The Free Spirit

A Poplar Wedding, 1958 (Part One)

"I would hold you in my arms, dear, in a very tender way..."

The year 1958 started out in New York City with more concerts with the Alan Freed show at the Paramount Theater. The boys were there performing for about a week with a lot of other popular musicians before we moved onto North Carolina, a place that I of course had never been to before. I stood backstage at another performance on the Ed Sullivan show, crossing paths with the oh-so-charming blonde bimbo that was after my husband, Venetia Stevenson, for the first time. Of course, I didn't exactly know her, but she was pointed out to me by Mr. Paul Anka. She was lurking around the boys' dressing room like a spider waiting to grab its next victim, and I knew she had her eyes on my husband, so I decided to have a little bit of fun. I crept up behind her, very much intending to startle her when I said, "They're very handsome boys, aren't they? It's a shame one of them's married," in the best American accent I could muster, holding back a snicker as she jumped with fright.

"Goodness, you've frightened me!" she cried in a very American accent - English starlet indeed! "One of them is, yes... but I intend to change that."

"A woman with ambition - I'm sure they'll love that," I said with my traditional English polite sarcasm; it went completely over her head. She might have been born in England, but her culture was all American.

"The wife is such a slattern. She's an East Ender - that's poor folk, I'm sure you wouldn't know what that means - and not at all meant for someone of Don Everly's class," Venetia said to me. My eyes widened as I tried my hardest not to rip each of her precious little blonde hairs out of her head one by one.

"Mm, I see," I said. "Have you even met this woman you're demonising to no end?" She still didn't catch my sarcasm.

"No, but Don's told me all about her, and she's an utter slattern!" Venetia replied. I tried not to roll my eyes at her lack of original insults.

"That's very strange, all the magazines quote him as being madly in love with her. I don't think he'd say such terrible things about his wife," I replied.

"You don't know him. Who are you, anyway? A fan?" she asked me, now getting irritated by me.

"Don Everly's wife," I replied, and then I held out a hand, dropping my fake American accent. "Catherine Cromwell, East End slattern. Pleasure to meet you." Her mouth dropped as she realised who I was, and all of the colour in her face drained.

"How dare you try and fool me like that! I knew who you were all this time..." she tried to explain, but I only laughed.

"You had no bloody clue who I was, you prattling minger," I said. "You're not taking my husband away from me, we're very much in love and just because he's nice to you doesn't mean he likes you."

"Listen to you, using insults you think I won't understand," Venetia said to me with a rather snide look on her face, the colour returning to her cheeks. "You might have captured his heart for now, but it won't be long before he turns you out." She stepped towards me, meeting me face to face, eye to eye, and staring me down with her bright blue eyes - she was a couple of inches taller than me. "Good men don't marry pikeys."

"You best be careful when you use that word against me, you absolute foul-mouthed slag," I warned her. "For now, I'll let you walk away unscathed. Stay the hell away from my husband and stay the hell away from me or those beautiful blue eyes won't be so beautiful anymore." She smirked, then stepped away from me.

"This isn't over, Cromwell. I'll see to it that your husband sees the truth of what you really are," she told me, and she left my company. Nothing made my blood boil more than that blonde bitch who held herself in such a high standard over anyone like me. But I knew my Don wouldn't fall for her tricks, or at least, I hoped he wouldn't. He and Phil had been inside of their dressing room getting ready for their performance, deaf to the conversation that had happened just outside their dressing room door, but as soon as they exited, Don could tell immediately that my feathers were ruffled.