Luna Tango

by Alli Sinclair

  ‘Carlos said he will be fine in the car.’

  Dani crossed her arms. ‘After years of absence I would hope you’d show more hospitality.’

  Iris pointed to the mug of tea. ‘What’s that then?’

  ‘Not enough.’

  Iris took another drag and breathed heavily through her nostrils. Smoke floated over to Dani and she coughed harder than she needed to.

  ‘Maybe Carlos would prefer to stay with us and talk longer,’ Iris said.

  The stalling tactic didn’t impress Dani. What kind of mother didn’t want to be alone with her daughter? A mother riddled with guilt, no doubt.

  ‘It is all right, Iris. I am tired. I need sleep.’ Carlos stretched his arms above his head and yawned.

  ‘Fine,’ said Iris, motioning with her cigarette to the front of the house. ‘The living room has a pull-out bed. Carlos can take that— for a short nap.’

  ‘Gracias.’ Carlos bent down and kissed Dani on the cheeks then turned to Iris, hesitating. He leant over with a stiff back and she turned her cheek to him so he could kiss it, then the other. He walked behind the chair where Iris sat and he stood in the doorway, held his hand over his heart and mouthed ‘Stay strong’ before blowing a kiss. She smiled and looked at the table.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Iris asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ They fell into silence as Carlos’s uneven footsteps and cane echoed down the hall. A series of squeaks reached the kitchen, signalling he’d found the sofa.

  Iris remained silent and Dani’s eyes travelled the room. Spotless, no clutter, not even a dirty dish in the sink. Getting up to look out the window to the backyard, Dani stared into the darkness, unable to make out much other than shadows of vines tied to posts. The peaks of the Andes dwarfed everything below, including Dani’s fragile self-esteem.

  ‘The elephant in the room wants to know how you found me.’ Iris lit another cigarette. She offered one to Dani, who shook her head and sat at the table.

  Sipping the cold tea, Dani said, ‘I remembered the corkboard in our kitchen.’

  ‘The one with the photos of Argentina?’ Iris’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly collided with her hairline. Dani had anticipated a long-winded conversation to remind Iris about the pictures, so it surprised her when she recalled it straight away.

  ‘Yes, and after I spoke with Diego—’

  ‘Diego Alonso?’ Iris’s eyes grew wide. ‘What did the bastard say?’

  ‘He said lots but that’s not why I’m here. Please, can we just concentrate on you and me?’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. I owe you that much.’ Iris’s tone was low and she fiddled with the table’s edge, the cigarette burning dangerously close to her fingers.

  ‘You owe me so much more,’ Dani said under her breath.

  ‘What did you say?’ Iris pursed her lips.

  ‘Nothing.’ Dani tried to remain calm, even though she wanted to yell, cry and lie on the floor and have a hissy fit like a two-year-old, but Carlos’s presence at the end of the house kept her under control. Him banging on about the importance of family had rubbed off, a sure-fire sign he was getting further under her skin.

  ‘Did you say I owe—’

  ‘Forget it,’ Dani said, rubbing her forehead. The tightrope they balanced on shook under the weight of decades old emotions and the slightest misplaced step would send them toppling into unknown depths. ‘So I recalled a photo of a house in Argentina’s wine regions.’

  ‘It wasn’t this one.’ Iris’s eyes darted around the room.

  ‘I know, but I remember you standing in front of the board, pots boiling over, and you’d sigh and mumble about how one day you were going to live your dream. I guess you did it.’

  ‘At great expense.’

  Dani bit her lip and eyed the cornice at the far end of the room.

  Iris sipped her tea and said, ‘I dreamt about the day I could live a simple life in a valley. After I became famous, the dream house was the perfect way to escape the media and paparazzi. And men.’ She sucked on the cigarette and blew the smoke away from Dani. ‘I’ve had my fair share of romances, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve learnt I can only trust myself.’

  ‘So you’re proud of everything you’ve done?’ The edge to Dani’s tone warned her to keep cool if she wanted this meeting to continue.

  ‘No, of course not. Daniela—’

  ‘Call me Dani.’

