Around a month after Joan's first meeting with both her future band mates and her mother, sixteen-year-old Rhiannon Steel had her own encounter which would set her future career on course.

Of all the Belles, Rhiannon was probably the one who had the hardest childhood. After her mother's death when she was only two, her father had fallen apart, going from having steady work at a steel mill to having to take on a series of temporary jobs that never paid enough to cover all expenses. His remarriage to a cleaning lady when Rhiannon was nine caused a short- lived period of stability for them, but their combined incomes could only make things better for so long, and by the time Rhiannon was thirteen, she was already working to help support the family. She started by babysitting for her neighbors and shoveling sidewalks during the winter, which she did for three years before applying to work at The Mayberry Restuarant in downtown Liverpool. Upon getting that position, she started working full time, dropping out of school and dedicating most of her time to making sure she could provide at least some support for her struggling family.

As a young child, however, she'd been far from capable of such responsibilities. Until she was ten, she was strongly prone to nearly every childhood illness, and much of her earliest memories involved her staying closely behind her bed covers, either suffering from chills or heavily sweating because of a fever, and trying to make herself feel better by turning the pages of one of the library books her father had brought home for her. Because of how often she missed school, those books were often her only means of getting an education. It was often easy to get thorough a story if her illness was mild, but on those days when it was at its worst, it was hard for her to read without getting headaches or having the print come off blurry. As a result, despite all her best efforts, she always behind in her classes, and by the time she dropped out of school, she could barely read and write as well as her peers.

And so, every morning or afternoon, she'd resigned herself to putting on the bright pink dresses required of all waitresses at the Mayberry, packing up small meals, and then plastering on a nice smile as she served the many customers who came in for meals she could rarely afford herself. Whether she'd have to do this for the rest of her life occasionally haunted her thoughts, but she would brush these thoughts off by reminding herself that it was better to be contributing during a difficult situation than to be sitting back and doing nothing, because it was then that you were really setting yourself up for failure.

On that day when everything changed for Rhiannon, it started out as one of those bad days where she didn't bring any food and was being forced to overtime with few breaks, having to bring over and pick up trays as fast as possible or else risk having Mr. Farwell, her manager, shout all sorts of awful profanities at her as his way of urging her on. She'd managed to get through three hours of this constant hustle before Farwell started dragging in Olivia, a nineteen-year-old who worked evening shifts, telling her, "It's a busy day today, girl. If these chaps don't get their orders in as soon as possible, they start causing a racket in here, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's seeing any sort of unruliness in my restaurant. Just as I do my part to keep things in shape, so I expect from you. So, keep on working and don't let me catch you being idle for even a second. Is that clear?"

Olivia nodded. Farwell gave them this speech every time the restaurant got busy, and all the waitresses knew that it was best to just agree with him and move on than to annoy him with complaints about hearing the same thing every day. If they ever attempted this, as did one new girl on her first day, he'd give them a harsh scolding, threatening to cut their salaries as a consequence.

"Now Rhiannon, you can sit down for at least three minutes. But if anyone else comes in, you go on straight ahead and serve them. No need to burden poor Olivia here with extra work when she's only just gotten here," Farwell demanded.

"Yes, Mr. Farwell," Rhiannon said, sitting down in an uncomfortable wooden chair that made her back ache when she scooted over in it. She then sighed, doing her best to ignore her empty stomach and blistered feet. But it seemed like every few seconds, she'd feel a throbbing pain in the soles of her blue slippers, or else her stomach would growl when she took noticed of some big meal of steak and baked potatoes a customer was devouring just a few tables behind her. None of these people seemed to take any notice of her, and she couldn't blame them for it. If she could come to a place like this, cheap as it was, and had plenty of good friends by her side to keep her amused, as many of these customers did, she'd probably overlook the tired, hungry waitress sitting alone too.

However, tonight there weren't just ravenous people looking for some quick tea before going home for the night. Farwell appeared to have a band booked to perform as well, because she saw several men carrying in microphones, guitars, and a drum set into a small stage that was set up in the middle of the restaurant for the few evening entertainers that were interested in coming in. Usually, it was a pianist or a jazz band, but from the look of these instruments, it looked to Rhiannon like it was one of those rock and roll bands that boys at nearby universities liked forming.

