“Who the bloody hell is that?” asked John.

“Who is who, dear?” Mary asked back.

John pointed out the kitchen window at his youngest daughter, who was sitting on the bench in the back garden with something that he suspected might be a boy.

“That,” he said again.

“Oh, that’s Stephen Bradbury,” replied Mary. “He’s a very nice boy. You’ve seen him before. They used to play together as children.”

“That’s th’ kid who knows so much about computers?” he asked, incredulous. “He barely looks as though he would be capable of tyin’ his fuckin’ shoes. Must be one o’ them idiot savants, like.”

“Oh, stop it, John. Stephen came home with Emily from school today. He just finished hooking up her computer before you got home. He’s actually quite bright, and sort of cute, in a studious sort of way,” Mary told him. She poured him a cup of coffee and set it on the table. “Come away from the window and sit down; I’ve made coffee for you. Would you like a piece of cake to go with it? I just baked it this morning.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” he said, reluctantly leaving the window. “Well,” he added, “At least I don’t have to worry about him gettin’ too aggressive with her. He doesn’t look as though he’d dare try anythin’ with a headstrong lass like Emmy. Not like our young Mr. Warren at that age, all full o’ himself as he was.”

“I always said that Bobby reminded me of you,” Mary remarked, placing a piece of cake in front of her husband. “So strong and aggressive; he knew just what he wanted. His new CD was released today,” she added. She got it from the counter and handed it to John.

“Hmph,” he said, opening the case and taking the disk out. “Who’d ever have believed that they’d ever stop makin’ records...makes me feel fuckin’ ancient.”

“John, you’re fifty-five, not eighty,” Mary laughed, “And every bit as young at heart as you ever were.”

“The fuck I am; I’m a curmudgeon,” he replied. “That’s what Paulie says, an’ I’ve come t’ th’ conclusion that he’s right.”

“You were a curmudgeon when you were thirty, John,” Mary reminded him. “It’s only that they don’t ordinarily use that particular word when referring to a younger man.”

“George said I was an old fart,” he complained’

“When did he say that?” asked Mary, pouring herself a cup of coffee and taking a seat beside him.

“Nearly five years ago, at Emily’s thirteenth birthday party,” he replied, taking a bite of his cake. “You bake the best chocolate cake, Mary,” he added.

“Five years ago? There’s certainly nothing wrong with your memory,” Mary laughed. “I’m sure George didn’t mean to hurt you. He probably meant it as a joke.”

“I know, but it stuck with me; niggled at me, like. Once when I was in me twenties some reporter was describin’ th’ members of th’ group, an’ she called me ‘th’ fat one’. I never really recovered from that...I still think about it if I see I’ve gained a pound or two,” he said. “Scarred me for life, she did.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mary told him. “You’ve never been fat.”

“Well, I was startin’ t’ head in that direction, back around ‘65,” he replied. “Seemed I’d been hungry forever, when we were strugglin’. I had t’ go to Mimi’s t’ get a decent meal. Most o’ th’ time it was pretty much a hand t’ mouth existence. I wasn’t really makin’ a livin’ wage, back then. All of a sudden, we could have whatever we wanted, an’ we took advantage of it. Then pot came along an’ with it th’ munchies.” He took another bite and smiled at her. “It’s been a while since I’ve thought o’ that,” he said. “Ye’ve made me happy in me old age, Miss Mary, even if people can’t see it an’ call me names.”

“Your old age is far in the future, darling,” she said gently. “You’re middle aged, not old”

“Semantics,” he said gruffly. “Bollocks.”

“Paul is right,” Mary told him, “You are a curmudgeon.”

***

“But, Emily, I’m tired of hiding our relationship from your father,” Stephen said. “I want you to move in with me.”

