His Royal Ballerina

Chapter 1

“Watch me as I move!” Dame Petal ordered and stood on her toes. Her posture was perfectly elegant. She gently raised her hands and stopped midair when she noticed that Rose wasn’t paying attention.

“Rose!” she cleared her throat and called out in a stern voice.

Noticing the sudden silence in the room, Rose realised that she was in trouble again. She looked at the mirror opposite her and met Dame Petal’s icy gaze.

“Show them a passé,” Dame Petal commanded and moved from the centre as the rest fixed their eyes on her.

Rose had been practising ballet for a long time. She was but ten when her teacher, M.s Magnolia, sent her to live with Dame Petal in the Royal Ballet School. Eight years later she still hadn’t learned to dance her way to perfection.

Rose sighed as she grasped the ballet barre and looked at all the giggling faces in the mirror. She knew that just like any other day, something would inevitably go wrong and the whole class would burst into laughter.

“Please, not this time,” she prayed and dropped her hand from the ballet barre.

Dame petal and the whole class stared at her as she stood on one leg and slowly raised the other. Passé was a movement where the pointed foot of the working leg is made to pass the knee of the supporting leg.

Rose pointed her foot and with a deep breath managed to pass the knee of the supporting leg. She heaved a sigh of relief upon completing the move with ease. Just when she thought she had done it and turned to head back to her seat, Rose tripped and fell flat on the floor.

The whole class burst out laughing and Dame Petal hit her palm daintily with her head in disappointment. Rose had never perfected any of her moves. She would faultlessly always end up falling or doing the wrong step.

“Enough!” Dame petal shouted at the class and ordered everyone to leave. Everyone left the room giggling while Rose’s best friend Violet approached her and helped her get up.

“Are you hurt?” Violet asked her with a look of concern.

“Nah… I’m always fine,” Rose replied with a smile and got up.

“I don’t think you’re going to be fine for long,” Violet said as she noticed how briskly Dame Petal walked towards them. Violet signalled Rose to move quick but was too late.

“Not so fast,” Dame Petal ordered catching Rose’s arm.

“She will remain here and practice for an hour more,” she announced and asked Violet to leave the room.

Dame petal was a strict trainer. Having been a reputed ballerina herself, she expected every student from her school to master the art of ballet flawlessly. She had trained many ballerinas, earning herself a name and reputation in the wealthy and affluent society that she was unwilling to let a clumsy, graceless student by the name of Rose demolish.

Rose frowned as she found herself alone in the room, Dame Petal having just exited.

“Here we go again!” she muttered to herself and sat on the floor with her legs stretched out. She gazed towards the wall clock and sighed. She had to spend another hour in the room practising while her friends got to roam freely on campus.

“I’m not fit for this… Why can’t she understand?” she asked herself and pulled her ballet shoes from her feet. She pressed her feet to stretch and looked out the huge French window.

Rose was the kind of girl who gave up quite easily. She never did anything wholeheartedly and even if she did, she would leave it unfinished. Just like her dreams of becoming a famous ballerina.

She always imagined herself to be a beautiful, graceful and talented ballerina but no sooner had she got the opportunity than she felt it was not her cup of tea. Dame Petal, she assumed, was just hurrying in getting rid of what she thought was an obligation to train her.

Sitting in the empty room Rose glanced at the clock and soon a smile replaced her earlier frown. She got up ran towards the wall which housed the clock. An imp mischief in her eyes, she looked behind to see if Dame Petal was coming. Seeing no one in sight she cautiously climbed the ballet barre and balanced upon it.

“You will be running a bit fast,” she told the clock sofly and shifted the dials.

No sooner did she finish, and then she lost her balance yet again, slipping from the barre. She cursed it soundly and swore never to climb one again. As she got up, brushing herself off, she heard a heavenly melody being played from out the window.

It brightened Rose’s mood and all of a sudden she found herself tip-toeing and dancing all about the room, completely alone. Someone was playing the violin from outside, she reasoned. The music changed from a happy tune to a fierce tune, and then back again. Rose accorded her steps to the music, dancing her way towards the exit.

She picked up her ballet shoes and stopped suddenly, almost dropping them, when the music changed to a sad tune. The person whose music had earlier struck a chord of happiness so deep inside her was now playing a disturbingly haunted melody that unknowingly dug up a memory she had buried long back.

The composition was familiar for it had been one of her favourite songs that her teacher Ms Magnolia played for her during her days in the orphanage...

“Is Claire happy in her new home?” Rose asked Miss Magnolia with curiosity in her eyes.

“She has been adopted into a lovely family... Why wouldn’t she be happy?” Ms Magnolia asked and brushed the tips of Rose’s auburn hair.

