And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 78: Dear Fate, You Gave Me The Wrong Timing

Rumor had it that this evening alongside the Beatles (that's me!) there was going to be a special performance by Ackerman Bilk, trad jazz clarinetist and his Paramount jazz band aboard the MV Royal Iris, a River Mersey ferry commonly known as The Fish And Chip Boat. The Beatles were going after him.

    "Don't you lot hate jazz or something?" I asked them as we ate a quick and late lunch before heading towards the Pier Head.

Pete yawned. He had gotten up late that morning, grabbing his things and running toward lunch. "I know Johnny here does, or did. Rock n' roll and jazz went a little head on in those days, love."

    "Well then tonight should be interesting, shouldn't it?" I remarked.

    "I heard Ray McFall—that's the owner—wants variety in the performances; that's why we've got jazz and then rock and roll," Paul told us.

    "I'm sure that a boxing match between the rock n' rollers and the jazz musicians will add great variety to tonight's show," John said and we all laughed.

    I'm not quite sure if on that morning it was John waking up early and making some toast for George and I, or if it was his relaxed attitude that would not have come from the John a couple months back who nearly bit my head off for taking a photo of him wearing an apron, or even if it was merely the thought of the rare but still existing pre-show rushes that John and I shared, but I wanted to take this day and seize it by the horns. I wanted to give it all to him, to thank the man for sharing such a large part of my life with me, to thank him for helping me learn more about myself and the beautiful world around me. More than that, I felt ready, I felt something I hadn't felt in a while: trust. You don't know it until it hits you, and it had been coming on for a while now, but for some reason in the past few days it had really taken me by surprise, but I was grateful.

    Chinese or Italian? I was thinking about for dinner options for tonight. Italian was classy for a date night, a nice touch after paying late into the night and I knew the usual restaurant was open late. John and I could enjoy a nice dinner with barely anyone else in the restaurant. Chinese, however, had a history with us both. Chinese at my house in Chiswick, John yelling a joking I'm Home! Chinese in Strawberry Field, Chinese would forever be at Strawberry Field. Yes, I would do take-out and then recreate something at Mendips. Mimi was conveniently off for the weekend, which I took as a good sign from above that following my instincts would prove to yield something nice.

    "No dinner with the lads tonight," I told John over the phone in the morning over the getting-ready noises of the Harrisons. "I've got something nicer planned. We'll head to Mendips from the pier and then go from there."

    "Something nice I should know about? There's a scheduled match of who can flirt with the bartender the most tonight between Pete and Geo at our usual bar. Also, Ringo from Rory's band keeps showing up and I like the lad." He started humming one of their songs. "John," I laughed. "I think you'll like what I drummed up."

    "All right. Then I'll see ye later, love?" His voice got deeper, lower, and I smirked. "You bet, soldier."

    "I'm a soldier of love..." he hummed and I hung up playfully.

***

    Crowded, crowded on the boat but not as hot as the Cavern, where it could get to over thirty Celsius or at least it felt like it, me and the boys against a brick backing which retained heat. The boat had a nice breeze, though, but all the same I still removed my jacket to feel the wind until I was just wearing my black satin pants from Germany and a silky gray cap-sleeve shirt.

    Dot was still near the front, standing with a couple of Pete's fans, who were gazing admiringly at the boys. She herself though looked a little troubled: her cheers seemed half hearted, there was a look in her eyes that was more saddened than normal.