One of the Girls(66)

‘It’s not the wanting that’s the problem. It’s the permission-seeking.’ Lexi scooped up a handful of pebbles, rolling their smooth warmth in her palms. ‘We’re always doing things because we think we should, or because it’s the right thing.’

‘Not you. You never did. You’ve always been brave. Wild.’

Lexi let the pebbles fall through the sieve of her fingers. ‘I’ve not been wild in the way you mean: free. I just partied too hard. That wasn’t being wild, it was hiding.’

Robyn’s brow furrowed.

‘All that stuff in my twenties – the drinking, the drugs, the sex, the parties – they were just fillers, numbing all the things I didn’t want to look at.’

‘You were unhappy?’

‘For a long time.’

Robyn blinked. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise. I …’

‘Don’t be sorry. I hid it well. I’m pretty good at that.’ Lexi smiled, showing Robyn it was okay. She had wanted everyone to think she was happy, living her best life, because she needed to believe it, too. ‘I enjoyed dancing, but the lifestyle that came with it wasn’t good for me. I didn’t see that for a long time. If I hadn’t fractured my tibia, I’d probably still be doing it now.’ Lexi had always let life buffet her in one direction and then another, never plotting her own course.

Robyn said, ‘Isn’t it strange how sometimes the worst things that happen to us end up being the best.’

‘You’re right.’ She’d sunk into a dark place after the injury, losing all sense of purpose. ‘You were the one who suggested giving yoga a try.’

‘Only to stay supple while you were rehabilitating. I didn’t know you were going to retrain and become an instructor!’

‘I remember going to that first class thinking I’d hate it. Too slow, too much om, as Bella would say.’

‘But you loved it.’

‘The teacher said something that really resonated. He said, Yoga isn’t a performance. It’s only for you. Dancing was always a performance. My whole career was about imagining how the audience would see me. But yoga is the opposite. It’s only for you. It took time to really understand that. You know what I’m like – I wanted to be the best, bend the furthest, hold the posture for the longest.’

Robyn laughed.

‘Then I started taking a daytime class, and the other people were mostly retirees. I think it helped me lose my inhibitions about how I looked, or whether I was doing it right. It was just me and the mat.’

‘I’ve never heard you say that before.’

‘You know the pose at the end, Savasana, when you lie still? That’s my most challenging posture. The first few months, I’d lie there thinking about how hungry I was, or how my skin itched, or I wanted to fart, or what I’d watch when I got home.’

Robyn laughed again.

‘But then slowly, I guess my thoughts began to quieten a little, long enough for me to start following my breath, being still. It’s liberating, Robyn. Doing something for you. Not for other people. Not for an audience – whether that’s a paid audience in a dance show, or your family, or your friends, or society, or whoever it is you decide you are performing for.’ She paused. She looked closely at Robyn. ‘Maybe we all need to stop trying to meet everyone else’s expectations – and just meet our own.’

‘Thank you,’ Robyn said with feeling. ‘That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Hey, and Lex? For the record, I’m really pleased that you’re happy now. That you found yoga.’

Lexi smiled.

‘And found Ed.’

She kept smiling. Made sure she did.

Sun flared from the whitewashed steps as they climbed towards the villa. A wave of tiredness rolled over Lexi. Her head felt busy, unsettled; she wanted to retreat to her room, alone. Think.

‘There you both are!’ Bella said, raising her head from the sun lounger, oversized sunglasses balanced on her nose. ‘Come! Sit with me! I’ve been on my own all morning. I have drinks!’ She reached down to raise a jug filled with something alcoholic.

Lexi felt herself quietly groan. All she wanted right now was some time alone, but she knew Bella would feel neglected if she didn’t join her. ‘Sure,’ she smiled, then opened the sun umbrella on the lounger beside Bella’s. Robyn disappeared into the villa saying she’d fetch them drinks.

Bella topped up her own glass, giggling as it spilled over the side. She was drunk, Lexi realised. Course she was. Her smile got that bit bigger and brighter, and there was a loosening of her movements, something more expansive.

All those nights they’d got ready together in one of their bedrooms, music playing, make-up tumbled across the carpet, applying thick flicks of liquid eyeliner, the burned-hair scent of their straighteners mixed with hairspray. She could almost taste the cheap slide of lipstick and vodka. There were moments, so many, that were strung through with gold. She didn’t regret that time – and yet, she couldn’t help wondering why, in all those nights out, she’d never once turned to Bella and said, You know what, I don’t want this. I’m sad all the time. Something feels wrong inside me.

Why hadn’t she? Because she’d assumed Bella would’ve said, ‘I’ve got just the solution,’ and produced a bottle of spirits or pack of pills with a magician’s flourish. But as she looked at Bella now, she wondered, Maybe you’re not happy. Maybe you don’t know how to tell me.