“I’ve told you and told you, Stephen, I’m not ready to do that yet. I wouldn’t feel right about it. I think we should keep things the way they are,” she replied. “Besides, my father would never accept you if I moved away from him to be with you without a ring on my finger. He’s actually pretty old fashioned, and I guess I am, too, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Is that all? Then marry me, Em! I’d love to marry you. You know I’ve loved you since we were in infant school and you didn’t even know I existed. I would have asked you long ago if I ever thought you would have said you would,” Stephen told her fervently. “There’s never been anyone else for me. You know that!”

“Is that why you’ve never asked me? You were afraid I’d say no?” Emily was astonished. “I can’t believe this...yes! Yes, Stephen, I will marry you.”

“That’s wonderful!” he cried. “I can’t believe you said yes--should I ask your father for your hand?”

Emily laughed out loud at that. “God, no, don’t be soft,” she replied. “He’d cut you to pieces. Just leave Daddy to me.”

“Thanks for saying yes, Emily,” Stephen said softly. “I’ll make you happy, I promise.” He took her gently into his arms and kissed her deeply. Emily wound her arms around his neck and pressed against him tightly, answering his kiss with rising passion.

***

“God’s wheelbarrow, woman! Look what they’re doin’ now!”cried John in alarm. “He’s suckin’ her face right offa her head! I’ve gotta get out there.”

“John, you’ll do no such thing,” said Mary firmly. “Emily is almost eighteen and she’s not doing anything wrong. Julia was the same when she was her age...besides, Emily has a good head on her shoulders, and she can take care of herself. She’s known Stephen for years, and she’s been interested in him for months.”

“This is the first I’ve heard about it,” John complained. “I can’t remember ever layin’ eyes on th’ boy before. I thought she was seein’ that other guy--Mike Terrance, is it?”

“He’s just a friend,” Mary told him. “Besides, Michael Terrance is gay, John.”

“No kiddin’? No wonder I never saw him makin’ out with her. Always a perfect gentleman, that Mike. How about that other one--Joey Jensen.”

“Also gay,” Mary said.

“ Sandy Haskins?”

“Honestly, darling, Sandy’s not even a boy. She’s a girl, but I don’t think she’s gay...at least not that I know of.”

“Sandy’s a gurrl? Good lord, Mary, th’ poor thing; she’s hideous!”

“She’s very sweet,” Mary told him.

“With a face like that, she’d better be,” John said. “Look, they’re comin’ in. Act like we weren’t watchin’ ‘em.”

“That’ll be easy for me, “ Mary replied. “I wasn’t watching them.”

“Hi, Daddy,” said Emily when she came in. “When did you get home?”

“Oh, hi, Emmy...only just. Who’s yer friend?” asked John casually.

“This is Stephen Bradbury, you must remember him,” replied Emily. “He’s just asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes. Isn’t that wonderful?”

John looked as though he’d been poleaxed.

“Yerwhat? Married! T’ him? Not bloody likely, me lass!” He felt as though he was looking at his daughter and the boy beside her through a long tunnel. He was lightheaded, and there was a rushing sound in his ears. “Yer doin’ no such thing--he’s a perfect stranger--I won’t have it!” he added.

“Daddy, in three weeks I’ll be eighteen,” she reminded him. “It’s my decision. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but that’s just the way it’s going to be. I’m sorry, Daddy, but I’m marrying Stephen, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And you have seen him before; he used to be here a lot when we were children. You’ve just forgotten.” With that, Emily left the room and went down the hall with Stephen in tow.

“Mary,” said John desperately, “Do summat--ye gotta talk t’ her. I don’t know this lad! I can’t have me daughter marryin’ a fuckin’ stranger!”

“Calm down, baby, he’s not a stranger to Emily. She’s known him ever since she started school. They just haven’t been close until fairly recently. He’s been here before, but it was years ago, when they were around eleven or twelve. He’s usually in the group she goes out with. He really is a nice boy, John.”

