And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 61: Back In Dear Old Liddypool, Again

That morning in which I had picked up the Mersey Beat newspaper I thought I was in Hamburg. I had woken to the sound of morning rain pattering on the glass panes of George's house. I almost called John's name, expecting to find his tousled sleepy head snoring lightly next to me but I remembered he was an hour away in Mendips.

    Seven in the morning. I leaned over and switched on the lamp beside my bed, got dressed, and went downstairs to make breakfast for the Harrisons. I cracked eggs and greeted the Harrison family, who all trickled dressed for the day in save George.

    "Where's Geo?" I asked, grabbing the toast from the toaster, which released a slightly acrid burnt smell in the air. "Sorry, Peter."

    "I do like my toast slightly burnt," Peter told me, grinning, dressed in a light red short sleeve shirt and loose pants, appropriate for the July weather. "Gives it a bit of edge. I don't know where the lad is," he continued, speaking to my previous question. "Sleeping in, probably. You all had a long journey home. You too could have slept in, Cora."

    "And miss burning your toast? How could I?" I joined the family at the table. The familial situation felt so different than Hamburg, actually sitting down and eating eggs and bacon and drinking tea for nourishment instead of ingesting prellies and beer. It felt a little odd telling them about the remainder of our trip in Hamburg without George, and by the time breakfast was over Louise's motherly glances towards the stairs were getting worrying. "I'd better go see what's happened to him," she said and started towards the stairs, carrying a cup of tea and a plate with some breakfast.

    "So, Cora, what are your plans for the meantime?" Harry asked me as he got up to put his plate in the sink, chuffing me lightly on the shoulder with a deep chuckle. I grinned. I liked the Harrisons. "George tells me you're pretty much on full time in the band with that electric bass of yours."

    "He did?" I asked. It caught me by surprise but we were interrupted by Louise's footsteps coming down the stairs. "George is sick, he has a cold," she reported to us. "Cora, you don't feel sick, do you dear?"

    "No, I'm fine," I told her. I climbed the stairs to see George, who was turned on his side facing the wall, the room quiet and dark. "George," I called gently, knocking on the doorjamb. He grunted; all I could see was a brown mass of hair and a large quilt. A cup of tea and a bit of toast sat on the side table, courtesy of Louise. "Ye all right?"

    He sat up and sniffed. "'M fine. Just a bit of a cold is all."

    "Had some tea yet?"

    "I will, thanks mum." George coughed, smiling at me, but it came out as a grimace. "Bollocks to this bloody thing. My throat feels like sandpaper. Hope I get over it to go to the shindig tomorrow."

    "What?" I said, a lilt in my voice at the question as I stepped into the room.

    "Ye haven't heard? Ringo is having his birthday."

    "Oh, that's right," I said, my modern mind remembering Ringo Starr's birthday: July 7th. "Ye got an invite?" I asked George, feeling slighted that I hadn't gotten one, but remembered that Ringo and I hadn't really gotten to know each other yet.

    "We all do," he laughed and it turned into a cough. "Whole band. Of course you're invited. Why'd you even ask?" George sat up and took his toast from his plate. "Nice that we get today off, though. I think we have a while before we play again. What are you doing today?"

    "Meeting Kathleen and Martin," I told him. "You just get better, Geo. Wouldn't want to miss Rings' birthday, would you?" I looked at him crunching at his toast for a few minutes before deciding to walk back into the room to open the blinds. Here comes the sun.