Showtime. Jean Ure

Swans from Swan Lake. I wouldn’t mind being a Little Swan!

      Mr Leonardo read out from his list. Three of the boys were to do the Trepak from Nutcracker. Four of the girls – Mei, Caitlyn, Roz and Chloe – were to do the Dance of the Little Swans. (I swallowed. I might have known Ms Hickman wouldn’t let me be a Little Swan! She probably still had it in for me. Everyone said she bore grudges.)

      Mr Leonardo went on through the list. I waited eagerly for my name. Alex and Oliver – Tiffany, Finn – Amber, Giorgio … what about me? What was I supposed to be dancing?

      “Finally,” said Mr Leonardo, “Maddy and Nico –”

      My heart thumped. At last!

      “I know you haven’t yet actually learnt any of the dances from Fiesta but as you’re both quick studies we thought it might be fun if you did the Fandango. It’s only very short and it would be something a bit different. What do you think? Are you up to it?”

      I nodded so hard I thought my head would go flying off! Nico turned and gave me a huge grin.

      “Your sort of thing.” Tiffany mouthed the words at me across the studio. She probably thought she was getting back at me for what I’d said about her and Dad’s bendy ballet. As if I’d been having a go at her! I’d only been telling it like it was. She’s a really strong dancer but cold and glittering, like a splinter of ice. I like to think I have a bit more warmth than that. She was right, though, when she said that Fiesta was my kind of thing. It is exactly my kind of thing! Very fast and furious and exciting. And passionate. It’s what I love about Spanish dancing: it is never just about technique. It is full of real emotion.

      I felt my face break into a big happy beam. This, I thought, was going to be a really good term!

      

      There are some people who think that being ballet students we don’t have to suffer normal school-type lessons such as maths and geography. They have this cosy picture of us dressed in our tights and leotards doing nothing but dance, dance, dance all day long. I wish! Not that I actually mind doing ordinary lessons. I really enjoy art and English. It’s true I don’t much care for maths, but that’s probably only because I’m not very good at it. I would willingly not ever have to solve an equation again for the rest of my life! But we have to do what Dad calls “the academic stuff” to make sure we’re properly rounded human beings. At least, that’s what they tell us.

      “There is absolutely no call,” as Mrs Sinclair once bitingly informed us after we’d pulled faces at the prospect of a double period of maths, “no call whatsoever for a dancer to be ignorant.”

      She would say that, of course; she is Head of Academic Studies. What she didn’t say, but what we all know, is that we need to be properly educated in case we don’t make it as dancers and have to go out and find regular jobs like other people. It’s what we all secretly dread. Caitlyn says it’s one of her worst nightmares. “I’d just die!” Like Nico she had to fight really hard to get to ballet school. Not because she has a dad that disapproved but because her mum is a single parent and couldn’t afford lessons.

      I can understand why she worries, though in her case I honestly don’t think there’s any need. Mum, who is just about the most critical person I know, says that Caitlyn is a natural born dancer and that she has that elusive thing, star quality. I just don’t think she quite realises it! Even after all this time she sometimes doubts her own abilities. She’s not being mock modest, she genuinely is modest. Just as I’m not being boastful when I say that I’m actually well aware of my abilities. I know that I have a solid technique, a sense of the dramatic, and excellent ballon (meaning that I can jump very high and land very lightly). It’s important, Mum always says, to know where your strengths lie. Those are my strengths! But of course you have to be aware of your weaknesses, as well, if only so that you can keep working on them. I, for instance, have had to accept that my line is not as pure as Caitlyn’s and that I still have problems with adage. Gentle floating is not for me! I am far more of an allegro person. Quick footwork, fast turns. That’s what I’m best at.

      When it comes to ordinary lessons, English is what I’m best at. I have quite a vivid imagination, I really enjoy making up stories, but what I love most of all is being chosen to read aloud, like last term when we did To Kill a Mockingbird and I put on an American accent and everybody said it sounded just like the real thing. Even Ms Turnbull, our English teacher, congratulated me. She said, “Well, done, Maddy! Very authentic.” I can do French and German, as well. And, of course, Spanish! I love trying out different accents.

      On our second day back we had English immediately following morning class. We always do an hour of class first thing, then academic studies for the rest of the morning. Dancing all afternoon! I was quite excited when Ms Turnbull told us that because of the company bringing Romeo and Juliet back into the repertoire, we were going to be reading the play that term. I knew the ballet almost from first step to last. I must have seen it at least five or six times on DVD, with wonderful dancers such as Margot Fonteyn and Alessandra Ferri in the role of Juliet – a part I would give anything to dance – but I had never actually seen the play.

      “We won’t be reading all of it,” said Ms Turnbull. “Just the key scenes that tell the story, to prepare you for the ballet. I think, however, that we should start with the Prologue, as that sets the whole thing up. And as there are, of course, far more men’s parts than women’s, I think we’ll give that to one of the girls.”

      She paused, her eyes roving round the class.

      I sat forward, eagerly. Me, me, I thought. Choose me! I knew I sounded like I was back in Infants. It was all I could do not to wave my hand in the air! But I’d already glanced through the Prologue and I knew I could make sense of it. (Which of course you can’t always in Shakespeare. Not without a struggle.)

      “Let’s have … Roz! You read it for us.”

      I sank back, disappointed. Roz is my friend but it has to be said she is absolutely useless when it comes to reading aloud. Especially Shakespeare. She turned and cast me this piteous look. She knows how passionate I am about anything to do with words. Plays, books, poetry. I do so hate it when they get all mashed and mangled! Still, the Prologue looked quite easy. Surely not even Roz could mess it up?

      But she could! I listened in agony as she stumbled her way through.

      “Two households, both alike in dignity,

      In fair Venora –”

      Verona, Verona! Had she never heard of Verona?

      Roz stumbled on, obviously not understanding half of what she was saying.

      “…from forth the fatal lions –”

      I ground my teeth. Gently Ms Turnbull said, “I think, Roz, you’ll find it’s loins.”

      “Oh. Yes.” Roz pulled a face. “Loins. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes …”

      We finally managed to stagger as far as one of the scenes we knew so well from the ballet: a room in the Capulets’ house, with Juliet’s nurse, her mother (Lady Capulet) and Juliet herself. It’s where Lady Capulet breaks the news to Juliet that she is to marry Paris – even though, of course, she’s in love with Romeo. I sat up straight again, willing Ms Turnbull to notice me.

      She did! But oh, guess what? She didn’t want me to read Juliet, she wanted me to read the Nurse. Silly old fat Nurse! A role always taken by dancers who are nearing retirement. My only consolation was that Caitlyn was Juliet and she didn’t actually have much to do in the scene. It was mainly me as the Nurse and Tiffany as Lady Capulet. Tiffany, to be fair, is quite a good reader. And the Nurse, as I quickly