First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2018

Published in this ebook edition in 2018

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Text copyright © Jean Ure 2018

Cover illustration © Lucy Truman; decorative frame © Shutterstock

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2018

Jean Ure asserts the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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Source ISBN: 9780008164546

Ebook Edition © 2018 ISBN: 9780008174866

Version: 2018-03-09

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Keep Reading …

Books by Jean Ure

About the Publisher

“I simply cannot believe –” Chloe opened her tote bag and took out a little hammer. Then she picked up one of her pointe shoes – brand-new, sparkly-clean pointe shoes – and began bashing at it. “I simply cannot believe we’re in our second year!”

Somewhat soberly I said, “I can’t believe we’ve all survived.”

It still made cold, damp goosefeet go plapping down my spine when I thought how close I’d come to being thrown out. At the end of our very first term, that had been. Not because my dancing wasn’t up to standard but because Ms Hickman, Head of Ballet, hadn’t thought I was committed enough. It was only thanks to Caitlyn that I’d been given a second chance. She had actually been brave enough to speak up for me! What was more, Ms Hickman had actually listened. Which was why I was still here, a year later, on the first day of the new term – sitting in the Green Room next to Studio One, waiting for the studio to clear so that afternoon class could begin. We were all here, all eight of us. Me and Caitlyn, Alex and Roz, Tiffany, Amber, Chloe, Mei. Survivors!

Alex nodded, complacently. “It’s practically unheard of, everyone being kept on.”

I agreed. City Ballet School has a reputation for being ruthless when it comes to what Mum calls “weeding out”. Too tall, wrong shape, hasn’t lived up to earlier promise.

“We’re obviously an exceptionally talented group,” I said.

“Oh, Maddy, don’t,” begged Caitlyn. “Please! It’s like tempting fate!”

Personally I felt I’d already tempted fate. Going ice skating and injuring myself halfway through my very first term really had been asking for trouble. Even Sean had lectured me about it, and Sean isn’t at all a lecturing kind of person even though he’s my big brother and doesn’t always take me seriously. Mum and Dad, thank goodness, had never known. I still had nightmares, wondering what Mum would have had to say. She’d said enough when Jen (my sister) had got married and had Thomas and immediately stopped dancing. You’d have thought the world had come to an end! But at least Jen had had an excuse, and now that he was a toddler even Mum thought Thomas was pretty cute. I wouldn’t have had any excuse at all. Just as well it had stayed a guilty secret!

I slowly sank down on to the floor, leaning back against the wall, legs comfortably lolling. In just a few minutes I’d be working hard enough, bending, stretching, leaping. Mr Leonardo, who takes us for Character (the class we were waiting for and one of the ones I like best) is a very sweet and lovely man who almost never loses his temper or makes sarcastic remarks (unlike Ms Hickman, who makes them all the time). Mr Leonardo would far sooner praise you for your good points than shame you in front of the whole class by sarcastically informing you that you looked like a sack of potatoes or moved with about as much animation as a slug. For all that, he doesn’t believe in letting us relax. Character is a whirl of activity from the word go.

I gazed around, contentedly, at the others. Caitlyn, next to me, was taking the opportunity to finish darning a pair of pointe shoes. Darning pointe shoes is a job I particularly dislike, but Caitlyn actually takes pride in it. She is always so industrious! Chloe, meanwhile, was still merrily bashing with her hammer.

“It always seems such a pity,” said Caitlyn, “that we have to do these horrible things.” She held up the shoe she’d been working on. Her stitches (unlike mine) are always so neat and precise; she turns darning into some kind of art form. “Honestly,” she said, “it makes me feel like a vandal. Those poor shoemakers! It must be absolutely heartbreaking for them … They give us these beautiful, delicate shoes and the first thing we do is destroy them!”

“Yes, and if we didn’t,” pointed out Tiffany, in her usual crushing tones, “we wouldn’t be able to dance in them and there wouldn’t be much point in anyone bothering to make them in the first place.”

