Luna Tango (30 page)

‘You carry them with you everywhere you go?'

‘Yes. Diego was always nosy, so I learnt to carry my most valuable possessions with me.' She rummaged in her bag, pulled out the manila folders and motioned for Dani to take them. When Iris pushed the bag from the table, another photo fell out. The picture showed a young girl and a woman on a beach, framed by bright blue sky, lush green grass, pine trees and pristine sand, their wide smiles captured in a moment of pure bliss.

Dani reached for the photo but Iris grabbed it first.

‘Please, can I have a look?' Dani asked.

‘It's nothing.' Iris's voice cracked.

‘Iris.' Dani held out her hand, palm up, waggling her fingers.

‘Fine.' Iris thrust the photo at her daughter, who took it eagerly.

‘That's us at Torquay Front Beach, isn't it?' Memories of happier times spun inside Dani's mind.

‘Yes.' Iris studied her hot pink toenails.

‘You've carried it all these years?'

‘I've looked at it every single day. I've wished for a lot in my life but what I've wished for most is for you to be as happy as the day this photo was taken.'

‘I could have been if you hadn't left.' Dani's voice sounded as small as she felt.

‘I know.' Iris hung her head. ‘I shouldn't have been selfish but I—'

‘Couldn't help it.' Dani got up and headed towards the bathroom. ‘I'm taking a shower then I'm going for a walk. You're going to sit tight and not draw attention to yourself, right?'

Iris nodded.

‘Good.'

Dani shuffled up the stairs to the hotel room, her legs barely able to hold up her weary body. Her search for Carlos had yielded nothing, not that she knew what she'd say if she did find him. Finishing off a banana, her only sustenance for the day, Dani wrapped the peel in a serviette and shoved it in her bag. The food hardly registered but she had to keep her strength. She swiped the key card and the door clicked open. Gut wrenching sobs greeted her.

‘Iris?'

Her mother sat on the corner of the bed among a sea of white tissues, a hot pink scarf wrapped around her neck. She looked up with bloodshot eyes and a red nose. ‘Oh, Dani. I've done something really, really stupid.'

Taking a seat next to her, a cold fear shot through Dani as she rubbed Iris's back. Deserting a child was a really, really stupid thing to do—what could be worse?

‘Diego has the files,' Iris howled and buried her head in her hands.

‘What? How did it happen?' Her mother kept bawling and Dani's patience wore thin but she kept a steady voice, aware an outburst could make Iris clam up.

‘Someone told Diego I had returned.'

‘I thought your disguise was half decent.'

Iris reached for a cigarette but her trembling hands failed when she tried to use the lighter. Dani took the items from her, lit the cigarette and handed it back. Chemicals swelled in her mouth and reminded her why she'd never smoked, except for a few drunken drags at parties.

Iris sniffled. ‘I went downstairs to the café.'

‘Are you insane?' Seriously, her mother was worse than a three-year-old. ‘You told me you'd stay put. You didn't wear the glasses, did you?'

‘I needed a caffeine hit. And I was only going for a minute.'

Dani resisted the urge to roll her eyes. ‘How did he steal the files? Did you have your bag with you?'

‘No.' Iris wiped her nose with a tissue. ‘I left them in the room. I wasn't worried about running into Diego, for god's sake. How was I supposed to know the idiot theatre manager would see me and tell him?'

‘What's done is done.' Dani had a hard time keeping annoyance out of her voice. ‘So how did he get the files?'

‘I had my coffee, left the café, and Diego was in the lobby, all cool, calm and collected. The bastard grabbed my arm and marched me back to the room.'

‘Why didn't you scream? Someone would have come to help you.'

‘I didn't want to cause a scene.'

‘Don't you remember the fight at the theatre?'

‘I'm over being the diva. I want a quiet life. I don't want drama any more.'

‘I doubt you'll get your wish any time soon. What happened next?' Dani tried to quash the myriad scenarios that could transpire if those papers got into the wrong hands.

‘I brought him up, hoping I could calm him down and talk sense into him. But he tried it on with me and—' She put her fingers to the scarf and pulled it away from her neck. Dark red marks the size of a man's fingertips dotted her pale skin.

