{ coda agitato }

They emerge from the wings together, side by side – as sister and brother, as partners, as Odette and Siegfried, the audience erupting much like a volcano into a roar of appreciation. Roses fly through the air, landing before Lilith’s feet as she takes her bows. It’s the opening night of Paris Opera Ballet’s first ever production of Swan Lake and the Doret twins, now in their mid-twenties, have accepted the leads with great gratitude. Lilith’s knee is aching where it is pressed against the wooden boards of the stage and she can feel Jean-Paul’s hand shaking from an identical exhaustion where he is gripping hers tightly. Holding on to her and never letting go, the way she knows him best. From rehearsals, from their own pas de deuxs, from home… Her beloved Jean-Paul. They have really fought hard to bring Swan Lake to life, given these roles their all, Lilith especially. When she thinks about Mother… How Mother toured as Odette in Russia, receiving such high praise that it reached even the ear of the French public… All of that, Lilith took away from her by being born, by tearing her way out into the world and tearing Mother apart from within… But tonight, she has made up for it, she must have made up for it by far – for she has danced Odette like no one ever did before. She has honoured Mother’s artistry and doubled it with her own, giving back to the world everything she stole at birth. Surely… Surely it must be enough.

While she rises from the floor, Jean-Paul presents her to the rows upon rows of people before them and she receives another round of standing applause, both their names shouted repeatedly, like chanting in the church. They are the stars in the night sky today. They are like gods of dancing. They are everything Mother should have been, but only had the chance to be all too briefly. Lilith thinks as they retreat backstage, waiting for the curtain call to reach its grand finale – and the thought is a genuine one:

My name, Mother. It is only yours in disguise.