The Tango

by Cain Hopwood

  Fay looked at Simon, and then back at Daryl. “We could always find you another dancer. Jade isn’t the only tanguera in town is she Simon.”

  Simon looked over his shoulder at the door. “You don’t mean me!”

  “I do,” Fay said putting on her ballet mistress voice. “And don’t you play coy with me, I know for a fact that you didn’t just study journalism when you were in Sydney. I know about three two tango.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course, I know people in Sydney. And strange though it may seem, lots of people in all varieties of dance.”

  “But I never taught, I have no qualifications.”

  Fay folded her arms. “And what qualifications do you think Izzy Melia has? And has that stopped her. Do you know Jade’s routine?”

  “I think so, I’ve been to most of the rehearsals. Daryl has it down pat anyway, so he can fill in any holes. But who do we partner him with? Unless you know any other secret tango dancers in town.”

  Fay winked. “I told you I know people. So, you worry about Daryl’s form and movement. Let me worry about finding him a partner. I’ve got someone specific in mind, but she’ll have to travel and will probably only be available for the show itself.”

  Simon turned to Daryl. “What do you think about this?”

  Daryl had brightened. “Sure mate, look if anyone can pull it off it’s you.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence but…”

  “I mean it Simon,” Daryl said and stood up. “You’ve been here every step of the way. You showed me how to lead an ocho properly in Canberra remember. And I’ve done all the hard work to learn the routine. We just gotta polish it now.”

  Simon rubbed one cheek. “It’ll take more than just spit and polish. You’ve got to do it with a partner whom you’ve never danced with before. Your leading has to be spot on, you won’t be able to rely on her knowing the steps.”

  Daryl puffed his chest out. “Well it’s lucky Jade’s spent so much time on that lately then.”

  Simon curled up one corner of his mouth. “Ok smart arse, let’s see how good you are. Fay, if you will.” He swept his hand, palm upwards towards Daryl. Fay nodded, walked over and settled into Daryl’s embrace. Simon strode across to the CD player, found Jades practice CD and put it on. Before he pressed play he thought for a second.

  “Daryl, we’ll work out how we’ll do the entrance later with this mystery dancer. So just stand here for the first eight bars, and begin dancing where you normally would.”

  Daryl nodded, and Simon hit the play button.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Well folks, once again it’s Wednesday afternoon and we’re speaking with the man in the know, the man with his ear to the ground with the celebs and the dancers, Simon Travis. Simon, how are things this week?”

  “Alfie, I have to say it’s been a crazy week, I don’t know where to begin.”

  “How about you start with the most shocking news, what’s this about a dancer quitting?”

  “It’s terrible news indeed Alfie. But you realise that it’s all your fault.”

  “What?”

  “It is. If you hadn’t have got us those tickets to Scorched Floor…”

  “OK, OK, I see where you’re going, but how about you fill the listeners in.”

  “Well as you know, Jade and Daryl were the chosen date for one of the winners. After the show we chatted to the director, who told us he had an injured performer. Well, one thing let to another.”

  “So Jade got a job offer.”

  “More of a temp role, but it’s with a touring New York ballet company.”

  “Now I don’t know the world of dance like you do, but I’m guessing that is not something you’d turn down.”

  “No Alfie it’s not. Let me put it in radio terms for you. That’s like the head of 2GB calling you up and asking you, Alfie, to fill in for Alan Jones for a couple of weeks cos he’s got a touch of strep throat.”

  “So she’s upped stumps then?”

  “She has. But before the phones light up, that’s something AJ would say right Alfie?”

  “Ha ha, yes it is.”

  “Don’t worry folks we have everything under control. Fay Ellis knows a mystery tango dancer who will take over from Jade.”

  “And who is that Simon, anyone we know?”

  “It’s a mystery Alfie.”

  “We don’t know anything?”

  “Nope, Fay is being very… well she’s being very mysterious about who this tango dancer is. All she’s said is that she has to travel to make the show.“

  “So someone from Sydney then?”