‘He choked you?'

Iris secured the material again. ‘He tried.'

‘Jesus.' As annoyed as Dani was with Iris's carelessness, she felt for her mother after the ordeal she'd just experienced. ‘You fought him off, I take it.'

‘An elbow in the ribs will do that.' She attempted a feeble smile. ‘I'm sorry, Dani, I really am.'

‘Did he leave straight away?'

‘No. After he got off the floor he saw the papers on the table.'

‘They weren't in your bag?'

‘No.' Iris squirmed on the bed. ‘He slammed me into the wall and grabbed the file before I had a chance to stop him. He mumbled something about me regretting crossing him, then he was gone.'

‘Oh, shit. Was Stella's address still stuck on photo?'

‘Yes but it was only an address, not her name.' Iris's hand flew to her heart. ‘Oh god.'

* * *

Dani sat on the bed, tapping her nails against the phone, willing it to answer. ‘Come on!'

It rang out and she slammed the phone down and dialled again, wondering why the hell a recently renovated hotel supplied the old rotary dial phones and only provided internet access that randomly dropped out so she couldn't use Skype. Sticking the pencil into each digit she steered the dial until the number was complete. Once again, the phone remained unanswered.

‘Shit!'

‘Dani—'

‘Just one more time.' She dialled the number again. As it was evening in Buenos Aires it would be morning in Melbourne so by rights, Stella should be at home. Dani muttered, ‘Please, please, please', under her breath.

Click. ‘Hello?'

‘Grandma!' Dani bounced on the bed with excitement and Iris gripped her arm, beaming from ear to ear.

‘Are you calling from New York?'

‘No.'

‘Then I don't want to talk to you.'

‘Wait! Wait! Don't hang up! Iris wants to talk with you!'

Iris shook her head, eyes wide.

‘I definitely don't want to talk then. Goodbye.'

‘No! Wait! Please!'

‘What?' Irritation sped down the line and slapped Dani across the cheek.

‘Are you Louisa Gilchrist?' There. She'd asked it, and all she had to do was wait for the fallout.

Steady breaths came from the other end of the line and Dani pictured Stella pursing her lips and staring at the out-of-date wall calendar on the kitchen cupboard.

‘Grandma?'

‘I am Stella Kennedy and if you think it's acceptable to ask impertinent questions then you are best suited to your mother's company.'

‘I'm sorry you feel that way but if you are Louisa, you need to know someone might come looking for you. It was an accident, but someone has your address and you need to go away for a while.'

‘I will do nothing of the sort. This is my home and I will not have a dim-witted stranger harassing me. Dani, I am not impressed with your behaviour. Not one bit.'

The phone clicked and a continuous tone signalled a dead connection.

Iris leant forwards, her face flushed. ‘What did she say?'

‘She hung up on me.' Dani held the handpiece out and stared at it. ‘She told me she wasn't going anywhere.'

‘Do you think she was bluffing?' Iris grabbed a cigarette and Dani was oh so tempted to ask for one but changed her mind. She didn't need lungs filled with crap to cloud her judgement.

‘I don't think so, but if she is Louisa, she's spent decades hiding her true identity, so there's no way she'd tell her granddaughter straight away. Maybe she is just Stella Kennedy.' Dani stood and threw a pencil and notepad into her handbag then slung it over her shoulder. ‘Perhaps we're off the mark and we're harassing our own flesh and blood, like the Argentines did to Louisa.'

‘She is Louisa.' Iris sounded determined.

‘Yeah. She is.'

* * *

The second her feet made contact with the pavement outside the hotel, Dani knew in which direction to head. When she'd visited earlier, no one was there, but maybe her luck would change. She strode along Lavalle and passed the restaurant La Estancia. Through the window, Dani spied sides of beef cooking on hot coals and chefs dressed as gauchos to entice diners, mostly tourists, to enter the famous Argentine restaurant. As much as her stomach grumbled, Dani pressed on, refusing to give up on her mission.

