Luna Tango (33 page)

‘Holy crap,' she finally said. ‘We were right.'

Iris collapsed onto the edge of the bed, her mouth open. ‘I thought we were but—'

‘There was always that element of doubt.'

‘Wow,' they said in unison.

A rap at the door halted further conversation. Dani hurried to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Her heart stopped, then began to race.

She spun around and pressed her back against the door, closing her eyes and praying she could hold it together. She didn't like her chances.

‘Daniela,' the deep voice said from the other side of the wood, ‘I can see your shadow under the door, yes?'

Crap
.

‘I—'

‘Daniela, open the door. I do not like standing in the hallways.' After a moment, he said, ‘Please.'

His dark, silky voice melted her resolve.

‘Daniela?'

‘Open up, Dani!' her mother hissed.

‘All right!' she yelled, not sure to whom she addressed her outburst.

Dani unlocked the door. Carlos wore the same shirt as the last time she'd seen him but now it was a crumpled mess. Dark rings had formed under his eyes and his trousers hung loose.

‘I'm so sorry, Carlos, I—'

He held up his hand. ‘Do not bother with the explaining. I have some news for you.'

‘Okay. Please, come in. Sorry for the shouting. I've got a lot going on and—'

‘Maybe I can help.' He leant heavily on his cane as he made his way over to the chair in front of the desk. Sitting awkwardly, he said, ‘I will not beat around the bushes, so I will ask you now. Is the reason you are interested in this Canziani case because you think you know who Louisa Gilchrist is?'

Dani searched Iris's wide-eyed stare for an answer. Iris shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

‘No.' Twitch twitch.

‘Daniela ...'

‘What?' Oh, how she wanted to press her fingers onto her eyelid before it went into complete spasms.

‘I may have a physical injury but my brain is working very well.' Hurt tinged his voice.

‘Carlos, I'm not saying ... I'm not—Shit.' She collapsed on the bed, defeated. ‘I can't lie to you.'

‘It is your eye.'

‘No, I can't lie to you because I don't want to. I'm sorry I didn't tell you the other reason why I wanted to find Iris but I didn't want to disappoint you. You seemed happy to think I wanted to find my mother and rebuild our relationship.'

‘You didn't want to do that?' Iris slumped against the wall and even though Dani couldn't see her expression, she hazarded a guess that her mother wore a look of disappointment.

‘I wish I could deny it, but I can't. Yes, I did originally want to find out what you knew about Stella, but I saw the mothers at the Casa Rosada and I got thinking, and ...' Her voice trailed off as she tried to make sense of the emotions battling to get out. ‘I'm sorry. After I met you my intentions changed and I did want—
do
want to right things between us.'

‘I want the same,' Iris said. ‘At least you looked for me, even if the intentions weren't quite honourable.'

Dani gave a small shrug. Turning her attention to Carlos, she said, ‘You trusted me despite your reservations. I'm sorry and I want to give you reasons to trust me again.'

‘Dani ...' Iris warned.

‘No.' Dani shook her head. ‘I trust Carlos more than anyone else. I want honesty to make us an excellent team again.'

‘This would be nice,' said Carlos, his smile showing forgiveness. ‘I do fear I may have overreacted in Mendoza.'

‘Yeah, just a tad. Artistic types, eh?' She gave a lop-sided smile.

‘I apologise from the bottom of my heart. My temper, it needs to calm down, yes?'

‘I'm not going to say no.' Closing her eyes briefly, Dani let her thoughts fall into place. ‘I need your word that I can trust you.'

‘I promise,' he said, licking his finger and crossing his heart.

‘Louisa Gilchrist is my grandma.' Done. Out in the open. No going back. Was that her conscience giving a round of applause?

Carlos sat still, barely blinking. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and the damn tap kept dripping in the bathroom.

‘I did not expect this,' he said.

‘That makes two of us,' said Dani.

‘Three,' chimed in Iris, lighting a cigarette.

‘You have known this all along?' Carlos shifted in his seat and rubbed his knee.

