Chapter 16

After Pet had taken a couple of bows and the crowd settled back in their seats, Richard took up the microphone. “Tonight, you have just heard one of the rising stars in classical music, but we now have another surprise for you. We have, not just one, but two rising stars for you, please welcome Miss Edweena Grosse.”

I went on stage and took my place alongside Pet. Then I smiled at the audience.

Richard turned his back on the crowd and picked up his baton, raised it, and then we were off into Danse Macabre with Pet and me trying to be lady-like, but unable to stop ourselves from moving a little like pop stars.

When it came to an end, the audience leaped to their feet. We bowed a couple of times and turned to acknowledge the orchestra. There were cries for more, so we readied our violins to play something, and the crowd quietened again. We then did our Paganini duet and had to finally be led off with the audience still on their feet.

There would be no mingling tonight during intermission. My folks, Allan and Helen did visit us in the dressing room to tell us, once again, that we were wonderful. Allan said that he had stuck his head in the main TV truck and the director had told him that the feed had been great, with the content being excellent.

They went back to their seats as the speaker told us it was ten minutes to go. Pet gave me a hug and I made my way up to the wings again. While the orchestra waited to go on, I got a lot of hugs.

They got the go sign and filed out to take their places to applause. They went through the usual ritual of tuning and settled to wait for Richard to lead me on stage.

We left it for a few more seconds than usual. Then Richard took my hand and led me out to the piano where he made sure I was comfortable as the audience clapped.

Once he was on the rostrum and things went quiet, we hit those first notes. We were in Warsaw again. When we finished there was deafening silence before the place erupted.

I stood and bowed.

Then I held my arm out and the orchestra rose and bowed along with Richard. I then sat down at the piano again. I expected that many out there were waiting for an encore, not the full bloodied forty minutes of the Number One.

When we finished there was a standing ovation and cries for an encore. I sat and played the etude. Because of the continuing calls, I did my ragtime mix of Pixies’ songs.

At the end of that they still wanted more, so Richard handed me the microphone and I waited until there was enough quiet to be heard.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “I thank you for your very kind acceptance of me and my friend Petunia tonight.” I waved her to come out as the crowd clapped. I motioned for Antonio to be brought forward, and then turned back to the audience.

“We’ve just enough time for one more encore. This is something that the three of us put together this afternoon. Not even our wonderful conductor has heard it yet. Again, Petunia and I thank you. I think that you might have been almost as loud as our audience last Saturday night. This concert started tonight with a group of dancing swans, and, with the wonderful Antonio, we’ll leave you with just one swan swimming smoothly in still waters. Please remember, though, that concerts like tonight are just like those swans, serene and graceful on top of the water. Looks can be deceiving. They’re paddling like crazy out of sight.”

We readied ourselves.

Then Antonio led us into the Swan. I was almost in tears myself as we played. The trio sound was magical, and the audience was absolutely still as we worked through it.

When we finished, we allowed the last notes to die before letting our arms down. The place finally went crazy, again. I saw my folks in the front row, Mom bawling her eyes out alongside Helen who was in a similar state. Kelly was also being comforted.

I hoped we hadn’t overstepped our mark when we did it so mournfully.

Richard came off the rostrum and actually hugged us right there on stage --and then even gave Antonio a man-hug as well, much to his surprise. A young girl brought out two sheaves of flowers for us.

The orchestra stood and clapped.

We bowed several times, before someone had the sense to lower the stage lights. Richard led the three of us off the stage with the orchestra not far behind.

We didn’t go back, even though the audience wanted us to, because it was late enough, and we had gone some time over a normal concert time limit already.

Backstage we engaged in hugs all round, with many in the orchestra with tears in their eyes, telling us that it had been a highlight of their lives. We finally managed to get down to the dressing room where we changed into something less difficult to move in, and then let our hair down to feel normal and less like divas.

Kelly came in to hug us, her eyes still red. She told us, yet again, that we were the best. Then we were led out to the Rolls and taken to a very swanky place which was all lit up. Food and drinks were set out waiting. Geoffrey said, “This is Lady Groves’ home, Jeeves will take care of you,” and he got back into the Rolls to go and get more passengers.

Jeeves turned out to be a middle-aged guy in a butler outfit who told us that his name was Jackson and not to take any notice of Geoffrey and his flippancy. He asked us if we wanted anything to eat or drink. We both opted for water and asked him where the toilets were.

