Annabelle was watching Simone on the phone as she was going in for a bit of home cooking while they had the chance. She loved the feel of chopping up vegetables, browning strips of steak and tipping in measures of spices and seeing what cooked. Relationships between them had developed to the point that her cool-spoken lover felt perfectly relaxed in taking over an area that was exclusively Simone's preserve. As she watched the ingredients sizzle on the hob, she couldn't help noticing that a big smile spread across her partner face as she finished talking on the phone upon which she collapsed with laughter. She waited for the fair-haired woman to compose herself as she flopped into a nearby armchair in their seaside house which had now been their home for the best part of a year by now.
"I can't believe it, Annabelle. Our next gig is none other but the end of year dance at St. Theresa's High it?"
Annabelle's jaw dropped a mile as she couldn't believe that this faraway part of her life was coming back into their lives. A sequence of practical questions came to the fore which demanded proper attention.
"It's funny but there's just one thing. Aren't we doing big college gigs now to promote our album? I'm not being a phony rock star but aren't playing high school gigs a step down? In any case, I don't get why we were asked. Surely they know who they're getting?"
"I can only think that because the group's called 'The Creation', it's been passed by the Mother Immaculata being her normal meddling self and she thinks we're about religion. She certainly won't know that we'd be at the back of it and that we'll be making a reappearance in her life. I also wonder if Father Harris knows what's going on and isn't telling her. He knows everything," Simone answered in audibly smirking tones. She could see the mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she spoke of him.
"So you're wanting us to do the one gig for old times sake?" questioned Annabelle in laughing tones.
"That's exactly what I do mean," Simone said, meaning every word she spoke." All the time we were at St Theresa's, she was running the show. Sure I had some authority and a respected position but on her terms. Same thing happened at your graduation which we got through by the skin of our teeth. This time around, this will be our show."
"In which case, we gotta do it," Annabelle responded, letting the dinner safely cook by a little while as she reached over to kiss Simone full on her lips. The implications were sinking in and they felt good.
"This is the life," Simone said with great satisfaction as she curled up on the settee alongside Annabelle. A lot had happened since they'd flown back from London and arrived in the eye of a media hurricane. By now, this was the last day of their impromptu holiday break from a concentrated block of time and hard work and dedication working in a recording studio on their first album. This opportunity had finally arisen after the songs they'd written over the past year had been honed to perfection and the group knew very well that this was the next upward stage in their career. They'd spent what felt like a lifetime of driving backwards and forward to the small recording studio that they'd never known existed as they'd previously passed it by in their travels. The first day, they'd arrived at the bungalow, half hidden by a surrounding jungle of sprouting vegetation and had pulled up next to Erin and Diane's car in the roughly surfaced car park and entered the sanctum that they'd never before dared dream they'd enter. They had known that this was a decisive turning point in their lives, mortgaging themselves to the cost of producing the record against going out on the road and selling the records so they and Shirley, their tough minded manager were cautious enough not to go on the star trip and demand fancy advances like spoiled kids. All four women were experienced enough to go to any venue and generate a level of enthusiasm for music that wove its way between the delicate and thoughtful and hard driving and energetic and pace their sets according to the feel of the audience. Laying down tracks at the studio under the perfectionist gaze of their producer felt like a completely different kind of discipline. This was something that Simone joked about to herself and the others that 'now she knew what it was like to be under teacher's eye and to have her homework marked.' It all helped to loosen the atmosphere and take the autocratic edge off the situation. Finally, they were done, the tracks were waiting being mixed, the master tape being produced and they could take a break before being off on the road again. Playing St Theresa's High School would break them into performing again after a layoff and to offer interesting personal advantages...
"Whoever had thought a year or so ago that we would be where we are right now?" asked Annabelle lazily. Both women allowed memory to drift backwards in time. They couldn't believe that Simone had come perilously close to backing off her powerful attraction to Annabelle and resuming a loveless, pointless yet socially acceptable relationship with Michael, her ex-boyfriend. How times change, Simone thought lazily as she stroked her lover's long soft hair...
