Twilight Tango Read online

  When it was over, the contestants filed off the stage to change. As Alana and Miguel reached the dressing room, they found their way blocked by the girl in the green dress, her faced scarlet with fury. ‘I don’t know who you think you are,’ she screeched. ‘You have no business coming out of nowhere and entering this competition. Taking the prize away from the proper contestants!’

  ‘Everyone is staring at you,’ replied Alana calmly. ‘You may want to speak more quietly.’

  The girl went redder still, but she stood aside to let Alana and Miguel into the room.

  Then as they were about to enter, a man tapped Miguel on the shoulder and led him to one side. ‘May I have a word with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Erm … I guess,’ replied Miguel. Alana sat down to wait for him, wondering what the man wanted. Judging from Miguel’s face, he hadn’t recognised him.

  She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Miguel came running over looking, if possible, even more excited than when he had heard they had won.

  ‘That was Emilio Escobar!’ he declared.

  ‘Great! Who?’ queried Alana.

  ‘Emilio Escobar, the famous choreographer!’ exclaimed Miguel. ‘He says he thinks I have great potential – that I could even become world famous – and he has offered to coach me free of charge. He thinks that I will soon be able to start performing professionally and that will mean I can support my entire family!’

  ‘That’s amazing, Miguel!’ Alana beamed. ‘Your grandfather would have been so proud of you!’

  ‘But without you, Alana,’ Miguel said, smiling, ‘this would not have been possible. After all, it takes two to tango!’ He reached into the breast pocket of his grandfather’s jacket and drew out the crimson handkerchief. He handed it to Alana. She saw that around the edge were musical notes embroidered in gold thread. ‘I want you to have this,’ he smiled, ‘as a way of saying thank you. My grandfather always carried it when he danced.’

  Alana took the handkerchief, but before she had a chance to say anything in reply, she began to feel the familiar spinning sensation. Madame Coco’s voice came to her from far away, saying, ‘When your good deed is done, the call of home will beckon. You will return home! You will return home!’ The room became blurry and she closed her eyes. She could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet. Madame Coco’s voice became louder and louder and the spinning faster and faster until, with a jolt, Alana touched the floor again.

  ‘Madame Coco,’ Alana shouted as soon as she realised she was back in the Costume Emporium. ‘I’ve got it! I know what to do about the Gala!’

  ‘There is no need to talk so loudly, ma petite!’ laughed Madame Coco.

  ‘Oh, sorry!’ Alana blushed. ‘But Madame Coco, do you think I can teach the other Step Out Studio students the tango? Do you think I’d be allowed?’

  ‘Well, why don’t you ask your Miss Trina,’ suggested Madame Coco. ‘I’m sure she’d like you to visit her anyway, if she is stuck in hospital.’

  ‘I expect you’re right!’ replied Alana. And she ran into the dressing room to change. As she passed the grandfather clock in the corner, she was relieved to see that, once again, no time had passed while she’d been away.

  Alana was dying to go and see Miss Trina immediately, so she said a quick goodbye to Madame Coco, thanked her once more, and ran home to ask her mum if she was allowed.

  ‘But it’s not hospital visiting hours!’ said Mum. ‘And a good job, too,’ she added, ‘seeing as you’re meant to be looking after Abi right now.’

  ‘It’s not fair!’ groaned Alana. ‘If someone is in hospital, surely you should be allowed to visit them whenever you want!’

  ‘That’s not how it works!’ replied Mum. ‘Visiting times at the hospital are between 2 and 4 p.m. Luckily it’s Saturday tomorrow, so you can go then.’

  The next afternoon, Alana was at the hospital at 2 p.m. sharp. Miss Trina was sitting in a bed right at the end of a long room. She was reading a book, her leg in a cast and next to her a table covered with flowers and cards, including a big one that the Step Out students had all signed for her. She looked extremely fed up, but as soon as she saw Alana, her expression transformed. Madame Coco was right – she was obviously happy to be visited.