“When she was twelve...that’s Stevie? The kid with th’ fuckin’ asthma who was always knockin’ stuff over?” John asked in amazement. “I never thought that little bastard would live t’ see eighteen... he was such a delicate little thing. I woulda pegged him as th’ gay one o’ th’ bunch. I certainly never thought me daughter’d ever consider marryin’ him. Jesus, Mary, we’ve gotta stop her. She’s gonna ruin her fuckin’ life.”

“Why don’t you talk to the boy, John? Maybe you’d like him if you gave him a chance. You couldn’t stand Bobby when he first came around, and you’re close to him now,” Mary told him.

“Yeah, well, Bobby’s a musician; we have summat in common,” John countered. “What th’ fuck’ve I got in common with this lad?”

“Apparently, you both love Emily,” said Mary. “That should be enough for you.”

***

“So, Stevie, long time no see,” said John, sticking his head into Emily’s room. “Mary reminded me that I’d seen ye before...ye used to come round when ye were twelve, evidently.” He went into the room and stood behind the youngsters, peering curiously over their shoulders at the computer screen. “So,” he said, “This is yer computer. I remember seein’ one back in the 60s that took up a whole fuckin’ wall...it was a bloody big room, too. Hard t’ believe ye c’n fit one on a desk now. Yer Uncle Paul says they’re th’ wave o’ the future, though. Claims that in another five years everyone’ll have one o’ these thingies in their house.”

“He’s right, sir,” affirmed Stephen. “Maybe even sooner. A lot of people have them already. The Internet is like having all the information in the world right at your fingertips. I’ll teach you how to operate it, if you’d like.”

“Maybe another day,” John replied. “It does look kinda interestin’. Right now, I was just wonderin’ if I could borrow ye...have a little talk, like.”

“Okay, I guess,” Stephen said. He got to his feet and followed John from the room

“Nothing you can say is going to change anything, Daddy,” called Emily as they left.

Stephen followed John down the steps to his lair in the cellar with great trepidation. He had always been intimidated by the former Beatle when he and Emily were children, and he had tended to keep a low profile when John was at home. When he did find himself in the same room with the legendary musician, he was often so nervous that he ended up knocking something over, often breaking it. He wondered what John planned to say to him”

“Don’t be nervous, lad,” said John without turning around. “I don’t have a torture chamber down here, no matter what ye might’ve heard. It’s all a bloody lie.”  John directed Stephen to sit at the bar.  “Fancy a drink?” he asked. Wouldn’t be surprised if he asks for one of those pink drinks the ladies like, maybe with a little parasol in it, he thought.

“Yes, sir, please,” Stephen replied. “Bourbon, straight up.”

“Good lad--I’ll make it a double,” said John, his voice showing his surprise. “And th’ same for meself.”  He poured the drinks and sat beside the boy, offering him a cigarette.

“No, sir, thanks, I don’t smoke,” Stephen told him.

“Yer better off,” John admitted. “It’s a nasty habit, but I’ve been doing it too long to stop now. Mind if I indulge?”

“Not at all--it’s your house. May I ask, sir, what it is you wanted to say to me?”

“I just thought we should take a few minutes to get a bit acquainted, like. It’s been an age since I last remember seein’ ye. How’s the asthma?” asked John, lighting his cigarette. “Is that why ye don’t smoke?”

“No, I outgrew that,” replied Stephen. “I just don’t do it because it’s so bad for you.”

“Yer right,” John told him. “Emily doesn’t do it, either, nor does Julia or Mary. None o’ th’ gurrls, only th’ men o’ th’ house.”

The point of this remark was not lost upon Stephen.  “I suppose you have to be a man not to be afraid of cancer,” he said in reply.

John raised his eyebrows and regarded the boy down his nose. “Touche, lad,” he said. “Yer not stupid, I’ll give ye that.”

Stephen swallowed his drink and put the glass down.  ”You don’t like me, do you, Mr. Lennon?” he asked.

