Twilight Tango

by Arlene Phillips

  The Students at Step Out Studio

  For

  Tyler Appleby,

  Adam Arbouhat,

  Amilcar Brown,

  Myesha Chowdhury,

  Jordan Clarke,

  Mewael Eyob,

  Dannie Hagan,

  Kaitlin Harvey,

  Gloria Kitaka,

  Lily McIntyre,

  Jordan McMahon,

  Shannia Salcedo-Valencia,

  Jorge Salvatore,

  and Danny Swan,

  from Blessed Sacrament Primary School, London.

  Contents

  Title Page

  The Students at Step Out Studio

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Enter Arlene’s World of Dance

  The Alana Dancing Star Series

  By the Same Author

  About the Author

  Copyright

  ‘Hurry up, Mum, pleeease!’ Alana begged from the back of the car.

  ‘Alana!’ snapped Mum. ‘There is a thirty-mile-an-hour speed limit, and I’m not going to go any faster.’

  ‘But I’ll be late for dance class! Miss Trina will be so cross!’

  ‘You won’t get to dance class at all if I crash the car and put us both in hospital!’

  Alana was desperate to get to Step Out Studio that evening. Last week they’d started learning the tango and Alana had loved every minute of it. She’d spent the whole week looking forward to learning some more steps.

  ‘I’m finishing work early this evening, so I can drive you to your dance lesson,’ Mum had said that morning.

  But then the bell had rung for the end of school and there was no sign of her. She hadn’t appeared until fifteen minutes later, by which time Alana was totally frustrated.

  ‘Sorry, darling,’ she’d said. ‘My boss made me stay late and I didn’t like to complain. I can’t afford to lose this job.’

  Alana sighed. Why couldn’t she have a normal mother who baked cupcakes, helped with her homework and did things when she said she would?

  Mum turned on the radio. It was the local drivetime show.

  ‘Roll up, all you talented kids!’ the DJ was saying. ‘The Town Gala is taking place in six weeks’ time. We need singers, actors, dancers, gymnasts … you name it. So if you love to perform, then limber up, learn your lines and put your leotards on. Your town needs YOU!’

  Alana was only half listening. She kept looking at her watch and imagining Miss Trina starting the class without her. As soon as Mum parked outside the door of Step Out Studio, she leapt out. ‘Thanks, Mum!’ she yelled, and dashed inside.

  But when she entered the rehearsal room, she stopped short. It was obvious straight away that something was wrong. Instead of doing their warm-up exercises or practising their tango, the students were standing in little huddles, muttering to each other. They didn’t even notice her come in.

  Miss Trina was sitting glumly on a chair at the front. Her hair, which was usually shiny and tightly tied back, hung limply round her face and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. Worst of all was her expression. She looked … helpless, was the only way to describe it. And Miss Trina never looked helpless – she always appeared to be completely in control.

  Alana rushed over to her best friend Meena, who was whispering to Keisha. ‘What is it?’ she hissed. ‘What’s happened?’

  Meena turned towards her and gripped her wrist. ‘It’s Step Out Studio,’ she replied, her eyes wide. ‘It might have to close!’

  ‘WHAT? Close? No! Why?’ stuttered Alana.

  ‘It’s awful,’ replied Meena. ‘Miss Trina told us that the Studio has been struggling for a while to keep going because there just aren’t enough students. But now the people who own the building have put their rent up, and that’s made things a lot worse. Unless she can recruit some more pupils, she’s not going to be able to pay them – and there isn’t anywhere else in the town suitable for a dance school.’

  ‘But that’s terrible!’ moaned Alana. ‘What can we do? We have to think of something!’

  ‘Miss Trina has asked us to come up with some ideas,’ Meena replied. ‘But I simply can’t imagine what we’re going to be able to do about it, other than tell our friends in case they want to join.’

  Just then, Toby raised his hand and everyone fell silent.

  ‘What is it, Toby?’ asked Miss Trina.

