When people talk about the perfect couple, you know what they mean. Two individuals so well suited that they finish each other’s sentences and seem to broadcast on the same wavelength. It’s not only romantic, it’s a comforting affirmation of our fanciful notions about love and devotion. But when the perfect couple are up there on stage, dancing in complete harmony and with glowing intimacy, the effect is almost eerie.

That’s how it feels watching Thomas Edur and Agnes Oaks, English National Ballet’s star duo. Off stage they are husband and wife; on stage their magical rapport goes way beyond the usual partnership. Their training and artistry are born of the same impulse, their bodies are an ideal fit (right height, right proportions), and the symbiosis of their artistry is uncanny. I can’t think of a partnership in Britain today that even comes close.

Next week their unique chemistry will be showcased when English National Ballet presents Strictly Gershwin, a new song-and-dance extravaganza at the Albert Hall. The production will give Edur and Oaks the chance to relive the old-style glamour of Astaire and Rogers in their Hollywood heyday, an opportunity to cut loose in something less conventional than their usual classical diet.

Giselle and Albrecht, Odette and Siegfried, Juliet and Romeo, the Sleeping Beauty and her Prince – Oaks and Edur have danced them all during their long association with ENB. “On stage we can surprise each other,” Oaks says. “I don’t see him as Thomas. I ask myself, ‘Did he really do that?’ I like the strange moments that you don’t expect from each other. What is wonderful is when we go on stage to be someone else. It’s every dancer’s passion, and I think it helps our marriage.”

That they are a package deal is both their strength and their weakness. For better or worse, their careers are dependent on each other. “It probably has hurt us,” Oaks admits. “Especially Thomas, because male dancers are more valuable and there aren’t that many good ones around. Without me, he would have reached more places.”

The two have been dancing together for 20 years, ever since they were paired at school in their native Estonia; they have been married for 18 of those years. They landed in England in 1990, having been offered jobs by English National Ballet. Ivan Nagy, the company’s then director, spotted the couple at the international ballet competition in Jackson, Mississippi, where Oaks and Edur were part of the first wave of dancers to flee the collapsing Soviet Union.

Edur, now 39, arrived like a fully-formed prince, with the purest of techniques and a divinely noble stage presence.

Oaks, 38, took a little longer to warm up, but when she did we discovered a 19th-century balle-rina in a 20th-century body who could light up the classics in ways many of today’s dancers simply can’t relate to.

Behind the scenes, they will tell you, she organises his life while he stops her becoming too neurotic. They both wear the tights in their relationship, though a little healthy disagreement seems to act as a spousal tonic. “Sometimes we get sick of each other,” Edur starts by saying. “Sometimes it can be very annoying because we are such perfectionists,” Oaks continues, “and we like to argue about the nitty gritty of our work. But we love dancing together so we have to ignore the stupidity.”

Oaks and Edur are lucky. Most dancers don’t have the luxury of always choosing their partners on stage, and when issues of trust and intimacy are crucial (just imagine how a ballerina feels, perched in a precarious balance over her prince’s head), not having the right partner can be a real drawback. “There are people who actually dislike dancing with each other, yet they have to pretend they are in love,” Oaks says. “Can you imagine how painful it is to dance Romeo and Juliet if you can’t even say hello to each other? It’s quite common; you’d be surprised.”

The couple are currently in rehearsals for Strictly Gershwin. They are dancing two numbers: Summertime and The Man I Love. “It’s the perfect piece for us,” Oaks says of the latter, “because it is us. As a show it should be incredible and it’s fantastic to be part of something we’ve never done before, something much more fun.”

Strictly Gershwin features new choreography by Derek Deane set to the composer’s well-loved tunes. Ballet, ballroom, tap: it’s designed to appeal to the same audience that has come to dance through television shows such as Strictly Come Dancing. With more than 4,300 seats to sell at every performance – the Albert Hall is the biggest dance venue in London – accessibility is the name of the game.

English National Ballet has cornered the market on big ballet in the Albert Hall; Deane’s in-the-round staging of Swan Lakeis one of the most successful productions in the company’s history. “ Strictly Gershwin is a show, it’s not Swan Lake,” Edur says. Should the company be doing something so blatantly commercial? “Well, why not? Derek is one of the best classical choreographers around and he has such good taste.

“Besides, we love dancing in the Albert Hall,” he adds. “The aura of the building makes it special and there is no orchestra between you and the public. With thousands and thousands of eyes watching you the performance becomes so alive.”

Perhaps because life at ENB, Britain’s second biggest ballet company, has had its ups and downs, Oaks and Edur haven’t generated the kind of fame buzz they deserve. “We’ve gone through a few unlucky grey patches,” Edur admits, referring to the financial difficulties that have plagued the company at various points in the past 18 years. Losing the performing rights to Onegin (it went to the Royal Ballet instead) was a blow for the couple, who had hoped to star in John Cranko’s emotional rollercoaster of a ballet. The cancellation of La Sylphide, axed for financial reasons, hurt too. And the year that Oaks and Edur spent with Birmingham Royal Ballet in the mid1990s was a mistake that’s quickly glossed over.

In addition to Strictly Gershwin, they are looking forward to a short season at the Festival Hall in July (they are dancing in David Dawson’s A Million Kisses to my Skin) and, further ahead, have their hopes set on Manon, which opens in Bristol in October. A fabulously sensual tragedy about a courtesan and her poet lover in Regency Paris, it has been in the Royal Ballet repertoire for more than 30 years but is only now coming to ENB. Kenneth MacMillan’s ballet offers some of the most sensational choreographic couplings written, and for Oaks and Edur these are dream roles.

Every now and then they guest in Estonia, and not surprisingly find their homeland much changed from the repressive Soviet ethos of their youth. “Now when I look at Estonia it’s like any European country,” Edur says. “It’s difficult for you to understand what it meant for us to come here when we did. Tallinn wasn’t at all Western; it didn’t have shops like the West. Now it’s developed so quickly and there are so many rich people. But Estonia has lost something. People used to be spiritually more generous, now everyone is more money-orientated.”

Oaks sees the same problem in a wider context. “People don’t respect each other any more,” she says. “I suppose you could say that our belief systems are old-fashioned for the society we are living in.”

Yet Edur, as gentlemanly in real life as he is on stage, is grateful for the values that have shaped his career. “What I learnt in school is unbelievable; the emotional and artistic development has carried me through life. I still have something to give because of how I was educated in Estonia.”

Strictly Gershwin, Albert Hall, London SW7 (www.royalalberthall.com), Jun 13-22 2008; English National Ballet, Festival Hall, London SE1 (www.ballet.org.uk), Jul 2-5 2008

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