  ‘How are you?’ asked Alana, a bit shyly. It was weird to see her teacher looking so helpless.

  ‘I’ll be a lot better once they take this stupid thing off my leg,’ Miss Trina replied ruefully. ‘But tell me some news from the outside world. How are you, and Meena, and everyone else?’

  ‘Well, actually,’ replied Alana, ‘I have an idea I want to talk to you about.’ And hesitantly, she explained her plan to give tango lessons to the students so that they could perform in the Gala. The most difficult bit was convincing Miss Trina that she would be able to teach the class, when at her last lesson, she hadn’t been able to dance the tango any better than the others.

  ‘It’s my … auntie, you see,’ she said. ‘She’s a tango expert, and she came to stay last week. I asked her to teach me some steps and we spent all of my free time practising.’

  She felt bad lying to Miss Trina, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  Miss Trina looked doubtful. ‘You’re one of my most talented dancers, Alana,’ she said. ‘But I really think this may be too much of a challenge for you. I appreciate that you want to do this for Step Out Studio, but the reality is that if the students aren’t properly rehearsed when they do their show, it’ll mean bad publicity for us.’

  ‘But I can do it, Miss Trina!’ insisted Alana. ‘I can! Watch me!’ Then, imagining that Miguel was her partner, Alana tangoed along the whole length of the ward between the rows of beds, being careful not to bump into anything. The patients all watched in amazement. Nothing so interesting ever happened in the hospital!

  At that moment, a furious voice boomed out, ‘Just WHAT do you think you’re doing?’ Alana skidded to a halt. The staff nurse had walked out of her office and was glaring at her, red in the face with fury.

  ‘I will NOT have dancing on my ward,’ she bellowed.

  ‘It’s my fault, Nurse,’ Miss Trina called. ‘I asked Alana to show me some steps.’

  ‘Well, if she EVER behaves like that again, she will never be allowed back here.’ And she gave Alana a final glare, then stormed off.

  ‘Thanks, Miss Trina!’ whispered Alana, once the nurse was out of earshot. ‘She seems seriously scary!’

  ‘She is!’ Miss Trina replied. ‘Anyway, you’ve convinced me. I think you can give it a go. Come back tomorrow and we’ll plan a routine.’

  ‘Thank you! I won’t let you down!’ cried Alana. She threw her arms around Miss Trina, then let go, embarrassed. She’d never hugged her dance teacher before.

  But Miss Trina looked pleased. ‘The days are going to pass a lot more quickly, here, with the Gala to think about,’ she smiled.

  The following day was Sunday and Alana spent the whole of visiting time at the hospital with Miss Trina, planning the routine. The teacher no longer seemed bored and listless – the Gala had given her a focus, and she looked full of energy. After Alana’s mini performance the day before, she and Miss Trina had to restrict themselves to marking out the steps by hand and writing them down, rather than actually trying them out. They drew up shapes and patterns with a different coloured pen for each couple.

  An old lady in the next bed called Alana over. ‘Are we going to see some more of that lovely dancing, dear?’ she asked.

  Alana grinned. ‘I don’t dare!’ she replied, nodding at the fierce nurse who was keeping a close and watchful eye on her.

  After a lot of thinking, she and Miss Trina managed to put together something they thought would work.

  ‘Now the only thing we have to do,’ said the teacher, ‘is figure out how to get everyone to Step Out Studio to rehearse, without me being there. There has to be an adult present at all times – that’s the law.’

  ‘Well, how about we ask everyone’s parents if they’l
l take turns supervising?’ suggested Alana. ‘They can open the studio and lock it at the end, and keep an eye on things. And I’ll do the actual teaching.’

  ‘Great idea!’ Miss Trina answered, smiling. ‘There’s a place here where I can use the Internet. I’ll ask the nurse to wheel me there – then I can email round the families and set up a rota.’

