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REPLAY: A celebration of Allison Baden-Clay’s life.

IN THE NEWSROOM:
Looking back over the life of Allison Baden-Clay with Amanda Lucas and Kate Kyriacou.

BALLET STAR: Allison Dickie (right). Pictures: Steve Pohlner
Source: The Courier-Mail

QUIET ACHIEVER: Allison Dickie. Pictures: Steve Pohlner
Source: The Courier-Mail

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THE little girl took her place in a sea of ballerinas, her hair tied back and her tiny feet neatly bound.

There were 200 of them – tiny dancers lined up in long rows of leotards and buns on the dusty wooden floor of a hall.

They faced off before five of the country’s most prestigious teachers, hoping those five sets of eyes would pick them out of the crowd.

She was only 10, but Allison Dickie – pretty as a picture – was already as professional as a seasoned dancer. She might have been nervous, but it never showed, and she limbered up in readiness for the audition.

The commands came swiftly, all in French, and the girls and boys danced in unison in groups of five or 10.

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They were vying for only 26 places and it was hard to stand out. But Allison did.

She was a quiet achiever; a talent who excelled at everything but lacked the confidence to recognise it.

At 43 – when her life was cut short by a killer – Allison Baden-Clay had been a ballerina, conquered six languages, risen through the ranks of the business world and mastered motherhood.

Australian Youth Ballet director Inara Svalbe will never forget the little girl who shone from the hundreds of hopefuls vying for a place in her troupe.

“She was one of the best we had,” she said. “She was just an angel – always pleasant, always did her best.”

They trained hard and travelled all over Australia and through the UK, packing elaborate costumes into bags with hair spray, leotards and pointe shoes.

Remembering a life lost – join us for a live stream of Allison Baden-Clay’s funeral as we pay tribute to her memory from 10.30am Friday

“We were all so excited,” fellow ballerina Krista Reeves said. “It was our first time overseas and we were only 10 or 11.”

They had a stopover in Bombay, where all the blonde girls had been told to wear beanies to cover their hair.

There had been warnings about the child slave trade, and blonde girls were a delicacy. The adults were taking no chances.

Beautiful Allison, with her long brunette locks, was free to wear her hair down, and the other girls stared on enviously as they sweltered in the Indian heat.

“I remember being in London and I’d had a huge fight with one of the girls,” Ms Reeves said.

“I’d stormed out of our dorm room with my bag and tramped down the hallway, yelling that I was going home.

“Allison was always the peacemaker. She ran after me, grabbed me by the arm and told me the other girl wasn’t worth all the worry.

“She convinced me to go back.”

Quiet, caring, talented, and a high achiever – they are words used to describe Allison as a little girl with the pressures of a professional dance company on her shoulders.

And they are the same words used to describe her as a woman, a colleague, a mother and a neighbour.

“She was always just so perfect,” Ms Reeves said.

“She was always there when someone was upset, she was the peacemaker when someone was fighting.

“Everyone loved her and wanted to be her.

“Nobody could understand why she stopped dancing. She would have been 16 or 17 and she just suddenly stopped. She didn’t believe in herself – maybe it was insecurity.”

Kirsten Willow, an old school friend, said Allison’s dancing prowess was well known at Ipswich Girls Grammar.

When the Rock Eisteddfod came to Queensland, both Allison and Kirsten were recruited to choreograph the school’s performance.

“The performance was called Fashion and we dressed as goons and danced to David Bowie,” she said. “She was absolutely wonderful on stage – really energetic and precise.

“She was never nervous about going on stage – she took everything in her stride.”

Ms Willow said Allison’s old classmates were devastated at the death of their deputy head girl.

“None of us can sleep,” she said. “We feel terrible for her parents and her family.

“We’re trying to work out whether we can do something, some sort of representation from the school.”

Flight Centre founder Graham Turner runs a business of 15,000 staff. In the 1990s, Allison was one of them.

She was hired as a travel consultant, her skills with languages and her travel experience making her a perfect fit for the job.

And just as she shone among 200 ballerinas, Allison again stood out from the thousands of travel consultants selling holidays for Mr Turner.

She was soon promoted to store manager, and worked her way up to become the national HR manager.

“I remember her quite well, as do a lot of people here,” Mr Turner said. “She was a quiet, high achiever.

“Her husband worked here too, of course – I presume they met here.

“Allison was one of those people that when we lost her, when she went on to do other things, we really felt the loss.”

Mr Turner said Flight Centre was in the process of setting up an internal online page for Allison, where her friends can post messages and photographs of her.

Flight Centre employee Sue Rennick was a close friend of Allison’s, and one of about 15 colleagues who went to her wedding.

The wedding was a “dry” event – creating a challenge for the Flight Centre social set.

“She was just beautiful, she was glowing on her wedding day,” Ms Rennick said.

“Al was a joy to work with – smart, hard working, extremely competent, kind and generous, fun, energetic.

“She always went out of her way to help others.”

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