Tiffany is one of those people that has no soul. When I stop to think about it, it does seem rather cruel, the way we treat our shoes. We snip off bits of the satin, we glue and we darn and we batter and bash. Sometimes we even cut the backs to make them fit properly. What Chloe was doing was breaking the shank and softening the block so that her shoes wouldn’t make loud clopping noises as she danced. We all do it; you have to. Imagine a whole corps de ballet clip-clopping about like carthorses! And if we didn’t darn the toes we wouldn’t have a good grip when we went on pointe and would most likely end up on our backs with our legs in the air. But even then, after all our hard work, one pair of shoes would hardly last a full performance. Certainly not in a long ballet like Swan Lake or Giselle. Not that any of us had reached that stage yet. When we did – if we did, fingers tightly crossed – it would mean having several pairs of shoes all prepared and ready to go, and that would mean forever having to darn and hammer and sew on ribbons. As I once bitterly remarked to Sean, it was so much easier for him. Of course he just laughed. This is what I mean about not always taking me seriously.

“If you want to know,” said Chloe, pausing for a moment in her labours, “I’m not just bashing my shoes, I’m bashing somebody.”

Amber said, “Ooh! Who?”

“Just somebody,” said Chloe. “Actually, if you really want to know, a boy.”

“Oh?”

That got everyone’s attention, including mine. Heads shot up all over the room.

“Tell, tell!” said Tiffany. “What boy?”

“Boy called Dominic.”

“So who is he and why are you bashing him?”

“Cos he’s an idiot! I’ve known him, like, forever. Our mums are best friends and him and me were at primary school together.”

“And you’re bashing him because …?”

“Cos, like I said, he’s an idiot! I bumped into him yesterday and he told me –” Chloe bashed with renewed vigour – “he actually told me, he was very sorry but he just didn’t get it with ballet … he said he found it boring.”

“Has he ever actually seen any?” said Roz.

“Yes. He tried watching Fille mal on television.”

“He doesn’t even like Fille mal?” Caitlyn’s voice rose to a high-pitched squeak of disbelief. “It’s one of my favourite ballets!”

“It’s everyone’s favourite ballet,” I said. “Well, after Swan Lake and Giselle. And maybe Nutcracker.” How could it not be? It’s so happy and funny and romantic, all at the same time. You’d have to have a heart of stone not to enjoy Fille mal gardée. Or, maybe, just be a boy. Caitlyn might squeak, but on the whole, it has to be said, most boys aren’t into ballet.

“What about the Clog Dance?” said Roz.

Amber said, “Yes! What about the Clog Dance?”

Someone started humming the music, which had me on my feet in an instant. (To be honest, I don’t need much encouragement!) Chloe immediately joined me. Together, we clog-danced happily across the floor. The ballet is so familiar that we pretty well know it step by step, though in fact the Clog Dance is actually danced by a man dressed up as a woman (the Widow Simone). It’s one of the funniest things in ballet, I think.

“I just don’t see,” said Alex, “how anyone can say they don’t love the Clog Dance!”

To be fair, Chloe said, he hadn’t minded that bit so much. “He thought it was like pantomime.”

There was a moment of silence while we wondered whether or not we should be offended. Then Caitlyn gave a sigh and said, “I suppose he’s right, in a way. It’s not my most favourite part.”

Kindly I said, “No, cos you like the romantic bits.”

She was happy to admit it. “I love the romantic bits! I think they’re really touching.”

“He doesn’t,” said Chloe. “He says for him it’s all too pink and pretty.”

Loud groans filled the room. Eyes rolled.

Apologetically Chloe said, “He’s actually quite nice. He only tried watching cos he wanted to be able to talk to me about it.”

Tiffany tossed her head. “Just a pity he couldn’t find anything sensible to say!”

I don’t very often agree with Tiffany, but on this occasion I did. I don’t mind people not liking ballet; I don’t like lots of things. Opera, for instance, and golf. How my dad can sit for hours watching golf on television I really don’t know. Boring, boring, boring! So I reckon it’s OK if some people are bored by ballet. But pink and pretty… that is so insulting!