Miss Magnolia was a young lady in her mid-twenties who had volunteered to teach the children in a local orphanage in France. She knew she would get nothing in return, but her love for children brought her to this place where she educated and took care of every child as her own, most especially Rose.

“Oh dear… your plait is all messed up,” Ms Magnolia exclaimed, frowning. So distracted had she been that she failed to notice she had wrongly twisted Rose’s hair.

“Leave it… just tie up my hair instead,” Rose suggested and removed the plaits with nimble fingers.

“Why do you give up so fast dear?” Miss Magnolia sighed, puzzled. Suddenly a knock sounded at the door and Ms Magnolia, unsatisfied and not receiving an answer, rose to answer it.

It was Mr Baxton, the owner of the orphanage. He was a short bulky man with a squint in his left eye. In his fifties, he spoke with the typical French accent.

“Why are you still here?” Mr Baxton scratched his unshaven chin and asked Ms Magnolia.

“If you haven’t forgotten, I stay with the kids every Wednesday night,” she reminded him and attempted to unsuccessfully shut the door.

“Oh really?” he stopped her from closing the door further by placing his foot in-between it and the doorframe.

Mr.Baxton craned his neck around the door and looked at Rose. “Get her ready, Ms Magnolia, she will be leaving tonight,” he said and walked down the creaky old stairs.

“I don’t want to go alone…” Rose whimpered, “Can’t they adopt you as well?” Rose hoped that she would say yes, but instead Magnolia just smiled and gently touched her nose.

“Let’s get you ready now,” she said softly and hesitantly dressed her up. Ms Magnolia was a bit suspicious at Mr. Baxon’s sudden appearance. He had told her that Rose’s foster parents would pick her up next week... not tonight! Why, she wondered, did he appear so puzzled on seeing her with Rose? And more important, why was Rose leaving now all of a sudden? Miss Magnolia wondered as Rose half-heartedly packed her bags.

“The bag isn’t closing… let’s leave the thing and go without it,” Rose suggested in irritation.

“Stay right here, and don’t leave the room until I come back,” Ms Magnolia ordered and left the room in haste.

Ms Magnolia wanted to speak to Mr. Baxton about this sudden change in plans. She was annoyed that he had not cared to tell her about the changes, and she wondered what would have happened had it not been a Wednesday. Would the man have sent Rose to live with her new foster parents without informing her? Miss Magnolia shuddered at the thought, and carefully descended the creaky old stairs.

When she reached the living room she stopped and noticed Mr Baxton talking to a stranger. The stranger was tall and well-built, leaning toward the larger side. He seemed rather drunk as he kept repeating his words, occasionally tripping over his own feet in front of Mr. Baxton.

Miss Magnolia gasped thinking, What business did a drunkard have in an orphanage at this time of night? Cautiously she leaned over to listen in. It seemed as if they were talking about buying something...

“I said eighty and eighty it will be!” the stranger yelled at Mr. Baxton.

“The word bargain isn’t in my dictionary,” Mr. Baxton replied laconically and continued, “I won’t reduce the price further.”

Price? ...What were they talking about? Ms Magnolia wondered, mulling over the conversation. The orphanage wasn’t doing well with the lack of charities. Did he intend on selling the plot? She decided to continue listening and see if she could find out. If he did plan on selling... she shuddered at the thought of what would happen to the poor children.

“Do you want me to leave?” the stranger demanded of him and tripped yet again.

“The price is the same… You want the girl, then take her. Or else I have other buyers who would be willing to pay more,” Mr. Baxton remarked and turned to leave the living room. His squinty eyes fell on Ms Magnolia who was frozen in shock upon realising his true intentions.

“Why you…” he started, but before he could complete his sentence Ms Magnolia raced up the stairs and closed the door behind her. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead as she caught her breath and briskly told Rose to jump from the window.

“What...? But Lucas injured himself when he did the same !” Rose protested as Ms Magnolia pushed the chairs near the door and caught Rose’s hand.

“We need to leave right now,” she informed Rose and jumped from the window, Rose clutched in her arms.

The height was not much, and so the pair landed safely on the road that ran behind the orphanage, apparently just in time. Just when Ms Magnolia landed, Mr. Baxton and the stranger pushed opened the door and saw the girl being sprinted away.

“Bring her back you thief,” Mr. Baxton yelled, disturbing all the stray dogs in the vicinity. They woke and howled as she and Rose ran down the empty street.

“Quick, Rose, get in the stagecoach,” Ms Magnolia bid her companion who obeyed silently.

“Hurry please! Take us to the station,” she roused the sleeping driver in a frenzy.

The shocked driver agreed drearily and rushed his stagecoach towards the railway station. Ms Magnolia composed herself with difficulty and looked across at Rose. Rose was quite petrified at seeing her teacher act in such a different and frightening manner.