  “That’s a good bet. I’d imagine someone well known. And, as it’s a last minute thing, Daryl will have to dance with her cold, no rehearsal. That’s scary stuff.”

  “Well, you heard it here first folks, first the legend David Ellis comes out of retirement for this show. And now this, a mysterious outsider will be dancing the tango with our own local Galah hero, Daryl McKenna. So what else do we have Simon?”

  “The other big news is that the show has completely sold out.”

  “So I heard Simon, and I also heard that there was a bit of an incident at old Fatty’s a couple of weeks ago.”

  “There was, let’s just say that it’s best not to ask old Fatty for a ticket unless you want to get beaten about the head with a sausage.”

  “A very tasty sausage though Simon.”

  “That’s true Alfie. I wouldn’t eat any others.”

  “So, what are people to do if they want to see the show?”

  “There’s not much they can do. The community hall’s only fire rated for five hundred and fifty people, so we can’t just print more tickets. All I can suggest is that they find someone with a ticket and make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

  “Do you have any tickets Simon?”

  “If I did Alfie, I wouldn’t be telling you about it on air.”

  “That bad huh?”

  “Just wait till the last week Alfie, that’s when the CWA usually sell the majority of the tickets to their shows. There’s going to be a lot of frustrated people, but we’ll be selling a DVD afterwards.”

  “So no need for violence then.”

  “Definitely not Alfie. But you know Galah and Berooma…”

  “OK, well you heard it here first folks. Don’t kill each other for tickets, wait for the DVD instead. Thanks to Simon, who will be back again this time next Wednesday.”

  Betty got up and turned the radio down. “I thought Alfie’s show was live.”

  “It is normally,” Simon said. “But he’s off today so we recorded that yesterday evening.”

  Betty nodded. “You did that plug for old Fatty nicely, that should help getting him back on side”

  “It made me feel a bit dirty, but for Alfie it was all just water off a duck’s back.”

  “Well, hopefully we can get the sausage sponsorship back, otherwise we might have to actually pay for something.”

  “God forbid, the CWA pulling out the cheque book,” Simon said in a faux dramatic tone.

  Betty pouted, “We like to save our money for the cause itself. People are forgetting that this is not just about dancing and a show and all the spectacle associated with it, this is about getting that chemotherapy machine for the hospital.”

  “I get it Betty,” Simon said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “You’re right though, this whole thing has taken on a life of its own. Frankly it’s become a bit scary.”

  Betty flopped back down in her chair. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll be pleased when this is all over.”

  “Only two weeks to go,” Simon said. “And we get our lives back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Simon had been meaning to drop in on Fatty and Lilly’s ballet rehearsals since the beginning. But they rehearsed early on Wednesday evening and he never seemed to make it back from the radio spot with Alfie in time to catch their rehearsal.


  Today though was different. Because he’d pre recorded the radio spot earlier, he had the whole of Wednesday evening free.

  Miss Laura’s studio adjoined her rambling old house on the edge of town. Everybody in town up to and including the mayor called Miss Laura, ‘Miss Laura’. It didn’t matter whether they’d danced with her as a student or not. She taught ballet, and only ballet. She had a very traditional, in other words stern, approach to teaching.

  Simon couldn’t recall ever actually coming to her studio, or her house for that matter. He’d always only ever danced with Fay, so he figured that it would be best to knock on the house door and say hello to Miss Laura first.

  “Simon, it is good to see you. I was wondering when you’d come to see how Fatty and our Lilly are making out.” She ushered him in the front door and beckoned him to follow her down the hall.

  “I’ve been planning to, but their rehearsal clashes with the weekly promotional radio spot.”

  “I thought it would be something like that,” she said, opening the door at the end of the hall. “They’re in the studio, go on through.”

  “You’re not joining us?”

  “Oh No. It wouldn’t be proper. I am one of the judges you know, and the last thing I would want is any suggestion of impropriety, or favouritism.”

