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      First published in Great Britain 2017

      by Egmont UK Limited

      The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

      Text copyright © 2017 Beautiful Movements Ltd

      Cover illustration copyright © 2017 Beautiful Movements Ltd

      The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted

      First e-book edition 2017

      ISBN 978 1 4052 8717 3

      Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1792 2

       www.egmont.co.uk

      A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

      Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

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       To Ms Jo, Ms Stephanie, Ms Bonnie, Ms Heidi, Ms Kathy and the WODA family

      CONTENTS

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Dedication

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       THE PERFORMANCE

       Back series promotional page

      ‘Five, six, seven, eight . . . ’ Billie held her partner tightly as she leaned into an arabesque. In her mind she was beneath a golden spotlight at the Royal Opera House with the famous ballet dancer, Rudolph Nureyev. In reality she was dancing beneath a flickering strip light in an office building . . . with a bin. ‘Drop, six, seven, eight.’ She lowered the wastepaper basket and tipped its contents into the huge bin bag at her feet. Dancing around was the only thing that made helping out at her mum’s cleaning job bearable. At the other end of the office, Billie’s mum, her golden hair tied back in a red bandana, was humming her favourite Jill Scott song, ‘A Long Walk’. The regulars in the cafe where Billie’s mum worked called her ‘the songbird’. Her mum loved singing as much as Billie loved dancing, and it helped her in the same way, too.

      Billie squirted some polish on the desk in front of her. She wondered if the people who worked in this office ever thought about who cleaned up after them every night. She doubted it. She rubbed the polish into the desk until all the rings from the coffee cups had disappeared and the wood began to shine. As she polished, her mind returned to her feet and she ran through a sequence of steps in time to the song her mum was singing. This was how it always was – her mind constantly being pulled back to dance. As she pushed a wheeled chair back into place, she pretended it was Nureyev, holding her tight, about to raise her into the most beautiful lift the ballet world had ever seen. Higher and higher and . . . CRASH. The wheels on Chair-Nureyev buckled and it collided with the desk.

      ‘Careful!’ her mum called. ‘You don’t want to injure yourself the night before your big audition.’

      Billie gulped. For a brief moment she’d managed to forget about the audition. What if she messed up? What if she didn’t make it? What if her dream came to nothing?

      ‘Uh-oh.’ Kate came down the office dragging a vacuum cleaner behind her. ‘Looks like someone’s having an attack of the what-ifs.’

      Billie couldn’t help laughing. Her mum could read her like a book – even from the other end of an office. And it worked both ways. It had been just the two of them for so long that they knew each other inside out. Like right now, Billie could tell her mum was more tired than usual because the shadows under her eyes were a few shades darker.

      She took a deep breath. She couldn’t let her mum see her fear, not when she was under so much pressure herself. Billie needed to stay strong. She needed to change the what-ifs in her mind to I-cans. I can pass the audition. I can dance well enough. I can do it.

      ‘You’re going to be amazing, sweetheart,’ Kate said, putting her arm round Billie’s shoulders.

      Billie leaned into her. ‘I can’t believe it’s tomorrow. For ages it felt like it was never going to happen and now . . .’

      ‘I know. All of a sudden it’s here.’

      Billie had applied to audition for WEDA – the World Elite Dance Academy – back in January. Her audition letter had arrived in February and had been pinned to the board in their kitchen ever since. It was now the middle of May.

      ‘Come on,’ her mum said. ‘Let’s get this floor hoovered and get out of here. We have a surprise guest coming for dinner.’

      ‘Who?’ Billie stared at her. ‘Not Uncle Charlie?’

      Kate nodded and grinned.

      ‘But I thought he wasn’t back from Vietnam till next month!’

      ‘He wasn’t supposed to be. But he decided to come home early so he could wish his favourite niece good luck.’

      ‘That’s amazing!’ Aside from her mum, her Uncle Charlie was Billie’s favourite human being

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