Read Online Lose Yourself (The Desires Unlocked Trilogy Part Two) by Evie Blake - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Evie Blake
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else. Gradually, the changing room empties out until she is the last left.
She hangs up her black leotard, damp with sweat, and is glad that she has a fresh one with her for this afternoon. She puts on her skirt and sweater, buttons up her coat and picks up her bag. Well, she should get some fresh air, at least; surely she can find a park to sit in. She is not hungry at all. Maybe she will give the London pigeons her sandwiches, although she knows – with food shortages and rationing – that would not be a very moral thing to do.
She walks out of the dance school – an old red-brick house, not dissimilar to Jacqueline’s house – and stands for a moment on the pavement outside, pondering which way to go.
‘Hello there,’ says a voice behind her.
She turns around to see the blonde girl from class, adjusting her hat as she approaches her. The girl sticks out her hand. ‘Joan,’ she says.
‘Maria.’
‘Pleased to meet you. And where are you from, Maria?’
The girls begin to walk down the street. They seem to be heading away from the river.
‘Italy,’ Maria mumbles, waiting for the hostility. Joan, after all, sounds very British.
‘Oh, Italy!’ Joan surprises her by sounding impressed. ‘Oh, lucky you. Where are you from in Italy?’
‘Venice.’
‘No? Really? Oh my gosh; I have always dreamt of going to Venice. Is it as beautiful as they say?’
Maria thinks about her home city as they walk down Kennington Road, cars and trucks passing by them, belching out fumes. It couldn’t be more different from this urban jungle. ‘Oh, yes,’ she enthuses. ‘It’s a magical place.’
Joan giggles. ‘Oh, I do so love the way you speak English. It’s so sweet. You sound a little American.’
Maria feels a tweak of annoyance. ‘I learnt from Jacqueline . . .’
‘And she’s half American, isn’t she? That explains it,’ says Joan. She stops suddenly and puts her hand on Maria’s sleeve. ‘I say, now I know who you are! Are you the daughter of that amazing Italian woman Jacqueline is always talking about? Belle?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘She sounds so brave, helping all those Jewish people escape during the war. You must be proud of her.’
‘Yes, of course I am.’ But all Maria remembers of that time is not how brave her mother was, but how tense she was. She couldn’t stop herself from helping people, and yet there was always this fear they would be discovered. If she thinks about it, Belle risked her and Pina’s lives to save strangers. She knows it is not very noble to think this way, but it is the truth.
‘I say, let’s go for a cup of tea and a bun. Do you fancy that? There’s a café just down the road.’
Joan is a chatterbox, but Maria likes it. She is so friendly and warm, quite unlike any of the other English people she has met so far.
‘So, what do you think of Lempert?’ she asks Maria.
‘I am finding it hard to understand his approach, to be honest . . .’
‘Oh, don’t worry; you’ll understand soon enough, once we start dancing properly.’ Joan’s eyes shine. She opens up her cigarette case and offers Maria a cigarette. ‘Of course, I am in love with him,’ Joan says dramatically. ‘But I am also in love with countless other men, as well.’ She sighs with panache. ‘I fall in love too easily, you see.’ She removes the cigarette from her mouth while taking another sip of her tea.
Maria looks at the red lipstick stain left on the end of it. ‘I have never been in love,’ she says, all of a sudden, shocked at her admission to her brand new acquaintance.
‘Oh, but you are so young, you are only just beginning. How old are you?’
‘Eighteen. But you don’t look much older than me,’ Maria protests.
‘Twenty-two, my dear, and that makes all the difference, I can tell you.’ Joan pauses and stubs out her cigarette before taking a bite out of her currant bun. ‘Although, I fell in love for the first time when I was seventeen. Still, that
She hangs up her black leotard, damp with sweat, and is glad that she has a fresh one with her for this afternoon. She puts on her skirt and sweater, buttons up her coat and picks up her bag. Well, she should get some fresh air, at least; surely she can find a park to sit in. She is not hungry at all. Maybe she will give the London pigeons her sandwiches, although she knows – with food shortages and rationing – that would not be a very moral thing to do.
She walks out of the dance school – an old red-brick house, not dissimilar to Jacqueline’s house – and stands for a moment on the pavement outside, pondering which way to go.
‘Hello there,’ says a voice behind her.
She turns around to see the blonde girl from class, adjusting her hat as she approaches her. The girl sticks out her hand. ‘Joan,’ she says.
‘Maria.’
‘Pleased to meet you. And where are you from, Maria?’
The girls begin to walk down the street. They seem to be heading away from the river.
‘Italy,’ Maria mumbles, waiting for the hostility. Joan, after all, sounds very British.
‘Oh, Italy!’ Joan surprises her by sounding impressed. ‘Oh, lucky you. Where are you from in Italy?’
‘Venice.’
‘No? Really? Oh my gosh; I have always dreamt of going to Venice. Is it as beautiful as they say?’
Maria thinks about her home city as they walk down Kennington Road, cars and trucks passing by them, belching out fumes. It couldn’t be more different from this urban jungle. ‘Oh, yes,’ she enthuses. ‘It’s a magical place.’
Joan giggles. ‘Oh, I do so love the way you speak English. It’s so sweet. You sound a little American.’
Maria feels a tweak of annoyance. ‘I learnt from Jacqueline . . .’
‘And she’s half American, isn’t she? That explains it,’ says Joan. She stops suddenly and puts her hand on Maria’s sleeve. ‘I say, now I know who you are! Are you the daughter of that amazing Italian woman Jacqueline is always talking about? Belle?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘She sounds so brave, helping all those Jewish people escape during the war. You must be proud of her.’
‘Yes, of course I am.’ But all Maria remembers of that time is not how brave her mother was, but how tense she was. She couldn’t stop herself from helping people, and yet there was always this fear they would be discovered. If she thinks about it, Belle risked her and Pina’s lives to save strangers. She knows it is not very noble to think this way, but it is the truth.
‘I say, let’s go for a cup of tea and a bun. Do you fancy that? There’s a café just down the road.’
Joan is a chatterbox, but Maria likes it. She is so friendly and warm, quite unlike any of the other English people she has met so far.
‘So, what do you think of Lempert?’ she asks Maria.
‘I am finding it hard to understand his approach, to be honest . . .’
‘Oh, don’t worry; you’ll understand soon enough, once we start dancing properly.’ Joan’s eyes shine. She opens up her cigarette case and offers Maria a cigarette. ‘Of course, I am in love with him,’ Joan says dramatically. ‘But I am also in love with countless other men, as well.’ She sighs with panache. ‘I fall in love too easily, you see.’ She removes the cigarette from her mouth while taking another sip of her tea.
Maria looks at the red lipstick stain left on the end of it. ‘I have never been in love,’ she says, all of a sudden, shocked at her admission to her brand new acquaintance.
‘Oh, but you are so young, you are only just beginning. How old are you?’
‘Eighteen. But you don’t look much older than me,’ Maria protests.
‘Twenty-two, my dear, and that makes all the difference, I can tell you.’ Joan pauses and stubs out her cigarette before taking a bite out of her currant bun. ‘Although, I fell in love for the first time when I was seventeen. Still, that
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