  And so that very week, the students of Step Out Studio filed in to the practice room, with Meena’s mum in charge. Alana stood shyly at the front and tried not to panic. ‘This might seem scary,’ she said to herself, sternly, ‘but it’s not as bad as competing in the Latin Dance Championships in Buenos Aires, in front of 2,000 people. That was scary!’

  As soon as the students were ready, Alana told them the plan. She repeated the story about her aunt having given her tango lessons, and explained that she and Miss Trina had thought up a routine together.

  ‘You have got to be joking!’ came a mocking voice, when Alana had finished. It was Verity. ‘Miss Trina is seriously expecting us to be taught by you?’

  Alana had been waiting for this. ‘It’s only for a couple of weeks, Verity,’ she replied calmly, ‘then Miss Trina should be back in action. And I thought that you could do an introductory speech at the Gala, telling the audience about what a great place Step Out Studio is.’

  Verity’s expression immediately changed from scornful to smug. She always loved being in the limelight. Phew, thought Alana. The last thing she needed was Verity acting all jealous and trying to undermine her.

  ‘OK,’ she said, briskly. ‘We need to begin. Everyone into pairs please. Get into closed hold, and remember your posture.’

  Nobody moved except Meena, who obligingly walked to the centre of the room and waited for her partner to join her. The others chatted in little groups, showing no sign of listening.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Alana shouted. ‘Can everyone please get into position?’

  Nothing happened.

  Again, Alana forced herself not to panic. She had to be able to control the class, or the whole plan was hopeless.

  Without saying another word, she marched off to the props cupboard and took out a gong that had been used for a show the previous Christmas.

  Taking the gong back into the studio, she stood on a chair, and gave it an enormous bash. As the sound reverberated around the room, every student fell silent and stared at her in shock.

  ‘Now,’ said Alana, forcing herself to keep her voice steady so that she sounded more in control than she felt, ‘do you want Step Out Studio to close down?’

  No one spoke.

  ‘Well, DO you?’ Alana repeated.

  ‘No,’ the students chorused, sounding sheepish.

  ‘Well, if we don’t get this dance off the ground, and perform it at the Town Gala, then that’s what’s going to happen,’ she continued. ‘So listen to me. I know it’s weird having me in charge of the practice sessions, but Miss Trina has explained to me what to do, so really I’m just repeating the things she’s told me. Now let’s begin.’

  Without another word, everyone found their partners, and Alana remembered Miguel’s words as she began to teach.

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘I want you to promenade into a rock turn, pivot and into an open fan. And remember it has to be precise, elegant and lots of staccato moves.’

  ‘That’s good, Toby,’ she called. ‘Don’t forget to keep your knees slightly bent, Keisha.’ As the students followed the steps, Alana asked Meena’s mum to turn on the music.

  By the end of the lesson, the routine was starting to come together. Alana emailed Miss Trina when she got home to report on progress, then the following Saturday she went to visit her to plan what she was going to teach next. Thank goodness Miss Trina will be able to take over soon! she thought.

  But when she went to see Miss Trina the following week, she found her looking pale and miserable once more.

  ‘The doctor says my leg isn’t healing as quickly as they’d hoped,’ she explained gloomily. ‘She says I have to stay in hospital.’

  So Alana continued to teach, hoping against hope that Miss Trina would be back soon. She never had to use the gong again. She’d proved to everyone that she could lead the class and no one questioned her authority – not even Verity.

  By the time it came to the final practice session before the Gala, Miss Trina was still in hospital and Alana was still in charge. When the class was over, she headed home feeling nervous once more. Would the Step Out students pull off their tango routine?

  If they don’t, it’ll be all my fault, she thought.

  On the day of the Gala, Alana tucked Miguel’s grandfather’s silk handkerchief in her pocket for luck.

  Her mum had managed to get the day off work, so she drove Alana and Abi to the Open Air Theatre. When they arrived, the auditorium was already filling up with people.

  The Step Out students were the last to come on before the interval. As Alana waited for their turn, she stood at the back of the theatre watching the other acts. Among them was Signora Campanella’s Ballet School. The girls looked sweet in their matching outfits from Madame Coco’s shop. Perhaps some of them will want to join Step Out Studio when they’re a bit older, Alana thought.