  ‘But Carlos calls you—’

  ‘I’d prefer you to call me Dani.’

  ‘All right, whatever you want. I don’t want to upset you.’

  ‘It’s too late for that.’ Bitterness surged through her. ‘Why did I have to almost bash the door down before you let me in?’

  ‘Danie—’ she paused. ‘Dani, you caught me by surprise. I didn’t know how to react. Still don’t. I’ve been a terrible person and I’m sorry for all I’ve put you through—’

  ‘I don’t want apologies. Really, I don’t.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Iris’s wide eyes were pools of fear.

  ‘I—shit, I don’t know, but you do have a lot to answer for.’

  ‘I’m not the ogre you’re making me out to be. You’re an adult now, you’re responsible for your own actions and you’re the one who found me, not the other way around.’

  ‘You have no right to get indignant. You broke my heart. You broke my father’s heart.’

  ‘Dani, it is life.’

  ‘You killed him!’ Dani jumped up and slammed her fist on the table. The pain in her hand didn’t outweigh the emotional hurt.

  Iris closed her eyes and bowed her head. ‘I can understand how you see it that way but you’re wrong. No one dies of a broken heart.’

  ‘They do! I only came here because I saw the mothers of the desaparecidos at the Casa Rosada. They’ve spent their lives looking for children they’ll never find and here I was, in the same country as my mother and not wanting to make contact ...’ Dani sat down heavily in the chair.

  Iris looked up with glassy eyes. ‘Oh yes, those poor, poor women.’

  ‘Didn’t they make you want to find me?’ Her shoulders tensed and a pain seared her temples.

  ‘You’re better off without me.’

  ‘But you gave birth to me!’

  ‘Yes, but I imagined you with a happy life and living out your dreams. Who was I to barge in and dredge up painful memories?’ She leant forwards and butted out the cigarette in the abalone shell that served as an ashtray.

  ‘You’re my mother! We have a connection even if we don’t see each other!’ As Dani screamed, searing pain shot up her throat.

  Iris picked at imaginary lint on her shirt. ‘I once felt the same way about my mother.’

  ‘Then you know exactly what I’m going through. Why would you treat me this way?’ She massaged her throbbing temples.

  Iris’s shoulders slumped. ‘I had an awful childhood.’

  ‘And mine was full of fairies and ice-cream? You left me with the woman who’d made your life miserable. Why would it be any different for me?’ She let her hands drop to her sides and stared her mother down.

  ‘From the minute you were born, she doted on you.’

  ‘I rarely saw that.’

  ‘She loves you, believe me.’

  ‘Well, she doesn’t care for me any more. We’re not talking.’ What would Stella say if she could see Dani now?

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I broke a promise.’ Not one of your finest moments, McKenna.

  ‘Because of me?’ Iris sat up straight and tilted her head.

  ‘I can see nothing’s changed. It’s always about you.’ Standing, Dani said, ‘This isn’t going to work. No point in dragging it out. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.’

  Iris stood and took Dani’s hand. ‘Don’t go. Please, let me explain.’

  ‘Yet you couldn’t wait to get rid of me a few minutes ago.’ Dani wrenched her hand away and grabbed her bag. ‘Obviously you knew how to love some people as
if they were your children.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Carlos and Cecilia. Apparently you were a mother figure to them.’

  ‘By the time they arrived in my life I’d done a lot of reflecting on past decisions. I was buried under a pile of regret and I guess I offered them the love you never had. It was misplaced, that’s all.’ The way Iris spoke, it didn’t sound like she was looking for sympathy, just relaying her deepest emotions.

  ‘Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I’ve heard enough, thanks.’ Dani marched towards the door and Iris ran forwards, blocking her path.

  ‘Please, don’t go!’ Desperation shone in her eyes. ‘I want to talk. I want to find out how you are doing.’

  ‘How do you think I’m doing?’ Dani’s shoulder muscles tensed and didn’t relax.

  ‘Please.’ Iris motioned to the chair. ‘Stay longer.’

  Dani glanced at the wooden seat.