  ‘Perhaps we could put an advert on the telly to get some more kids to join,’ suggested Toby.

  ‘Where do you think Miss Trina’s going to find the money to do that,’ sneered Verity, ‘if she can’t even afford to run the studio?’

  ‘I know!’ piped up Chloe. ‘Maybe we could all do a dance routine in the town centre – sort of like busking – and people could throw us coins. Then we could use them to pay the studio rent! It would be fun!’

  ‘If you think my father is going to let me dance in the street, begging for money, you must be crazy,’ said Verity, scornfully.

  ‘That’s enough, Verity,’ rapped out Miss Trina, regaining her usual tone of authority. Then she turned to Toby and Chloe. ‘I don’t think those ideas would really work,’ she said gently. ‘We’re going to have to keep thinking.’

  Alana wasn’t listening to the suggestions. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring into space, her brow furrowed in concentration. She felt completely wretched. For one thing, dancing was the most important thing in the world to her and she didn’t know how she’d survive if Step Out Studio no longer existed. And even worse, Miss Trina had given Alana a free place because she was such a talented dancer. Her mum couldn’t afford to send her otherwise. Now Alana felt as though she would be a burden to the dance school if it was so short of money.

  She had to think of a solution. As she pondered, the voice of the DJ she’d been listening to in the car drifted into her head. ‘Roll up roll up … talented kids …’

  Suddenly, she leapt in the air, making everyone jump. ‘I’ve got it!’ she cried.

  ‘Well, make sure we don’t get it too,’ sniggered Verity.

  Alana ignored the interruption. ‘The Town Gala!’ she announced, as though this explained everything.

  Miss Trina raised her eyebrows, looking interested for the first time. ‘What about the Town Gala?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, you know how there’s going to be that big gala next month at the Open Air Theatre, and there’ll be hundreds of kids performing?’ Alana continued, her words falling over each other in her haste. ‘There’s going to be singing, acting, everything …’

  ‘Yes, go on …’ said Miss Trina encouragingly.

  ‘Well, there’ll be loads of parents coming to watch their children perform, so if the Step Out Studio dancers did a routine there, it would be a really good way to advertise the dance school. It’s bound to attract more students to join.’

  ‘I think you’ve found the answer, Alana!’ exclaimed Miss Trina. She stood up and clapped her hands, briskly. ‘Now, everybody,’ she said. ‘There’s no time to waste. Into position please. We’ll do a ballroom routine at the Gala; let’s work on the tango. It’s a dance bursting with energy and drive and the perfect thing to persuade the parents and kids that Step Out Studio is an amazing place to be! We’re going to have to work hard at it, though!’

  Miss Trina got everyone to find their partners and get into tango hold. It was a difficult dance needing sharp head turns, flexed knees and a strong lead from the boys.

  ‘Well, it didn’t take Miss Trina long to start shouting out coun
ts,’ Toby muttered to Alana as they got dizzy practising their pivots. ‘I was quite looking forward to a week where we didn’t have to work hard.’

  Alana could see, though, that Toby looked excited. He didn’t normally enjoy dancing – he only went to Step Out Studio because his mum made him – but he did like showing off, and what better way to show off than to perform the tango to a huge audience at the Open Air Theatre?

  Alana spent the week practising tango steps in her bedroom.

  The day before the next class, she was in her room working on her heel swivels when her mum came in, looking worried. She sat on the bed, and patted the duvet for Alana to sit beside her.

  ‘I’ve just had an email from Miss Trina,’ she explained. ‘She’s had an accident – someone bumped into her on an escalator in the shopping centre and knocked her off balance. She fell all the way down.’

  ‘Oh no!’ cried Alana. ‘Is she badly hurt?’

  ‘Not seriously, but she has broken her leg. She has to stay in bed for at least the next two weeks, so there are going to be no Step Out Studio classes for the time being. There’s no way she can afford to get a substitute teacher.’

