Indigo Bloome - Match Pointe

As Caesar gazed at the music box that had just been delivered to his office, he wondered what the future might hold for Eloise – a young lady with such focus, yet so dependent on the approval of others. He did honestly hope she managed to find more meaning in her life over two years of being thrown into the volatile, competitive world of men’s tennis, where there was much to gain and everything to lose. But then again, he could almost say the same of himself, which was why he had the tiniest soft spot for the loneliness that pervaded her life. If he hadn’t had his father as such a strong presence, he could see his life might have turned out exactly like that of Eloise Lawrance.

Suddenly he hoped that she might find an anchor, a partner to love – something that he had never managed to secure. He had tried once, failed and been left heartbroken, and he never wanted to experience such pain again.

But if her affections didn’t align with his overall strategy, well, naturally there would be consequences. Her life was now in his hands, and as long as she played by his rules all would be well. He hadn’t achieved such success by being weaker than his opponents, and anyone who was contracted to him was on a tight leash until they proved they were worthy of his trust, particularly when the stakes were so high. The amount of money he had riding on this strategy was obscene, but it needed to be to make him feel personally vested and inherently alive. For other than the thrill of winning, not too much did these days!

Power and information were the only vices he allowed himself. He’d seen too many men destroy their lives and their fortunes because of their lack of control over their weaknesses – sex, booze, gambling or drugs. He enjoyed all of these, but only on his terms and only ever in moderation.

Reflecting on this, Caesar poured a modest portion of cognac into a crystal balloon and took a rare quiet moment to reflect on how the seeds of an idea had blossomed into this reality. He had shuffled all the cards, dealt his best hand and would now wait patiently to reap the rewards.

If you think you are beaten, you are;

If you think you dare not, you don’t;

If you like to win but think you can’t, it’s almost a cinch you won’t.

If you think you’ll lose, you’re lost;

For out in the world we find success begins with a person’s will;

It’s all in the mind.

Life’s battles don’t always go to the stronger or the faster hand;

But sooner or later the person who wins is the one who thinks, I can.

Eloise was nonplussed to discover that one of Caesar’s staff would accompany her on her first-class flight to meet Ivan in St Petersburg. Her thoughts oscillated between wondering whether Caesar thought she might flee and not fulfil the legal requirements of the contract, and speculating that he now considered her such precious cargo she required one of his keepers to guard her.

It was only when the plane arrived on schedule at Pulkovo Airport that she began to grow curious about what might happen next in her now unpredictable life. She was both excited and nervous about what the future might hold. Other than being aware of Ivan’s passion for ballet, she really had no idea what he was like as a person. She couldn’t help but ponder whether he was experiencing the same apprehension about her arrival. The only certainty she had was to expect the unexpected as her life unfolded over the coming days, weeks and months.

She watched her suitcase, containing everything she needed for the foreseeable future, being loaded into the car. When the boot slammed shut with a loud thud, she couldn’t help but think her fate was being sealed in with it. She was pleased Caesar’s people had organised a luxury limousine to collect her rather than the coach that had last taken her through the streets of this majestic city. She had loved performing here, and hoped this time she might have more opportunity to explore its rich history than the ballet tour had allowed.

Caesar had assured Eloise it wasn’t important for her to know much about tennis, which was a relief, because she didn’t. She had only ever been vaguely aware of the players in the finals of Wimbledon, mainly because she lived in London. What she did know was that from today she would be Ivan’s private ballerina. In return, he would be her new Master, for want of a better word, and most importantly, her first Number One.

Any confidence she had had leaving London suddenly evaporated when she alighted from the limousine. She composed herself as best she could before stepping through the doors of Ivan’s vast apartment, overlooking the River Neva.

Ivan’s maid showed her to her room and she settled in quietly, awaiting further instructions. Eventually she was called to join him for some tea in the lounge room.

Ivan was dressed entirely in black and seemed polished and urbane as he greeted Eloise with a respectful nod, barely brushing her hand with his lips. He was not an ugly man, though his nose was a little too big for his face and his eyes a little too close together. At just under five foot eleven, he was by no means the tallest player on the circuit but he was as lean and athletic as any top sportsman. Eloise wondered where he hid the killer instinct required to win match after match, when there was no such aggression to be found in his personality off court. He appeared to be rather shy by nature, and the perfect gentleman.

Their discussion about her role in his life was simple and succinct. ‘Caesar has sent through your details, Eloise,’ he told her in his heavy Russian accent. ‘I’m so pleased you decided to accept his offer to dance for me.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ She expected him to continue but he gazed idly out the window. ‘I’d appreciate it if you could outline your expectations of my role.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. It’s simple, really. You will dance for me before each match I play. I’m not sure how long each performance will last; it will depend on the day. I’ll be playing in quite a few tournaments leading up to the French Open and you will travel with my team. The schedule is on the table. Other than before my matches, your time is your own unless I let you know otherwise.’

‘Nothing else? Only dancing?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ He turned to look at her as if he were missing something. ‘I’m sure Caesar explained it to you. I’ve also informed my mother of your arrival and she is hoping you might dance some scenes from her favourite ballet, Cinderella . We’d both like to watch.’

‘Yes, of course, sir!’ she said with genuine excitement. ‘It would be my pleasure.’

‘Excellent. The maid has prepared lunch for you in the kitchen. I’ll see you at 4pm in the studio.’

He then promptly left the room to go about his own business.

Eloise had had no idea of what to expect on her arrival, but even so it all seemed rather formal and distant. She wondered whether she had managed to do something to upset Ivan – though she couldn’t imagine what in such a short space of time – or whether it was just his personality. Perhaps this would change as they got to know each other. She did her best to swallow her disappointment – if that was what it was – knowing that her job wasn’t to question, it was to adapt to his needs. If this was how he preferred it – minimal interaction at best – then she would fulfil his wishes graciously.

That afternoon was the first time she danced for Ivan and his mother, Anna. It would be the first of many times, and they whispered in Russian as they watched her perform with enthusiasm. Occasionally Ivan asked her to stop and repeat certain elements of her scene, after which his mother would applaud and blow kisses towards her in appreciation, saying ‘Beautiful’ or ‘Perfect’, which Ivan translated from Russian to English for her. At times Eloise and Anna danced together, and it was then that Eloise enjoyed seeing Ivan’s smile light up his face, making him look friendly and relaxed, in place of his usual austere disposition. It was obvious that he adored his mother and she appeared thrilled to have Eloise as an addition to their daily lives.