Darcey Bussell - Rosa and the Golden Bird

To Phoebe and Zoe, as they are the inspiration behind Magic Ballerina.

Welome to the world of Enchantia!

I have always loved to dance. The captivating music and wonderful stories of ballet are so inspiring. So come with me and let’s follow Rosa on her magical adventures in Enchantia, where the stories of dance will take you on a very special journey.

p.s. Turn to the back to learn a special dance step from me…

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication To Phoebe and Zoe, as they are the inspiration behind Magic Ballerina.

Author’s notes Author’s notes Map Prologue 1. At the Theatre 2. Enchantia Again! 3. The Fairy’s Plan 4. Traps in the Trees 5. In the Clearing 6. Rescued! 7. The Firebird’s Feather 8. Second Chances Darcey’s Magical Masterclass Acknowledgements Copyright About the Publisher Welome to the world of Enchantia! I have always loved to dance. The captivating music and wonderful stories of ballet are so inspiring. So come with me and let’s follow Rosa on her magical adventures in Enchantia, where the stories of dance will take you on a very special journey. p.s. Turn to the back to learn a special dance step from me…

Map Map

Prologue

1. At the Theatre

2. Enchantia Again!

3. The Fairy’s Plan

4. Traps in the Trees

5. In the Clearing

6. Rescued!

7. The Firebird’s Feather

8. Second Chances

Darcey’s Magical Masterclass

Acknowledgements

Copyright

About the Publisher

In the soft, pale light, the girl stood with her head bent and her hands held lightly in front of her. There was a moment’s silence and then the first notes of the music began. For as long as the girl could remember music had seemed to tell her of another world – a magical, exciting world – that lay far, far away. She always felt if she could just close her eyes and lose herself, then she would get there. Maybe this time. As the music swirled inside her, she swept her arms above her head, rose on to her toes and began to dance…

Rosa Maitland sat in the darkened theatre, her eyes fixed on the stage as Cinderella and Prince Charming danced together. Cinderella spun round, moving lightly across the stage. The Prince leaped into the air before sweeping her into an embrace.

Rosa glanced at her mother sitting beside her in her wheelchair. There was a wistful look on her mum’s face and Rosa wondered if she was remembering when she had once been a ballerina and danced in theatres around the world, before she’d had the accident which had ended her dancing career.

“Isn’t this brilliant?” whispered Olivia, Rosa’s best friend, from the seat the other side.

Rosa nodded. It was the best birthday treat ever! Her mum had got the three of them tickets to see the Petrovski Ballet Company. Rosa watched as the Prince spun Cinderella round for a final time and then Cinderella curtseyed and everyone in the audience broke into a storm of applause.

One day that will be me! Rosa thought, clapping as hard as she could. She loved dancing and went to classes three times a week at Madame Za-Za’s ballet school. Her mum helped her practise between classes too.

And Rosa didn’t just dance in class and at home. She had a secret. She had a pair of red ballet shoes that were magic and whisked her away to the land of Enchantia, a place where all the characters from the ballets lived. Rosa had had an amazing adventure there recently and she really hoped she would go back again soon.

As the curtain fell for the last time, lights came up in the auditorium and one of the theatre staff came to help Rosa’s mum get her wheelchair out. All around them people started to stand up.

“That was amazing!” Olivia said as they all went out into the foyer. “Thank you so much for bringing me.”

Rosa’s mother smiled. “It’s a pleasure, Olivia. They’re a wonderful dance company. Their choreographer is Mikhail Gorbachevski. I danced with him many years ago.”

“Really!” Olivia’s eyes were wide. “Wow!”

“I’ll show you both some pictures when we get home,” said Mrs Maitland. “But first let’s find a taxi.”

Just as they reached the door of the theatre, Rosa heard someone call her mum’s name in a Russian accent. “Eleanore! Eleanore Maitland!”

Her mum looked round.

A tall, slim man with dark hair and a grey jacket was coming towards them through the crowds.

Rosa’s mother gasped. “Mikhail!”

The man took her hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “How wonderful to see you, Eleanore.”

“And you.” Rosa’s mother smiled. “Girls, this is Mikhail who I was just telling you about.” She turned back to the man. “Mikhail, this is my daughter, Rosa, and her friend, Olivia.”

“Your daughter.” Mikhail’s eyes swept over Rosa. “She looks like you, Eleanore.” He smiled at both the girls. “Did you enjoy the ballet?”

“Oh yes!” Rosa exclaimed. “It was brilliant!”

Olivia just nodded, seemingly lost for words at meeting such a famous ballet star.

“I want to be a ballerina one day,” Rosa told him.

Mikhail smiled at her. “Then I hope you are as talented as your mother. Maybe you will dance for me one day.” He looked at Mrs Maitland. “I would love to stay and catch up, Eleanore, but I have a meeting. Maybe you would like to bring the girls back to see The Firebird – the other ballet the company is performing? I can get you tickets.” He pulled a wallet out of his jacket pocket and took out a card with his name and telephone number on it. “Let me know when you would like to come, and I will make sure I am free to meet up afterwards.”

Rosa caught her breath. Now they would get to come to the ballet again! She turned to her mum in excitement. “Oh, wow! Wouldn’t that be…”

“It’s very kind of you, Mikhail,” her mum interrupted, “but I’m not sure we can manage it.”

Mikhail looked surprised. “But you must.”

Just then a taxi drew close. “Rosa could you get that taxi please?” Mrs Maitland said swiftly.

Wondering why her mum was being so strange, Rosa ran to ask the taxi driver to wait as her mum wheeled herself over.

“Here, let me help you,” offered Mikhail as the taxi driver came round to let down a ramp to get the wheelchair into the back.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” Rosa’s mother said abruptly.

Mikhail’s hands dropped from the chair.