It was just as well, I thought, that the boys weren’t yet here. It would have made some of them really angry. Josh and Carlo for sure. It didn’t take much to get them going! Finn and Oliver, and maybe Kanye, might have just shrugged it off. They’re not as hot-headed as the other two. I was really glad that Nico hadn’t heard, though. Nico was my partner – for pas de deux, that is. Not all of the time, cos they like to switch us about a bit, but mostly we danced together. It had made us quite close; we often confided in each other. I knew, for instance, that Nico had had to fight really hard to become a dancer. Not only had his dad been dead set against the idea but he’d also been bullied quite badly at school because of it. He’d once told me that I didn’t know how lucky I was, coming from a ballet family.

It’s true that I’ve lived and breathed ballet for just about as long as I can remember. Mum and Dad both used to dance with City Ballet, Mum being specially famous for her Firebird and Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty, Dad being more of a character dancer. Dad has always been more interested in choreography than in actual dancing, which is why he now flies all over the world, to America, Australia, and even once to Russia, to put on his ballets. Mum, meanwhile, runs her own ballet school, which she rules with a rod of iron, almost worse even than Ms Hickman. I know, cos she was the one that trained me! She trained Jen and Sean too. If Jen hadn’t given up her career to be a full-time mum, she’d still be with the company today. Sean, of course, still is.

When I come to think about it, Sean has really had it easy. Certainly compared with Nico. I’m sure nobody has ever given Sean a hard time. I’d like to see them try!

The boys, by now, were starting to arrive.

“What are we waiting for?” said Josh. “Is someone still in there?”

I explained that it was members of the company. The Millennium Hall, where City Ballet performs, is only a few minutes away from the school – just a short walk down the Cut, near Waterloo station – so if they run out of rehearsal space they tend to come and use one of our studios, instead.

“It’s about time they were out! What are they rehearsing, anyway?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go take a look.”

We clustered outside the studio door, gazing through the glass panel. I could see Sean and Sergei Ivanov, another of the company’s leading dancers. They were moving energetically about the studio, ducking and dodging and every now and again lunging at each other. I couldn’t hear any music but I knew at once what they were doing.

“It’s Romeo and Juliet,” I said. The death of Mercutio. Very dramatic! “I’d forgotten they were bringing that back. It hasn’t been in the repertoire for ages.”

The others jostled to get a better look.

“Who’s dancing what?”

“Sean’s Mercutio, Sergei’s Tybalt.”

“I hate Tybalt,” said Caitlyn. “I can’t ever forgive him for killing Mercutio. Mercutio is so fun! Tybalt’s just a bully.”

“Well, but Mercutio does provoke him,” said Roz. “He does show off, rather.”

“That’s no excuse!” cried Caitlyn. And “Oh!” she wailed, turning her head away.

Oliver waved a hand. “Bye-bye, Mercutio!”

We all watched as Tybalt’s sword (imaginary, for rehearsal purposes) found its mark, plunging deep into Mercutio’s back.

“How cowardly is that?” said Caitlyn.

“Only way he could get him,” said Oliver.

We watched as Mercutio went staggering off, reeling and swaying, trying bravely to make out that he was all right, but growing steadily weaker until, in the end, his strength gave way and he sank down, mortally wounded.

Caitlyn wailed, “Oh, I hate this scene! When I first saw it, I really didn’t think he was going to die. Now I just can’t bear to watch it!”

“It’s one of the best bits,” said Carlo.

“It’s not! It’s heartbreaking.”

“But I thought Romeo and Juliet was one of your favourite ballets?” I said.

“They’re all her favourites.” Tiffany said it scathingly. “Just name me one ballet you don’t positively adore.”

“There are lots I don’t adore!”

“So, go on … tell me one.”

Roz cackled. “Anything that Sean’s not in!”

Caitlyn’s cheeks immediately turned pink. She is so easy to tease!

“I don’t much like ZigZag,” she said. “He dances in that.”

And then she glanced at me, obviously worried I might think she was being disrespectful. ZigZag is one of Dad’s ballets, but it’s a very early one from what Mum calls his abstract period. No storylines, just pure dance. It’s known in the family as Dad’s bendy ballet, cos of all the weird shapes the dancers have to twist themselves into.