Suitably comfortable with some fluid going in, we spoke to the people already there. They were, we found, mainly business associates of Kelly, or, as they told it, Lady Grove. Some had been to the concert tonight. But many had been there Friday night and they were all nice, polite, and happy to be able to speak to us.

Allan turned up and told me that Helen and my folks had gone back to the hotel and would meet us for breakfast. He also said that the TV boss would be at the party later and was very keen to talk to us about further events.

He reminded us of our early start on Monday and that he had got us on a flight home mid-afternoon. We were then cornered by a music critic who wanted to know about our teachers, our motivation, and our heroes. He either had a fantastic memory or else just wrote whatever he thought because he didn’t take any notes.

The TV guy arrived and seemed happy with his purchase. He asked us about our classical careers. We told him that he had just seen it. He then wanted to know about what we had going for the Pixies. We referred him to Allan about future dates.

Kelly joined us. She told him that she was thinking about something next season for us to star in. He went away happy. Pet and I pleaded tiredness, and it wasn’t bluff, we were both starting to fade. She got Geoffrey to take us home. We said our goodbyes and left the party.

Geoffrey told us that we had done something no-one else had done before. No-one had seen Kelly cry in public. It proved that she was just as human as the rest of us. He knew that everyone would love her more because of it.

As he let us out at the hotel, he told us he would be back early on Monday morning to take us to the TV station. In the hotel elevator, Pet and I hugged, and then we went to our rooms and welcome sleep.

I found that sleep didn’t come easily. I lay there, in the dark, and thought about people and things. I wondered what direction the band would go in, whether I would get any more classical gigs, and if my own future will continue without any bigger shocks. I started thinking about the people in my life, and, oddly, my thoughts turned to Jordan. He had been friendlier as he got older and saw us more often. I suddenly realised that he was a very nice guy, almost boyfriend material.

In the morning, I walked into the breakfast room. Helen jumped up and rushed over to hug me like there was no tomorrow. She kept saying “Thank you” over and over.

I finally pulled back, “Thank you for what, Helen?”

“Thank you for last night. For years I have held myself in and held in my fears and my memories of things I saw during my service. Last night, you broke through that wall with that music. I truly cried for the first time in over twenty-five years. It was as if all of my troubles flowed out of me with the teardrops.”

We hugged again. I laughed, “Well, I’d better register myself as a medical professional. I’m famished, that playing makes me hungry.”

Both of my parents held me close and also thanked me for the experience.

As I got my breakfast Pet joined us and had her own round of hugs. We settled down to serious eating. Allan had a pile of Sunday papers. There were a lot of column inches about last night’s performance, along with some good photos and sidebars about our Pixies’ involvement.

I asked Allan what was happening today, and he told us that the local outlet for our dress supplier had set up a fashion shoot in the city center early afternoon. But this morning I could take my parents to Logan airport. He’d rented a car for me.

I spent the morning with Mom and Dad, who were both still a bit shell-shocked at the level of attention as well as the sudden blast of raw emotion they had felt with our last piece.

Dad said that it was as if a light had been turned on and showed a sign that said it was all right to cry. He said that he was embarrassed to tear up but looked around and saw a lot of other guys crying as well. He also said that it had been a brilliant concert and that there was nothing we could have played to follow the Swan.

We got them, Helen, and their luggage into the car. I went to the airport with them where they were checked in with everyone smiling when they saw me. Perhaps it was my picture in the papers the last couple of days that had raised awareness.

Mom hugged me and told me that Ali would be happy to see me when I got home. I said that I would be delighted to see Ali. Dad hugged me, and told me, again, that he was proud of me.

Back in the car, going back to the hotel, I wondered if this was, indeed, the high point of my life, and that it could be downhill from here. Then I started to think about the Stable Sisters again and wondered if Kelly would ever have all five of us on stage with her orchestra in country outfits playing behind us.

I had a little giggle at the thought and the driver glanced at me in his mirror. “Are you all right, Miss.” I told him that everything was perfect and thanked him for his care.

When he stopped at the hotel, he passed me a folded poster of the Pixies and asked me if I would sign it for his daughter. I took the marker, asked him his daughter’s name, and signed it with a personal message to her to believe in herself.

After an early lunch, a small bus picked us up and took us out to a beautiful park by the Boston Harbor where there was a tent set up as a changing room. Pet and I spent a couple of hours in next season’s dresses with the harbor and park as a backdrop.

We worked to order, and it all went well. We were packed and back in the bus with our dresser and an outfit each before dinnertime. We had our meal in the hotel, and I went to bed early to try and sleep the clock around.