  ‘Poor Miss Trina,’ Alana groaned. ‘And what about the Gala? How are we going to be able to put a tango routine together without a teacher?’

  ‘It looks like Step Out Studio is going to have to pull out,’ replied Mum sympathetically.

  ‘But we can’t!’ wailed Alana, close to tears. ‘I have to call Meena.’ And she dashed to the phone.

  ‘Don’t chat for hours!’ Mum called after her.

  Alana sighed. Mum tried her best, but she could never understand how important dancing was to Alana.

  When Meena came to the phone, Alana didn’t take the time to say ‘hello’. ‘Have you heard the news?’ she cried.

  ‘Yes, Mum just came in and told me. It’s awful! Poor Miss Trina! And what about the Gala?’

  ‘I know!’ groaned Alana. ‘And the posters have already been printed with Step Out Studio on them. I know they have cos I saw one up in the library. So if we pull out now, it’ll look completely rubbish – it might even put off new students who had been thinking of coming! We have to think of a way to perform at the Gala!’

  ‘But how?’ wailed Meena. ‘We barely know how to do the tango. We’ve only been practising the dance for two weeks.’

  ‘And the poster says Tangotastic! by the students of Step Out Studio,’ added Alana. ‘So we can hardly come on doing the waltz or something!’

  The girls said nothing for a minute. They were both deep in thought as they tried to come up with a plan. There’s only one thing for it, thought Alana. I’m going to have to see if Madame Coco can help.

  ‘Meena, I’ve gotta go,’ she announced.

  ‘Why?’ asked Meena. ‘Have you had an idea?’

  ‘Erm, not really,’ Alana replied, vaguely. ‘There’s just someone I need to talk to.’

  Alana put the phone down and pulled on her trainers. ‘I’ve got to go out, Mum!’ she shouted.

  ‘But Alana,’ called Mum. ‘You’re meant to be giving Abi her supper later, remember, and helping with her homework!’

  Alana often had to take care of her little sister so their mum could study. She loved Abi but it was a complete pain having to look after her so often.

  ‘It’s all right, Mum,’ she replied. ‘I won’t be long!’

  And she ran out of the door and along to the corner of her street, to Madame Coco’s Costume Emporium.

  Alana pushed open the shop door and immediately she was hit by a wall of noise. The shop was completely crammed with little girls aged about six or seven, wearing ballet costumes and chattering like mad. A harassed-looking lady – presumably their teacher – was flapping her hands about, trying to keep them in control, but not succeeding. And Madame Coco was rushing here and there, grabbing piles of leotards and pale pink satin ballet shoes of all sizes and handing them out to be tried on. She looked almost as stressed as the teacher. When she caught sight of Alana, however, her face broke into a broad smile and she pushed her way through to greet her.

  ‘My favourite customer!’ she exclaimed, kissing Alana on both cheeks.

  ‘Hello, Madame Coco!’ grinned Alana, feeling a bit embarrassed, because she wasn’t really a customer at all. She had never bought anything from the Costume Emporium – Madame Coco always insisted on lending her the costumes she needed and she never had to pay.

  ‘Now, can you wait for me a few minutes?’ asked Madame Coco. ‘I must finish dealing with these children. They are the pupils of Signora Campanella’s Ballet School. They are buying outfits for their performance at the Town Gala.’

  Alana sat down in the pink velvet armchair and watched in amazement as Madame Coco kitted out every child with a brand-new outfit. Signora Campanella’s school clearly had plenty of money. When the Step Out Studio students did a show, they had to make do with a mixture of the dance clothes they already had at home and anything they could find in the Studio costume and props cupboard.

  As soon as the last child had been fitted with a costume, and their teacher had paid and shepherded them out of the door, Madame Coco breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Now, ma chérie,’ she said. ‘Tell me your news.’

  Alana took a deep breath and explained to her everything that had been going on. Step Out Studio’s money problems and her idea to perform the tango – then Miss Trina’s accident, which would probably mean they couldn’t appear at the Gala after all.

