Queensland Ballet thought there was no chance Li would be able to get his own season ready for 2013 that quickly, but they didn’t know my husband. Less than five months after he was offered the job, it was coming together. When he told me he was going to open the 2013 season with Ben Stevenson’s Cinderella, one of the most beautiful but most difficult classic ballets, I just laughed.
‘Mary, I’m going to get new costumes and sets as well,’ he enthused.
Li had to find the money to finance everything. Thankfully his amazing contacts proved invaluable. One of his entrepreneur friends from Melbourne, Gerry Ryan, pledged five-year support, all paid up-front, which enabled Li to mount his first brand-new production for Queensland Ballet. It was the most expensive show in the company’s 52-year history.
Once that was settled, Li turned to me and said, ‘Darling, I will need someone to coach the dancers. I need someone with your experience. I want you to do it.’
I had loved dancing Ben’s Cinderella, so to work on this production would be a joy. I felt very comfortable with the choreography and coaching the leading roles as I knew this was my area of expertise. A good ballet mistress is vital in any company, to make sure the dancers perform to their best. There was no budget for me to work full-time, but I wasn’t in it for the money and needed to be available for Bridie starting her new school anyway.
The Queensland Ballet studios were located at West End on Brisbane’s south side, but we started looking for a place to live on the north side, near Mum. A few weeks later, Li spotted a classic Queenslander that he liked. It was out of our price range, but he took Brig along to have a look at it anyway, and decided there and then that he wanted it. He made an offer and to his amazement the vendors accepted. I had never even seen it!
After Li signed the contract, I flew up for a viewing and liked the house straightaway. It took me right back to my childhood, to that leafy street in Rocky where stilt houses with shady verandahs opened louvres for the breeze. Our new home was situated in a leafy street, on an elevated block with lush greenery and fragrant tropical flowers. Bougainvillea grew through the ornate fretwork. It was smaller than our Melbourne home, but there were fewer of us now, so that didn’t matter to me. The whole property was beautifully landscaped, and it had a swimming pool in the backyard.
Back in Melbourne, life was manic. I was trying to pack up the home we’d lived in for seventeen years. With sadness I resigned from my position after a decade at the Australian Ballet. Above all, making arrangements for Sophie was a priority. Separation was going to be another big step for each of us. We found a nice apartment for her not far from home, and with our cast-off pots, pans, towels and bed linen, her own bed and other favourite things, she soon had it how she wanted it. It was lovely spending that time together helping her set up home, just as my mother had done for me in London. I felt strongly that Sophie needed to share the apartment with someone who could support her, especially in case of emergencies such as fire, and eventually she found a couple of nice flatmates.
I knew I would miss Sophie and Tom, but told myself this was a much-needed step in their development. I soon found myself in an aeroplane moving to my new stage of life, this time with fourteen-year-old Bridie beside me, looking through the tiny window at Melbourne receding below. I had never lived anywhere for as long as I’d lived there. Melbourne was where we’d raised our three children, forged some of our dearest friendships, welcomed our extended family from China, created marvellous new opportunities, and taught our beloved hearing-impaired daughter to speak. There was so much to say goodbye to – but also so much to look forward to.
PART SIX
Brisbane
2012–18
Family was what it was all about for us.
It always was and it always will be.
18
The flight to my new life this time was quite different to any flight I’d taken before. In the past, I’d always embraced the future with a sense of anticipation and excitement. This time the pangs at departing were acute, for I was leaving behind the daughter I’d lived side by side with, whom I’d fought night and day for, for more than twenty years. Sophie, too, was coming to terms with that reality. In a way, I was happy for her that we would be apart. The independence she had been craving was being forced on us both. This was the beginning of her life as an adult.
As the plane began its descent I looked out at Brisbane’s suburbs: swimming pools glinting in the sun, palm trees swaying, high-rise apartment blocks glittering alongside the river. I thought of our new home awaiting us – the balmy air and tropical breezes so welcoming, the easy weather of my childhood. And there was Li beyond the luggage carousel, arms wide, scooping us both up into a bear hug. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
‘Welcome home!’ he said.
As we collected our luggage, Li said, ‘Come on. I’ve made dumplings!’
We were suddenly starving.
Li was excited to show Bridie the house. The jacaranda trees out the front were in full bloom with their stunning veil of violet. We walked through the house and onto the verandah, feeling the breeze. There was that special childhood smell – a tropical smell of flowers and warm, rich earth. Inside, the house was magnificent even without furniture. We only had two beds, bought from the previous owners, and Li had borrowed a fridge from our kind new neighbours. I knew we would be happy here, making this house into our home. Even Bridie looked impressed. I soon felt at home, with all the McKendrys flocking in to nose around and have their say, and the laughter had started already.
Our new life in Brisbane began. A cacophony of birds woke us very early each morning. Li would dive into the pool and do laps before work, which gave him time to think about the many decisions he had to make to implement his vision for the ballet. Bridie’s first week at her new school was interesting. ‘Mum, where are the Asians?’ she asked. She quickly became aware of her ‘Asian-ness’ and was worried that she didn’t fit in.
At last I got to see the Queensland Ballet facilities in West End. Li was excited to show me around and share his grand plans.
‘I have hired Greg Horsman as ballet master, and Matthew Lawrence has agreed to come from Birmingham Ballet as a principal dancer,’ he told me, ‘but if we’re going to truly make our mark and stage ambitious productions, we’re going to need more good dancers.’
‘The facilities are going to need an upgrade as well. And there’s not going to be enough toilets,’ Li added. I laughed.
I couldn’t wait to be a part of the company the following year, and would often go into the studios to watch class and rehearsals to get to know the dancers. Soon they’d be rehearsing for The Sleeping Beauty. This would be the departing director François Klaus’s last production; thereafter, each program would be Li’s. He was determined to make his mark. I could see it pained him greatly to let go of some of the existing dancers who didn’t have the skill set required for his new repertoire.
‘Mary, I have no choice but to make some tough decisions,’ he said. ‘I’m not in this job to be popular or loved. I have to do what’s best for the company’s future.’
In that first year, there was an increasingly strong interest in Queensland Ballet. Everyone in the dance world knew of Li and his story. Across Australia, New Zealand and other countries, nearly 1000 aspiring dancers, of varying abilities, turned up for the auditions. And as the Australian Ballet was offering very few contracts that year, Li had the opportunity to take five Australian Ballet School graduates into the company and one scholarship recipient into the pre-professional program.