“You’re just a hopeless romantic,” I told Caitlyn. “I bet you wouldn’t mind half so much if it was Sergei that got killed!”

The fact is she has this massive crush on my brother, though to be fair she’s not alone in that. I should think half the little ballet fans in the country have photos of Sean stuck on their bedroom walls. It really was time she started to grow out of it, though.

“Speaking personally,” said Tiffany, “I adore ZigZag. I think it’s really inventive.”

“It hasn’t got a lot of soul,” I said.

“So what? It’s clever! Makes a nice change from peasants doing their jolly peasant dances. You can get a bit sick of that.”

I privately agreed with her, but I wasn’t about to say so. It doesn’t do to agree too much with Tiffany. It just puffs her up and makes her even more big-headed than she already is.

“I don’t actually think that ZigZag is one of Dad’s best,” I said, “but I can see it might be your sort of thing.”

Tiffany bristled, immediately suspicious. “What’s that supposed to mean, my sort of thing?”

“Well …” I waved a hand. All I’d meant was that it suited her style of dancing: very brittle and showy without much in the way of emotion. Still, I didn’t want it to seem like I was criticising her; not on our first day back. We were bound to rub each other up the wrong way sooner or later – we always did. But for the moment I was in too good a mood to say anything that might upset her, even if she did tend to get on my nerves.

“It’s a ballet that needs a really strong technique,” I said. “That’s all.”

Tiffany made a little grunting sound.

“Not everybody could manage it,” I said.

“You could,” said Caitlyn. “You’ve got a strong technique.”

I said, “Yes, but technique’s not everything. I prefer parts where I can act as well as dance.”

“Obviously runs in the family,” said Oliver. He staggered and clutched at himself. “That was some death scene!”

Caitlyn pushed at him. “Stop it!”

“Why?” Oliver grinned. “It’s a great piece of acting!”

“I wish he’d dance Romeo,” said Caitlyn. “Why does he have to dance Mercutio? I’m sure he could dance Romeo, if he wanted.”

“Well, but Romeo dies too,” I said.

“Only right at the end. At least I could enjoy it up till then.”

“Oh, you’re such a softie!” jeered Roz.

Caitlyn hung her head. “I can’t help it. I don’t like sad things.”

“Giselle’s sad,” I said. “You adore Giselle!”

Roz cackled and said, “That’s cos it’s only Giselle that dies and not Sea— Oops!” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Sorry! I mean Albrecht.”

We stood back as Sean and Sergei left the studio. There was a time when I might have said something, even if it was just “Hi”. To Sean, I mean. Everyone knows he’s my brother, but some people – Tiffany, for instance, and Amber, who’s her best friend – seemed to think it was gross for a lowly dance student to address one of the company’s big stars without being invited, so I’d trained myself to be discreet and make like we were nothing to do with each other. I couldn’t help it if he winked at me as he came through the door. Or maybe it was at Caitlyn. She obviously thought it was, the way her cheeks slowly turned from blushing pink to bright red. I made a mental note to tell him he really must stop teasing her like that. How was she supposed to get over him if he kept encouraging her?

Mr Leonardo had obviously arrived early as he was there waiting for us.

“Well, that, of course, was Romeo and Juliet,” he said. “A brand-new production. You’ll no doubt be learning some of the dances this term so I would urge you all to go and see it as soon as you can. Now, just briefly, before we begin, I have a bit of news. You all know, of course, that at the end of term we have the big summer show where you’ll be put through your paces –”

Showtime! The most important event of the year – the one we were all working towards. How you performed then could determine the whole of your future.

