by Cain Hopwood
“This is going to be so good,“ Betty said. She took a deep breath letting it out slowly. “I can’t believe how wound up I was. Lord knows what we would have done without him.”
“Kicked that bitch out of the show,” muttered Simon without thinking. Aghast at having uttered what had been on his mind he looked up to be sure that no one had actually heard. Fortunately they were all a twittering about seeing David dance again. “Cuppa anyone?” he said, before anyone could comment.
He wandered into the kitchen, and started pouring himself a cup of tea when Bruce’s voice floated in from the other room.
“Grab me a beer while you’re in there will you?”
“Sure,” he yelled back.
He finished pouring the tea, the distinctive aroma of earl grey lingering briefly and relaxing him. Then he collected a pale ale from the fridge for Bruce and returned to the living room.
“So Wendy, any progress with the good doctor” he said as he sat down.
“Nope, I was working today. He did call though, said that he had the whole routine worked out and that I wasn’t to worry.”
“What?”
Wendy’s eyes rolled upwards. “Tell me about it. But he is the president of the rock and roll club.”
“There’s a difference between social dancing and dancing on stage though,” Simon said.
Wendy rolled her eyes. “I know this, and you know this…”
Simon’s brow furrowed. “But does he?”
“Who knows,” Wendy said. “Our first rehearsal is Tuesday. I guess I’ll find out then. But hey, at least he’s keen, and he can already dance. Unlike some.” She tilted her head towards Jade.
Simon rubbed his hands melodramatically. “Do tell.”
Jade gritted her teeth and groaned. “Look at this.” She stuck up her left leg, in a way that only a ballet dancer could, showing everyone her shin.
“Bruises?”
“I’ve been kicked in the shin more often than the Donald Duck costume at Disneyland. I don’t get it, he has the grace of a cat with a ball in his arms, but with me…” she shook her head.
“Give him a break,” Simon said. “It’s his first day, you’ve danced together for what, a couple of hours?”
“I dunno, I just figured that an athlete like him would get it quicker, be more body aware.”
“You’re doing tango right?”
Jade gave him a look that could have chilled Bruce’s ale.
He held up both hands. “Just checking. OK so you’re getting him to lead. Maybe you should just choreograph a set of moves, and make him learn them.”
“But that’s not tango.”
“No, but this is for the stage. You’re not dancing in a plaza in Buenos Aries.”
“Simon is right dear,” Fay said. “Learning to lead is hard, and expecting him to lead and be fluent enough to choose the steps in eight weeks might be expecting a bit too much.”
Jade slumped. “But I just want it to be proper tango.”
Fay raised a finger. “It will still be proper if you choose the right steps, and he will lead a lot better if he has a set of steps to follow. This is for the stage remember, not the dance floor. He won’t have to worry about avoiding others. But it is your responsibility to make the routine dynamic and interesting for the audience.”
Jade bowed her head like an errant student, and drew her words out. “Yes Miss Fay.” And the room erupted in laughter.
It hadn’t been that long since Jade had been Fay’s student, and she was working towards her teaching certification. But it was a long time since Fay had had to lecture her on anything.
“When’s your next rehearsal?” Simon said. “I need to start covering these for the paper so I may as well start with you. And maybe I can give him a tip or two.”
“Monday night at Fay’s studio if you must know. Now are there any more questions or can we watch the show.”
Simon put on a sly grin. “Just one, is romance in the air yet?”
Jade stuck her bottom lip out. “What? With his girlfriend shadowing his every move.”
“He has a girlfriend? I didn’t know.”
“Neither did I. And apparently neither do most of the town,” Jade said.
Giro
[hee’-ro], (lit. “Turn”).
A turn in which, most commonly, the follower walks around the leader, who forms the centre of the turn. However, the leader can also walk around the follower or they can both walk around a common centre. Also sometimes called a molinete.
Chapter Eight
The following Monday evening Simon pulled into the car park behind the abandoned and decrepit Galah cinema. The cinema hadn’t been in operation for decades. According to Bruce, the last time a movie had played there had been for the opening of Star Wars, and even then it had been a one off. Bruce had only been a child at the time.
Fay’s studio was above the adjoining shop, and Simon sat in the car waiting for the Monday night class to disperse. Based on the number of girls sporting ponytails, and one lone boy, it looked like Monday night was a ballet class.
The stream of children coming down the stairs looked like it was slackening off, so Simon made his way up. He arrived just as Jade was seeing the last student out.
“Nice timing, we’re just about to start,” she said.
“He’s already here?”
“Not only him, but his shadow as well.”
Simon tilted his head. “Interesting, who is she?”
Jade looked over he shoulder, then back. “That’s the strange thing, I’ve never met her before.”
Simon just arched his eyebrows, and she continued.
“I know, it’s weird huh? Last Saturday she just sat there and didn’t say boo for the whole afternoon. So do me a favour okay and find something out.”
“Sure, I’m as curious as you.”
