Delphie and the Magic Ballet Shoes

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 (#ulink_766af75e-1431-5a20-8372-d7c1391ad311)

“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.