Being beautiful and in demand is hard work!

The next morning, I had the wake-up call at crazy o’clock. I had time to shower before our dresser came around to pick something suitable for a TV show for insomniacs. Pet and I had coffee and toast before we left, determined to have something better when we were through. I’m old enough to expect the unexpected but spent a mind-numbing two hours at the morning show studio, for just ten minutes of on-screen time.

Then we were taken to another studio, where we were given different dresses to wear, and new make-up. We spent another two hours pre-recording a segment for one of the talk-show hosts. I could’ve eaten the hind leg off a donkey by the time we finished.

Allan had turned up and took us to lunch, which raised him immeasurably in our esteem.

Monday afternoon, we visited the outlet for our dress supplier and had our photos taken with the manager and salesgirls, coming out with new outfits on, and leaving our original ones for them to put on dummies to be displayed in the store. That done we went back to the airport, after going to the hotel and collecting our bags.

It was quite a relief to be heading home. I expressed my exhaustion and asked Allan not to contact me until the end of the week. Pet expressed similar thoughts. We told him that we appreciated his efforts and thanked him for his input over the whole weekend. We spent a lot of that flight in contented silence. All three of us were, I think, mentally and physically drained.

As the plane started its descent, Pet and I went to the aircraft toilet and, on the way, she told me that she would be visiting the farm on Wednesday. Allan dropped Pet off, and then took me home. It was quite late, but the lights were on and Mom came out while Dad picked up my bag and took it over to my room.

I thanked Allan again, and then went inside. I had a peek into the nursery where Ali was sleeping quietly. Doris told me that she had been as good as gold. I sat at the kitchen table with a mug of cocoa, feeling content.

Mom told me that what Helen had said Sunday morning had been a true miracle. Helen had strolled through the crowds at the airport when they arrived as if she had no anxiety problems at all and now talked about coming along to future Pixies’ concerts.

Mom also told me that she had felt as if her own soul had been cleansed. “Your father,” she almost whispered, “has had the two best nights since that firefight.”

I borrowed the tub in the main bathroom for a skin softening soak, wrapped a robe around me after I had dried and then went over to the stable. I fell into bed to sleep without any alarms or morning calls. I had dreams of being on an award stage. All around me were chickens. When I looked at the award it turned into an egg, which cracked open and dropped the yolk down my dress. That orange looking stripe was front and center in the newspaper article I was then reading.

When I woke up and thought about the dream I wondered if someone, somewhere, was looking into my past and writing an article about the famous Pixie concert pianist that started out as a weird guy called Egg. Or maybe, I thought, that kind of public exposure was just something I was scared would happen.

I spent most of the morning with Ali, wandering around the farm and talking to the workers. It was wonderful to be back in the normal world. In the studio, I sat with Ali on my lap and played around on the piano with one hand, after telling it that I had played one of its big brothers. I hit on a nice set of notes and a tune formed in my mind. I grabbed a fresh music book and started jotting down the notes and then trying them out. Before long the words began to form. I took Ali back into the house, had a sandwich, and then asked Mom to look after the baby for me for a while. I went back out to the studio.

By mid-afternoon I had a song which I called Stability which was about a new baby and the need to give it a stable childhood. The final verse was about her coming of age. I set up the recording equipment and put the piano part onto the computer, cut a CD which went into the CD player and played that to add the guitar parts, repeated that to add the vocal and then repeated it again to add the violin part. A very long way round, but it was possible without spending big money on a multi-track recorder and a producer in the control room.

I checked the sheet music I had written to make sure any overwrites had been made legible and then shut everything down and took the final CD into the house. I thanked Mom for looking after the baby. I explained my surge of creativity. We prepared dinner. I looked after Ali and her needs before we sat down. Her smile and simple love looked after my own needs as well.

I thought that, before long, we would need to buy a highchair. She was growing so quickly. We had our meal, and then over coffee, I put the CD player on and played what I had produced.

My parents sat in silence as it played through. When it finished Mom gave me a hug, “Oh, my darling one. First you make me cry with a release of tensions and now I want to cry with joy. That was so beautiful!”

Dad came over and gave me a kiss on the forehead and told me I was more than wonderful, “But I won’t call you a supernova just yet,” he joked.

Wednesday morning I’d finished breakfast when Doris came to look after Ali for me. I sat on the front porch and wondered what Pet needed to talk to me about and was surprised when three cars pulled into our driveway and parked next to the studio.