Rose looked at her and asked innocently, “Why are we running from Mr. Baxton?”

Ms Magnolia remained silent, wondering how to tell Rose that Mr.Baxton had not planned to send her to a lovely home, but instead was selling her to a brothel agent. She gently patted Rose’s head and pulled her closer to her chest.

“My Rose, Mr. Baxton is not a good man. He fooled you, and me as well.” Hesitating, she wondered if she should speak the truth, and in the end, decided she may as well. Sadly she explained everything to Rose.

Rose was shocked at hearing the horrifying, if slightly moderated, truth. Silently, Ms Magnolia hugged her tightly while she shuddered at the thought of getting sold to a stranger. They arrived at the station and Ms Magnolia hastily got out of the stagecoach with Rose after paying the fare.

“Where are we going?” Rose raised her voice over the noise of the station at Ms Magnolia who took a ticket and headed towards the train.

“Not we dear, you.” She spoke softly and carried Rose inside the train.

Rose was stunned. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that she would travel alone without her dearest Ms Magnolia who meant everything to her. Rose cried, catching hold of Ms Magnolia’s dress and pleading with her not to leave her by herself.

“You won’t be alone for long, my dear,” Ms Magnolia said and handed over some money to her. She embraced Rose and said, “I am sending you to my sister, Petal. She will take care of you from now on.” She planted a soft kiss on Rose’s forehead.

“Let’s go together… Or he will hurt you too?” Rose protested as tears rolled down her soft cheeks.

“I can’t… Your friends in the orphanage need me,” Ms Magnolia reminded her and reluctantly loosened Rose’s grip.

Suddenly, she had an idea. “Here take this,” Ms Magnolia said removing a gold necklace from her neck. Held by the fragile links was a tiny golden pendant shaped like a pirouetting ballerina. “Look at it whenever you miss me,” she requested, placing it around Rose’s neck.

The train honked loudly and Ms Magnolia left, getting off the train, leaving Rose inside alone. Rose cried and waved goodbye to Ms Magnolia for the last time. She gripped the pendant like a lifeline, wondering if she would ever see her beloved teacher again.

The music stopped and so did the memories. Rose snapped out of her thoughts and realised she had been standing in the same position for quite some time. She felt the numbness in her feet as she walked out of the room. How strange that someone played a tune that was so dear to her. She stepped out of the school and looked all around the campus, wondering just where the song had come from.

“I was sure someone was out here...” she mused looking around campus. She searched and searched, finally glimpsing a stranger with shockingly blue-black hair passing around a corner. Grasped firmly in his hand was an elegant Violin.

Having always been the curious one, she raced after him with a surprising speed overtaking him just as he turned the corner. Coming to a halt just in front of him, she stared up at his face questioningly as he gazed back at her from an impressive height. He was obviously quite shocked.

“Hello… Was it you who played the Violin?” she raised her eyebrows and asked the stranger.

The stranger looked at his Violin and then around the campus and said, “Hmm… Since I don’t see anyone else, I dare say that it was indeed, me.”

Rose frowned and asked, “Do you know how painful your music was?”

“Painful?” he repeated and looked at her in astonishment.

“Yes painful! Not to the ears, of course, you play quite well. I meant the feeling you played it with.” When she saw his amusement she proceeded to explain, “The music had a lot of pain in it.” she added.

“Thank you. But do you mind telling me… what is pain?” he asked her with a calmly resolute expression.

“Huh? You don’t know what pain is?” she asked, puzzled.

The stranger just shrugged and stared at her blankly.

She wondered if he was teasing… How could someone not know what pain was? But then she got an idea. Smilingly she said, “Here give me your hand,” as she held out her own.

“W-what?” he stuttered. In his hesitation, she quickly grabbed his hand and reached behind her pulling a pin from her hair. Pulling his hand toward her, she quickly jabbed him with it.

“How about that?” she asked him expectantly.

“What?” he asked blankly, still confused.

“I pricked you… Can’t you feel the pain?” Rose asked uncertainly.

“I told you I can’t,” he smiled and withdrew his hand.

Just when he took his hand from hers, another stranger came around the corner. Obviously startled upon seeing the pair of them talking, he grabbed the black-haired man Rose was talking to by the shoulder and pulled him away from her. He was in his mid-forties, sporting the salt and pepper look perfectly with his lean but strong figure.

Looking at Rose, the newcomer yelled over his shoulder, “Just what do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Rose just stood there in utter confusion wondering just what it was that she had done. Moments later she looked up and saw the two men slowly fading into the distance and disappear.

Weird, she muttered to herself, turning back to head to the girl’s quarters to join her friends. She had no time to waste for it was risky to stay on the Royal Arts Academy campus for long. If Dame Petal found her wasting her time outside the school, she would surely make her practice more much longer than the extra hour of this afternoon…