  Halfway through, Madame Coco made Alana pause. She disappeared into the back of the shop, then returned with a tall glass of passion-fruit juice, which she handed to Alana. ‘Carry on,’ she said listening intently.

  When Alana had finished her story, Madame Coco sat there looking thoughtful. Then she sprang up and started grabbing things from the rails and shelves.

  ‘Go and put these on, ma chérie,’ she said, and before Alana knew what was happening, Madame Coco had piled a huge bundle of rose-pink netting in her arms, and balanced a pair of satin ballroom shoes and a pink-beaded choker on the top.

  ‘But Madame Coco,’ replied Alana, gloomily, ‘there’s no point me having a beautiful tango costume when there’s no one to teach us the tango. I don’t see how it will help to save Step Out Studio.’

  ‘Alana,’ said Madame Coco, bending down so she could look her straight in the eye. ‘Do you trust me?’

  ‘Well, of course, Madame Coco, more than anyone,’ replied Alana.

  ‘So go and put on the costume, just for me.’

  Alana sighed, but she did as she was told.

  In the changing room she shook out the dress, and smiled in spite of herself. It was like something Cinderella might have worn to the ball. The top half was covered in pink sequins, and the skirt was made of layers and layers of frothy netting that reached almost to the ground. Alana fastened the choker round her neck and slipped on the shoes. Then she returned to the shop floor, feeling a bit self-conscious.

  ‘Very pretty.’ Madame Coco nodded, looking at her approvingly. ‘We will fasten your hair like so,’ she said, and she swept it into a low bun, and secured it with a huge pink and white flower.

  ‘Now, ma petite,’ she said when she was finished. ‘Imagine you are in Argentina and show me some tango steps. I want you to pretend that you’ve been dancing the tango your whole life.’

  ‘That could be tricky, seeing as I hadn’t danced a step of it until two weeks ago!’ Alana replied. But she closed her eyes anyway and stood in the tango hold, imagining her partner opposite her. Then hesitantly she began to dance the steps that Miss Trina had taught them.

  And as she danced, her movements became quicker and more confident. All at once, the floor seemed to melt away from beneath her feet. She felt a tingling sensation through her whole body, and she could hear Madame Coco’s voice calling, ‘Remember, ma petite, when your good deed is done, the call of home will beckon. You will return home! You will return home!’

  The w
ords grew fainter and fainter, but still she danced. Then suddenly her feet hit the floor again, and a wave of warm, muggy air swept over her. She opened her eyes and gave a squeal of alarm. Madame Coco’s shop had vanished, and instead she was in a dusty street, crowded with people.

  Everyone stopped moving and stared in amazement at the girl with the exotic costume who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Before Alana had time to think, she felt a tugging at her dress and an awful ripping noise. A small scruffy dog had torn a great piece of netting from her skirt and had scampered off with it, wagging its tail furiously.

  ‘Oy!’ yelled Alana, and dashed after it. What would Madame Coco say? she thought frantically. She couldn’t return with a torn dress. After a long chase the dog disappeared inside a small building. She dashed in after it, then skidded to a halt. She was in a small, stuffy room, and a group of people were looking at her in astonishment.

  ‘Your dog tore a piece off my dress,’ she explained. Or at least, that is what she meant to say, but the words came out in another language.

  A tall, good-looking boy a little older than her stepped forward. ‘Drop it!’ he commanded the dog. The dog dropped the piece of pink netting – now looking extremely soggy – on the floor and the boy picked it up. ‘Mama, do you think it is possible to sew this back on?’ he asked.

  ‘But of course!’ replied a plump lady. ‘And in the meantime, my dear,’ she added, turning to Alana, ‘you must sit down and rest.’

  She offered her a drink in a hollowed-out shell. Alana sucked it tentatively through a straw and found that the warm liquid tasted a bit like tea and was very soothing. ‘It’s called maté,’ the mother told her. ‘You can have some more after we share it round.’