She marched down Avenida Cordoba and arrived at the beautifully preserved baroque building. Dani placed her hand on the brass handle of the heavy door, hesitating. The first time she'd graced this entrance she'd been determined not to fail at her career and to glean some understanding about her mother's personal life. Dani had planned to get Carlos Escudero on board if it killed her. So much had changed in a short time: she found herself on an unknown path with Iris and she wasn't as concerned as she should be if her career nosedived before it had even taken off. It was more important to right her wrong and make Carlos understand how sorry she was. She didn't like her chances for a warm welcome but she would try regardless.

Dani dashed up the stairs two at a time, giving the elevator only a cursory glance. Reaching the landing, she ran to the doors and pulled them open, bursting into the dance studio to find Jorge and his young dance partner half naked and in a tangle of arms and legs. It appeared they were partners in other things as well. Did all tango partners end up in a different type of dance in bed?

Jorge sat up quickly and the girl did the same, pulling her short skirt down as far as it could go, which wasn't very far.

‘Sorry,' Dani said, not sure who was more embarrassed.

‘It is fine.' Jorge's dark eyes were wide.

‘Don't worry, I'm not going to tell Carlos.' Relief swept across the young couple's faces. ‘Don't you have somewhere better to meet, though?'

‘Carlos said he was going away and we don't have money for a room, even by the hour, so we, uh ...' Poor Jorge.

‘You don't need to explain yourself, but you might want to find a better place for your rendezvous.' Dani raised her eyebrows and gave them a small smile.

‘Yes, yes we will.' The couple grabbed their shoes and discarded clothes.

‘You haven't seen Carlos?' she asked.

‘No. Not for two days.' Jorge hastily shoved his arms in his jacket.

‘Do you know where he could be?' Hope clung to her every word. Carlos had refused to answer the twenty-odd messages she'd left him.

‘No. Sorry.' They bolted towards the door. Jorge turned around and said, ‘I thought you left town with him.'

‘I did.'

‘So why aren't you with him?' ‘Jorge, this is an excellent question.'

* * *

Entering the foyer, she climbed the stairs to her room. Water ran in the bathroom so she figured Iris was taking one of her numerous daily showers. Rather than announce her presence, Dani sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her notepad. No matter what was going on with her personal life, she still had to get the articles written for Adam. Her conscience didn't want to let anyone down, even if it was an ex. She just wished this damn writer's block would clear.

After the success of tango in Paris in 1914, it spread to other capitals around the world, such as London, Berlin and New York. Despite its popularity (or because of), leaders around the world denounced tango as a tool for corrupting the soul
.

Cardinal Basillo Pompili, Vicar General of Rome (representing the Pope), issued a pastoral letter to officially declare tango as a perversion of the souls and accuse it of single-handedly bringing paganism back into their sanctified world. He warned parents to protect their children and not allow their participation in tango, for if they didn't do as the church said, the parents would be failing God
.

French ecclesiastical authorities and American Catholic priests jumped on the bandwagon, placing pressure on dance halls and closing down community dances held in their own church halls. Church leaders from many religions referenced tango as ‘moral turpitude' and a ‘disgusting exhibition of wantonly ways'
—
all except the rabbis
.

Rabbi Jacob Nieto addressed a gathering in Israel and said condemning the dance would do more harm than good. He discussed the Middle Ages, when young Jewish people gathered to dance on a Sunday afternoon while parents and Rabbis watched, and the atmosphere was one of convivial and innocent enjoyment
.

He begged for people to use common sense and not condemn the tango because, when danced by cultured persons, it is a thing of beauty. He declared anyone could take a religious ceremony and make it a farce if they were so inclined
.

The bathroom door clicked open and Iris walked out. She hadn't bothered tying her robe properly, and Dani caught a glimpse of her mother's body—flat stomach, round hips and perfect skin—a figure that would make most twenty-year-old women insanely jealous. Iris brushed her hair with nonchalance.

‘Can you do up your robe, please?'

Iris's eyes widened with realisation then she pulled the robe together and secured it with a tie.

‘Thanks,' said Dani.

‘I need to tell you something.' Iris sat down on the chair opposite.

‘Am I going to like this?'