“I dunno,” John replied. “I don’t know ye, so I don’t have much t’ go on. I don’t like finding out that me daughter -- the baby of the family -- is plannin’ on marryin’ a lad I don’t know from Adam, an’ at my considerable fuckin’ expense, I’m sure.”

Stephen nodded.  “That’s reasonable,” he said. “I’d feel the same way myself, if I were you, I should think.”

“Then we understand one another,” said John. “Emily is very special t’ me, ye know.”

“Of course,” Stephen replied. “She’s your youngest daughter.”

“It’s more than that,” John told him. “Did she ever tell ye about the night she was born?”

“No,” said Stephen. “She probably doesn’t remember it.”

John chuckled.  “Yer funny,” he said. “I like that. No, I meant th’ unusual circumstances surroundin’ her birth. I delivered her meself, ye know.”

“Really? No, she never told me that. What happened?”

John told him the story, and by the time he had finished, Stephen had emptied his glass three times and forgotten that he had ever been afraid of this man. John, for his part, thought that the kid was not so bad after all, even if he did look like Joan Jett on a particularly bad hair day.

When John and Stephen came back upstairs, Mary, Julia, and Emily were all sitting at the table in the kitchen having cake. As soon as they saw John, they stopped talking.

“Discussin’ me, were ye?” he asked. “Sayin’ good things, I hope.”

“Are you all right, Stephen?” asked Emily, looking at him uncertainly

“Oh, yeah, jus’ fine,” replied the boy. He almost fell over, and John caught him by the arm and helped him stay upright.

“Daddy!” exclaimed Emily. “You got him drunk! Stephen’s never been drunk in his life before!”

“Zarrafact? Well, he’s quite good at it, in that case,” said John. He was obviously feeling no pain himself. He turned to Stephen, who was still leaning against him for support. “Yer a fuckin’ natural, son,” he added. “We’ll make a man o’ ye yet, just see if we don’t!” He clapped Stephen on the back, and the boy suddenly lost his foolish grin and promptly vomited on the floor.

“Oops, hit ‘im a bit too hard, I reckon,” said John, pulling Stephen back into a more or less standing position. “Get a mop, Emmy...duty calls. I’m gonna drive th’ lad home.”

“Oh no, you’re not,” said Mary firmly. “You’re in no shape to drive. I’ll take him. Hand me the bucket from under the sink, Emily. He may need it in the car.” She took the bucket from Emily and turned back to John. “Help him into the car,” she said. “I’ll be there as soon as I get my keys.”

***

“I’ve got a problem, Dad,” said Bobby one night a few weeks later. “I just lost Jeff--he quit the band; I need a new guy in less than a week. That means I’m gonna have to start auditioning guys tomorrow. I don’t guess you’d know of any possibilities for filling the position, would you?”

“I might,” John said. “I know one who’s pretty good. He’s young, though, nobbut twenty. Why’d Jeff chuck th’ band?”

“He found Jesus, and I guess our Lord doesn’t approve of Jeff’s present lifestyle,” replied Bobby.

“I don’t suppose He would,” remarked John. “He was th’ wildest o’ th’ bunch. Well, like I said, I know one guy. Come on in an’ ye c’n give him a listen.”

“You mean he’s here? Great--what’d ya say his name was?”

“I didn’t, but ye know th’ lad. It’s George.”

“I didn’t know he played,” said Bobby doubtfully. “How long has he been at it?”

“Six years,” replied John. “He just hasn’t been advertisin’ th’ fact. I think he’d jump at th’ chance, though, and he’s good. Much better than I was at his age. He’s almost as good as I am now.”

They found George sitting in his room playing Nintendo

“C’mon, lad, I want ye in th’ cellar,” said John. “I wanna ask ye summat--or rather yer brother-in-law does.”

George was puzzled, but he shrugged and followed.

“Bobby needs a new guitar player,” John said once they were in his studio. “Care t’ consider th’ job? Ye know yer at least as good as Jeff.”

“What happened to Jeff?”

