Beneath a Starless Sky

Chapter 7

It was like being carried on the wings of angels. As the applause rang in her ears and the love and appreciation of the audience permeated the auditorium and soared high into the air, Lilli felt herself suspended. It was as if her body was lifted from the stage, hovering ecstatically in mid-air.

The moment the curtain rose she’d transformed herself. Gone was any self-doubt that had troubled her before. She’d shut the door on all her negative thoughts. For those three hours she was Giselle. She lived her, breathed her, died her. She danced on air with a grace and fluidity that cast a spell on the audience. Her solos were sublime and her death scene left many in tears. Even Jens danced his best, while the chorus, dressed in their lavish, layered costumes, barely put a collective foot wrong.

This was what Lilli had worked so hard for; this was why her muscles ached and her feet bled. This was what her happiness, now and in the future, depended upon. And then she remembered what might, or might not happen in a few moments’ time, and she came down to earth. Bending low to pick up more stems that had landed at her feet, Lilli dared to look out onto the audience again. But beyond the glaring foot lights, and the sparkle of jewels as they glinted, she could see very little. So she prayed that somewhere among the blur of faces, and the mayhem and the noise, there would be the talent scout Madame Eva spoke about.

‘You were wonderful!’ Helene called out. She was waiting for Lilli in the wings when she finally came off stage.

The lights had momentarily blinded her and she squinted into the gloom as someone handed her a towel. She wiped the sweat from her brow then slung it around her neck as she headed back to the dressing room.

Madame Eva was there to praise her performance again. Marsha, a Silesian girl in the troupe, followed behind her in the low-lit passage. She was laden with an armful of flowers.

Lilli ran the gamut of congratulations from the dancers in the corps once more as she passed through a tangled landscape of net skirts and discarded stockings. The excited squeals and intermittent wails had subsided to a low hum, like worker bees going about their usual business. It was then she heard a familiar voice.

‘Here she is: our wonderful ballerina!’ It was Golda. She and Jacob and Leon crowded round.

‘We are so proud of you,’ her father told her, kissing the top of her head.

Golda took both her hands in hers. ‘You have made us so happy,’ she said, tears streaming down her plump cheeks.

Even Leon came forward and hugged her. ‘You were very good,’ he managed. He handed her a bouquet of flowers that Lilli knew the family could ill afford.

‘Yes, you were,’ echoed an unfamiliar voice.

Lilli turned to see Madame Eva with an uncharacteristically wide smile on her face. She was accompanied by a gentleman.

‘Lilli, this is Monsieur Raymond. He’s from the American talent agency I mentioned.’

Monsieur Raymond was not at all how Lilli had pictured a talent scout from an American agency to look. For a start he wasn’t American, but French. And all agents smoked cigars, didn’t they? With his perfectly-fitting tailcoat, he looked more like a foreign ambassador than one of those sharks she’d seen in films, who always cheated their – mainly female – clients. She also knew that to get anywhere in a stage career, you needed one.

Lilli’s pulse had barely slowed, before it shot up again. ‘Pleased to meet you, sir,’ she said, dipping a curtsey.

For some reason Monsieur Raymond seemed amused. He chuckled. ‘Charming,’ he said with a smile.

Lilli wasn’t sure if she liked being described that way. He made her feel like a puppy or a kitten.

‘You danced well, mademoiselle,’ he went on. ‘Very well,’ he added. Lilli tried to steady her breath as she waited to hear more. There had to be more, surely? But it was to Madame Eva that Monsieur Raymond turned next. ‘I will call you,’ he told her, adding coldly, ‘if I think there might be a place for her.’

He emphasised the word if and Lilli suddenly realised it was the biggest word in the world. In her mind, she’d already been on a ship bound for America, sailing off to stardom. The heart that she’d held so tight in her chest only moments before, the one that had pounded with excitement and leapt for joy, suddenly fell to the floor, and with it went her hopes and dreams. All Lilli Sternberg wanted to do now was cry.

Chapter 8

After the performance Marco stood in the foyer of the theatre, watching the audience file past him as he listened to snatches of their conversation. Even though he’d never met Lilli Sternberg, he felt a certain affinity with her and took a vicarious pleasure in hearing people praise her.

‘Giselle was superb!’ said one woman, a tiara in her white hair.

‘Light as a feather!’ remarked her companion.

‘She’ll go far,’ said another.

‘Who was she? Von Urbach’s daughter?’ asked a crusty old military man.

‘Good lord, no. Some Jewish girl, I believe,’ replied his friend.

