The Alphabet Sisters (17 page)

Bett had been taken aback at the news of her parents’ holiday. “Don’t take it personally now, Bett,” Lola had said to her that morning. “They’re not in a hurry to get away from you. It’s a practical decision. Your poor parents haven’t been away properly in years, and casual staff are so expensive. With the three of you home to lend a hand, this is the perfect opportunity for them to get away.”

“But we’ve all just got here.”

“And you’ll see plenty of them when they get back.” She had pulled Bett close, planted a big kiss on her forehead, then lowered her voice. “I’ve actually done it deliberately, so I can have you all to myself. You know I never liked sharing you girls with your parents.”

Anna, Carrie, and Lola were already in the function room when she arrived. Anna was explaining to Lola that it might be better if she left them alone for a little while. “We want to talk about it on our own first, Lola. You know, in case—”

“You hurt my feelings?” At Anna’s guilty nod, Lola laughed. “I’m eighty, darling. I’ve no feelings left to hurt. No, talk away among yourselves, and I’ll look forward to hearing what you’ve got to say.” She gave them a cheery wave, then moved through the front door, around the side of the motel to the back of the function room. She’d been in earlier and opened all the windows, knowing their voices would float out. She’d even taken a chair out there. Silly things, as if she was going to let them talk about her musical without her hearing.

The sisters pulled their chairs around a table in the center of the room, the scripts and a plunger of coffee in front of them. Bett shot both of them a look. Anna was as sleekly turned out as ever—designer clothes, dramatic silver jewelery, all thin lines and sharp hair. Carrie looked as if she was on her way to film a shampoo ad, bouncy blonde hair and trim body, in hipster jeans and tight-fitting T-shirt. Bett tucked her unruly hair behind her ears, tugged at her waisted jeans and fortunately not tight-fitting T-shirt.

“So,” Anna said, taking charge. The mood was tense. “Have you both read it?”

Carrie and Bett nodded.

“And what did you think?”

Neither Bett nor Carrie spoke, both looking down at their scripts. Anna waited a moment. Still nothing. Then she leaned forward and spoke, her voice very low and very firm. “When I was at acting school, there were sometimes things I had to do that I didn’t like. Pretend to be a dog. Stand in a chorus line when I’d rather have been the lead. It happens at work still. I have to take on some jobs I’d rather not because that’s just the way it is. Sometimes you have to do things you would rather not, either to please other people or because they need to be done.”

Bett tried not to react. She’d always hated it when Anna lectured them like this.

Carrie felt like rolling her eyes. Who did Anna think she was? Their mother?

“Now, I don’t know whether Lola spent ten years or ten minutes on this, but I think we owe it to her at least to talk properly about it. You both know as well as I do how good she was to us. Right now putting on a musical is the last thing I want to do, to be perfectly honest. But the way I see it is, the sooner we at least talk about it, and decide whether we do it or not, the sooner it’s over.”

Bett stared at her script some more. The worst thing about Anna was that apart from being so bossy she was also so often completely and maddeningly right.

“I’m not asking you to do it for me,” Anna continued. “I’m asking you to do it for Lola. It would make her very happy.”

Carrie looked up then. “It’s easy for you to say. She’s been driving me and Mum bananas the past few months.”

“She’s been driving Mum bananas for more than thirty years, Carrie, and you know it. And as for you—just think of it as good practice for when you and Matthew have children. If you can handle Lola, you’ll be able to handle any naughty child.” She ignored Carrie’s intake of breath and poured herself some more coffee.

Outside, Lola was weighing up whether to be hurt by anything she’d heard. After a moment’s reflection, she decided not to be. Nothing there she hadn’t known, anyway.

Anna took a sip of coffee before tapping the script in a businesslike manner. “So then, shall we start again? What did you both think of it?”

Recalling several of the scenes, Bett suddenly found herself trying not to laugh. “It was certainly different,” she offered. She noticed quick answering grins from Carrie and Anna, before their shutters came down again. Different—the word used in the Valley for anything a bit challenging or out of the ordinary, a polite way of saying appalling. “I like your dress, Anna. It’s different.” “You’ve had a new haircut, Bett. Gee, it’s different.”