“He got religion, an’ bein’ a rocker no longer figures inta his plans,” replied John. “Are ye interested in tryin’ out?”

“I sure am,” said George. “Can I use your Stratocaster, Dad?”

“Help yerself, it’s over there on its stand,” he answered.  “Plug it inta that amp on th’ left, there’s summat funny about th’ other one. I’m gonna have someone take a look at it, but I think it’s just had it”

George was hired on the spot, and the three men had drinks to celebrate

“Ye don’t mind becomin’ a professional musician, even if ye are me son?” asked John.

“I’ve thought a lot about it over the past few years,” George replied, “And I’ve come to the conclusion that anybody who wants to criticize me can go fuck themselves with my blessings. If Julian has the nerve to put himself out there, then so can I. I used to think it was stupid of him to do that, knowing that so many people fail to take him seriously...now I think it’s really brave of him, though, and I admire him for it.”

“You’re really talented, mate,” said Bobby. “You’ll be a great addition to the group, but be prepared. Jeff had a lot of fans who aren’t gonna like anyone who replaces him. On top of that, they’ll be sayin’ that it smacks of nepotism, havin’ my brother-in-law in the band...not to mention that very distinctive face of yours. Are you sure you’re up to all that? I don’t wanna discourage ya, you’re great, but I wanna make sure you know what you’re likely to face.”

“I’ll be fine,” replied George. “I wanna give it a try.”

***

John was enchanted by the Internet and immediately bought a second computer for himself and a third for Julia.

“It’s fantastic,” he said enthusiastically. “Wait till ye see what ye c’n do with it. Ye c’n find out anything ye’d ever want t’ know, an’ ye c’n store information, really, there’s no limit t’ th’ possibilities...yer gonna love it, Puss. Little Bobby c’n play all these learnin’ games on there, an’ this one, too, whenever she comes out an’ gets a few years on ‘er,” he added, patting his daughter’s swollen belly affectionately. “Young Stevie’ll be by t’ hook it up for ye, an’ I’ll get them t’ connect ye to th’ Internet. It’s bloody marvelous, love, once ye get acquainted with it ye’ll have a hard time ever turnin’ th’ thing off.”

Julia laughed. “The computer company should hire you to be their spokesman, Daddy,” she told him. “I’ll bet they’d sell twice as many.”

***

“You can’t get married next week, Emmy, baby, yer brother an’ Bobby won’t be here until th’ week after that, an’ ye don’t want them missin’ it,” John told his youngest daughter.”I’m afraid ye’ll hafta put it off just a bit.”

“Well, we’ve waited this long, I suppose  another week won’t make much difference,” said Emily. She finished washing the last dish and wiped her hands. “Stephen’s mother won’t come to the wedding, Daddy,” she added. “She disapproves of his marrying into our family.”

John was astonished.  “What? Why th’ hell would anyone object t’ that?” he asked. “What’s wrong with us?”

“It’s not us, exactly, Daddy,” she replied. “It’s actually just you. She says you were an evil influence upon the youth of the 60s. She was particularly offended by that remark you made about being bigger than Jesus. She says,” added Emily, “that you are the Antichrist. She’s met Mummy before, and she liked her, but now that she knows she’s your wife, she says she doesn’t know how you could have possibly convinced someone as sweet as Mummy to let herself get sucked into your--what did she call it--your ‘abyss of wickedness’.”

“What th’ fuck is wrong with th’ woman?” asked John. He was frankly amazed whenever he learned that someone disliked him, and it bothered him to know about it. “Most people think I’m pretty goddamned charmin’.”

“She’s very religious,” replied Emily. “Certifiably religious, actually. Not a normal religion, some kind of weird thing all tied up with spaceships or something. I wouldn’t worry about anyone like that not liking me if I were you. Stephen tries to stay away from home as much as possible because she drives him insane. She can’t imagine why he doesn’t see the light.” Emily smiled. “Wanna know what she calls you?” she asked. “She calls you ‘that vile John Lennon person’.”