Marco frowned. Giselle was not ‘some Jewish girl.’ Her name was Lilli Sternberg. She should not be dismissed so disdainfully; as if she didn’t matter, as if her hard work and her talent could be written off in a single, callous phrase. He fought the urge to step in and defend the woman whose grace and beauty had won his admiration. He said nothing, but continued, instead, to look out for his commanding officer. He thought it only polite he should congratulate him on the evening’s undoubted success.

General Von Urbach appeared a little later, towering above the well-wishers who surrounded him, lapping up praise for the ‘marvellous’ performance, even though he had put no effort into it himself.

Almost half an hour had passed since the curtain fell when, finally, some of the dancers started to emerge from backstage to be reunited with their proud families. Many of them still wore their stage make-up and the girls kept their hair knotted in neat buns. Helene was one of them. Marco watched as she approached her father. Von Urbach kissed her on both cheeks and lifted his mouth into a mirthless smile; his eyes remained cold.

As there appeared to be no sign of Lilli, Marco decided now was a good time to make the general aware of his presence.

‘May I offer my congratulations on an excellent evening, sir?’ Marco said with a bow. He turned to Helene immediately and bowed. ‘Comtesse Helene.’

‘Ah Captain Zeiller,’ greeted Von Urbach. ‘I’m glad you could come. You have met my daughter?’

Helene flashed a coy smile and held out a hand to be kissed.

‘I don’t believe I’ve had that pleasure, sir,’ Marco replied courteously, taking her hand.

Instead of smoothing the introduction, however, the general seemed rather preoccupied. His hooded eyes were fixed on the other side of the foyer. Marco followed his gaze. This time, Madame Eva appeared to be in his sights. A few metres away from her, Lilli Sternberg suddenly appeared.

‘Excuse me, my dear. I shall leave you in Captain Zeiller’s capable hands,’ he told his daughter. And with that, Marco watched his commanding officer fly off in the dance principal’s direction. He only wished he could take off with him and land nearer to Lilli.

‘You like ballet, Captain Zeiller?’ Helene asked, emerging tentatively from her shell. Marco turned around to see her piercing blue eyes were trained on him.

He nodded. ‘I do and I very much enjoyed tonight,’ he told her. But sensing more was expected of him he added: ‘Congratulations on your splendid performance.’ He knew he must sound stilted and his words rather hollow. They didn’t come from his heart.

‘You are very kind,’ she said, her eyelashes fluttering. ‘Thank you.’

Glancing behind her, Marco could still see Lilli. She’d moved slightly further away from Madame Eva and was being congratulated by a succession of admirers. He dearly wanted to join the queue, but Helene was clearly keen to engage him in conversation. It would be rude not to humour her.

‘Giselle was very good, wasn’t she?’ he remarked, forcing himself to focus his straying eyes on her.

‘Yes. Yes, she was,’ she agreed.

Realising he sounded a little too keen to praise another dancer, he added quickly: ‘But, as I said, so were you, Comtesse.’

Helene lifted her shoulder coquettishly. ‘It was a shame I could only accept a part in the chorus,’ she began. ‘I’ve been so busy, organising things,’ she told him, suddenly sounding bolder, ‘I simply couldn’t take on a more demanding role.’

‘Really?’ replied Marco, trying to sound interested. ‘What have you been organising, may I ask?’

Absent-mindedly, he’d walked into her trap. ‘My eighteenth birthday ball next week,’ she volunteered, then seemingly hurt, she pouted. ‘I thought it would be the talk of your officers’ mess.’ An image of a child bragging in the playground suddenly sprang to Marco’s mind. He was unsure how he should reply. It was clear the general’s daughter was trying to impress him in her own, juvenile way. A slightly uncomfortable silence hung between them for a moment as he wondered how he might extricate himself from this young noblewoman’s clutches. Undeterred, however, she resumed her ramblings about her party, either unaware or unmoved that Marco’s attention was now occupied by General Von Urbach, who was just about to pounce on his prey. While the young officer’s eyes returned to Helene, his ears did not.

‘Ah, my dear Eva,’ said the general. ‘An excellent evening.’

Madame Eva inclined her head as she allowed her patron to peck her hand with his lips. ‘I am glad you enjoyed it, General.’

She knew from the tone of his voice to wait for a barb.

‘And I must congratulate you on your bold choice of the lead role.’

‘Bold?’ she queried. ‘How so?’

