Excerpt from Tribunal by Nancy Hersage, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"But I haven't danced since I was a girl."

"He pays well, Martin says, and in advance."

"Advance?"

"Something, anyway. He must meet you and, if he likes you, you sign papers. Then you travel and you dance."

"Travel? You mean we can go back home, up north?"

"No. It's not home. And it's only you, Nita. We would stay here."

"I would leave the children alone?"

"With me. You go by yourself."

"This makes no sense, Enrique. Where would I go?"

"To Europe."

"What?"

"He's taking these folk dances to Italy."

Nita laughed. "I'm not going to Italy!"

"For three months. This man would give us enough to rent a room. Martin says we would have money while you were gone and more when you returned. Martin says this man knows his business. He travels all over the world."

Nita studied her husband's face. He was annoyed that the job was not his, but he wanted her to go. He was telling her they had no choice.

"How can I go to Italy?"

"Ask this man. I have the address where Martin works. He says to go there and meet this man tomorrow."

"No," Nita said, "I don't want to leave Letty and Carlos."

"I'll take care of them, Nita. Talk to this man."

"No."

But they both knew that as soon as the sun came up she would be getting dressed so that she could take the first bus into the city.

The club where Martin worked was on a tree-lined street near the waterfront. She knocked on the closed door. The club was not yet open, the voice behind the door explained. Nita asked for Martin. In another minute, he stepped out into the sunshine. She would not have recognised him, had she not been expecting to see him. His hair was neatly trimmed. He wore an expensive shirt and leather shoes. He smelled sweet, like an extract of ripe flowers.

"Nita!" he said.

"Hello, Martin. Enrique said -- "

"Yes, yes. I wrote to you, you know. After that letter of yours. Without an envelope or postage. They laughed when they handed it to me at the post office." He reached into his shirt pocket for a cigarette, then lit it with a silver lighter.

Nita felt small next to him -- dirty and poor and stupid. She wished she could turn around and go home, but that would be running away from an opportunity. "Is this where you work?"

"Private membership club," he said, "businessmen, mostly, from all over the world. We serve meals and drinks. They make deals."

"What do you do?"

"Me? I'm just an errand boy. I do what I'm told." He smiled his superior smile. He was proud of how far he'd come. He wanted her to know he'd done well, that he was going to do better. "You have to learn the ropes, you know."

Nita nodded. She did admire him. He had found a place in the city. He was making money. She wanted to fit in, too. To have a place for Enrique and the children. She wanted money.

"You found a job for me, Martin?"

"One of our customers, a Japanese businessman, owns a Filipino folk dance group. They tour. He wants girls who know the regional dances, from the mountains, like you. He likes them to be younger, Nita. Eighteen, he says. But I told him you look young."

"Thank you."

"I also told him you are a good dancer. Are you?"

"Of course," she said, testing her own bravado. They both laughed.

"Very good. I like that."

"Does it matter that I'm married?"

"I didn't say anything about that. Don't mention it, if you don't have to. Just go talk to Mr Okano. He has an office. I have the address."

"Do I get an advance? Money before I leave?"

"That's what he said. But you'll have to ask." He handed her the address. "Go tell him how good you are."

"Thank you, Martin."

Copyright Nancy Hersage 2000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher or author.