Twilight Tango Read online

  The maté was passed from person to person to take a sip, but no one took their eyes off Alana. Alana counted eight family members – the mother and seven children. The younger ones stared at her as if she had jumped straight out of a fairytale.

  Alana’s mind raced. Where was she? There was no doubt she was in a hot country – the steamy atmosphere made that clear. The home she was in seemed to consist of a single room. There was one large bed, some rickety shelves and a small electric hob in the corner, but no table to sit at. The paint was flaking from the walls and it was obvious that the family were very poor.

  Alana decided to tell them that she was lost, so it wouldn’t look too odd to ask where she was.

  ‘We are just outside Buenos Aires,’ explained the boy.

  Alana dragged her mind back to her geography lessons. Buenos Aires – that’s in Argentina. And so we must be speaking Spanish, she thought.

  ‘Perhaps if you are not in too much of a hurry, I could show you around,’ suggested the boy shyly.

  ‘I’d love that!’ exclaimed Alana.

  ‘I am Miguel, by the way,’ he said.

  ‘Alana,’ replied Alana, and they shook hands and smiled.

  As they headed outside, Miguel told Alana that he was fourteen. He had already left school, and was trying to help support his family finding odd jobs wherever he could, while his father was away looking for work. But what he loved more than anything was to dance the tango.

  ‘And you are a tango dancer too, I see,’ he added, nodding at her costume.

  ‘Erm, no not really,’ began Alana. ‘The thing is …’

  ‘And no doubt,’ interrupted Miguel, ‘you are here to take part in the Junior Latin Dance Championships.’

  ‘Er, actually I’m not,’ Alana replied.

  ‘But that is wonderful!’ exclaimed Miguel. ‘I wish more than anything to take part in the championships, but I have no partner. The people round here are poor and there is no one who can pay for the coaching.’ He turned to Alana. ‘Will you be my partner?’ he begged.

  ‘But that’s what I was trying to tell you,’ replied Alana a little desperately. ‘I’m not a tango dancer. I’ve only ever had two tango lessons. I’ve had lots of training, but not in this particular dance.’

  ‘But if you are a trained dancer, then you will be quick to learn the tango!’ Miguel insisted. ‘I will teach you! Let us try, at least?’

  Alana didn’t think it would be possible, but how could she say no?

  ‘OK, we can try,’ she replied, doubtfully.

  Miguel looked thrilled. ‘There is a clearing a little way away,’ he said. ‘That is where we will have our lesson. We must begin at once.’

  As they walked along the dusty path, Alana looked around her. There were rows and rows of makeshift homes – very small, but brightly painted. They were all built close together, with washing lines strung between them. Children ran barefoot along the dusty street, and stopped to stare at Alana in her sparkly costume. The more they stared, the more self-conscious she became.

  While they walked, Miguel started to tell Alana about himself.

  ‘My family have always loved to dance,’ he explained. ‘In fact, my grandfather was a famous tango dancer – famous all over the world. He was the one who taught me how to dance.’ Miguel had a faraway look in his eyes and Alana could tell that he was thinking about something sad.

  ‘What happened to him?’ she asked, gently.

  ‘His ship sank,’ Miguel replied quietly. ‘He was on his way to Europe, where he’d been invited to perform in Paris. He never trusted aeroplanes, so he always travelled by sea. The ship hit a rock, and down it went – taking him and his fortune with it. So my family were forced to leave our comfortable home.’

  ‘Oh … I’m sorry,’ Alana replied.

  ‘It’s OK,’ continued Miguel, trying to smile. ‘I miss him – we all do – but I have continued to practise the tango, in honour of his memory. And performing in this competition would mean everything to me. I know he would have wanted me to.’

  Alana was feeling more and more nervous. So much was riding on the championships and she really hoped she wouldn’t let Miguel down.

  By the time they arrived at the clearing, the light was beginning to fade. The air was still extremely warm and muggy. A group of little boys were kicking a football to each other, but when they saw Miguel and Alana, they stopped to watch what they were doing.