  ‘You’ve come all this way. I can only imagine the torment you’ve gone through. Don’t you owe it to yourself to hear what I have to say then decide what you want to do?’

  Oh, she was good. Although, she did have a point. Damn it.

  ‘Why didn’t you want me?’ If Dani’s question surprised Iris, she didn’t let on.

  ‘I did want you, Dani. Please understand, there were bigger forces at play. Tango injected a life force into me—one that had been sucked out when I was a child. When I danced I felt powerful and loved.’

  ‘The love of a five-year-old child and a husband wasn’t enough?’

  She shook her head, a lone tear running down her face. ‘No, I’m afraid it wasn’t. Just know I’ve never stopped loving you.’

  ‘I hope you’re not saying this just because I’m in your kitchen.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I want to repair our broken bridge.’ Iris’s voice trembled.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s possible.’

  ‘I hope so, Dani, I really do.’ Iris reached out for Dani’s hand but hesitated, then pulled it back.

  ‘I’m still processing,’ Dani said, wanting to avoid this subject for fear she’d dissolve into a blubbering mess. ‘What about Stella?’

  ‘I’m not sure that relationship is salvageable. I’ve hurt her, just as she’s hurt me.’

  ‘You don’t know until you try. Unless you don’t want to.’ Iris flinched and Dani knew her loaded words had hit the mark.

  ‘I would love to mend the relationship between me and Stella but there are some things I need to work out first.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘When I was eight, Stella took off. I woke one morning to find she’d gone to Europe and left me with a family friend.’

  ‘You knew what it felt like to be deserted by your own mother, yet you did the same to me? At least Stella returned.’ Dani clenched her fist, overcome with the need to bash something. Hard.

  ‘You have every right to be angry. No mother should do that a child.’

  ‘But you did it.’

  ‘Please, let me finish. After she returned from Europe, she was a shell of her former self. She barely spoke, never left the house, and locked herself in a darkened bedroom. I’d sit outside the door and listen to her sob uncontrollably, mumbling in a language I’d never heard before.’

  ‘What language?’

  ‘I didn’t know it at the time, but I’m now convinced it was Spanish.’

  Iris’s words echoed in the silent kitchen. A tap dripped and a staccato of snores drifted up the hall.

  ‘How would she know Spanish?’ Dani asked, certain she could answer the question herself.

  ‘I have no idea. All I remember from the moment she returned from Europe was Stella pushing me hard to be independent. It was like she’d lost affection for me and all she did was force me to only rely on myself.’ Iris stared out the window, appearing to be lost in a moment she’d rather forget. Sitting at the table, she lit another cigarette and refused to look Dani in the eyes. ‘I’ve said too much.’

  ‘If you really love me and want to make amends, then you need to trust me.’ Dani stood and walked to the door. She could start a new argument about how she’d been forced into independence when Iris left, but what was the point? Her mother was an unreasonable, selfish person and if Stella had set out to force her daughter to be independent, then she’d done a mighty fine job. Relief washed over Dani now that she didn’t have to put herself through the emotional wringer any more. She shouldn’t have listened to Carlos and his grandiose ideas about family.

  ‘Dani, please—’

  ‘No.’ She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and headed for the front door, ready to wake Carlos on the way out.

  ‘Listen, Dani, please. I do trust you. Here, I’ll prove it.’ Iris’s voice echoed up the hall and Dani halted her steps, not sure which way to turn.

  ‘Please, Dani. Just look at this and if you choose to leave after, I will understand.’

  That stupid cat Curiosity nudged Dani down the hall and back to the kitchen. Iris sat at the table and held up a thick manila folder, which she plonked on the table, making the crockery and cutlery rattle. ‘No one can know about this, not even your boyfriend Carlos.’

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend.’

  ‘Lover then.’ Iris waved her hand.

  ‘He’s—’

  ‘Dani, it doesn’t matter.’ She flicked open the manila file and pulled out a black and white photo with a post-it note stuck on the top. Scribbled in unfamiliar writing was Stella’s current address.

  ‘You have her details?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But she only moved a few months ago.’