The door clicked shut behind him and he followed Jade into the studio. Fay’s studio was simple, just two rooms. Just inside the door was a small waiting room where parents could sit and students could change in and out of their dance shoes. Two steps up and through a low doorway was the dance floor. It was a long rectangle, with a bar down one side, and mirrors down the other. An alcove beside the door had a couple of seats and a low table that held the music system.
Sitting in the alcove were Daryl and the girl.
“I’ll just change into some tango shoes,” announced Jade. “Daryl, this is Simon from the Gazette.”
“Hi,” Simon said and stuck out his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Jade had bent over and was fishing around underneath the table. As she sorted through her shoes, her shapely dance toned rear end just happened to be waggling in Daryl’s general direction. Hussy, Simon thought with a smile.
Daryl rose and shook his hand warmly. Simon was surprised to notice that his hand was silky soft.
“G’day,” Daryl replied. Then his hand stopped. “Say, aren’t you the…”
“Don’t say it,” interrupted Simon rolling his eyes. “I had plenty of that malarkey at the meeting the other night.”
Daryl let go of his hand and gave Simon a friendly thump on the arm. “Don’t worry, you’re OK by me mate. Plenty of your type out in the mines. Hard working blokes and fun to be around.”
Simon blinked and took a breath to respond, but Daryl motored right on.
“So you’re here to write an article, or help out with the dancing?”
“A bit of both. I do need a blurb for the paper, but I’d be happy to help Jade out with the number. I won’t be much more than a second set of eyes though, she’s the tango guru in Galah.”
Daryl nodded and then cocked his head. “You know, I think I remember you from school.”
Simon straightened. “You went to school in Galah?”
“Yes, but I left in year ten, when dad was transferred away. I think you were a couple of years below me.”
“Transferred away? What was your dad?” asked Simon.
; “The local sergeant.”
Simon face palmed. “Of course, I’ve got you now. So what brought you back?”
“Well, Dad retired. We’d only lived here for a few years. But he and mum both liked it. So they moved back.”
“Good for them.”
Simon looked over Daryl’s shoulder to see Jade still hunting around under the table, bum in the air. He grinned, then stepped past Daryl and held his hand out to the girl figuring that Daryl would turn around to follow, and catch an eyeful.
“Hi, I’m Simon.”
“Deirdre,” she said in a soft voice only briefly making eye contact. She was a plain, slight brunette.
Simon took a seat beside her. “So what do you think of the number so far? I’m looking forward to seeing how these two move together.”
She twitched her shoulder in what might have been a shrug.
Well, it looks like I know who does most of the talking in this relationship, thought Simon.
“Well, it’s early days yet I guess,” he said.
He reached into his satchel, pulled out a notepad, and opened it to a fresh page. “You don’t mind if I interview you for the Gazette do you? I want to get background on all the contestants, you know for human interest pieces.”
Her head moved up and down in what could have been a microscopic nod, so Simon ploughed on. He went through the usual set of background questions, but getting answers out of her was like pulling teeth. She wasn’t actually hostile or obstructive, just painfully shy. Actually no, when he thought about it, she wasn’t really shy. She seemed to be holding back almost like she was guilty to be talking to him. But once he’d managed to pry answers out of her to his stock set of background questions, it all became clear.
Meanwhile Jade and Daryl had warmed up and were now in an embrace and moving haltingly around the floor. It only took a moment for Simon to realise why Jade had bruised shins. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear that Jade had shocking body odour. Daryl had his head and torso so far back, he couldn’t help but lead with his feet.
But he bit his tongue; he knew from experience that there was nothing more confusing for a student than to have two instructors sending mixed signals. Besides, Jade already knew what the problem was. He wondered for a while if it was the presence of Deirdre that was causing Daryl to keep his distance. But if that were the case, he’d have expected Daryl to be frequently checking back with his girl, just to make sure she wasn’t freaking out. And as far as Simon could tell, Daryl had forgotten that he and Deirdre were sitting there.
Daryl was focussed in a way that Simon had rarely seen before in a student. And, he was a fast learner. Jade would put him in position like a shop mannequin, and there he’d stay.
After about twenty minutes Daryl gave Jade another whack in the shin and then trod on her toe. She sucked it up, and he looked like a puppy that had just messed on the rug.
“Let’s take a break huh?” Jade said through clenched teeth. She hobbled over to sit down next to Simon. “What do you think? Am I going to be the laughing stock of the town in eight weeks,” she said. Daryl was still on the floor, arms in an empty embrace, practicing steps.
Simon scratched his head. “Well, you’re not getting a good lead out of him that’s for sure. But he is a quick study, so maybe you should go with Fay’s plan and choreograph the routine.”
“It just seems like giving up.”
“Sure, for tango, but you’ll have a much better show number. And if you know exactly which step he’s about to do you’ll be able to decorate it up.”
“And I’ll be able to get my leg out of the way.”
Simon laughed. “Exactly!”
Jade straightened her shoulders. “I think that’s enough background on tango huh Daryl. Shall we start working on the actual number?”
She stood up and dragged two chairs over to the mirror. She placed them about eight metres apart. Daryl had stopped his practice and was looking bewildered.