The general shrugged before showing his talons. Planting a smile on his face so that passers-by did not suspect his intention, he went in for the kill. ‘We’d have got bigger donations, if you’d chosen Baron Von Klaus’s daughter or La Comtesse de Veille’s,’ he told her bluntly. ‘I thought it would’ve been evident.’

Marco found himself bristling indignantly. What was the general suggesting? He was aware that buying your way into enviable government positions was the way of the German republic these days, but had bribery reached the ballet, too? Madame Eva, he could tell, was caught off guard by his comment.. She switched back her head. ‘Or your own, General?’ she retorted, waving at a former student who was passing. ‘It’s obvious Fraulein Sternberg is exceptionally talented. She is simply my best.’

Von Urbach curled his lips in a smirk. ‘I agree she is good, but she is also a Jew,’ he hissed between clenched teeth. Marco noted the way the general’s hooded eyes kept sliding towards Lilli. ‘And the Jews are running this city, this country,’ he told her, his expression suddenly switching to a smile to acknowledge an old acquaintance.

Madame Eva’s lips also twitched. It was clear to Marco she knew how to handle him. ‘And a good job, too. Who would tailor your suits, dear General?’ she teased, lightly brushing the lapel of his tailcoat. With her riposte deftly delivered, she glided on.

Yet again Marco had heard vicious slights levelled at Fraulein Sternberg simply because she was Jewish. He cast her a longing glance as the more broad-minded members of the audience continued to offer their congratulations. She remained smiling graciously and offering her hand to the many gentlemen who wished to kiss it.

‘And so you see, Captain Zeiller, it will be a wonderful evening,’ Helene said. For the past few moments, she had been droning on about her imminent birthday ball, although the details had been lost on Marco.

‘Fascinating,’ he said, suddenly aware that he had no idea what the young woman had been telling him.

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Helene was delighted by his reaction.

‘Indeed,’ he replied absent-mindedly, his attention having been otherwise engaged by Madame Eva and now by Lilli Sternberg. There was something about her. The way she moved; the way she held her head. Her smile, too. It wasn’t wide, more reserved, as if she was holding something back. Suddenly he wanted to be the person to make her smile, broadly, wholeheartedly, to make her let go of whatever troubled her. Even make her laugh.

‘Well, then you must come,’ cried Helene.

Marco’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Come? Where?’ he replied abruptly, forcing himself to engage with the general’s daughter once more.

‘To my ball, of course!’ She was virtually squealing with delight. ‘I shall see that an invitation is sent to your quarters immediately.’

Marco felt a twinge of panic, realising too late he’d fallen, yet again, into this young woman’s trap.

‘How very kind of you,’ he replied, trying to muster what little enthusiasm he could. The prospect of an evening in the comtesse’s company filled him with alarm. He imagined himself sinking into deep mud, ensnared by her childish wiles. He had to break free. Lifting his head, he directed his gaze beyond her. This time, however, he found the object of his desire was gone. He scanned the thicket of bodies. The crowd had thinned, but of Lilli Sternberg, there was no sign.

‘We shall meet again very soon, Captain,’ said Helene, reminding Marco of her presence, fluttering her eyelashes wildly at him.

‘We shall, indeed,’ he replied with a shallow bow. Reluctantly, he kissed her outstretched hand and then retreated from her clutches as quickly as was seemly. He wanted to continue his search for Fraulein Sternberg.

Marco’s eyes swept around the foyer, just to satisfy himself Lilli wasn’t there. Defeat was rarely an option for him, so he began wondering how he might engineer a meeting even as he was collecting his greatcoat and cap from the cloakroom.

The night was cold. Cold enough to snow. Several limousines were waiting outside the theatre, all with their engines running and Marco scanned the cars for his own. Liveried chauffeurs were helping their passengers embark, and as he made his way a little further down the street, he spotted his driver standing by his car, smoking a cigarette.

‘Linz,’ he called.

The cigarette was hurriedly stubbed out as Linz opened wide the car door with one hand, while saluting with the other. Safely inside, the captain settled onto the back seat for the homeward journey.

The ballet had been wonderful, and the evening only slightly marred at the end by the general’s persistent daughter, but what made it most memorable, of course, was Lilli Sternberg. It irked him that he hadn’t managed to congratulate Giselle in person – that he’d let her get away without telling her how amazing he thought she was. As he journeyed back to barracks, he relived the evening’s magic in his mind and filled his head with thoughts of the beautiful dancer on stage.

