AU: late 1950s.
The Crawlettes are a girl group, very popular in Britain: Mary and Sybil sing, while Edith plays the piano and writes the music. Mary knows that their old-style close harmony is fast going out of fashion; she wants to leave on a high, and presses for their next concert to be their last.
.
"No, no, no! And that's final!" stated Mary, ending the conversation.
"But why? And why now?" Edith continued, not accepting Mary's conclusion.
"I've said: we quit now while we're ahead because there's new styles coming out of America, roll'n'roll and suchlike, and we're old hat. It's better to accept that we've had our success and get out of the music business while they still love us, rather than carrying on until for a few more months or years until we can't give our records or concert tickets away. I won't outstay my welcome."
"Mary, Edith, please! Let's not decide this now. We've got the second half to do and we're all tired. Can we discuss this tomorrow, when we're all feeling less psyched up? Please?" Sybil was always the peacemaker, but today, she knew she wouldn't be able to continue singing as well as she knew she should if she was stood between her two older siblings darting angry looks at each other.
Anthony Strallan, their Manager, Promoter, Accountant, and General Dogsbody popped his head around the dressing room door, smiling encouragingly as usual.
"Five minutes to the second half. Everything alright in here?" There was a tangible cooling of the temperature in the room as The Crawlettes nodded at him, a bit distractedly.
"Well, I'll let you get ready. Let me know if you need anything now or for afterwards. I'll get Tom to bring the car around to take you to your hotel, say, an hour after curtain? That should be enough time to sign autographs and whatnot. You have a very big crowd tonight! Break a leg my wonderful ladies!"
He closed the door as Mary rolled her eyes.
"That man would be polite to Satan himself, I swear."
"And I suppose you think that's a bad thing?" Edith snapped back. She wasn't sure why she had started defending Anthony so vehemently lately. It worried her that she was so worried when people made fun of him.
"No one's saying Anthony isn't a gentleman, Edith" Sybil said automatically, although in truth she was thinking more about Tom and being driven back by him. Perhaps tonight she would have the courage to accept the drink that he always offered to buy her after concerts.
"He is a gentleman, I'll grant you. I just…well, I wish he would get angry at something…or someone…just occasionally. I think it would do him good!" Mary sighed. She was pleased to see Edith smile in acceptance of her apology and went back to fixing her already perfect hair. Matthew would be out there tonight. If he came backstage, perhaps…
.
"….I want you to make love to me…do!"
The crowd erupted into cheering and applause. The girls had finished their third encore with one of their biggest hits, and one of the most syrupy, sentimental songs ever written, but late at night with the lights low, it was pure magic. It took five minutes but they eventually left the stage, accepted the congratulations of the stagehands, and made their way back to their dressing rooms to get ready for the next performance at the stage door.
"Mary" Sybil nodded her head to ask her to come into her room. When she'd made sure Edith hadn't noticed and shut the door she continued.
"I know you want to leave the spotlight while we are still on the crest of a wave…"
"Aren't we just?" Mary smiled delightedly. "Three encores!"
"Yes, it was wonderful…but remember for Edith it hasn't felt like this. She sits at the back playing while no one remembers that she actually writes the songs, while we get all the applause and fan mail. She wants to experience that…just a little."
"Well, perhaps she should become a concert pianist, and go solo!" Mary knew the comment was beneath her, but she was tired and it had been a long day. More to the point, she hadn't seen her favourite fan in the crowd this evening. Why hadn't he come?
"You know as well as I do that Edith isn't in that sort of league. She could no more become a concert pianist than you could sing at Covent Garden!"
"Then perhaps she could play with Donald Swann….oh, I'm sorry Sybil" Mary continued in a very different voice having seen her youngest sister's expression. "You know I do worry about Edith too. It would hurt her so much to try to carry on when all our fans have stopped listening to us and start listening to this chap called Presley, and people like him. Grandmama Martha writes to me that it is incredible the sort of passions he invokes: quite unbecoming."
"But…"
"You said yourself we should discuss it tomorrow when we are all feeling a bit more like ourselves, and I know you are right, darling. See you at the stage door in five." And with that she left to go to her own dressing room.
Sybil sat down in front of the mirror and began to take off her make-up in a half-hearted way. She didn't want this wonderful time to end either. If they weren't performing and recording, why would they need to employ a driver? And she didn't think that she could bear another day without Tom Branson and his cheeky smile and his sexy Irish accent and turn of phrase. But Papa would never…
She was jolted out of her thoughts by the door banging open. In the doorway, swaying slightly, stood Larry Grey, his black tie hanging loose and his hair all awry.
"Sybil…d-darling…you were won-wonderful!" he slurred.
"Larry, you're drunk…again. Who let you in here? We banned you after last time, remember?" Despite her fright, Sybil attempted to be reasonable and calm with the excitable young man who had tried to kiss her (and more) three concerts before.
"They should pay your doorman m-more. He seemed very keen to take me…me money. Have a drink with me, Sybil, my love!"
"No, not tonight, Larry. You need to go home and sleep it off. Just…"
"NO! I want to spend the evening with you. I love you, sweetheart. I want you." Larry's mood had turned darker as he realised Sybil was trying to usher him out of her dressing room and out of the building. He dropped the bottle in his hand, which clattered along the corridor, and grabbed a handful of Sybil's hair, causing her to yell. Larry cut her off by kissing her. Even though she was pounding her fists on his chest, it didn't seem to register with him through his inebriation.
Just as suddenly as he had grabbed Sybil, Larry was violently pulled back away from her, as Anthony, who had heard the commotion and come to investigate, forced Larry's arm half way up his back, causing him to whimper.
"You! You need to learn some manners, you lout, and I will take great pleasure in being the one to teach them to you! Now out!"
"Un-h-hand me, S-Sir!" said Larry attempting dignity, and failing.
"Shut up, you little twerp. This is your final warning. Do this again, and I will get the police involved. Do you understand? I said, do you understand?"
"Ow! You'll break my arm!"
"I'll more than that. Back to the gutter with you."
Anthony frogmarched Larry to the stage door and let him go. Larry immediately swung back round and planted an awkward but still painful fist on Anthony's chin, before losing his footing and falling over in a drunken swoon.
Mary, Sybil, and Edith, who had followed the two men, stood open-mouthed watching Larry for movement and wondering whether they should do anything or just leave him there on the ground. Mary recovered first.
"Well, I know I said I wanted him to lose his temper, but that was quite impressive!" She turned to see Edith staring at Anthony with unabashed admiration in her eyes.
"Yes, it was!" she sighed. She saw Anthony put a hand up to his mouth and took a few quick steps towards him.
"Are you hurt?"
"He split my lip a bit, that's all. Nothing to worry about."
"No, come to my dressing room and I'll clean it for you."
The two of them left, Anthony muttering something vaguely threatening at the stage doorman as he passed.
Mary and Sybil looked around at the fans who had gathered to ask for their autographs, still standing in stunned silence watching their heroines. Mary stepped forward.
"I'm very sorry. This man attempted…he got into Sybil's room uninvited. We've all had a bit of a shock. I hope you will forgive us if we don't give autographs this evening, but please to write to our Manager and we'll make sure you all get something special. Thank you for coming, and good night!"
She took Sybil by the arm and guided her back inside, also speaking to the doorman.
"Will you make sure Mr Grey is put in a taxi to his father's townhouse please? We don't really want him littering up the street, do we?"