Every one has left. Except for him and Mrs Sanderson.

Dylan sits on the edge of the stage. A bit of electricity still zings in his body. The song is not dead yet.

Mrs Sanderson comes over.

'What's the problem, Dylan?'

Dylan knows how to sing for Mrs Sanderson, but he can't talk.

'What's the matter, love? That was a beautiful song.' Mrs Sanderson sits beside Dylan on the edge of the first step up to the stage. Her French perfume. 'My Sin' (He saw the bottle fall out of her bag once, when she was hunting for change to buy a raffle ticket.) Her flabby arms. Her plonky fingers. Her wild hair. A glimpse. He realises she purposely makes her hair wild then sprays it to keep it that way.