And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 66: When McCartney Gives Better Advice Than You

St. John's Hall was a pretty light brown building in the shape of a church. I was first out of Neil's van and I stood in front of the van and took in the building until I felt a prod. "Don't keep the pretty building to yourself," came from George, and I hastily moved out of the way as the others clambered out, taking my large bag with me containing my performance attire. I had to change from my secretary clothing.

"Ye sure you want to work at the post today?" George had asked me that morning as I stood by the kitchen counter shoveling eggs into my mouth. Unladylike, that's for certain, but I was already late for work. "We've got St. John's tonight. Won't ye be tired?"

I had put the empty plate in the sink and taken a swig of tea. Where did I put my purse? "I've got to. Prellies would be right nice for tonight, though," I had responded. I located my purse at the foot of the stairs, grabbed it, and headed for the front door. "You work too hard, love," George had called after me but I was gone.

Grabbing some equipment to take into the church, I wondered if Danny was going to show up as we walked towards the front door. I had invited him earlier in the day, wanting to show off what I had learned from my little field trip, but he had declined, citing he had something else to do. My thoughts were interrupted as I noticed some female fans outside the church, gazing at us in rapt admiration (the boys, probably not me) as we walked inside to look at our venue—a roomy stage where we would play in front of a curtain.

"Going to go get dressed, lads," I told them, entering backstage and walking down a hallway to find a closet or a toilet. All dressed up, I pushed open the door of the restroom and walked back outside to find a familiar leather-clad figure with a scowl upon his features leaning against the wall. I stepped towards the stage, ignoring him, but he said, "Cora."

"What?" I responded, pausing.

"I love you."

"That I find hard to believe," I said, and his words made my insides melt and freeze at the same time.

"Believe me when I tell you," he said, and I faced him for the first time and saw John, our eyes locked, and everything flooded back. We stood in the hallway, me clutching my clothes to my chest, him stepping away from the wall and simply facing me, his hands pressed firmly together. "I love you, it's always been you."

The man standing in front of me. His soft auburn hair. I could almost touch it like I had done so many times before, stroking it softly while sitting on his bed, pawing at it in a whirl of passion. The corner of my mouth trembled and I closed my eyes. He moved closer to me, his arms open, mouth tight with anticipation and I stood frozen. I chose to turn sideways and he was touching me, his arms around me but I was facing the other way. A spasm of feeling shifted through my body like a shiver when he made contact with me. My jaw clenched, I made a little involuntary gasp.

We stood like that and I said quietly, "Please. Not now."

He gently obliged. "I'll say it again and again and again until you understand it's always going to be you."

My voice broke. "Shite, John, shite. You understand that we can't—" I started, but a voice down the hallway interrupted. "All the birds have arrived, you lot—ah sorry." Pete, looking the very definition of late fifties rock star, leather suit but his hair stubbornly refusing to conform to the mop-tops of his band mates. "Paul said to hurry up," he finished awkwardly and ducked out of the hallway. I turned back to John and finished my sentence. "Done, Lennon, we're done." I ducked out of his grasp and made my way back to the stage, ignoring the urge to take a glance behind me. Cheating was cheating. We were done.

***

For the rest of the night I used my distraction tactic. I thought a real live gig was going to be better than practice at Paul's because we shared the environment collectively with the audience and not just between the five of us. In a way the bond encapsulated the whole room, but the audience also enhanced the relationship between the band. Having not had performances for the past few days, I had forgotten about this and how important it was to build off of each other. And I was throwing it. Not all at once, but a wrong note here and a wrong note there, enough to make Paul notice and give me a confused look. The look was enough to snap me back into concentrating on hitting all my notes correctly, but by the time our break came about all I could think about was John and me in the back hallway a couple of minutes ago. Amidst cheering and clapping we trooped off the stage and into a back room.