  ‘Now,’ said Miguel, ‘what you must always remember is that the tango is a dance full of spirit and drama. However well you perform the steps, if you do not put all your emotions into the dance, it will have no meaning.’

  As they moved together around the clearing, Alana concentrated hard to follow Miguel’s steps.

  ‘There must be no rise and fall,’ Miguel warned as they danced. ‘Just sharp staccato movements with lots of changes of direction.’

  They went over and over the steps, and Alana started to get a feel for the excitement of the dance. ‘That’s good!’ said Miguel, approvingly.

  The sun slipped below the horizon and people wandered out of their homes to watch the dancing couple. Someone brought out a guitar and strummed a tango melody. A few other couples started to dance as well. A man appeared with an accordion and as the air filled with music, Alana began to understand the true spirit of the tango. In the twilight, the houses no longer looked so shabby and Alana felt almost as though she were in a scene from a film.

  Only when the light had completely faded did Miguel come to a standstill. ‘We must sleep,’ he said, ‘or we will not have enough energy for the competition tomorrow.’

  He led Alana back to his home where his mum had made a steaming pot of bean stew. As Alana sat on the floor with the others to eat, she tried to separate out the members of the family. There was a girl older than Miguel who seemed nearly grown-up – then twin girls of about ten who couldn’t stop staring at Alana’s dress, a boy who looked about Abi’s age, a toddler and a baby. Everyone talked at once without seeming particularly concerned about whether the others were listening. Most of the chat was about Miguel and Alana and the championships. The whole family was incredibly excited that Miguel was going to take part. Miguel’s mum said that she would mend Alana’s dress and get Miguel’s grandfather’s competition costume ready for Miguel to wear the next day.

  ‘And we will all come to watch you,’ she added.

  ‘But how can we afford this?’ asked Miguel.

  ‘I have a little money saved,’ she replied. ‘Something tells me that this is the occasion to spend it. Your grandfather would have wanted us all to be there.’

  After supper, the children helped clear things away. It was clear that each of them had a specific job to do. Without being asked, three of them washed up at an outside tap and two more spread blankets on the floor for sleeping. Miguel’s big sister changed the baby’s nappy before giving him to her mother to feed.

  When she was ready to sleep, Miguel lent Alana a T-shirt and shorts and she draped her tango costume carefully over a chair. Thank goodness no time passes at home while I’m having one of Madame Coco’s adventures, she thought to herself as she lay down. Otherwise Mum would be worried sick.

  Alana stared at the ceiling, which was made of sheets of corrugated iron with bits of sky peeping through the cracks. On one side of her was Miguel’s older sister, and on the other side one of the twins. In the double bed were Miguel’s mother, the toddler and the baby. It’s amazing, thought Alana, that Miguel’s family are being so kind to me. They have so little but they don’t mind sharing what they have.

  The next thing Alana knew, the sun was filtering through the gaps in the ceiling and there was a huge bustle going on around her.

  ‘Ah, you are awake,’ exclaimed Miguel’s mother when she saw her eyes were open. ‘Come and have some breakfast. This is a special day. You and Miguel will need plenty of strength.’

  Alana saw that Miguel was already dressed in his grandfather’s costu
me. His mother had, he explained, spent half the night altering it so it would fit him. He looked proud, if a bit self-conscious, in a polo-neck leotard, a beautifully cut pair of trousers and a double-breasted jacket with a crimson silk handkerchief in the breast pocket.

  Miguel’s sister handed Alana a cup of milky coffee, and some hot toast covered with a spread that looked like runny toffee. ‘Dulce de leche it’s called,’ she said. Alana took a bite of the toast. It was delicious.

  As soon as breakfast was finished, Alana changed into Madame Coco’s tango costume. Miguel’s mum had mended it so expertly that you could barely see where it had been torn. Then the entire family set out to the place where the championships were being held.