“Well, I think I’m gonna pay her a visit,” John declared.

“Go ahead if you want to,” said Emily, “But I doubt it will do any good. She really hates you, Daddy.”

***

The next day, John went to see Stephen’s mother. As soon as she saw who was standing on her front steps, Mrs. Bradbury gave a little shriek and slammed the door in his face.

“I take it ye know who I am,” John called through the door.

“Yes, I do! Go away,” she called back. “I’ll call the police if you don’t leave.”

“C’mon, Mrs. Bradbury,” John said, “Let me at least talk to ye...I’ll give ye a big contribution for yer church if ye just give me five minutes.”

The door opened a crack. “You will?” she asked, “Really?”

John flashed her a winning smile. “I will,” he said. “I’ll give it to ye now, ahead o’ time, even, as a sign o’ me good faith.” He pulled out his wallet and extracted a one hundred pound note, paused, and pulled out another. Stephen’s mother snatched the money and crammed it into her bra, then opened the door to admit him.

I should’ve known, thought John. Filthy lucre always works with these religious nutters.

“You have five minutes,” she said cautiously, “Just like you said.”

“I thought we should meet, since our kids will be getting married in a couple weeks,” John told her. “Me daughter tells me yer not too crazy about me...I was wonderin’ if there was anythin’ I might be able t’ do t’ change that, like.”

“Don’t try to lure me with your sex,” replied Mrs. Bradbury. “I’m not interested in the least.”

John raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t tryin’ t’ lure ye with anythin’ o’ th’ sort,” he said. “I just thought that we ought to at least be on friendly terms since th’ kids--”

“I know what people like you mean by being on ‘friendly terms’,” replied the lady, drawing herself up to her full four feet eleven inches. Her several chins trembled with righteous indignation, her considerable bosom heaving with emotion. “You’ll expect me to take part in your horrible orgies with all your show business friends.”

John stared at her. He was completely at a loss for words--for a moment. “Have ye ever so much as looked inta a mirror, Mrs. Bradbury?” he asked. “I know ye’ve seen me wife--Christ on a tricycle, woman, why in hell would I ever wanna risk losin’ a woman like Mary for a tumble with someone like yerself?” Any thoughts he’d harbored of making peace with the ridiculous character standing in front of him went completely out of his head once he had begun his parting speech. “Ye obviously know nothin’ about me,” he went on. “I wouldn’t cheat on me wife with anybody, but even if I was a forty year old virgin livin’ on a desert island and ye were t’ wash up onta me lonely little beach, I wouldn’t give ye a second look! I wondered what in hell had yer fuckin’ son actin’ th’ way he did, all nervous an’ clumsy like; I guess I know why he was like that now that I’ve met ye. He’s gettin’ better now that he’s escaped yer clutches, have ye noticed th’ change in him? He’s actually turnin’ inta a normal lad, no thanks t’ yerself.”

“I have noticed he’s changed,” she replied, “Since he started having intercourse with that filthy trollop you call a daughter. Your five minutes are up, Mr. Lennon. Kindly get out of my house and don’t come back again.”

“Gladly,” he retorted, “An’ Mrs. Bradbury...let me tell ye just one more thing. Yer lucky as all fuckin’ hell that God loves everybody!”

***

“Mary, ye wouldn’t believe this woman! She’s fuckin’ unbelievable.I asked her if there was anythin’ I could do t’ change th’ way she felt about me, an’ she accused me o’ tryin’ t’ ‘lure’ her with me sex’!” John exclaimed. “Ye’ve seen her, Mary. C’n ye ever imagine me makin’ a play for ‘er?”

“No,” she laughed, “I can’t. Did she really say that?”