"Excuse me, but could you let us know if someone named Brenda Stein is here?" a young man with a cockney accent asked Farwell. His dark hair was greasy and disheveled, and he wore a black leather jacket along with blue jeans. Rhiannon couldn't help thinking that he was probably one of those teddy boys her parents were always warning her about, who had a rather eccentric way of dress while also having a reputation for delinquency, although some of the girls at Mayberry's claimed this wasn't always true.

"I don't keep track of names here, my boy," Farwell replied. "Could you tell me how she looks like?"

"She has long black hair that she always wears in a ponytail, these big broad arms and shoulders but an otherwise slim figure, and she's neither too tall nor too short. When we saw her earlier today, she was wearing a blue sweater and a brown skirt. Does any of that sound familiar to you?"

"Perhaps. Does she also have one of those big noses that Jews always have?"

Rhiannon shuddered upon hearing this. There were several rumors that Farwell was anti sematic, having once refused to offer a kosher meal to an Orthodox Jewish family and having mocked a Jewish girl for her lack of money, telling her that her father ought to have boat loads of pounds in the house based on how well others of her kind were always doing. Hearing him make a comment like that seemed to confirm this.

The man frowned a little. "Yes, she does, now that I think about it. And she is Jewish. Quite devout too, in fact. I hope you're not trying to imply that you have any issues with that, are you?"

"Of course not," Farwell said. "Everyone's welcome here. Anyway, I did see someone like that come in just ten minutes ago. I might lead you over to her, if you want. And may I ask what business you have with her? Is she your girl or something?"

The man shook his head. "No, nothing like that. She owns a music store in a town close by, and she's recently agreed to be the manager for our band."

"If that's the case, she's not doing a very good job at it. She should have come up to me the moment she got here and told me that she was representing your band."

Olivia came up to Farwell, looking quite nervous. "Actually, Mr. Farwell, that woman did speak with me when she arrived, but I thought you were busy, so I told her to wait until you were no longer occupied."

Farwell sighed. "Oh, you silly girl. Have you learned nothing from your time working here? Any special guests need to come to me as soon as they arrive, no matter what else I may have going on. Seeing how easily you forget things, it's no wonder you were having so much trouble finding work elsewhere."

And he wonders why he's still single, Rhiannon thought in disgust. Luckily, another member of the band came up to them and said, "Brenda's sitting in the back of the restaurant, Alex. She keeps asking if I know when Roger will get here."

"I happen to have some news on that, Mitchell, and I already know Brenda won't be happy about it," Alex said.

Turning around towards the back pf the restaurant, Rhiannon got her first glimpse of Brenda Stein, the woman who would go on to become the manager of the Belles. She was exactly as Alex described, looking as professional as any man who held a similar job as hers. There was also this look of sharp alertness on her face which Rhiannon would soon learn to be a sign that she was taking everything in, making close observations and then deciding how to act based on the circumstances. No doubt she'd just heard Alex and Farwell speaking of her in addition to that last comment about the attendance of the others, since she sighed and looked like she was preparing for some disappointing news.

Alex, Mitchell, and Farwell went up to her a while later, and Brenda shook hands with all of them. "Hello there," she said. "How much longer should it take to get the band ready for tonight?"

"That's where we're having trouble, Brenda," Alex admitted. "Roger came down with the flu this morning, so he won't be able to show up."

"And who is this Roger?" Farwell asked.

"He's their drummer," Brenda said. "Not the most responsible man I know, but still quite good at what he does. The Queen's Men have only had one public performance so far. With one member missing on the second, who knows how things will go for the lads, even if they can carry on without Roger."

Mention of a drummer had Rhiannon thinking. When she was little, she used to enjoy playing with an old drum her father always left around the sitting room. Recently, she'd gotten into the habit of using it to play along with music of all kinds, rather it was the Brazilian samba records her stepmother like listening to or the latest rock hits on the radio. Her father told her she had a good sense of rhythm, but Rhiannon knew that parents weren't the best judges of your talent. However, she felt she'd practiced enough over the years to pitch in if that was what this band needed. Being up on stage didn't frighten her nearly as much as it did other girls, and it would give her a break from just sitting around unhappily while awaiting her turn for waitressing once again. Perhaps Farwell would even give her a raise if she was good enough.

And so, gathering up her courage, Rhiannon got up from the table, walked over to the small group still trying to work things out, and said, "Excuse me? I happen to have some experience drumming, so if you wouldn't mind, I'd love to help out for tonight's performance if no one else can."