  When it was the Step Out students’ turn to perform, they took their places on the stage, with Alana standing in the wings to watch. They were wearing costumes borrowed from Miss Trina’s props cupboard and they certainly didn’t look as striking or as well turned out as Signora Campanella’s girls.

  Alana peeped out into the audience and her heart leapt. There, right at the front, was Miss Trina in a wheelchair, smiling in anticipation. She must have only just arrived – Alana was sure she hadn’t been there earlier. It was obvious that the others had spotted her too. Their faces lit up and Alana could see that having their teacher there had given them a surge of confidence.

  Verity stepped forward to do the introduction, making sure to mention Step Out Studio several times during her speech. Then she took her place next to Matthew and the music started.

  Everyone began with a sharp head turn and each couple moved across the floor forming the most dramatic diagonal lines and intricate shapes, just as Alana and Miss Trina had envisaged when they mapped it out. Alana felt herself relax a tiny bit. The tango was definitely the right dance to choose, she thought. It’s so dramatic and people love watching it. If any performance is going to make the kids who are watching want to join Step Out Studio, this is the one.

  And it seemed that Alana was right. When the routine finished, the dancers received an enormous round of applause. Some of the audience were even standing. When the clapping died down, there was a buzz of excited chat in the auditorium.

  The next thing Alana knew, Miss Trina was wheeling herself on to the stage. She was going to give a speech!

  ‘One of my students has not performed today,’ she announced, ‘but I owe her a huge amount of thanks. Alana, would you come here, please?’

  Blushing like mad, Alana walked on to the stage and stood next to her teacher. Miss Trina told the audience about how Alana had coached the class while she was in hospital. Then, after another round of applause – this time especially for her – it was the interval.

  A group of parents and children immediately surrounded Miss Trina, asking her questions. Alana watched them, feeling relieved. ‘It looks as though lots more kids are going to want to join Step Out Studio,’ she said to Meena. ‘And that means everything’s going to be OK – Miss Trina won’t have to close the school!’

  ‘And it’s all thanks to you!’ Meena replied.

  ‘Not true!’ Alana insisted. ‘It’s you lot who wowed everyone with your great dancing!’

  That evening, Alana took out the gold and purple album she used to record souvenirs of her adventures. She carefully folded up the crimson handkerchief and slipped it inside one of the cardboard pockets. On the outside of the pocket, she drew a picture of a couple dancing the tango, and surrounded them with multicoloured stars and sw
irls.

  Then she sat cross-legged on the bed, with the album still on her knee, and let herself dream about the adventure she’d just had.

  What will become of Miguel? she wondered. Maybe I will see him perform one day when we are grown-ups. Perhaps he really will become a world-famous tango dancer like his grandfather. And then, who would ever believe me if I told them I’d helped him on his way?

  By the Same Author

  Samba Spectacular

  LA Moves

  Viennese Waltz

  Bollywood Dreams

  Stage Sensation

  About the Author

  Arlene Phillips OBE is a world-renowned director and choreographer creating musicals, videos, films, television programming and spectaculars. Her inventive choreography has been seen in the musicals Grease, We Will Rock You, Starlight Express, The Sound of Music, Flashdance and The Wizard of Oz. Her screen work includes the films Annie and Legend, and the television shows DanceX and Britannia High. Arlene’s videos have starred everyone from Robbie Williams to Elton John, Whitney Houston to Tina Turner. Her largest ever spectacular was the XVII Commonwealth Games. She is known throughout the UK as a former judge on Strictly Come Dancing and now on So You Think You Can Dance? Her favourite job, however, has been as mother to her two daughters, Alana and Abi.

  Copyright

  First published in 2011

  by Faber and Faber Ltd

  Bloomsbury House

  74–77 Great Russell Street

  London WC1B 3DA

  This ebook edition first published in 2011