The perpetual cycle of life at St Theresa's High School for girls saw the Mother Immaculata stand up once again, one sunny morning summer as this year's seniors were eating their breakfast. There they were, the potential leaders of the community all assembled, the unthinking conformists and the rebels all there as they approached the finale of their education, all dressed in the same uniform of check skirts and white blouses all looking superficially similar.
"May I have your attention please," she commanded in loud carrying tones, perfectly designed to catch the attention of the attentive audience, playing her pauses to perfection. She sounded as if her words were freshly inspired."As you all may have heard, this Friday night is the end of year dance with St. Paul's." As cheering broke upon the air, the Mother Immaculata gestured with her arms one final homily.
"I expect you to be on your best behaviour ….so everyone can enjoy themselves," the Mother Immaculata said, adding words which formed in her mouth unbidden. It created a hive of activity and suspense around the room as to what dress each girl would wear so she could become a woman. Around the room there were some pockets of reservations, one of whom gave voice rather than feign enthusiasm.
"Is this compulsory?" asked a dark-haired girl whose disrespectful manner was partly hidden under her dark fringe of hair which covered her forehead. There was something about her manner that brought up disturbing memories for the Mother Immaculata.
"Of course it is. This year, I'm sure the dance will work out just fine. It better had," she said, her own hard stare attempting to bear down on this impudent schoolgirl. Inwardly, she wondered just why she should be visited by trials and tribulations. There was no telling just how a spark of dissent and rebellion was transmitted down the years despite her best attempts to track it down and suppress it.
Over the past year, Father Harris had kept a discreet eye on the progress of his golden girl and one time teacher along with Annabelle Tillman who'd now both featured on the front page of the Los Angeles Tribune. He'd compiled a scrapbook of their concert appearances, tracking down a scattering of articles in the music press, an area of human which he was not supposed to know about. He hadn't forgotten chatting to them both at her graduation ceremony last year and how much he enjoyed their company. It was a revelation to discover how Annabelle's bad reputation concealed a sharp-witted respectful intelligence that was beyond her years. He kept it to himself that they were so obviously suited and let the Mother Immaculata's occasional tirades wash over him. They'd also made good their promise and breezed in from time to time, looking somewhat tired but very much attuned to their purpose in life, something he gave them full marks for. As they talked about their lives, it struck him that they weren't a million miles away from the circus performers he'd so much admired when he was little. They didn't come on as boastful and self centred but, on the contrary, he got more kindness and understanding from these two women in a short space of time than he found in the rest of his pastoral duties around the school.
On their most recent visit, they sat outside in the rectory back garden drinking tea as normal while the fragrance of the flowers and the outside table made for a comfortable relaxed environment. However, Father Harris couldn't help thinking that his two friends were gradually working up to something they wanted to say. Finally, he cut to the chase.
"Simone, I've known you for many years so you must understand how obvious it is to me that you've got a favour to ask of me."
These firmly articulated words came out of nowhere and the fair-haired woman fluttered in embarrassment and mental dislocation before pulling herself together, aided by Annabelle squeezing her hand. Suddenly, she unreeled details of the idea that had had taken root after a chance conversation. They wanted to treat Nikki and Helen to two tickets for St Theresa's to two tickets to St Theresa's end of year's dance. In all this last year spent building up their group, their friends in England had never been far from their minds nor had the photographs of their stay there been locked away and forgotten
"Nikki, just why do you want to go to this dance so badly? You know we can't dance together," Helen had asked with a sharp look into her partner's deep brown eyes. Nikki had really gone for the idea that Annabelle had tossed out as a joking aside, the first night they'd got together over at their house with a bottle or two of Californian wine between them. Throughout all these long months since their last visit to America, they'd plugged away at their jobs and socialised with their friends but the pull of California and their friends there had never been far from their minds. They'd exchanged phone calls, e mails and postcards when they could do so.
