Delphie and the Magic Ballet Shoes. Darcey Bussell

      “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.

       2 The Red Ballet Shoes

      “Come inside, child” Madame Za-Za said. “What is your name?”

      “Delphie Durand.” Delphie felt tears prickling her eyes. She was sure she was about to be told off. She blinked quickly; she hated crying in front of people.

      “I saw you through the window,” Madame Za-Za said to her. “Where do you learn ballet?”

      Delphie was very surprised by the question. “I…I don’t go to classes,” she answered. “I just read about it in books and practise at home.”

      “I see.” Madame Za-Za looked at her for a moment. “Well, why don’t you come in?”

      “Come in?” Delphie echoed.

      Madame Za-Za nodded. “It’s cold out here and I think you would like to see around. Am I right?”

      “Yes!” Delphie gasped. “I’d love to see inside.”

      “Come, then.”

      Walking in a daze, Delphie followed Madame Za-Za inside the school. They went down the warm, brightly lit corridor. “Here we have the dance studios,” Madame Za-Za explained, pointing to two rooms, one on either side.

      “Wow!” Delphie breathed.

      Madame Za-Za looked thoughtfully at her. “Do you have any ballet shoes, child?”

      “No,” Delphie replied. She always just danced in bare feet.

      Madame Za-Za gave a small nod and then set off down a dark corridor, opening a door at the end that led into a small storeroom. The walls were covered with shelves piled high with boxes, dusty books, ballet costumes and what looked like a chest full of new ballet leotards and socks.

      Madame Za-Za went into the room and took an old, battered box down from a high shelf.

      As Delphie watched, Madame Za-Za opened the lid to reveal a pair of old red leather ballet shoes with red ribbons, nestling among yellowing tissue paper. The leather was slightly crinkly, the insides of the shoes a deep cream. They were worn and slightly shabby but as Delphie looked at them, she felt a sudden urge to reach into the box. Her feet tingled as if they wanted to try them on.

      Unable to stop herself she touched the soft red leather and then realising what she was doing, she pulled her hand back.

      She looked up to see Madame Za-Za studying her face, her expression unreadable.