“Just put it on the back burner for the moment,” said Mr Leonardo, “because in the meantime we have another event lined up. A rather exciting one. As I’m sure you’re aware, CBS is part of the Ballet Outreach programme, taking ballet into the community. Last term, some of you may remember, a group of our senior students went into one of the local schools, Cardinal Fisher, which went down so well that the school has now asked whether it would be possible for a few of their Year Eight pupils, the ones who expressed the most appreciation – which I’m happy to say included boys as well as girls – to actually visit us here. So! I think you’ll agree that’s excellent news. We’ve arranged that a small group, about twenty in all, will be coming to us later in the term, and your year have been chosen to be their hosts! Which, I may say, is a great honour. You will, in effect, be ambassadors for the ballet.”

He paused, to let that sink in. We preened ourselves. Ambassadors!

“So here’s the plan. I thought that to kick off we’d show them what a normal class is like – well, a sample of a normal class. Obviously not a full class, there wouldn’t be time. Let’s say about half an hour, and then I propose we demonstrate how we put our technique into practice. Mrs Elkins and I have sat down with Ms Hickman and we’ve come up with a list, which I have here –” he waved a sheet of paper at us – “of what you’ll all be dancing. They’ll only be very short pieces, no more than about five minutes each, and they’ll all be taken from the company’s standard repertoire, which means you’ll already be familiar with them since, of course, you’ll have spent the whole of your first year learning them!”

My mind quickly ran over what we’d learnt, trying to decide what I’d most like to do. Not that I had any choice, but just last term we’d learnt the Dance of the Little 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 discovered, has a simply enormous long speech. (Thirty-three lines! I counted them.) Afterwards Caitlyn said that that was obviously why Ms Turnbull had chosen me to read the part.

“Nobody else could have done it!”

My cheeks went a bit sizzly at that. I hardly ever blush but even I can feel embarrassed on occasion. I muttered that I was sure Tiffany could have done it, which caused Amber to cry that Tiffany was absolutely brilliant! Which in turn obviously embarrassed Tiffany, cos instead of preening, as she normally would, she quickly said, “I’m nowhere near as good as Maddy. The way you got through that speech was amazing.”

It is not like Tiffany to be so generous, especially towards me. She finds it difficult, what with me having a mum and dad who both used to be members of the company, not to mention a brother who is one of their leading dancers. But then, when I think about it, I am perhaps not always very generous towards her. We simply don’t get on! Still, if a person is good at something you can’t not say so; that would be very small-minded. I’d found it really rewarding, doing a scene together. Not having to grit my teeth every few seconds or listen to Shakespeare’s words being messed up. (Venora! I ask you.) It didn’t alter the fact that what I still wanted more than anything was for Ms Turnbull to choose me as Juliet. We didn’t have English again until later in the week. I reckoned that the next big scene we came to would be the balcony scene, where Romeo sneaks into the Capulets’ orchard and sees Juliet appear on her balcony.

What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east and Juliet is the sun.

I knew the words so well, even if I’d never seen the play. I think they are probably words that most people know. Juliet’s, too:

O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?

I did so long to do the balcony scene! As soon as I arrived home I rushed upstairs to my bedroom to start practising it. I needed to be word perfect and to know the meaning of every line.

“So where are you off to in such a hurry?” demanded Mum.

“Got homework,” I said.

“Oh?” Mum sounded agreeably surprised. I am not, as a rule, so eager! “Sean’s going to be here in a minute. He’s coming to have a word with Dad about the new ballet. I’m only telling you,” said Mum, “because last time you complained about being kept in the dark and not having a chance to say hallo. But if you’re going to be busy with homework—”

“No, no,” I said. “I want to see him!”

I’m always happy to see Sean. I don’t count school, where we practically have to behave like strangers. I do like to be able to talk to him sometimes, though usually when he calls round he claims he’s in a mad rush and doesn’t have a moment to spare. You have to catch him at just the right time and practically beg for an appointment. In spite of that, we do actually get on really well. Caitlyn, with her mad hero worship, used to be horrified at all the bad mouth she says I give him. But it’s no more than he gives me! It’s our idea of fun. He might be an important person in the company, but he’s far from being grand. He is really quite easy-going, so long as you don’t try interfering in his life like I did last term when he and Danny temporarily split up and everyone warned me not to get involved, only I did anyway, cos that’s the sort of person I am, rushing in where (Dad says) angels fear to tread. Sean got quite mad at me, just like Jen had told me he would. It was worth it in the end, though, when he and Danny got back together. Sean even apologised for chewing me out.