"I just feel like seeing the inside of an American private school. Annabelle and Simone have told us so much about that I want us to see for ourselves. Them playing a gig there kills two birds with one stone," Nikki replied coolly without expression. Helen took a long hard look at her partner before she decided to compromise on the matter.
"All right then but we make bloody sure we can get out of a situation we walk into," Helen finally replied doubtfully.
"So who are these two friends of yours?" asked Father Harris with this penetrating blue eyes.
All at once, the two women reeled off at lightning speed their account of how come they'd first read about them in a random magazine when they were due to come over on a working holiday on their very doorstep, how they got to meet them, how their friendship developed and how they'd had such a wonderful return holiday in England, Annabelle chiming in with various cultural references, how...
"So exactly what do they do for a living?" Father Harris asked with razor-sharp perception, the very question both women didn't want asking. Rock stars or no, accustomed to rapturous audiences for their music, both women knew it was pointless to reinvent themselves and try to leave their pasts behind. They knew that this kept their feet planted firmly on the ground and that was no bad thing. At that point, both women came clean and Father Harris believed them but made one proviso before making any foolish promises.
"I'll agree -on one condition. If you arrange for your friends to come round tomorrow evening then if I like the look of them, I'll get them two tickets."
Both women instantly agreed. They could see it from his point of view and were pretty sure that their friends' charm and honesty would convince this very astute man to bat for them and no trickery would be involved.
Events happened as they panned out. Father Harris was immediately impressed by the friendliness and directness of the two smartly dressed women, including their firm handshakes. He showed them into the living room and both women smiled appreciatively at the large bookcase, overstuffed with a complete mixture of books, ranging from ancient hardback volumes, the tools of his trade and a meandering spread of English literature throughout the ages.
"You look as if you're familiar with the inside of a rectory, Helen," Father Harris said more as a statement than question. Helen blinked as she returned to the present as this room had the same old fashioned, cluttered feel as her father's manse in far-off Scotland. It wasn't just that the stone structure that had imprisoned her was set in faraway chilly Scotland where grey clouds swirled close overhead when it wasn't teeming with rain. This room attracted light and warmth towards it and cheered her up.
"My father is a Scottish Presbyterian minister so this room looks similar. The big difference is that this is the home I should have had," Helen said frankly.
Father Harris beamed all over his face in a way that radiated joy. He offered to pour them another cup of tea as they started chatting away.
Far away, the four women were assembled in Erin and Diane's garage. They were making enough money so they could have invested in a smart recording studio but they had an enduring affection for the run down premises which had help spawn their group. They liked the acoustics that the room generated and it had changed little in the last year except for being more crowded with the tools of their trade.
"This is really funny," grinned Erin as she fiddled with a few random bass notes."We know that we can take liberties with any love song that we didn't write when it's not gender specific so when we play before a bunch of straight kids. We can work in "Distant Friendships" that you wrote in London and perhaps we can dust down 'Tomorrow is a Long Time' that old folk song..."
"They might not all be straight," interjected a laughing Annabelle."I wasn't and nor was Simone this time last year. You shouldn't judge by appearances." A couple of drum rolls clattered round the echoing room as Diane laughed loudly.
"I guess we need to overhaul our act and mix a few obvious rockers with slow smoochy songs that anyone can take to. We don't have to think we must promote our album,"Annabelle said as she played the opening chords to their old standby rocker "Proud Mary" just to illustrate.
"You getting worried about playing this gig, Simone? I guess the place might summon up all kinds of weird feelings,"Diane asked sympathetically.
"I feel safe. I'm not in charge. Remember, we're just the entertainment,"Simone replied, smiling and shaking her head as the feel of the guitar strap round her shoulders felt more natural than the pen she'd once used to mark English compositions a lifetime ago.