  “Of course,” Simon said.

  She closed the door after him, and he could swear he heard her mumble something like “unlike the others,” as her footsteps retreated on the other side.

  He smiled to himself and took in the studio. Like her house Miss Laura’s studio looked at least fifty years old. The building may have been a bit ramshackle, but the floor of the studio was well maintained hardwood that was polished to a gleam. Simon bounced up and down and noticed that it was sprung as well.

  Lilly and Fatty were working at the bar on the opposite side of the studio to where he came in. They were in full costume and they waved him over to join them. Fatty was in a set of royal blue tights, and Lilly’s tutu closely resembled a flying saucer.

  “Starting dress rehearsals already I see,” Simon said trying not to gawk at the tutu, which Lilly didn’t look entirely happy in.

  “I told Fatty that this tutu would cause problems, but he wanted it,” Lilly said folding her arms.

  Fatty grinned. “Shit yeah, that thing is giving me this.” He turned his head to expose an angry red rash that extended from his neck up to his cheek.

  “Ah, tutu rash,” Simon said. “Now that’s something I don’t miss. You’ve got to lift her with straight arms.”

  Fatty frowned, “But I can’t throw her as far then. It’s not too bad I’ll just suffer through it I think.”

  Simon looked at Lilly, she closed her eyes and gave a nearly imperceptible shudder.

  “Fatty, do you mind if I bring this up in the radio spot I do on Alfie’s show? I think it would be funny.”

  Fatty twitched one of his meaty shoulders in an offhand manner. “Sure, it’s not like the rash is on my balls.”

  “Great, now is there anything else you guys are OK with me talking about?”

  “What do you mean,” asked Lilly.

  “I don’t want to accidentally reveal anything that you might be embarrassed by, or might want to keep secret for the show.”

  This seemed to surprise Lilly.

  “So if Fatty didn’t want you to mention the tutu rash you wouldn’t?”

  “Of course not, if I did that, no one would let me come to their rehearsals and then where would I be. But I still need something to write about. Betty has me on strict instructions to whip the town up into a voting frenzy, and nothing gets Galah talking like gossip.”

  Lilly frowned. “So Owen isn’t going to have a heart attack.”

  Simon laughed. “Well he might well do, he sure looked like he might at the end of Izzy’s routine. But I cleared that with him first. He thought it was a great idea. It adds a bit of drama, and he thought he might get a few sympathy votes.”

  “Hey that’s a good idea,” Fatty said. “Let’s make some stuff up.”

  Simon grimaced. “I’d rather not make stuff up if I don’t have to. Usually all we have to do is embellish the truth a little.”

  Lilly winked. “Maybe we should put that Tutu rash somewhere a little more… delicate.”

  Fatty’s ruddy complexion lost a little colour. “Jesus no! Don’t even joke about it. That kind of story gets around fast in this town. It could be weeks before I get any action.”

  “Relax Fatty, I’ll make sure that it’s clear the rash is on your neck.” Simon scrunched up his face. “I wonder if we can milk it a bit.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, we could make it out to be very painful, how it’s potentially impacting your rehearsals, it could affect your performance…”

  A grin split Fatty’s face. “And everyone should vote for us to make up the difference.”

  Simon scribbled a few notes down. “Sounds like a plan. Now we’ll also need a little more background. How did you end up choosing ballet? Weren’t you going to do ballroom.”

  “Yeah, that was the plan, originally,” Fatty said casting his eyes down. “Betty thinks I’m a bit uncoordinated.”

  Simon had a fair idea why. “It was the window wasn’t it?”

  “Yep, but it wasn’t my fault. Dad had just mopped the tiles, he’s a stickler for that kind of thing. He usually does it just before lock up. But he was early that day.”

  Simon had heard Betty’s side of the story, but not Fatty’s. “So what happened exactly, Betty just say’s that you attacked her with a dead pig.”