  They piled on to a bus heading for the centre of Buenos Aires. Someone got up to give Miguel’s mother a seat with her baby, and everyone else stood in the aisle and held on tight. People smiled when they saw Miguel and Alana in their costumes. The whole city knew about the championships that day, so it was obvious where the family was going.

  Miguel and Alana stood together, holding tight to straps above their heads as the bus swayed round corners. ‘The theatre where the competition is being held is called the Coliseo,’ Miguel told her. ‘It is a popular theatre in our city’.

  When they reached their stop, they piled off the bus. ‘Buena suerte!’ called one or two of the other passengers. ‘Good luck!’ Miguel and Alana nodded and smiled.

  But when Alana turned round and saw the theatre, she stopped smiling. It towered above her, with tall colonnades, ornate windows and domed roofs. It looked incredibly impressive and intimidating. Could she really perform a dance she barely knew in this grand place? ‘I have to,’ she said to herself. ‘For Miguel’s sake.’

  Taking a deep breath, she followed the family through the grand doors.

  Inside, behind a desk, a row of officials were recording details of the contestants. Alana didn’t know what to reply when she was asked to give her address, so she just said it was the same as Miguel’s.

  ‘You will be the third couple to dance in your category,’ the official told them. And he gave them both a little number ‘3’ to pin to their costume. Then they were pointed towards a rehearsal room where they could practise.

  Miguel’s mum hugged them both goodbye, then she led the rest of the family off to wait for the competition to start.

  Miguel and Alana made their way to the rehearsal room. Inside, scores of children were doing exercises and practising their routines. Everyone who wasn’t dancing was chatting excitedly.

  A tall girl with an elaborate green dress looked Miguel and Alana up and down. ‘What’s THAT?’ she asked with a smirk, staring at Miguel’s costume.

  ‘It is my costume, of course,’ replied Miguel.

  ‘It looks like something out of the last century,’ sniggered the girl.

  Miguel flushed and looked angry. ‘This costume belonged to my grandfather!’ he declared.

  ‘I can tell!’ laughed the girl, and flounced off, tossing her hair.

  Miguel stood there staring after her, his fists clenched.

  ‘Never mind her,’ whispered Alana, putting her hand on his arm. ‘We need to warm up.’

  As they did some leg stretches, one of the other boys starting chatting. ‘Where is your coach?’ he asked.

  ‘We don’t have one,’ Miguel replied.

  ‘You don’t have one?’ interrupted his partner who had overheard. ‘You think you stand a chance in this competition when you don’t even have a proper coach? We have been training with ours three times a week for the last year!’

  Before Miguel had a chance to reply, Alana took him by the elbow. ‘Come with me!’ she hissed. She led him out of the rehearsal room and along a corridor, where they found some stairs leading into the basement.

  ‘Where are we going?’ demanded Miguel.

  ‘To find somewhere to practise away from all those rich idiots!’ Alana replied.

  Miguel smiled, for the first time since they’d arrived.

  In the basement, they found a deserted room that was obviously used for storage, and there the two of them went through their tango routine, in among dusty rails of costumes and old props.

  ‘That’s right, Alana,’ said Miguel as they danced. ‘We must move absolutely as one on the promenade. Remember your heel leads. Don’t forget to keep your knees flexed and I want to see sharp head turns.’

  Alana concentrated as hard as she could. They practised the routine over and over until at last it was time to go and wait in the wings for their turn.

  ‘This is it!’ declared Miguel, smiling nervously.

  ‘I hope I’m going to be good enough,’ sighed Alana.

  ‘Whatever happens,’ Miguel replied, looking her straight in the eye, ‘I will never forget that you were willing to do this for me. I will always remember it.’

  Miguel and Alana were entered into the ‘Under 16s’ section of the championships, so there were many dancers a few years older than Alana. The other couples waiting in the wings looked incredibly grown-up and confident. They made Alana feel even more nervous than she was already.

  They watched the first two couples dance. Alana could see that they had been very thoroughly trained. Their moves were slick and well rehearsed.

