Lonely People

The Show Goes On

Rehearsing had finally come to an end, and it was time for the real show. For sixteen nights, we would do the show. It would start with a small band playing followed by a few others. Mixed in would be our skits, finally ending with a Beatles performance. Revolution would play for fifteen minutes before their performance as the opening act.

Stage fright had never been my thing. Even when I first started playing live, I was never truly terrified to get on stage. I had a bit of nerve, yes, but it wasn't anything that would paralyze me. Paul and I had that in common; we were as relaxed walking on stage as we would be at home. 

That's why it was often left up to me to calm the nerves of my fellow musicians. I found myself talking to one of the earlier acts, a lass by the name of Cilla Black. She was one of John's friends and Brian's other clients, and a remarkable singer all her own. I found her in the hall having a mild panic attack.

"It's just like playing at a club," I told her, "Just picture the audience in their knickers and you'll be alright."

Cilla laughed, "I've tried that, it just makes me laugh while I sing."

"Alright, then, imagine that they're not there. You're only performing for yourself and not a crowd of a few hundred people."

Cilla furrowed her brows. She nodded, "I-I can try."

Her name made me imagine raven colored hair, but, instead, she had a head of hair almost identical to Jane's. It was bright red and looked soft but coarse all at the same time. She was the fourth redhead I had ever known.

"You'll do great, Cilla," I grinned, "I've heard you sing before. You're bloody brilliant, you are."

I had only met her during that show, but I had seen her sing during rehearsals. She was quite good. It was nice to finally meet another female performer.

"That means a lot coming from you," Cilla replied.

I patted her back comfortingly. I was just about to say something else when one hurried voice interrupted us.

"Amelia!"

Ellen stopped in front of us with a clipboard in her hand. She was not one to get frazzled, but the stress of this show was getting to her. She had forgotten to brush her hair that morning and her glasses were dirty. Usually, Ellen never forgot anything. 

"Elly, you look a right mess," I stated, "Are you alright?"

Ellen rubbed her temples, "I would be if you were where you were supposed to be."

I frowned. We were supposed to stay in our dressing room, but I couldn't handle that. I needed to move around before a show. It kept my limbs limber and my mind awake.

"You forgot to brush your hair," I pointed out.

Ellen sighed, "I'm aware of that."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

She could sense my genuine worry. It was unlike Ellen to let a single hair out of line, let alone forget to brush it. She took a deep breath, "Just stressed. I'm fine, Amelia. Come on, now, they need you on stage."

I nodded and followed her to the dressing room after waving to Cilla. Janice and Molly were in their kingdom dames costumes for the skit we were rehearsing with the lads on the first night. My costume was draped across a shutter room divider. I stepped behind and changed, leaving on a pair of shorts underneath without Ellen knowing.

The dresses for this skit seemed to have jumped straight out of a fairytale. The top was a loose shirt fitted with a fake corset. It zipped in the back. The skirt was coarse like a burlap sack, and we had bonnets was had to wear despite our hair being styled before the show. The entire costume was itchy, and I knew I would be scratching for the next month.