  ‘Dani, you don’t become as rich as me and not find ways to access information. Everything has a price.’

  Dani lifted the post-it note to reveal the exact same photo she’d seen at Carlos’s dance studio the first night they’d met. Man, that was a lifetime ago. She stared at the image of Louisa Gilchrist with her soft eyes and warm smile conveying the woman’s loving nature. A complete contrast to the scowling Eduardo Canziani seated in front.

  ‘I’ve seen this before.’ Dani pressed down the post-it and handed it back.

  ‘Where?’

  Dani reached into her bag and pulled out the photocopy. She placed it on the table and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Why do you have this?’ Iris asked, not taking her eyes off the identical images.

  ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘I think you and I both know the truth.’

  CHAPTER

  21

  The tiny kitchen closed in on Dani. ‘What do you mean “know the truth”?’

  ‘That Stella and Louisa Gilchrist are one and the same.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘It’s not every day you come across someone who has the same nose and eyes as us. Not in this combination anyway.’ Iris pointed at the images lying on the table. ‘Have you mentioned anything to Carlos?’

  ‘Definitely not. He has a stringent view on Argentines sorting out their own messes, including solving the Canziani case.’

  A small smile reached Iris’s rosy lips. ‘He’s always been patriotic. And pig-headed.’ She placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands.

  ‘Why did you retire?’ Dani blurted out, trying to prioritise the zillions of questions buzzing through her mind.

  ‘I hadn’t intended on retiring early but I had to because of this.’ She nodded towards the file lying innocently on the wooden table.

  ‘Why? I thought tango was your passion, your life.’

  ‘It’s a love, yes, but the passion has gone.’

  ‘So you left your daughter to pursue a career that you then ditch because of some cold case?’

  ‘It’s not so simple. Anyway, the theatre is no place for a child to grow up.’ She lit another cigarette and a sigh rode along the smoke cloud.

  ‘It was good enough for Carlos. He turned out all right.’ Sure, he was prone to mood swings, but tha
t was a result of the accident, not his childhood surrounded by show business.

  ‘Yes, he did, but at the time I didn’t want to risk subjecting you to a world I was only beginning to comprehend. You needed stability and I couldn’t give you that.’

  ‘If you’d stayed you could have.’

  ‘I couldn’t, Dani. I tried but I just—I didn’t set out to hurt anyone.’

  ‘Well, you did.’

  ‘I know.’ She lowered her eyes.

  The room fell silent again, the only noise the creaking of the chairs as they shifted their weight. This was the perfect opportunity to ask anything she wanted, but not a single question formed on Dani’s tongue.

  ‘I’d like you to look at this.’ Iris sniffed then flicked through a stack of photocopied newspaper clippings. She handed them to Dani. They were from 1954, 1966, 1986 and 1996 and commemorated an anniversary of Eduardo Canziani’s death.

  She looked up. ‘So?’

  ‘This too.’ Iris reached for the yellowed pages and unfolded them with great care. The letters were written in Spanish and addressed to Querida Lunita.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘I found these years ago in your grandmother’s possessions when I was putting away her laundry one day.’

  ‘Did you say anything to her?’

  ‘I tried talking to her but she wouldn’t have a bar of it. She told me it was old junk that was left in a second-hand chest of drawers she’d bought.’

  ‘So why didn’t she chuck them?’

  ‘My question exactly. Look at this.’ Iris pulled out more paper and unfolded a few sheets. ‘The writer talks about how their life resembles the tango songs of woe that he writes. He talks about leaving Argentina with her and living in their own paradise. He calls her his little moon and goes on about the stars losing their lustre when he’s not with her. All very romantic but the author never signed the letters. And look at this.’ Iris reached for a plastic bag and unfolded the first page of a musical score.

  ‘“Luna Tango”?’ asked Dani. ‘So these are copies, right? Where are the originals?’

  Iris shrugged. ‘No idea. When I first found the papers she denied it and left them in the same place I found them. I think she was trying to give the impression she didn’t care but I didn’t buy it. I snuck them out and photocopied them just in case she ever decided to dispose of them.’