  She glanced across at Miguel. He wasn’t watching what was going on on stage. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving. He looked like he might be praying. Then he made the sign of the cross, opened his eyes and smiled encouragingly at Alana.

  All too soon it was their turn. Alana walked to the middle of the stage with Miguel and they stood in the tango hold, waiting for the music to begin. She looked out into the auditorium and her knees went wobbly. It was enormous, with row after row of red plush seats. There were two tiers of curved balconies, and the ceiling was intricately painted and hung with chandeliers. Most terrifyingly of all, every seat was occupied. There must be 2,000 people watching us, thought Alana.

  The front row of seats had been removed, and in their place was a table for the judges. There were five – three women and two men – each one staring unsmilingly at Alana and Miguel as they waited for them to begin.

  For a moment Alana felt so frightened she didn’t think she was going to be able to dance. Then the music began, she looked into Miguel’s face and saw the excitement there, and her focus came back. Forget about where you are, she said to herself. Only focus on the dance.

  As they danced across the stage, Alana stopped thinking about the audience, or the judges, or the grand theatre. Miguel led her so effortlessly that it felt as though they had been dancing together for years.

  When the dance was finished, the audience clapped wildly. Alana and Miguel held hands and bowed, and as they did so Alana glanced at the judges. They looked as unsmiling as ever. Two of them were writing something down, another two were whispering to each other and the fifth one was looking at his watch with a bored expression.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing more we can do,’ she thought, resigned. ‘I’ve danced my very best, and now we’ll just have to hope.’

  Alana and Miguel left the stage, out of breath and flushed from the excitement of the performance.

  ‘Come on,’ panted Miguel. ‘Let’s go and find the others.’

  Miguel’s family was waiting for them in the theatre lobby. Everyone hugged and kissed. ‘You were both amazing!’ exclaimed his mother, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Even the baby seemed to know that something special had happened. He clapped his chubby hands and laughed and gurgled.

  ‘But were we good enough?’ sighed Miguel. ‘That is the question. The other dancers have spent months training for this competition.’

  ‘We can only wait and see,’ his mother replied. ‘They do not announce the results until this afternoon, so let us go and have lunch.’

  ‘I honestly don’t think I could eat a thing,’ said Alana. ‘I’m too nervous.’

  They left the theatre and went
to sit in a park nearby. Miguel’s mother had brought a big carrier bag with a picnic.

  As soon as she saw the food, Alana realised that in fact she was incredibly hungry. She gobbled her share of the bread and cheese and cold meat, then leant against a tree in the shade and closed her eyes. The family sat around, discussing the competition and the other contestants.

  ‘I thought the first couple had excellent posture and maintained their close hold throughout,’ said Miguel’s sister.

  ‘Yeah,’ added one of the twins. ‘But the second couple kept losing the clipped sharp movements, even though their dance was dynamic and full of drama.’

  Listening to their chat, Alana began to realise that this family’s passion for the tango ran very deep. It was almost as though their love for the dance was their way of remembering their grandfather. She hoped more than ever that she and Miguel had done OK in the contest.

  Before too long it was time to go and find out. They headed back to the theatre, where chairs had been set out on the stage in rows for all of the contestants.

  The head judge stood up and gave a seemingly endless speech while the dancers fidgeted in their seats. ‘And now,’ she said at last, ‘I am going to announce the winning couple for the Under 16s.’ Everyone on stage held their breath.

  ‘The panel was unanimous in its decision,’ the judge continued. ‘Many of our couples danced with technical brilliance. However, there was one pair who, while not perhaps as completely polished as some, managed to convey the drama, the passion, the power of the tango more than any other. And it was couple number three … Miguel and Alana!’

  There was an enormous cheer from the back of the stalls where Miguel’s family were sitting, and the rest of the audience clapped politely as Miguel and Alana went forward to shake the judges’ hands. Miguel looked overjoyed. He beamed with pride.