I leaned over the banisters and called down to Mum. “Let me know before he goes!”

“Yes, all right,” said Mum. “Just get on with your homework! I’m glad to know you’re being so conscientious for once.”

It’s easy to be conscientious when you care deeply about something. I don’t honestly care very much at all about maths or geography, which was our official homework for that evening. Usually I just do enough to scrape by. But I suddenly cared so much about being picked to read Juliet that it almost hurt. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if Ms Turnbull chose one of the others and they messed it up!

I turned to the balcony scene and settled down on my bed to read it. Some of Romeo’s speeches were rather long, so I mostly skipped through those and concentrated on Juliet. I did hope, if I got chosen – fingers crossed! – I really did hope that whoever was picked as Romeo would be able to make proper sense of all his words. Maybe it helped that I’d seen the ballet so many times. I not only knew the story and all the characters but even when I came across words I’d never met before I was mostly able to work out what Shakespeare was saying.

I became so engrossed that I almost forgot I was in my bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed. I really felt that I was Juliet, standing on my balcony in the moonlight, exchanging forbidden words with my beloved Romeo.

Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

I actually jumped when I heard someone tapping at my bedroom door. For a moment I thought that Nurse had arrived and that I’d been caught out! And then a voice said, “Mads? OK if I come in?”

The door opened a crack and Sean’s head appeared. “Mum said you wanted to see me?”

“Oh. Yes!” I sat up straight against my pillows.

“So.” Sean closed the door. “What can I do for you?”

I was about to admit that all I’d wanted was the chance to say hallo, but then I thought that maybe, if he was in a good mood and not in his usual rush …

“Well? Speak!”

“I don’t suppose you could spare a few minutes?” I said. “Or are you in a hurry?”

“Not specially. Why?”

“D’you think you could read a bit of Shakespeare with me?”

He sighed. “If I must.”

I said, “Please?”

“All right, all right! Anything to oblige. What are we reading?”

“Romeo and Juliet. The balcony scene.”

“Oh.” He sat down next to me on the bed. “Slurpy lurv!”

“It’s not!” I was indignant. “It’s beautiful!”

“You think?”

I flapped at him with my Penguin Shakespeare. “You know your trouble?” I said. “You are just so unromantic.”

“Yup! That’s me.”

“Romeo and Juliet is one of the world’s greatest love stories.”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“I don’t know how Danny puts up with you. If I were him I’d—”

“Well, you’re not, so just get on with it. Romeo, Romeo—”

“But you’ve got a great long speech before Juliet comes in.”

“Soft what light through yonder window breaks it is the east and Juliet is the sun blah blah blah …do you really expect me to wade through all that?”

“Maybe just the last few lines?”

“Let’s skip straight to Juliet. Go on! Off you go.”

“Ay, me?”

“No! Her first actual speech … there.”

He jabbed a finger on to the page. I immediately sprang up and made like I was standing on my balcony, staring out into the orchard.

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and—”

“Hang about, hang about!” Sean held up a hand. “Gotta stop you right there. What exactly do you think she’s saying?”

“Well …” I knew what she was saying. It was obvious! “Romeo, Romeo, where are you?”

“Wrong. What she’s saying is, why oh why do you have to be called Romeo? If only he were called something else … in other words, if only he weren’t a Montagu. Anything but a Montagu!”

He could obviously see the disbelief on my face.

“Look, there’s a family feud, yes?” I nodded. “She’s a Capulet: they’re never going to let her marry a Montagu. So it’s not Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo, it’s Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”

I was still doubtful. “Are you sure that’s what it means?”

“I know that’s what it means.”

“How?” I said. “How do you know?”

“I know many things,” said Sean, smugly.

“So … you’re saying that wherefore means why?”

“Back in Shakespeare’s time,” said Sean.

I found myself torn between relief that at least he had told me so that I wouldn’t make an idiot of myself if I was chosen to read Juliet, and a feeling of annoyance that Sean, who didn’t even like the play, obviously understood it better than I did.

