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Currently touring the country whilst preparing a major new production, The Snow Queen, for its London debut in December, Klimentova, has temporarily escaped the rigours of theatrical digs and living out of a suitcase. She has taken her morning class at ENB’s headquarters in the shadow of Kensington’s Royal Albert Hall, and the luxury of a free afternoon stretches before her. “I love being at home,” she sighs contentedly, heading for her West London house which she shares with husband Ian ”Mup” Comer, whom she married in 1999, and daughter Sabina, 7. “No, I won’t be doing the ironing,” she replies before the question is asked. “I don’t wear shirts so I don’t iron them. And he doesn’t wash my knickers. I’ll pick up Sabina from school at 4:30,” goes on the super fit 36-year-old with a blissful smile of anticipation on her face, “and walk home through the park. She will tell me all about the little insects and creatures in the grass and it will take about an hour to get home even though it’s only a 5 minute walk.”

It sounds like the perfect antidote to dancing the title role in The Snow Queen created for her by choreographer Michael Corder. Having a three act ballet structured around one is the true mark of a ballerina. But for over a decade Klimentova’s many admirers have been frustrated at her apparent destiny of living in the shadow of ENB’s superstars Agnes Oaks and Thomas Edur. Today as the Latvian senior guest artists widen their activities abroad, Czech-born Klimentova with her dazzling technique apparently muzzled by misplaced modesty, is at last filling the vacuum centre stage.

“I’m not a natural exhibitionist,” she confesses. “I’d rather go on stage and nobody watch me.” There is a moment of deeply silent disbelief. “I’m in the wrong job, no?” Well, yes. But grinning she hurries on. “Once I get there I’m very happy that I managed it and made the people watch me – I’m mad, I know.” Lacking the Mick Jagger “look at me” stage personality and being so sincere about her work it sometimes hurts, Klimentova has earned the title of a dancer’s dancer.

“I have always tried to prove to myself I can be good,” she agrees. “I have never really wanted to be the star. Perhaps today is my turn. If you think about being number one all the time you can become very twisted. So many dancers do that and end up frustrated bitches. That’s not for me, thank you. I can see now how good I am too, depending on the time of the month.”

Just watching Klimentova’s face melt as she talks of her only child, the next question about more children is inevitable. “I must stop dancing when I have more children,” she insists. “The other dancers make fun of me because ever since I joined the company I say I’m going to stop. I said for years that 35 was my deadline. Now I am very sure I will stop when I’m 40. But who knows? For the last 2 years I’ve felt amazing, so strong and loving it so much.”

But the lure of the waiting Sabina is stronger still. “We eat supper at 6.30,” she says. “My Mum does the ironing and the cooking, she loves it so I let her do it for her own good, you see. Mup never cooks.” She goes on, “After we eat we play with Sabina and I’ll take her to bed around 10 pm. Sometimes I join her or go to my computer. I never watch television but Mup loves it,” she adds. “He sits in front of the set like this…” Then she assumes a gormless, vacant stare. All normal there, then. When we finish the interview, she asks `Did I disappoint you with my answers?` Fighting down the urge to giver her a good shaking, I paraphrase a current Eric Clapton song and tell her she was wonderful. What a complex and contradictory creation a dancer is. But with a talent like Klimentova’s, who cares?