‘No, but through serendipity, the universe, God, Google or whatever, my grandma has now 'fessed up.'

‘What about Roberto Vega?'

‘He's alive and has just contacted her.'

Carlos blinked. ‘Pardon?'

‘She got a letter today and it contained stuff only Roberto could know. She's convinced it's him and she regrets living her life without him and—'

Carlos's warm smile stopped her verbal diarrhoea. ‘Daniela, you have painted the picture, thank you.'

‘She wants me to go to rural Brazil but my Portuguese is crap.'

‘
Eu falo português
,' he said, tapping her foot with his cane, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

‘Really? Will you come with me?'

‘I will think about it.' He closed his eyes and brought his fingers into a steeple under his chin. His eyelids opened to reveal the sparkle Dani had missed so much. ‘
Sí
.'

1954 – Louisa

The ship shuddered as it cut speed in readiness to enter Port Phillip Bay. Louisa gripped the railing, the pounding in her head increasing as the ship inched closer to dry land. Finally, after months of tedious travel, she would arrive at her destination—Australia.

Trees she couldn't name lined the rocky shore as waves pounded against jagged rocks. The sun's heat, similar to what she'd experienced in Brazil, dredged up memories of her fruitless search for Roberto. She closed her eyes and placed a hand on her belly. The baby kicked and she smiled, reminding her she'd made the right choice.

Inhaling the fresh salty air, she was thankful for another chance to get things right. The Australian government had opened their arms to immigrants and the timing couldn't have been better— although she wasn't sure how long the arms would remain open if they found out her real identity. But how could they? Louisa had spent time covering her trail and she'd found someone willing and able to change the name on her British passport even though it had cost a quarter of her savings. It hadn't been difficult coming up with a new identity: Stella was an adaptation from the Spanish word
estrella
, meaning star. And because the stars twinkled next to the moon, the dear, cherished moon she and Roberto loved so much, the name fitted perfectly.

A small smile tweaked at the corner of her lips as memories of Roberto rushed back. Even now, months later, she could smell his sandalwood scent, feel his warm, smooth skin against hers and his dark, thick hair curling around her fingers. Her heart ached to be with him again, even for a fleeting moment. Her elbow rested against the sheet of music for ‘Luna Tango' folded up in her pocket. For months she'd clung to the hope she could return what was rightfully his and the music score would be reunited, just like she and Roberto, but fate had other plans.

She tried to stem the bitterness churning within. Roberto never had the chance to learn about his impending fatherhood, although Louisa had experienced enough in her short life to know the world was rarely fair. Gently rubbing her belly, Louisa allowed her love for Roberto to cocoon their unborn child. She prayed she had enough strength and love to equal two parents.

‘Miss, you need to get ready,' a young sailor said as he rushed by, repeating the same words to the hundreds of passengers crowding the decks. People craned their necks and pushed each other for a better view of the land where they would start new lives.

Louisa gathered her battered suitcase and adjusted the large purse that hung from her shoulder. As she joined the throng edging down the gangplank and onto the pier, suitcases and bodies bashed against each other in the rush to leave and the stench of sweat assailed her delicate nostrils. Since falling pregnant, she'd developed an affliction in which most odours left her nauseous. Swallowing hard, Louisa allowed herself to be carried with the mob, using her spare arm as protection over the precious being in her belly.

When she'd left England all those years ago, she'd never expected life to turn out as it had in Argentina. Never could she have imagined falling so deeply in love with a country and a man, and to find a family in Eduardo Canziani. A dull lump of pain caught in her throat, remembering once again that Eduardo had died with anger in his heart as a result of her selfish behaviour. Perhaps she should have stayed in Argentina and dealt with the consequences.

The baby kicked against her abdomen, a harsh reminder that she'd done the right thing. It had been hard to leave the Americas but she could never have gone to the United States because of the many stage and film people who would recognise her instantly. England was out of the question because it had been ravaged by war, so Australia appeared the best option, especially since the country had no interest in tango. That way, she could keep her history hidden deep within.