“Let me rephrase that,” Bett said. “I think it’s the maddest piece of musical theater I have ever read in my life.”

Anna’s lip twitched. “I’d agree with that. Carrie?”

Carrie still looked a little sulky. “If you ask me it’s like she took all her favorite pieces from all her favorite musicals, flung them into a blender with a few lines of dialogue, and this is what came out.”

By the window, Lola smiled serenely. Good girl, Carrie. That was exactly what she had done.

Bett turned to Anna. “Could you actually work out what was going on?”

“I think so. It’s set in Terowie, at wartime, where the townspeople—”

“Or the villagers, as she calls them,” Carrie interrupted.

“The villagers get wind that General Douglas MacArthur is coming through on a train—”

“Cue three verses of ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo,’ ” Bett recalled.

“And a big row breaks out between two rivals in the local Country Women’s Association over who will organize the welcoming party at the railway station. Which develops into a full-scale row—amazingly like the fight scene from
West Side Story.
And of course the son of one rival and the daughter of the other are secretly in love.”

“And just happen to be called Romeo and Juliet, those two common names in 1940s Australia,” Carrie said.

Lola bristled. They might well have been common names in Terowie. How were the girls to know? She listened closely as Anna, Bett, and Carrie took it in turns relating the story. They might have been laughing at her musical, but at least it meant they were talking about something.

“But then Juliet starts falling for the young American GI who is organizing MacArthur’s visit. And Romeo gets jealous and they split up.”

“So the GI starts feeling guilty for wreaking all this havoc on a small town and confesses as much to the lad-about-town who’s been watching all the antics from afar.”

“Who happens to be the nephew of a train driver and has the bright idea to get the GI himself to dress up as General MacArthur and arrive at the platform one day early. So the CWA women scurry around and prepare his welcoming party.”

“And then they pretend that for security reasons he’ll have to do it all over again, so they bring the train through again the next day, except this time of course it’s the real MacArthur.”

“And the other group gets to serve their morning tea and do the welcoming party, too, and that’s when General MacArthur delivers his big ‘I shall return’ speech.”

“And the GI and the cheeky lad-about-town laugh to themselves about the fact he has already returned.”

Ingenious, Lola thought proudly.

Anna leaned back elegantly in her chair. “And they all live happily ever after, including the couple. Cue ‘Happy Talk’ from
South Pacific.
”

“Has Lola actually made up all the General MacArthur business?” Bett asked.

“No, it’s true,” Carrie said. “I checked on the Internet this morning. He did stop in Terowie, and that is where he made that famous speech. But I don’t think any of that other stuff happened, especially the war scenes in the beginning.”

“No, I’d hardly imagine Mrs. MacArthur singing ‘My Favorite Things’ to her scared little son in that first scene, when they’re flying in from the Philippines,” Anna said.

“And I don’t reckon the Terowie villagers came out every day, gazed at their cornfields, and sang ‘Oh What a Beautiful Morning,’ ” Bett added, fighting another smile.

“At least she didn’t have the CWA catering women singing that ‘MacArthur Park’ song.” Anna was actually laughing now. “I was sure I could see it coming. A chorus row of women upset because their cakes had been left out in the rain.”

Outside, Lola wasn’t laughing. She had written a scene just like that. She’d taken it out only because she wasn’t sure if they would be able to manage rain special effects at the Clare Town Hall.

“There were some good bits, though, didn’t you think?” Carrie said. “I loved the scene where the couple are dancing around the local football oval, singing ‘I Am Sixteen Going on Seventeen.’ ”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “You mean the scene that is a direct lift from
The Sound of Music
?”

“Well, that was always my favorite scene in the film, too,” Carrie said defensively. “And I also liked that scene the night of the first MacArthur’s visit, when the lead actress sings ‘I Could Have Danced All Night’ from
My Fair Lady.
”

Bett knew that song well. It had been Carrie’s most popular solo moment in the Alphabet Sisters days.

“But I don’t think it works when the next day she sings ‘I Like to Be in America,’ ” Anna said. “Not when she’s been going on about how much she loves the Australian countryside and that man, Romeo, or whatever his name is.”