The first car contained Pet and Emily. The second held Joyce and Abigail. Flora and Janet got out of the third. Janet came rushing over to me saying “Thank you! Thank you!” She held me tightly.

After Pet came over to us, Janet went over to her and gave her the same treatment. She acted like the Janet we knew before the kidnap. I wondered just who was treating her and, more importantly, with what.

I led them all into the house and Mom fussed around getting drinks. Pet revealed that she had texted Emily to tell her about the concert on Thursday morning. Emily had phoned the hall and got a block of tickets and then they all got a flight to Boston on Friday afternoon. They stayed at the airport hotel and attended the concert Saturday before flying home Sunday morning on an early flight.

Emily said, “It was something we felt we should do. We stayed under the radar and were near the back of the balcony for the show. It was an experience of a lifetime. Poor Janet almost had to be carried to the taxi. She was howling like a baby after that last piece.”

“She wasn’t the only one,” Mom commented. “I think every woman in the place bawled that night, along with quite a lot of men.”

“There was nothing I could do,” Janet marvelled. “The tension in me just snapped and the tears took all of the fears and memories with them. I feel like a teenager again, but without the church clouding the horizon.”

Mom then told them about Helen and her similar healing.

The crux of the matter was that Pet, Emily, and Janet were the last remaining members of the original Pixies. Without Josie and Donna to drive the country aspect they wanted to move on to something else. That “something,” they hoped, would be based on Stable Sisters music.

“The problem I have,” Pet warned. “Is that Josie is still one of the original members of the Pixies’ side of things. I wonder if she’ll stick something in our spokes, as we move forward.”

I told them to wait a moment. I went and got my copy of our contract and asked them to carefully read the clause I pointed out to them. I told them about her going to LA with Dave and Wally to join with the other two to market themselves as Josie and the Ramrods.

Abigail saw the light first. “So, she’s voided her contract?”

They knew she had gone and that the guys had gone as well. The enormity of her treachery came home to them. Joyce and Abigail came and gave me a hug.

Flora mused, “So the emotion you were giving out during the concert was some of your own as well.”

I nodded. “I just felt one with the music and I wasn’t trying to beam my emotions into the audience.”

Flora smiled. “You don’t have to try when you reach that level on stage, it just happens. You could ignore it, or you could embrace it with a new sound.”

“Play them your new song, love,” Mom suggested.

As I went to the player and slid the CD in, Pet tapped the contract and asked, “So, if I left to join an orchestra, would that be voiding my contract?”

“Certainly not,” I argued immediately. “Or we would both be out of contract this week. Josie went and formed a new group within our field. I expect that they will be doing covers of our songs that use her voice. She is, so to speak, our competition. Donna didn’t void her contract to concentrate on medicine. She and Janet still get their income from the albums, downloads, and the merchandise sales.”

Flora added, “Yes, I was wondering about that. Those contracts are very generous and very forgiving, and also unique in this business.”

I put the CD on. They listened to it carefully.

Joyce said, “When did you do that?”

“Mostly yesterday afternoon,” Mom answered. “I think it’s amazing.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say. How much of the Sisters music did Josie have an input to?” Emily asked.

“She was mainly a sounding board,” I explained. “She helped a lot with lyrics and sometimes offering suggestions on the tune. She didn’t actually write any music herself. She could hardly read it, at first, let alone write it.

“So,” Abigail said firmly. “We’re sitting here with the two main writers of our past hits and three who read and write music?”

“Make that three and a bit. I can get by,” Janet said.

I looked at her. “Do you want to be in the line-up again, Janet?”

She nodded her head, “I can do more percussion if you want. I’m not limited to the drums any longer because I think I can now try new things, if you’ll let me?”

“If I can keep on singing,” Abigail smiled. “Then you can do whatever you like, honey.” We all laughed and gave Janet hugs of welcome back.

“I’d like to see Edie on keyboard more,” Pet said. “Perhaps we can get a grand into the studio for her.”

Emily said that she was very happy with that, considering that we’ve been working lately with two keyboards on stage.

By the time we went over to the studio for a little relaxing time, we had decided that we would promote the six Stable Sisters more and ask Allan to just allow the Pixie shows to peter out. We had evolved again, and the rock was going to be replaced with ballads and blues based music, much the way that the Sisters had been playing already.

The critics may, or may not, like it. In the future, we were playing for us and the fans, not for the fame and fortune.

Marianne Gregory © 2022