already is, isn’t he?’ She glanced pointedly down at Siv’s palms and knees, which bore the proof of multiple falls from her makeshift trapeze.
Siv ignored the jibe. ‘Why don’t you come with me? You’ve always said that you wanted to go to America. See where you were born.’
Aurelia fell silent.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ Siv said, guessing correctly that her friend’s thoughts were still fixated on the stranger from the fun fair. ‘You didn’t even see what he looked like, never mind get his number.’ She kicked a rock into the ocean, hard, to emphasise her frustration.
It was Ginger, in the end, who unknown to either of the girls suggested to Siv’s parents that Siv might have a chance at entry to the School of Performing Arts in Berkeley. Though she was new to swinging on a trapeze, years of forced ballet and tap dancing lessons had given her the necessary prerequisites and if she could come up with a unique enough act for the audition, she might scoop a scholarship place.
Ginger had given up the fascination that he had first held for Aurelia the moment he had seen Siv take her first sip of hot chocolate, leaving a cocoa moustache on her top lip. He had leaned forward and kissed it from her mouth, and when all of his senses were overwhelmed by the taste of cinnamon and spices, he was smitten, and he had silently agreed with Aurelia, who had said that the drink tasted of love.
Siv was the girl for Ginger. There was an essential vitality in her that attracted him, a magical quality to her physical movement, as if she were part person and part sprite. He suspected that if Siv were cut open, doctors would find that her blood ran hotter and redder than the average human. But he sensed her restlessness, and he knew that all the things he loved about her would be the things that would take her away from him. She was far too full of life to spend the rest of it in a drowsy village by the coast.
Aurelia was the opposite. There was a coolness to her, a softness and languor that was evident in everything from the pallor of her skin to the auburn tone of her hair that ran like water straight down her back. The two of them together were like Yin and Yang.
And so began a long series of discussions between Siv’s parents and Aurelia’s godparents, and it was decided that if they did not encourage Siv to go, she was likely to take off anyway, and that if Siv was to go, Aurelia ought to go with her.
One month later, the girls’ tickets were bought and their cases were packed. They planned to take a gap year, after which it was expected that Aurelia would finally settle on a subject that she wished to study, and Siv would apply to audition at the School of Performing Arts. Her parents gave her one chance to make it, and agreed that if she were unsuccessful she would enroll in medical school, or another, ‘practical’ subject of her choice.
Board for both girls and extra tuition for Siv was arranged in the San Francisco suburbs with a retired dance teacher who Ginger knew of through his funfair connections, and who had once tutored at the prestigious School of Art and Dance in St Petersburg. Aurelia and Siv would contribute to their stay by assisting with providing lessons to the teacher’s few remaining pupils, and taking care of the old mansion that she lived in, on the Oakland outskirts.
Siv sniffed. They were in her parents’ garage, where Ginger was working on carving a series of tiny figurines from pieces of scrap wood, and Siv was hanging upside down from a thick rope like a bat. The air was fragrant with the scent of wood shavings.
‘Are you going to come with me to San Fran?’ she asked him. A tear was trying to run down her cheek, but gravity and her upside-down position sent the salt water flowing back into her eyes. She blinked.
Ginger paused and tightened his grip on the brass-handled pocket knife that he held in his left hand.
‘We talked about this,’ he said.
‘You could catch a
Siv ignored the jibe. ‘Why don’t you come with me? You’ve always said that you wanted to go to America. See where you were born.’
Aurelia fell silent.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ Siv said, guessing correctly that her friend’s thoughts were still fixated on the stranger from the fun fair. ‘You didn’t even see what he looked like, never mind get his number.’ She kicked a rock into the ocean, hard, to emphasise her frustration.
It was Ginger, in the end, who unknown to either of the girls suggested to Siv’s parents that Siv might have a chance at entry to the School of Performing Arts in Berkeley. Though she was new to swinging on a trapeze, years of forced ballet and tap dancing lessons had given her the necessary prerequisites and if she could come up with a unique enough act for the audition, she might scoop a scholarship place.
Ginger had given up the fascination that he had first held for Aurelia the moment he had seen Siv take her first sip of hot chocolate, leaving a cocoa moustache on her top lip. He had leaned forward and kissed it from her mouth, and when all of his senses were overwhelmed by the taste of cinnamon and spices, he was smitten, and he had silently agreed with Aurelia, who had said that the drink tasted of love.
Siv was the girl for Ginger. There was an essential vitality in her that attracted him, a magical quality to her physical movement, as if she were part person and part sprite. He suspected that if Siv were cut open, doctors would find that her blood ran hotter and redder than the average human. But he sensed her restlessness, and he knew that all the things he loved about her would be the things that would take her away from him. She was far too full of life to spend the rest of it in a drowsy village by the coast.
Aurelia was the opposite. There was a coolness to her, a softness and languor that was evident in everything from the pallor of her skin to the auburn tone of her hair that ran like water straight down her back. The two of them together were like Yin and Yang.
And so began a long series of discussions between Siv’s parents and Aurelia’s godparents, and it was decided that if they did not encourage Siv to go, she was likely to take off anyway, and that if Siv was to go, Aurelia ought to go with her.
One month later, the girls’ tickets were bought and their cases were packed. They planned to take a gap year, after which it was expected that Aurelia would finally settle on a subject that she wished to study, and Siv would apply to audition at the School of Performing Arts. Her parents gave her one chance to make it, and agreed that if she were unsuccessful she would enroll in medical school, or another, ‘practical’ subject of her choice.
Board for both girls and extra tuition for Siv was arranged in the San Francisco suburbs with a retired dance teacher who Ginger knew of through his funfair connections, and who had once tutored at the prestigious School of Art and Dance in St Petersburg. Aurelia and Siv would contribute to their stay by assisting with providing lessons to the teacher’s few remaining pupils, and taking care of the old mansion that she lived in, on the Oakland outskirts.
Siv sniffed. They were in her parents’ garage, where Ginger was working on carving a series of tiny figurines from pieces of scrap wood, and Siv was hanging upside down from a thick rope like a bat. The air was fragrant with the scent of wood shavings.
‘Are you going to come with me to San Fran?’ she asked him. A tear was trying to run down her cheek, but gravity and her upside-down position sent the salt water flowing back into her eyes. She blinked.
Ginger paused and tightened his grip on the brass-handled pocket knife that he held in his left hand.
‘We talked about this,’ he said.
‘You could catch a
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