“Yeah. That wasn’t th’ only thing she said, though. She said that what corrupted her son was that he started  ‘havin’ intercourse with that filthy trollop we call a daughter’. Any idea what she meant by that, Mary? Is there summat goin’ on between those kids that I oughta know about?”

“Not that I know of, baby, she’s never mentioned anything to me.”

“Well,” he said, “Where is she? I wanna ask her.”

“All right, but you’ll have to wait till she comes home,” Mary told him. “In the meantime, I’d be perfectly willing to let you lure me with your sex.”

“Ye are, are ye? Well, I’ve nothin’ else planned, an’ besides, that sounds pretty fuckin’ good t’ me,” he said. “C’mere, then, woman, let’s have ye.”

Mary got out of her chair and walked over to where John sat. She straddled him and put her arms around his neck, drawing him close for a kiss. She snaked her tongue into his mouth and moved it in slow, lazy patterns. When she stopped to get her breath, she smiled at him and moved teasingly  against his hardness. She opened his jeans and caressed him firmly, and he moaned and pushed himself hard against her hand. He lifted her sweater and slid his warm, knowing hands underneath, stroking her gently.

Mary stood up and quickly removed her underwear, then arranged her skirt over him and guided him into herself. He let out a deep groan and pushed up deep inside of her. She raised herself slowly, moving her hips in tight, slow circles as she did so, then sank down until she enclosed his full length again. She continued to do this until his excitement was too great and he could no longer wait to take control. With a deep growl, he stood up, lifting her with him, and placed her on the table, driving himself deeply and repeatedly into her, taking her with him effortlessly. Mary cried out his name and he began to move more quickly, slamming into her with wild abandon, driving her over the edge expertly before allowing himself to take his own pleasure. When it was over, she wrapped her arms around him and whispered that she loved him.

“I love ye more,” he said softly. “Gettin’ pretty kinky, aren’tcha, love, doin’ such a thing in broad daylight right here on th’ kitchen table...I must admit, I’m that impressed.”

“You drove me to it,” she told him, “Luring me with your sex. You know I can’t resist you, baby. Imagine...Julia might have come to the door and caught us.”

“Ye don’t think she came t’ th’ door without our noticin’, do ye, Mary?” he asked worriedly. “I never thought o’ that.”

Mary laughed. “No, there’s no chance of that,” she said. “I was just teasing you. Julia is out shopping, and Emily’s not due back for a couple hours yet. I knew we wouldn’t be disturbed.”

“I’ll be thinkin’ about ye when we have supper tonight,” he told her. “Emmy an’ Stephen’ll be wonderin’ why I’m smilin’ so.”

“You are disgusting, you know,” she said, adjusting her clothes. “I just love that about you.”

“Me? Why, Miss Mary, it was you who started all this. It’s been years since I’ve had ye in the kitchen, come t’ think of it,” he reflected. “This table’s th’ perfect height for me, too--we hafta do that more often.” He patted the table affectionately. “Maybe I’ll get a couple more o’ these, put one in th’ bedroom an’ one in the cellar, like.”

***

When Stephen and Emily came back, Stephen’s face wore a decidedly worried look, and Emily was clearly trying to control her mirth.

“Can I talk to you, Mr. Lennon?” asked Stephen. “I’ve had a call from my mother, and she’s made some very serious allegations. She says I’ll marry Emily over her dead body.” He reddened and added, “I know it can’t be true, but she says you tried to seduce her.”

At this, Emily could take no more. She burst out laughing, tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her shoulders shaking, “But the idea of my father--and your mother--oh, God’s roller skates, Stephen, it’s too funny!”

John and Mary joined her in her laughter; Stephen looked at them and asked, “So you’re not worried about her threatening to tell her story to the Mirror?”

“What? Oh, Christ! Ye don’t think they’d ever take her seriously, Stephen? Even if they printed it, it would be second page t’ some story concernin’ alien abduction or summat,” John said.