Farwell was dumbstruck, while Brenda turned towards Rhiannon with a curious glance. "What's your name, young lady?" she asked, sounding like a schoolteacher.

"Rhiannon Steel."

"And it appears that you're a waitress here at Mayberry's. Is that right?" she asked, getting a glimpse at Rhiannon's dress.

"Yes." And she wondered if knowing this would make Brenda less interested in adding her in.

But instead, Brenda turned to Farwell. "Would you mind if she were to help us for the night, Mr. Farwell?"

Farwell shrugged. "I don't know. Do you really think people are still going to like your band's performance if they notice a girl is playing the drums?"

"If she's good enough, I don't think anyone will care," Brenda answered. "So far, it's too late to call in a substitute. We're going to have to settle in with whoever has the capacity to play the drums, and if it happens to be one of your waitresses, then that's how it'll have to be. Besides, I think such an experience would do a lot of good for the girl."

"If you're in for it, Brenda, then so am I," Alex said.

"Same here," Mitchell said, shooting a wink at Rhiannon.

Farwell sighed. "Well, it'll certainly give people something to talk about when they see a girl drummer. Go ahead then, Rhiannon. Let's see how well you can play."

Rhiannon nodded, feeling both excited and nervous about what she'd just gotten herself into.

…

A week later, wearing her best red dress, Rhiannon prepared to perform once again. Only now, having had the chance to practice along with the Queen's Men for four days in advance, she was much more aware of what she was in for than she did during that first performance at Mayberry's.

On that day, her drumming had come across as a little clumsy at first, and she kept being bothered by the strange looks she kept getting from the small audience. But then, just as she often did when practicing at home, she took a few seconds to listen to the beat of the music the boys were playing, and once she became familiar with it, she was more capable of following along, and the audience started clapping and cheering them on.

She immediately took notice of how surprised Farwell looked. He'd been shaking his head and looking like he wanted to yank her off the stage at the beginning, but the further on she went, the more startled he seemed to become. Whether this victory of hers pleased or annoyed him at the time, she couldn't tell, although over two decades later, he became quite proud of boosting about how he found "the world's first great female drummer" in his very own restaurant. After the Belles became famous, a picture of Rhiannon and the Queen's Men would hang through the walls of Mayberry's entrance, although not once would he be able to have his former waitress come over.

Meanwhile, Brenda was quite obviously impressed, joining in on the audience's applause when the song ended, and she immediately offered Rhiannon a temporary spot on the band. "We've been having trouble with Roger for quite a while now. Although he was at the Queen's Men's first live performance, he always seems more interested in girls and drinking than attending our regular practicing sessions. Alex and Mitchell have talked about possibly kicking him out, but I've been hesitant about that. What I'm thinking is that because he's now sick, we might give him up to a week off and have you come in as a replacement for the time being. Do you think you could do it, Rhiannon?"

Of course, this had required a talk with Farwell, and surprisingly, he agreed to allow her to adjust her working hours to make time for practices and live performances, especially after Brenda promised that the Queen's Men could come back every two weeks. "All good businesses need a good attraction for money, and if that has to be a rock and roll band, then so be it," he'd said. "Besides, I have plenty of other girls here who could fill in for Rhiannon if necessary."

And that's how Rhiannon Steel found herself performing once again at a nightclub called Wilson's on a Saturday night.

"Ready to go, Rhiannon?" Brenda asked. She'd spend a great deal of time making sure Rhiannon was well-prepared, going over everything from how she was playing the drums to her outfit and makeup. She even made sure she'd had something to eat, having been shocked to find out she hadn't had any supper during that first performance. This attention to all the needs of her performers would come into good use once she became manager of the Belles, whom would all prove to be a challenge to her at times. Alex and Mitchell had done a lot for her too, giving her good feedback during practice sessions and giving her good advice for going up on stage. They never seemed to look down on her for being the only girl in the group, although they did like flirting around with her sometimes. But with Brenda around, they all made sure to stick to business, and all went quite well most of the time.

"I think I am," Rhiannon said.

"Remember to just focus on the music, not the audience. If you have a good idea of what you're doing, the way you see everyone else reacting shouldn't be of strong concern to you. If anything, they're usually loving it if that's the case, as Alex likes saying."

Rhiannon smiled. "I'll be sure to remember that, Brenda."

"Now go ahead," she said, patting Rhiannon on the shoulder. "I'm quite confident that you'll do well once again."

Rhiannon nodded, and walked up on stage once again.