“If you want to know the truth,” he said, “the last time the company did the ballet was when I’d just started at the school and we all had to read the play and every single one of us got it wrong. Including me. That make you feel better?”

I nodded, gratefully. “What I don’t understand,” I said, “is why you don’t dance Romeo?”

“I will, I will! Probably next season.”

“It would make Caitlyn ever so happy. It really upsets her when Mercutio gets killed.”

“That’s one of my favourite bits!”

Cheekily I said, “Yes, I saw you staggering about, hamming it up.” I stumbled off across the bedroom floor, writhing and choking and clutching at myself in agony.

“Honestly, the nerve of it,” said Sean. “It asks me to give up my valuable time reading through some piece of romantic rubbish—”

“That’s why you don’t dance Romeo,” I said. “You’re obviously terrified of showing emotion!”

“Button it,” said Sean. “Any more smart mouth and I’ll leave you to get on with it by yourself. Start again, and try to make better sense of it this time.”

My hard work paid off! Two days later, when we had English again, Ms Turnbull chose me to read Juliet. By then I knew the scene so well I could have done it without the book. Oliver, who was reading Romeo, stumbled a bit but I pretended to myself that that was because he was hiding in the Capulets’ orchard, where he was in danger of being discovered at any moment. Maybe even by the vengeful Tybalt.

Afterwards Ms Turnbull thanked me for reading so well. She said I’d really brought Juliet to life.

“And congratulations for getting the first line right … Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? It’s the first time I’ve ever known anyone do so!” And then, since everybody was looking puzzled: “It doesn’t mean what you probably all think it means. Tell them, Maddy! What is Juliet saying?”

“She’s saying, why oh why do you have to be called Romeo?”

I managed to do it without blushing. It might have been Sean who’d set me right, but I thought I should be allowed to take some credit. I had, after all, put in a lot of effort, reading the scene over and over and over again, which I didn’t think anyone else had. I just wished there was someone I could tell about it. Mum, Dad, Sean … Hey, guess what? Ms Turnbull thanked me for reading so well. She said I really brought Juliet to life!

They would all be polite about it – well, Mum and Dad would be. Sean would probably claim it was all thanks to him. But none of them would truly be able to understand how important it was. How much it meant to me! I could only hug it to myself and bask in a warm glow of satisfaction.

Almost before we knew it, Outreach Day was upon us. I couldn’t believe how quickly the weeks had passed! They seemed to have whizzed by. Nico and I had been rehearsing every possible moment that we could, either with Mr Leonardo or by ourselves. We were both determined to live up to our reputation of being quick studies, plus we really did want to demonstrate how exciting ballet could be. I kept thinking of Chloe’s friend Dominic who had complained that it was “all pink and pretty”. Nobody, but nobody, could say that about our Fandango! I was so glad, now, that that was what Mr Leonardo had picked me for, rather than a Little Swan. The Little Swans were cute, all dancing together on pointe, with linked arms, their heads bobbing up and down, but I could see that maybe, for the boys, it wouldn’t be macho enough. Not if they were into football, which most boys seem to be.

We all assembled in Studio One: sixteen of us dancers and twenty Year Eight pupils from the local school, mostly girls, though at a quick glance I counted seven boys among them. It was a comfort to know that they’d all volunteered and hadn’t been forced into coming, so hopefully that meant they would be enthusiastic.

First off we did half an hour of class, as planned. Mr Leonardo, who was the teacher taking us, asked if any of our visitors felt like having a turn at the barre. Two of the girls volunteered. One of them had obviously had a few ballet lessons and was anxious to show what she could do. The other one overbalanced attempting a plié and collapsed into embarrassed giggles. I thought it was quite brave of her to have tried. Pliés may look simple but they’re a bit more than an ordinary knees-bend. As she had discovered!

When we’d demonstrated what we did in class – every single day of our working lives, as Mr Leonardo impressed upon everyone – we prepared for our individual pieces. The Little Swans, the Trepak, the Czardas from Coppelia

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