Frau Helga's blackmail leaves me no room to manoeuvre, if I refuse, I'll get the sack - but even then she’d still have those photos of me, and could ruin my career. I have my back to the wall. I shall have to dance naked in public. But how has she got the photos from the Countess? Is it some plot against me being orchestrated by the Countess? Or the revenge of Baba? I'm confused.
‘Let's go then. You can wear these slippers over your pumps so as not to dirty them. We'll talk about the choreography over lunch.'
The canteen menu is very good here at La Fenice, the dishes are prepared in the kitchen of the most famous luxury hotel in Venice, just a few paces from the theatre - they are yesterday’s dishes, but still excellent. To think that for two euros per meal you can enjoy dishes that cost the diners in the restaurant tens if not hundreds of euros!
The cafeteria is noisy, with ballerinas, male dancers, singers, actors, technicians, costumiers, hairdressers, make-up artists, all the people whose lives are in the theatre. With our trays full we look for a quiet place to talk. There are some little rooms, secluded, where visitors to the theatre are often invited - impresari - not to mention all the wildlife of the undergrowth of pimps and procurers. Here is a room for three, separated by glass walls from the common room.
‘Frau Helga, I feel very uncomfortable, I'm worried ...'
'Gaby, my darling sweetheart, I'm offering you the opportunity to escape from anonymity. If I hadn’t found a suitable part that will make you stand out, you’d just have to stay in the chorus-line, a space-filler. But you have got talent, even more than some girls who have saints on their side in heaven, and make their careers because they’re the daughters of someone or other. Take it or leave it, it’s your choice – I’m speaking to you as a friend, now, like an older sister.'
It is the decisive moment, now or never – on that point, Frau Helga is right.
'I accept!'
'Bravo, Gaby, I was counting on you. Today you’ll just do some warm-up exercises, and then you can go home.’