“But that’s the whole thing,” Carrie said passionately. “She thinks she loves Romeo, but now her head has been turned by MacArthur and his GI and all the drama and talk of America. She’s torn between her simple life in the country and the pursuit of her dreams.”

Anna stared at her. “You’ve really lived this, Carrie, haven’t you?”

“Well, I can see what Lola’s trying to say,” Carrie said, blushing. “And I think that song is perfect there.”

That song, which just happened to be Carrie’s second-favorite song from the Alphabet Sisters days, Bett thought. She’d just realized what Lola had done.

Anna’s tone was now extremely businesslike. “And what did you both think of the Alphabet Sisters cameo in the second act?”

Bett’s smile disappeared. “I crossed it out.” She didn’t look at Carrie.

“I did, too,” Carrie said, not looking at Bett either.

Anna felt the tension in the room increase. She glanced between the two of them. “Fine. I’ll cross it out, too.” She patted her script. “Here’s what I think. It’s completely mad, of course, and it needs a bit of work, but it could be done. That’s if Lola is actually serious about it.”

Lola popped her head up over the window ledge. “I’m quite serious.”

They all jumped. Anna frowned. “Lola, this is supposed to be a private meeting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You must have known I’d be eavesdropping outside. But you spoke too low for my poor old ears at the end there. What did you all think of it?”

“It’s actually very good,” Anna said.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Lola said.

“I really enjoyed it,” Bett said.

“I knew you would.”

“There’s definitely something in there for everybody,” Carrie said.

“That was my whole intention. So it could work?”

“Well, yes,” Anna said. “But it’s not like the Alphabet Sisters performances, Lola. It isn’t just the three of us standing up singing a few tunes wearing matching dresses. It would need a hall, for a start.”

“I’ve booked it.” She waved the flyer at them. “For March twentieth. It’s the anniversary of General MacArthur’s visit. Perfect, don’t you think?”

“That’s so soon. What about sets? Costumes?”

“Len the butcher said he’d be happy to help. He’s not a bad carpenter. I’ve been tucking bits and pieces away for costumes from the charity shop for the past few months. If you don’t like them, we could hire some in Adelaide.”

“And what about a band?”

Lola gestured grandly at Bett. “Who needs a band when we’ve got Bett? You could use the piano here for rehearsals, and we could move it to the town hall for the show. Though there are lots of talented musicians in the Valley if you wanted more than piano.”

Bett was going through the song list. Lola had looked after her, too. She had chosen many of her favorites, ones with lots of bright piano music.

Anna was leafing through the script again. When she first left drama school in Sydney, she’d joined a musical theater group that put on mini musicals for corporate functions. That was how she had met Glenn. He’d been organizing the Real Estate Association Christmas party. She’d picked up all sorts of tricks and tips for staging a show on a budget—how to use one backdrop for lots of different scenes, and how to make rapid scene changes to keep the action moving. Lola’s script was surprisingly good, but she could see where a little cutting here and there would help it.… 

Lola was now all eagerness and excitement. “I thought you could put an ad in the paper calling for auditions. I’ve got some wording for it here, look.” She waved another bit of paper at them.

Bett wasn’t convinced. “It’s still very tight time-wise.”

Anna took a diary out of her bag. “Not if we got moving with the auditions, then started rehearsals twice a week. Carrie, would this room be available?”

“I’d have to check the bookings, but it’s usually free on weeknights. And we haven’t got any weddings for a couple of months. But hold on a moment. Are you all going to stay in the Valley? Here in the motel?” Carrie looked from Anna to Bett. This was moving too quickly for her. “What about your work, Anna? And Glenn?”

Anna’s face was expressionless. “If we did decide to do the musical, I could juggle work. Go up to Sydney for two days a week. Ellen could come with me.” She didn’t mention Glenn.

“No, Ellen couldn’t, actually.” Lola gave a guilty smile. “She’ll be in school here. I spoke to the principal today. She’s a friend of mine. She said they can certainly find a place for her.”

Carrie turned to her other sister, fighting a feeling of panic. It was one thing hiding Matthew’s absence from her sisters for days, but for weeks? “And you, Bett? What about your work?”

Lola stepped in again. “She’s accepted a part-time job at the
Valley Times.
Haven’t you, Bett?”