The Tango

by Cain Hopwood

  Daryl was stifling a yawn. “Sure, last one for tonight though OK.”

  “Absolutely dear,” Fay said patting him on the shoulder. She pointed over to the table holding the sound system. “Simon, use my phone, it doesn’t need to be fantastic quality.”

  Simon collected the phone and reset the CD player. It took him a moment to figure out how to get the camera into video mode. Once he was ready he looked up and Daryl and Fay were already in position.

  “Take care to respond to his leads Fay, try to empty your mind of the steps.”

  “That shouldn’t be hard, I’m bushed,” she said.

  Simon started the camera, checked it was recording and pressed play on the CD. The familiar strains of tango wheezed out of the speakers, and Simon had to concentrate to keep Daryl and Fay in the viewfinder frame.

  It wasn’t their best run through the routine though. But, from what he could tell from the tiny screen it did look like Fay was letting Daryl lead each step. Or maybe she’d just let the fatigue overtake her. Nonetheless, they made it through. Daryl even recovered nicely the couple of times he stumbled.

  Simon clicked off the camera. “OK that’s a wrap.”

  Fay came over and took a moment to check the recording. “Good, I’ll get that to her tonight.”

  “And you’re sure that this will be enough for her to dance with Daryl completely cold on the night?”

  “Absolutely, if he can lead me, he can lead her,” Fay said.

  Daryl’s brow furrowed. “I liked It better when we were going to have an afternoon rehearsal. I know I’ve asked before but are you sure she can’t make it down a little earlier. So we can have at least one practice.”

  “I’m sorry dear.” Fay sighed and looked upwards. “I know it’s frustrating but she’s, um, performing the night before. She’ll only barely have enough time to get some sleep and make it down here in time.”

  “I guess, one rehearsal would have been nice though.”

  Fay straightened. “This is argentine tango, you don’t need rehearsals.” Then her tone softened. “Besides, you’re leading this sequence well enough to dance it beautifully with an accomplished partner. You will be fine.”

  “OK,” Daryl said, though he didn’t look convinced to Simon.

  “Besides,” Simon added. “We’ve been telling everyone that you’re dancing with her cold. I know it’s only a show, but the town has really latched onto the whole event.”

  “Well it’s a good cause,” Daryl said.

  Simon shook his head. “It’s not just that. All the CWA’s fundraisers have been for good causes. But none have got the town going like this. It’s the only thing they’ve been talking about at the pub for weeks. If they feel like you’ve cheated them by having even one sneaky rehearsal…”

  Daryl paused for a second, then he straightened. “You’re right. It’s not worth it. And in this town, there’s no way we could do it on the sly.”

  “No. Besides, all one rehearsal would do is give you a feel for how she handles.”

  Fay gave Simon a whack on the arm. “Did you just say ‘handles’? We’re not motor vehicles you know.”

  Simon looked over his shoulder at Fay, then back to Daryl. “Don’t mind her. I just meant that some partners are light and some heavy, but you haven’t danced with enough different followers to work that out. This mystery woman will also need a little time to get used to how you lead.”

  “So what do I do?” asked Daryl.

  “Ideally you’d do a few warm up steps in the green room beforehand.”

  Daryl’s head nodded slowly, then he frowned. “What’s a green room?”

  Simon face palmed. “Sorry, I forget you’re a rookie when it comes to these kind of productions. It’s a waiting room back stage where the performers hang out before they come on.”

  Daryl brightened. “Right, like a locker room.”

  “Same concept. Just don’t go starting any towel fights OK.”

  Daryl winked, but then followed it up with a more serious nod. “I guess I’ll just have to get a feel for her at the beginning of the dance, sorry, number.”

  “Remember that you’ve got that whole section before the first chorus when you’re just parading around,“ Simon said.

  Daryl opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Fay.

  “Stop talking shop you two,” she said. “Let’s lock up and go, I will see you both on Saturday at twelve at the hall for the run through and dress rehearsal, do not be late.”

  “Yes Miss Fay,” Simon and Daryl both said, then the two men looked at each other and laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Simon stood over the proofing table trying to keep his eyes open. Between tap and tango rehearsals and his late night calls with Jade he hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. She’d been giving him daily, blow by blow renditions of all the Scorched Floor rehearsals and shows.

  Joe was working her hard. But she seemed to be stepping up to the plate. Simon was really pleased that she was slotting into position in Joe’s show. She only had a couple of performances left in Melbourne and then they were off to Perth. After that they were on in Queensland for three nights, and then she’d be back. Just last night she’d told him which flight she’d be returning on next weekend.

  But he didn’t have much time to consider her return as it was going to be a busy week. He and Betty had extra paper to fill this week as Betty had promised the organising committee a big spread on the week of the show.

  Normally the CWA needed this kind of promotional blitz to sell tickets to their events. But as they’d sold out weeks ago Simon didn’t really see the point. All it was doing was stoking the fires of discontent in the town.

  He blinked and shook his head trying to bring the proofs into focus. Once again the picture of Daryl caught his eye. Betty thought that they may as well ham up the missing dancer. She’d photoshopped out Jade, replacing her with a black silhouette with a big white question mark.