Jade stood between the chairs. She motioned Daryl over to stand next to her. “The mirror behind us is the audience, and these chairs are the edge of the stage.” She spread her arms to encompass the square area between the chairs. “This is the area we’ve got to play with. Now let’s think, I think we’ll have you come on from stage left and me from stage right.”
“Right,” Daryl said. And, like a good puppy dog started toward his, and Jade’s, left.
“No No No, Stage left is over there,” Jade said and pointed to her right.
Daryl frowned, but to his credit he just took Jade at her word. He went over to stand obediently at the edge of the room where Jade was pointing.
Ah, he’ll make some woman a great husband one day, thought Simon.
Chapter Nine
The next day Simon sat at his desk at the Gazette and wondered what he was going to write about in that week’s paper. He had been unable to get anything interesting at all out of Daryl’s girlfriend. They’d met at church a few months ago. She was from Berooma. And that was about the sum of it. It wasn’t riveting copy.
If he didn’t know better, he’d have said that the only reason she was at the rehearsal was because she worked in Galah, and had to wait to get a ride home with Daryl. But she didn’t, she worked in Berooma. Daryl actually had to drive down to the larger town especially to bring her up to the rehearsals.
She sure didn’t seem to want to be there. Maybe she was just making sure Daryl didn’t play up, or she just wanted to make sure Jade didn’t take advantage. Maybe she had some magic female sixth sense, and had an inkling of what Jade’s intentions were with regards to Daryl.
Simon laughed quietly. After the way Jade had been behaving yesterday, Daryl’s girlfriend didn’t need psychic powers to see where Jade’s intentions lay. Jade was about as subtle as a rhino.
“What are you laughing about?” asked Betty. She was looking over her glasses from the other side of the proofing table. She had all the week’s social pages photos spread out and was trying to find an eye catching arrangement for the two-page spread.
“Nothing, just thinking about the tango rehearsal last night. There isn’t much material yet for a story. I can’t really say that they look awkward together.”
“No, we don’t want to start the coverage with a ‘trouble in paradise’ piece. I’m sure something will turn up.”
“Maybe, I’m covering Wendy tonight. And Fatty later this week as well, hopefully. But that won’t fill the gap in this week’s paper.”
Betty waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about this week, I’ve already got it covered.
“What with?”
“We’ll announce when the voting will start.”
Simon’s eyebrows twitched. “Ah ha, I did notice you were rather guarded with those details the other night.”
“Did you now.”
“Yes. I have to say I’m curious as to how it will work. Also how you’re going to stop people bribing, cheating, and ballot stuffing.”
Betty grinned like a cat with a bowl of cream. “I’ll bet you are. But our system is fool proof. In fact, it embraces the cheats and ballot box stuffers.”
“What?”
“Oh yes, the committee knows exactly what Galah and Berooma are like when it comes to competition. And the voting will play up to that.”
Simon shook his head. “You’re not going to tell me are you.”
“Not on your life. We’re keeping it all under wraps until this weekend.”
Simon could tell that there was no point needling Betty any more. For such an inveterate gossip she could be downright cagey when she had to be. He turned back to the computer and the gap in the page jumped out at him.
“OK, so let me get this straight. You want to fill this column with an announcement that voting will start, but you’re not going to give any details?”
“Exactly, get them wondering. Whip them into a frenzy. Look, use your creative instincts. We’ll be having a big unveiling at the shopping centre a
t midday this Saturday. Write that up. Then get, or make up, a couple of quotes from each contestant that will get people rallying behind their couple and keen to vote.”
“I can’t just make up quotes!”
“Sure you can. For example, you ring Fatty and ask him if he expects to get a lot of votes. He’ll say yes of course. Then you write something like; Fatty says the others have no hope. That he’s the most popular, and expects to win the peoples choice.”
“Right…”
“Then you talk to Daryl and ask him if he thinks the footballers will vote for him. He’ll say yes of course. So you can write that according to Daryl, the whole football community is behind him. You get the picture?”
Simon hesitated. “I suppose. The way you describe it makes me feel a bit dirty. But I should be able to get something that doesn’t make a complete mockery of my journalistic integrity.” He placed his hand over his heart and his nose in the air.
“Drama queen, you’ve got until the end of the day,” Betty said burying her head back in the jumbled pile of images on the proofing table.
Simon picked up the phone. He’d better arrange some more interviews this week. He would be chatting with Wendy tonight, but if that turned up nothing he would need more material by next week. Besides, he could use the phone calls to generate some quotes for today’s article.
So he picked up the phone, and started to dial.
Chapter Ten
By the end of the day Simon had been run ragged. He’d been playing phone tag back and forward with the remaining four contestants, and trying to get his piece written in the gaps. Not surprisingly, the words weren’t flowing. So what should have been an hours work, ended up taking all afternoon and into the evening.
And to cap it all off the rain was back with a vengeance. He’d grabbed some fish and chips at seven thirty, just before Con’s cafe shut, and was eating in the car outside Fay’s studio, hoping for a break in the weather so he could dash inside and not get too wet.
