Marie has always wanted to be a ballerina but even she thinks the chances are slim. Chopin, who provides a commentary and the backing track to this very funny novel, is hilariously sceptical. Is he a ghost, an imaginary friend? No, he is in his own words - 'real, though as you know, I suffered a horrible death in Paris over a hundred years ago'. An absolute joy to read, I loved this book.
'Now, do you have a long dress to wear for the flower guard at the May Procession?'
'Yes Sister.'
'This dress wouldn't, by any chance, be that pink pioneer dress your mother made you?'
'Well, yes.'
'Don't you have anything else?'
I began to explain how my other long dress, that you couldn't even tell had once been a sheet, had been ripped to shreds when we had been chased by the wild pigs. But she cut me off. 'So, no other dresses, then?' I was engulfed by flaming embarrassment. As if it weren't obvious every day of the week, that fashion was not an affordable consideration for the House of Higginbottom. She looked around at the other girls, who were watching the scene unfold with smug interest. 'Are there any other girls who want to be in the May Procession?'
... I renewed my resolve to acquire an artistic temperament, like Chopin. Deep; quiet; capable of withstanding great suffering. But Chopin only laughed, proving once and for all that he was no saint.
