘Mary, don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ve taught other children with disabilities, and there’s a girl from Galilee Primary School who comes here. Perhaps Sophie knows her. She has an unusual name – Ksenya.’
Finding Anna was another chink of daylight for me. At first, I was a little tentative about how Sophie would go with Miss Anna, knowing how strict Miss Hansen had been with us, but I soon realised Anna was a very different teacher. With her strong voice, the words she used to describe movements and her sharp eye, she had just the right combination of skills to work with Sophie. She was making it her mission to ensure that Sophie understood her.
Anna would clap her hands and call ‘Sophie!’ before any instructions were given. And best of all, the exercises and movements were taught first without the music. Just the teacher’s voice. ‘Turn around.’ ‘Jump up and down.’ ‘Arms up.’ ‘Smile.’
Not only was Sophie learning to dance, but she was also learning to hear the music and understand the French terminology. I soon realised that the ballet class was actually just as much a speech therapy lesson for Sophie.
Sophie was getting a lot out of her training with Miss Anna. Ballet boosted her self-esteem, because she was physically capable and quite talented, whereas at school she struggled to hear the teachers to just keep up with her class.
Later, I would confide in Anna about Sophie’s general progress and she would assure me. ‘She will get there in her own time, just a bit slower than others.’ It was a relief to have someone alongside me who understood.
Come midyear, it was time for Sophie’s first ballet exam. Luckily, her visual skills meant she could follow the other students. Miss Anna always placed her in the middle of the group to take advantage of that. It was good for Sophie and a relief for me as she was finally the same as everyone else. In her first exam, surprisingly, she received higher marks for her musicality than some other girls in her class, coming out with a distinction. The look of pride on her little face was something to behold. I was filled with joy and hope like never before.
I started to dread Sophie’s upcoming seventh birthday because these occasions always made me incredibly sad. Nevertheless, it was something to celebrate.
‘Sophie, it’s your birthday. We’re going to have a party. Who would you like to invite?’ I asked her.
She gave me the names of three children in her class, but I decided we couldn’t leave anyone out. We invited all eleven girls, plus Ksenya from her old school. Ksenya’s mum, Liza, came along to help.
The party was at home and I hired a fairy performer as a surprise. As we didn’t have a suitable outside area, they were all inside and chatting noisily. Once again it was difficult to watch. Sophie was totally lost. All the noise meant she couldn’t hear anything clearly. Conversations were too quick. I was annoyed at myself for putting her through this agony again. Birthday parties were not for her – or me.
Then, it was as if all the stars aligned. Li was to perform Don Quixote with the Australian Ballet in Brisbane the very week that Paddy was getting married. Finally, I’d be able to attend a family wedding. Jo was coming home from New York and suddenly I realised that for the first time in over twenty years my big family would be together in one place.
My brother Paddy was marrying a beautiful Rocky girl. Sharon was a demure lady like Coralie, gentle and kind. They were married in St Stephen’s Cathedral in the city. The speeches at the reception were full of funny anecdotes about Paddy and life in the McKendry clan. These were met with hysterical laughter from all of us. I could see the joy on our parents’ faces as they watched their children together once more.
Not long after we returned to Melbourne, Li badly sprained his ankle. The injury meant he was going to be out of action for a few weeks. As neither of us can cope with inactivity, he decided to ask for work experience at the stockbroking division of ANZ bank, which was a major sponsor of the Australian Ballet. Bryan Madden, the managing director of ANZ Securities, had agreed that Li could come in for a couple of weeks while he was recovering.
I pictured Li with his crutches, hobbling on one leg, working alongside the high-flying stockbrokers. What a contrast! ANZ Securities started him in the back office, filing paperwork. Bryan then moved him to observe and help some experienced brokers. This gave him a real taste of what the inside of a stockbroking operation was like. He’d had some success with share investments in America and had always been fascinated with the financial world.
Li limped in one evening and said, ‘Mary, I think I can do this!’
‘Do what, darling?’ I asked.
‘Stockbroking,’ Li replied. He was elated.
‘Really? Fantastic!’ I said.
For Li to study for a degree was out of the question. We just couldn’t afford for him not to earn a salary. He needed to have a proper paying job and stockbroking just might be it. And the sprained ankle was a warning that he was just an injury away from ending his ballet career.
Li learned so much during his time at ANZ Securities, but little did we know then where that journey would lead us.
Sophie was learning and Li was learning, too. On the last day of his work experience at ANZ Securities, Bryan offered him a job on the spot. He said to Li that he recognised the passion, dedication, discipline and strong work ethic that had enabled him to get to the top of his profession as a dancer. So he was confident Li would be successful if he applied the same attributes to stockbroking. What an opportunity! We were very excited. This was the ‘proper job’ we both knew Li would need when he retired from ballet, and he immediately accepted, agreeing to start early the following year, 1997.
During Li’s rehab, the Australian Ballet had announced a replacement for Maina Gielgud, who had finished her tenure and was returning to the United Kingdom. The new artistic director was Ross Stretton from the American Ballet Theatre. He was the principal dancer who should have partnered me at the gala in Sydney in 1991. When Li’s contract had come up for renewal, Li told Ross that he had decided to retire. Ross was stunned by Li’s decision and challenged him, asking if he could do both ballet and stockbroking as he did not want to lose him.
‘Do you think I could do both, Mary?’ Li asked me when he got home.
‘If there’s one person who can do it, it’s you!’ I replied, as he was still dancing so well.
‘I’m not sure if ANZ will allow it.’
‘Why don’t you ask Bryan what he thinks?’ I suggested.
The next day, Li rushed home to tell me that Bryan thought it was a good idea too, as it would take a while for Li to build up his stockbroking clientele.
‘That’s fantastic, Li!’ I was very excited for him, and for us as a family. But how was he going to manage two full-time jobs?