  The accompanying text she’d written explained the situation and Simon picked up a ruler to proof her article.

  The phone rang, and Betty answered in a mechanical voice. “Galah Gazette, Betty speaking.”

  There was a pause.

  “No we have everyone that we need, but thanks for offering.”

  There was another pause. Simon looked up and Betty was rolling her eyes.

  “Yes I understand, and we really appreciate your offer to help, but we’re actually over staffed. So even if someone calls in sick we’ll be OK. Bye bye now.”

  She hung up the phone.

  “How many is that now?” asked Simon.

  “I’ve lost count, probably fifty. All the last minute larrys are getting desperate. It’s funny, normally we’d be begging people to help out at the bar, but not this time.”

  “They’d rather be serving, just so they can see the show?”

  Betty frowned. “I don’t think it’s so that they can see the show, everyone knows that we’ll be selling DVDs.”

  “Why then would they volunteer to help out?”

  “I think it’s so that they can say that they were there. For instance, that was Ainsley DeVries.”

  Simon drew a sharp breath. “Wow. The DeVries have been here for generations. They’re as close as Galah gets to royalty.”

  Betty nodded. “And she was just volunteering to help out in the kitchen.”

  “Wow.”

  Betty shrugged. “These people think they’re important, I don’t imagine they they’d want to admit that they couldn’t get tickets.”

  “But work in the kitchen? That’s better?”

  Betty lifted her nose in the air and laid the sloan accent on thick. “So you enjoyed our little show did you darling. I poked my head in from time to time but I had to keep things humming along with the catering. These things don’t run themselves you know and it is so hard to get good help.”

  Simon was nearly doubled over. “So true, so true.” Then something
occurred to him. “Oh crap, I just realised that I don’t have a ticket. It completely slipped my mind that I’d need one.”

  Betty waggled her finger. “You’re lucky you’re filling in for Jade then aren’t you. Someone will have to show Daryl where to stand and stop him tripping over all the usual backstage hazards.”

  Simon breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course, not a problem.”

  “Now, when is this mystery dancer turning up?” asked Betty.

  “Fay hasn’t told me, just sometime in the afternoon,” Simon said his brow wrinkling. “Look has she confided anything to you at all?”

  “No, I though you and her were keeping it a big secret.”

  Simon was wide eyed. “Me! I thought she was just having a joke with me and that you knew who it was.”

  “Not at all, I’ve got no idea,” Betty said tapping her fingers on the proofing table. “I wonder what Fay is up to.”

  “Well I hope she has someone lined up, otherwise Daryl is going to be very disappointed.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Betty said. “But I’m more concerned about what the Goats supporters will do if their golden boy is left hanging. They bought a lot of tickets. And there will be even more of them in the car park”

  “In the car park?”

  “Yes, someone put two and two together and figured that if we’re videoing the show, then they could take a feed from the camera and run it out to the car park.”

  Simon smiled. “That’s a great idea. It’s like what American football fans do at sold out stadiums.”

  “That’s what the committee thought when it was put to them last night,” Betty said. ”Especially when someone suggested that we could charge them for access to the car park as well. Just a couple of bucks, but it all helps.”

  Simon drummed his fingers on the table. “That car park is pretty big, you could have another five hundred people out there.”

  “All the more reason to make sure Daryl’s fans aren’t disappointed then,” Betty said.

  Simon shrugged. “Well he’s ready, I just hope this mystery lady of Fay’s is ready too.”

  Tango

  [tan-goh].

  Tango is both a musical genre and a social dance. Originating at the end of the 19th century in the suburbs of Buenos Aires and Montevideo, Uruguay, it has since become popular internationally. The origin of the word “Tango” is uncertain, but it is thought to be of African origin and to have originally meant; closed space where negroes gather to dance.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  When he arrived at the hall Simon was surprised to find the car park already half full. It was just before midday, and the show wasn’t due to start for another eight hours. But ute tailgates were already down and people were testing generators, setting up TVs, Camp seats and sunshades. Or, knowing the weather of late, more likely rain shades. The barbecues were already warming up and Simon could hear the clink of bottles being pulled from eskies.

  Most of the tailgaters were wearing Goats green jerseys and if Simon didn’t know better he’d have thought he was heading off to a football game.

  An F150 not unlike Bruce’s pulled into the car park and slowed to a stop behind him. He didn’t want to get parked in, so he waved it past, turned around and parked out on the road. Otherwise he might be forced to spend the whole afternoon in the community hall car park. On his way back through the car park he saw two lads struggling with an esky the size of a coffin. He thought of the crisp cold beers that were inside it and supposed there could be worse places to spend an afternoon.

  One of the CWA ladies was guarding the door to the hall and she waved him through. Once inside he could hear hammering, drilling and a murmur of voices. Workmen and crew were scuttling back and forward.

  In many ways the Galah community hall resembled a large circus tent. It was more or less circular and was divided into two spaces by a high concrete wall that, like a huge tent pole, supported the high roof. The far end of the larger of the two spaces contained the stage, dressing rooms and backstage areas. The rest of the large space, backed by the supporting wall, was for audience seating. The smaller space behind the wall was a reception and entrance area.

