Читать книгу Magic Ballerina 1-6 - Darcey Bussell - Страница 8

Delphie hurried home, her breath freezing in the snowy night air. The houses on either side of the road had their curtains drawn – all apart from one – a big double-fronted house with iron railings and a gate. Two stone steps led up to the door and light streamed out of the windows. As the snowflakes landed softly on Delphie’s shoulders, she looked longingly at the brass plate, just as she had for the last four weeks since it had been open: Madame Zarakova’s School of Ballet.

A car drew up outside and two girls jumped out. They were about nine – the same age as Delphie – and had their hair tied back in neat buns.

“Come on, we’re going to be late!” one of them called as they ran through the gate and opened the front door. “Madame Za-Za will go mad!”

For a moment, Delphie caught sight of a long wide hallway with white walls and wooden floors before the heavy door banged shut behind them.

Delphie felt a wave of longing so strong it hurt. She wanted to be inside the ballet school about to have a dance lesson. She was ballet-mad but her parents had always put her off having lessons.

“Maybe when you’re a bit older,” her mum had said, kissing Delphie’s long dark hair. “The nearest dance school is on the other side of town. It’s too far to take you every week.”

But Delphie hadn’t been put off. She had borrowed books from the library and practised ballet exercises almost every day.

And she danced all the time – in the house, in the garden, she wasn’t even embarrassed to dance on the street! She loved the feeling of spinning, moving, jumping. It was hard to explain but, although she had never had any lessons, inside she just felt like she knew what it was like to be a real ballerina.

And now Madame Zarakova’s ballet school had opened on the very street she lived. But even that hadn’t helped her. Delphie did understand. After all, money was quite tight in their house.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Mrs Durand, Delphie’s mum, had sighed. “We just can’t afford to send you there.”

Standing by the railings now, Delphie could now hear the faint sounds of a piano tinkling and, through the branches, she could see light from the big windows falling into the front garden. Shivering she pulled her coat closer around her as she looked over the railings.

The music and lights seemed to be calling her nearer. Slipping through the gate, she crept over to the house, peering in through the window. The room inside was large with mirrors on each of the four walls. Eight girls, all about the same age, were holding lightly to the barre, a wooden pole that was fixed around the wall of the room. They were all dressed in pink leotards with a ribbon round their waists, pale socks and satin ballet shoes with ribbons crossed neatly round their ankles.

They were gracefully bending and straightening their knees out over their toes.

“Pliés,” Delphie sighed longingly, recognising them from one of her books. Oh, if only she could be in there with them.

Madame Za-Za was walking around the room, talking to the girls and correcting a leg position here, an arm position there. She held her own body erect and her grey-streaked brown hair was pulled back in a bun. As Delphie watched, the girls began a different exercise, pointing their toes and sliding their legs to the back, front and side. Battements tendu, thought Delphie. All the girls looked good but there was one dark-haired girl who looked very graceful and seemed to find everything very easy.

Next the girls began sliding the foot that was furthest from the barre and lifting it off the floor, stretching out as far as they could and holding their free arm out to the side.

Delphie couldn’t resist. She began to join in.

Holding on to the windowsill, she performed the movement in time with the girls inside.

Sweeping her arm and leg to the side, she held them in perfect position, her toe pointed and heel raised from the ground. They moved quickly into practising quick, light movements.

Madame Za-Za said something to the girls and left the room. The class carried on working. Feeling very happy, Delphie continued to copy them. It was almost like being in there.

Then, suddenly, the front door swung open and a voice called out. “You, girl! What are you doing?”

Delphie jumped in shock and swung round. She had been concentrating so hard on the dancing that she hadn’t heard it opening. It was Madame Za-Za standing on the top step, staring at her!

Delphie froze to the spot. “I…I’m really sorry! I just wanted to have a look.”

“Come here, child!” Madame Za-Za called.

And with just a moment’s hesitation, Delphie hurried up the steps.