‘Tango is dead to me,' she muttered.

‘Lines! Form lines!' yelled a tall, thin man in a faded grey suit. ‘Women and children there! Men here! Elderly over there!' he barked and the large group broke apart, hurrying to join the appropriate queue.

Louisa shuffled forwards, happy that no one paid attention to the lone pregnant woman in the ill-fitting floral dress. She kept her head down and concentrated on her scuffed leather shoes, a pose she'd adopted since leaving Uruguay. Gone was the confident sway of hips and head held high from when she was one of Argentina's elite. This slower walk, hunched shoulders and shyness helped convince people she was a woman who didn't have much in the world—a statement very close to the truth.

Men in dark blue suits sat behind makeshift tables set along the pier. The recent arrivals edged forwards and the officials seemed unperturbed by the wall of humanity approaching them.

Even now, on the verge of entering yet another new country she hoped to call home, Louisa questioned her ability to start a new life. Meeting Eduardo had been fortunate but encountering another person willing to help her now was nigh on impossible. The money Héctor had shoved into her hands in Argentina was almost gone. She had no idea what the future held but she couldn't give up, not now that she carried Roberto's baby. They both deserved a chance to thrive in this new world, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

The administrator waved her on. She took a moment to steady herself, barely able to breathe, then stepped forwards. Sweat pooled in her lower back as she passed her papers to the official. His bushy eyebrows created a veranda as he frowned and studied her documents and the passenger list. Louisa didn't move, her mouth dry and skin wet with perspiration. She desperately wanted to wipe away the moist beads on her forehead but didn't dare for fear the official would detect something was wrong. It most certainly was but she had no intention of giving him cause for concern.

‘Your husband?' he said, looking at her large belly.

‘He passed away. Farm accident.' Her dry lips made it almost impossible to speak, even though she'd rehearsed this story for weeks.

‘No other family?'

‘No. My parents died in the London bombings and my only family was an uncle and aunty in Brazil. I moved there just after war broke out.' She still hadn't got used to hearing her voice in English after so many years speaking Spanish. During the voyage she'd practised speaking her mother tongue and had worked on ironing out the language irregularities she'd developed.

‘Why aren't you with your relatives now, given your condition?' The official tilted his head to the side, his tone more concerned than authoritative.

‘They have passed, too.' Louisa bowed her head, recalling the sadness of losing her parents and hoping to pass this off in place of her fictitious Brazilian family.

‘Why Australia?'

‘My baby and I need to start fresh in a land with opportunity. Brazil holds too many sad memories for us.'

‘Hmm ...' He returned to studying the paperwork. ‘How far along are you?'

‘Six months.' She gripped the sides of her flimsy skirt. Even though she'd braced herself for such questions, the reality of the moment unnerved her.

He gathered her papers and stood. ‘One moment.'

The official strode off into the crowd of dishevelled immigrants, who parted like the Red Sea. As soon as he'd cut through, the crowd reformed and the heat and stench of jostling, unwashed bodies overwhelmed her. She looked around, desperate for something to sit on but there was nothing. Her breathing grew shallow and bright lights exploded in front of her eyes as she reached out for something, or someone, to help her stay balanced. Her fingers found a solid object and she gripped on for dear life.

‘Hey lady, watch it!' a deep voice shouted and her support was tugged away.

‘She's going to faint! Grab her!' A woman's thick Irish accent pierced through the crowd. The woman tried to hold her but Louisa crashed to the ground, landing heavily on her stomach. A sharp pain stabbed her abdomen and she clutched her belly.

‘No! My baby! My baby!' she moaned, and writhed as the agony spread across her stomach and to her lower back.

‘Get a doctor! Now!' Panic laced the Irish woman's tone as she stroked Louisa's forehead.

‘Move! She needs room!' shouted a man, less gruff than the one who had rejected her desperate grab. With outstretched arms, the Australian soldier pushed the crowd apart and knelt down and patted her hand. ‘Don't worry, love. We'll look after you.'