  Simon walked through the reception area, around the wall, and saw that the performers were all milling around in front of the stage. Some workmen were erecting a raised platform in the middle of the audience space, and a couple of others were building another small stage on the right hand side of the main stage.

  He’d never seen such a frenzy of building and activity for any show in the hall. He shook his head in amazement, it seemed like most of the town’s tradesmen were involved. Looking around he spied Daryl standing by himself and went over to join him.

  “This is like a huge building site,” Daryl said.

  “Except that it’ll all be done in a couple of hours. Welcome to show biz mate,” Simon slapped the big footballer on the shoulder. Despite a hefty swing, Simon’s arm bounced and Daryl barely moved.

  “What’s all this for?”

  “I’d say they’ll tell us.” Simon looked at the collection of lumber and workmen in the middle of the hall. “But I’m guessing that that is either a camera platform or the judge’s table. But I’ve got no idea what they’re building over there,” he said, pointing at the worksite on the right of the stage.

  They both looked at the men arguing cutting and hammering. Simon had seen a lot of stage and show setup but these guys looked to be on a mission. And given that the show was due to start in about seven hours they had to be.

  “OK everyone, pay attention,” Betty said clapping to quieten the crowd. She was standing on the main stage holding a clipboard and she had a headset clamped to one ear. Accompanying her was a small army of deadly serious similarly headseted CWA ladies each also brandishing a clipboard.

  “Now the ladies and I have worked this show out with military precision.” She pressed her lips together and looked at her watch. “Although, some of the setup is running a little behind.”

  This received some grumbling from the workmen, but the pace of hammering, drilling and cutting didn’t slow.

  “For the next hour or so we’ll be doing a technical rehearsal with all the performers and crew. After that the celebrities and dancers are free to go. Then the warm-up acts will each go through a full dress rehearsal of their numbers. Once that’s done we can leave the hall to the decorating crew.”

  “What’s a technical rehearsal?” asked Fatty.

  “It’s a dry run through the whole show, from start to finish,” Betty said.

  “That will take ages.”

  “Not really, no one does their numbers. When it’s your turn you just walk on stage and then off.”

  “Not much of a rehearsal.”

  Betty tapped her foot. “The point Fatty, is to make sure that you all know where and when you’re supposed to be. And for the crew to set and strike any props or scenery so that we can iron out technical and timing issues.”

  “OK I get it. So we just walk on stage, then off.”

  “Well no Fatty, and that’s why we need this rehearsal. Let’s all go back stage and I’ll explain.” She turned to the clipboard brigade. “Let’s go ladies,” and they all scurried off stage.

  Some headed back to the dressing rooms, some the wings and two took up guard near the workmen on the right of the stage.

  She led the group of performers over the stage, through the wings and to the backstage area. There was a small space directly behind the stage, and behind that was a couple of large communal dressing rooms.

  “We’ll be using the men’s dressing room here as a ready room. Valmay here is the door proctor, she’ll let you know when you are due on stage.” She patted a bespectacled little old biddy who was gripping her clipboard like it was about to take flight. “The women’s dressing room is for women only,” Betty added.

  “So where do we change?” asked Fatty.

  “In here,” Betty said in a matter of fact voice
. Then before anyone could argue she ploughed on. “Now in you all go. Valmay will hand you off to Rosamond and Hope who are in the wings and will let you know when you go on. Now chop chop, we don’t have all day.”

  All the performers were herded into the assembly room like as many sheep. First each warm up act was called in order by Valmay’s nervous warble. It took a good ten minutes during which all they could hear was the thumps and scrapes as props and scenery were being moved about on stage.

  “Hey Fatty,” yelled Daryl. “Now you know what one of your pigs feels like in the abattoir yards when it’s waiting to see what gonna happen next. You know, when it’s hanging with the other pigs, thinking this is all nice and friendly.”

  “Laugh it up goat boy, we’ll see who get slaughtered up on stage. Speaking of stage, where is your girlfriend?”

  “Jade’s not my girlfriend,” Daryl said. “Fay’s organised a different pro dancer.”

  Valmay called Fatty and Lilly forward next.

  While they were leaving Daryl looked back at Simon. “What did he mean calling Jade my girlfriend?”

  Simon paused, surely Daryl can’t have missed all Jade’s less than subtle attempts to attract his attention over the last eight weeks. For a second he toyed with the idea of telling Daryl of Jade’s infatuation. But then he thought how mortified Jade would be, even though it would probably be in her best interests.

  “He was just messing. I imagine he’s probably got the hots for his own pro.”

  Daryl nodded and looked back at the door like a big puppy. Simon gave a small smile and shook his head. He could see what Jade saw in the big footballer, apart from his muscles that was.

  The tango was slated as the last dance. Presumably Fay had arranged that to ensure that her last minute dancer had as much time as possible to arrive. So by the time Daryl was called the ready room was empty.

  “Daryl and…” Valmay frowned. “Are you dancing by yourself young fellow?”