  Lilly was wide eyed. “You attacked Betty with a dead pig?”

  “It was a carcass, not a dead pig. And I didn’t attack her. I was in a hurry, I came around the counter a bit quick, slipped on the wet floor and went through the shop window.”

  “And what about Betty?”

  “She was on the other side of the window.”

  Lilly made a face. “Ouch!”

  “I did see her,” Fatty said. “But it was at the last second, so I grabbed her and spun her around so I didn’t squash her into the footpath. But she kind of landed on top of me.”

  “And the pig?”

  Fatty wrung his hands. “It kind of landed on her.”

  Simon tried not to laugh, but even so his lips quivered, wanting to smile. “It sounds like you were pretty co-ordinated really. Anyone can slip on wet tiles. But not just anyone could flip around in mid air like that.”

  Fatty gave a resigned twitch of his shoulder. “I don’t think Betty sees it that way.”

  “Maybe we can change her mind.” Simon spread his hands like a circus ringmaster. “We could say that your death defying feat of acrobatic heroism saving Betty from near certain crushing made you yearn for more. And Ballet was the only option.”

  Fatty gave a small smile. “You’re a whiz with the words, but that’s not really the reason I chose ballet.”

  Something in Fatty’s tone made Simon pause, there was a melancholy to Fatty’s voice, a shyness that was all the more unusual for coming from the cheerful, overconfident butcher.

  “Y’see ever since I saw you dancing in one of Miss Fay’s end of year shows I wanted to move like that. You know, graceful like.”

  Simon looked at Lilly, she looked back, then he slowly pointed at his own chest. “Do you mean me, or Lilly?”

  “You. It was a while ago. I don’t think I was even in high school yet.”

  Simon thought back. Fatty was a couple of years younger than him. Simon vaguely remembered them being in high school at the same time. But even so, while Simon had done a fair bit of ballet with Fay when he was younger, he’d stopped when he was fifteen. He’d been the only boy in the classes. It hadn’t been easy.

  “So why didn’t you come along? Try it,” Simon said.

  “I was getting up the guts to ask dad. Then I heard that you’d stopped.”

  Simon took a deep breath and let it out
. He didn’t know what to say, but Lilly filled the growing silence.

  “Simon,” She said in a small, careful voice. “Why did you stop ballet? I seem to remember that you had quite a bit of promise.”

  “It was a bunch of things really. My dad wasn’t that keen on it. I was getting stick from the kids at school. But we just didn’t have all that much money, and it really came down to choosing between ballet or tap. And tap was more fun.”

  Lilly touched his arm. “Shame really.”

  Simon let Lilly’s arm rest for a moment before steeling himself, straightening, and putting his stage smile on. “But look, if all that has inspired Fatty to choose ballet over ballroom, then my time in tights wasn’t wasted. And, Galah is going to be culturally richer as a result.”

  He clapped his hands twice, just like Fay did to get her class’s attention. “Now, let’s see what you two have planned.

  Barrida

  [bar-ree’-dah], (lit. “sweep”).

  A tango illusion, which looks as if the leader 'sweeps' the foot of the follower's free leg along the floor. Can be performed in a straight line, or as part of a giro.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Simon leaned forward, scrutinising every movement Daryl made as the big footballer and Fay approached the end of the routine. This was their third rehearsal together, and the last one before the show itself. Daryl was as close to ready as he’d ever be. However, Simon was concerned that Fay now knew the routine and was pre-empting his leads.

  The last few beats of the song faded out leaving Fay’s leg wrapped around Daryl’s in a beautiful enganche. He gave them a clap, not only to encourage them but because they genuinely deserved it.

  “Very good guys, You’ve been practicing for over two hours now, I think you’re done for the night,” he said.

  Fay unwrapped herself from Daryl’s leg and raised a finger. “There’s just one thing, I’d like you to shoot a video of the routine for my friend.”

  Simon nodded. “That’s a good idea, I should have thought of that earlier. Daryl, are you up to it.”