In fact, he was so busy thinking about her that when he noticed, among a straggle of workers wearily tramping home on foot that night, a young woman in a thin coat, carrying a cloth bag, he’d looked twice. With her lean body braced against the bitter wind, she was trudging along the side of the highway with an elderly couple arm in arm and a gangling youth in tow. They were headed towards the poorer area of the city. There was something about her that made him wonder if she could be … but no. He was deluding himself. The beautiful dancer, who had so enraptured her Munich audience, the girl who had just stolen his own heart, would never be allowed to walk home on a night such as this. She could not be his Giselle. His driver drove on.

Chapter 9

Lilli was forced to put on a brave face. She had to act as if she wasn’t frustrated and disappointed at being ignored by the talent scout. After all, acting was what she did. The only concession Madame Eva made to last night’s performance was that lessons began an hour later, so back at her desk in a dingy academy classroom, the following day, once again, Lilli wore her mask.

‘Oh, Lilli, you were superb!’ exclaimed Leisl, a petite girl with a kind face.

‘Yes,’ agreed her friend, Ursula, clapping her hands. ‘Bravo!’

Even the pianist with the orange hair, Mademoiselle Schwartz, congratulated Lilli on her way into class.

Their praise meant a lot, it really did, but not as much as a message from Monsieur Raymond. Had he thought her performance so outstanding that he could offer her a contract? Had she performed well enough to be a contender for his agency? If he had, surely he would have engaged her on the spot, for fear she might be snapped up by one of his rivals. Or was she just confusing real life with the plots from the Hollywood movies that continually filled her head?

When Madame Eva finally arrived in the classroom to give a full assessment of the production, she didn’t look at her star pupil at first. Lilli took it as a bad sign and her stomach clenched with nerves.

The principal’s post-performance reports were always like military debriefs; she made copious notes on every scene, commenting on every sloppy jeté or shoddy pirouette. True to form, most of the points she made about her pupils were negative. Claudette missed her cue, Jens’s Duke of Albrecht was too heavy and Ursula – well, words failed her. Yet her many and varied criticisms were occasionally tempered with positive ones. Leisl was light on her feet and Helene, well Helene did herself proud. Most of her praise was, however, saved for Lilli.

‘Fraulein Sternberg was an example to you all,’ she told the class. ‘Her hard work and dedication paid off.’

All eyes turned to Lilli, as she felt the colour rise in her cheeks. She thrived on praise, like a flower in sunshine, yet she needed more. Madame’s generous words were all very well, but Lilli wanted to be certain that it was leading somewhere. Had Monsieur Raymond been in touch? Was this what Madame Eva meant when she said her dedication had paid off? Lilli stared blankly ahead of her, her back remaining rigid, her eyes to the front, like a combatant awaiting to be awarded the highest military honour and trying not to burst with excitement. She sat still as her teacher continued to heap on praise, but at the end of her speech came … nothing. There was no mention of Monsieur Raymond or his agency in America.

‘Madame.’ Lilli waited until the end of the class when all the other pupils had left before asking her teacher outright. ‘Madame, did Monsieur Raymond …?’ She broke off, knowing she need say no more.

Madame Eva smiled – something she didn’t do very often – then she shook her head. ‘He told me he enjoyed the performance, but that was all.’ Her voice was measured and Lilli could take no hope from it. It was impossible for her to hide her disappointment.

‘There will be plenty more opportunities,’ added Madame, seeing the despondent look on her pupil’s face. Lilli wasn’t so sure.

Weighed down by disappointment, she traipsed to the cloakroom at the end of the day to collect her coat and hat. Laughter was coming from around the corner. She recognised it as the sound of what she called ‘the gaggle’ – a group of giggling rich girls who stuck together like geese. They were students whose fathers didn’t have to scrimp and save to pay the ballet school’s tuition fees. Lilli sometimes envied them with their designer shoes and bags and the way their chauffeurs always drove them to the academy for lessons. She couldn’t even afford the tram.

Helene wasn’t usually included in the group, but her forthcoming ball seemed to have made her the centre of attention all of a sudden. She stopped dead when she saw Lilli and smiled.

‘Ah, Lilli, everyone is talking about what they will be wearing for my ball.’ She looked around her, as if making a show of her newfound sisters who surrounded her. ‘Have you chosen your gown yet?’

Lilli smiled back, but only with her eyes. After the Cuvilliés, the day had been such an anti-climax. Her dreams of a Hollywood contract had come to nothing. It had been ridiculous to harbour such a fantasy, she knew that now, but still she felt deflated and so wrapped up in herself, that she’d completely forgotten about the party.