That Devil Woman

Epilogue

The bar was unusually busy; not unmanageable, but it was clear many of London's commonfolk had had a long and tiresome year. There was a constant sense of life and movement, with noise coming from every corner of the bar. Glasses were clinking, men were cheering, women were laughing; a celebratory way to bring in the new year.

But there was one topic that was on everybody's lips. It was the biggest news story of the year. Young Dalmatian puppies were missing from all across London. All were eager to hear of the perpetrators behind the theft. After all, what could somebody possibly want with all those puppies?

One gentleman from the bar was so eager to know the answer that when the newspaper arrived he quickly skimmed through the pages. He soon gasped, and sat upright in his chair in anticipation.

"Well, colour me surprised!" he exclaimed to his tables. Everyone turned to hear the news. "They found those rotten ne'er-do-wells after all!"

"What a way to bring in the new year, I say!" his friend remarked boisterously.

"Who's the culprit?" his wife inquired. All in the bar at this stage were listening in, and the chatter had settled like dust after the storm.

"Oh," he added, unremarkably. "it was Jasper and Horace Badun." The bar was disappointed by the news. They had anticipated a greater reveal. "Yes, I suppose that is quite uneventful," he added in response to the silence.

"Oh, wait!" the patron continued with greater excitement, "It was her! That Cruella de Vil lady that took the world by storm and then dropped off her game – she was masterminding the entire thing! And, what's more, she'll be imprisoned... for life!"

"Well, I never!" a woman from a nearby table stood up in shock. "She's cruel, but a life sentence for simple puppy theft?"

"The article is short..." the man explained, "it's as if there is something they deliberately do not want us to know about."

"Well, no matter!" his friend shifted the tone, raising his glass. "To the justice system! And to the new year!"

All lifted their glasses after, hollering proud affirmations of England and Her Majesty. The people were relieved to have had a story finally come to a conclusion. And how apt it felt to be finishing the biggest news story of 1961 as 1962 comes just around the corner. The people were especially pleased with the Radcliffes, who brought all of England's attention to the canine scandal. They were certainly a likeable couple, and had garnered much sympathy after having their puppies stolen. And to think it was Cruella de Vil all along; the glamorous young woman who strutted onto the national stage eight years prior. Her career was maligned and criticised daily. Still, people could not help but be enamoured by her very presence. She had an icy extravagance to her. Some were pleased that she had made such a name for herself. Most feared her. But all struggled to imagine her behind bars like an animal.

It was not long before conversation had started up again, almost exclusively concerning this new revelation. It was so noisy that the M.C. of the evening had to hush the audience.

"Alright, folks! Apologies for the delay. Now let's get this show on the road! What d'you say?" the M.C. announced as the audience, already buzzing with excitement, cheered him on. "Now, let's remember some of the hits of the past year with The Dearly Sisters performing their own rendition of Roger Radcliffe's hit song, 'Cruella de Vil', in memory of those sweet, sweet puppies. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the Dearly Sisters!"

As the crowd applauded, three women stepped on the stage. They had fair skin which contrasted against their form-fitting black dresses. Some men whistled, their decency and judgement hindered by beer. Each woman wore a white fur shawl and fastened their hair into a neat beehive. They stood behind three microphones set on the stage as the jazz band picked up. The crowd was in hysterics. It was the song of the year, performed live! The brass rang out strong and loud, made more powerful by the pulse of the percussion. The three women gripped the microphone stands and began to sing...

(Song: Cruella by American Sirens, originally from Disney's One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961).)