Remembering the hours I used to queue to see Nureyev and Fonteyn dance together at The Royal Opera House, remembering watching them from high up in the Gods, often standing, watching the greatest art I had – or have – ever seen, I couldn’t help feeling he and his sublime partner should be buried side by side. Ridiculous, of course, since Fonteyn was married and lies with her Panamanian husband , Roberto Arias under a modest stone in a garden cemetery overlooking the Panama Canal. 

They are in death as they were in life: Rudi the fiery, tempestuous, Russian who flung himself into the arms of a Le Bourget airport policeman seeking sanctuary to avoid going back to Russia and Margot, The Royal Ballet”s most un-diva-like Prima Ballerina Assoluta, quiet Peggy Hookham from Reigate in Surry, galvanised into a dancing renaissance by the spectacular artistry and emotional depth of her flamboyant partner, 19 years her junior.

The last time I saw them dance together was in Romeo and Juliet. Fonteyn danced until she was almost 50 and played the fourteen-year-old Juliet with utter conviction partnered with what seemed like balletic telepathy by Nureyev.

I don’t believe there is a more romantic story than theirs.