Martha My Dear

Chapter 24

We found ourselves in Boston after a few stops of the tour, everything going extremely well amidst the craziness that was touring. Getting to know the lads better was great, although saying goodbye to Pattie as she left for work became difficult as we had just begun to get close.

"What's that?" I inquired to Paul, looking over his shoulder to the sheet of paper he was scribbling away on. "Dear Boy" was titled at the top of the page, causing me to crease my brows together inquisitively. It was a peculiar name, the writing seeming almost as if he was writing a letter to someone.

Paul was sat at the desk in the boys' shared hotel room, Paul and I having our own private room to ourselves across the hall. We had some downtime before they were due to go preform, so they all relaxed around the room until inevitably Brian would come to whisk them away.

"It's just a song." Paul shrugged nonchalantly placing the page face down on the table away from him, his cheeks flushing of colour having been caught writing.

"Let me have a look." John reached for it from Paul's other side. Paul quickly swiped the page, tearing it in half hastily. His eyes were bulging nervously as he clutched the two halves of the paper, crumpling them.

"Well I guess we'll never hear it." George commented surprised as he and Ringo looked up from their game of cards to the odd scene.

"It's all up here." Paul pointed to his head with a dismissive shrug, although still seeming terribly on edge.

Straight faced, John smacked Paul's forehead, causing Paul to wince. He scowled rubbing his forehead.

"Tell up there to write something we can sing." He spoke dryly before walking over to the television and flicking it on, beginning to play with the channels.

"I've wrote something." George perked up grinning, seeming to hope to gain approval from John and Paul.

I looked from George to Paul and John seeing they barley even flinched, making me frown with disappointment and walk from beside Paul over to the couch that Ringo and George were sat at, sitting down on the coffee table across from them.

"Can I hear it?" I asked hopefully, seeing his eyes light up.

"Yeah, let me get my guitar." He nodded eagerly leaving the couch to get it.

I looked back to Paul seeing he was observing me intently, looking as if he were trying to see what I was trying to get at.

I looked to Ringo, seeing him trying to be slick as he peaked at George's cards.

"I see you Ringo." George called over.

Ringo immediately jumped back looking like he nearly had a heart attack.

"Me? No-What?" He stuttered out flustered.

George came back with his guitar, sitting down and making sure it was tuned before he started.

He began to play, entrancing me with the intricate way he plucked the strings to make an array of beautiful sounds to fill my ears.

He hadn't any words yet but he muttered along to it causing my breath to be taken away, it was a stunningly mature piece for him, I assumed having only a maximum of two songs per album he wasn't as strong of a songwriter. That couldn't be farther from the truth.