“My mother takes those stories very seriously,” said Stephen. “Aliens are a major concern in her religion...I know it’s insane, that’s why I moved out, so I wouldn’t have to attend her crazy church, but a lot of people believe that stuff--more than you would ever imagine.”

“Well, Stevie, me lad,” John pointed out, “There are an awful lot of people who believe in me, too. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, son. There is summat I want to ask th’ two o’ ye, though; why is it that yer mum seems t’ be under th’ impression that ye’ve been doin’ a lot more than kissin’? It seems yer mum’s been castin’ shadows over me daughter’s reputation as well. Called ‘er a ‘filthy trollop’, t’ be exact.” He leveled his gaze at Stephen. “I hope her accusations concernin’ her are as false as th’ one she’s made against me.”

Stephen did not reply, but his face reddened, and Emily had stopped smiling. John’s heart sank.

“It’s true, then,” he said quietly. “Ye’ve been shaggin’ ‘er, have ye, Stevie?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Stephen told him. “We were in love before anything ever happened.”

“Think that makes a difference, do ye?” asked John. His eyes were narrowing, and Mary stepped forward and laid her hand on his arm.

“John, of course it makes a difference,” she said gently. “That’s why you and I didn’t make love until we were in love, even though we weren’t married yet.”

Emily looked at her mother with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and surprise.  “Mummy,” she said softly. “You? It means so much to me that you would tell me that. I’ve been feeling guilty about what I was doing since it started because I didn’t want to hurt or upset you and Daddy. I’ve been feeling simply terrible about keeping our relationship from you.”

“We were in love,” said her mother, “But your father’s divorce wasn’t final yet, so we weren’t able to get married right away.”

“But, Mary,” John objected, “There’s a big difference--I was twenty eight years old, and you were twenty seven! We weren’t kids.”

“John,” she replied in a calm, gentle voice, “That’s not important. What’s important is that she waited for someone she loves...it wasn’t just anyone, and I very much doubt there’s been anyone else.”

“There hasn’t, Daddy,” said Emily. “I’ve never been with anyone that way except for Stephen.”

“Well, that’s summat t’ be grateful for, I suppose,” he admitted. “His mum was paintin’ ye as an absolute Jezebel. I knew that couldn’t be right. Ye should’ve told yer mum an’ me, though, Emmy, so that we could’ve gotten ye some protection, like. Yer lucky ye didn’t get inta trouble.”

“I’ve been on the Pill since before Stephen and I ever did anything,” Emily told him.

John was astonished. “How’d ye get ‘em, without yer mum an’ me knowin’?” he asked incredulous.

“Kids don’t need their parents permission to get on the Pill anymore, Daddy,” Emily said. “They give out condoms and other birth control stuff to any teenager who asks for them. It’s been that way for a while now.”

“It’s better than having unwanted pregnancies and AIDS among the kids,” Mary told him.

“I suppose yer right about  that,” John admitted. “I still don’t like t’ think about ye doin’ such things, though, Emmy, without a ring on yer finger.”

“There’ll be one there in a couple of weeks, Daddy,” she replied, settling herself in his lap with her arms around his neck. “Things are just different from the way they were when you were growing up. You should know that; you and your band were trendsetters...you changed the world, with your songs about love and peace. You said yourself that all you need is love, and Stephen and I have that, just like you and Mummy. It really is all we need.”

“People sure do seem to like remindin’ me of things I’ve said over th’ years,” John muttered, but he put his arms around Emily and held her close. “I really oughta keep me mouth shut more.”

***

George, you’ve got a call from your mom,” Bobby said, poking his head into his brother in law’s room. “There’s news from home for ya. They rang my room instead o’ yours, an’ I just told her I’d come fetch ya.”

“Right there,” George replied, extracting himself from the embrace of the woman he was presently enjoying. He pulled his jeans on and crossed the hall to Bobby’s room.

“Hi, Mum,” he said, taking a cigarette from Bobby’s pack on the table and lighting it.  “What’s up? Bobby says there’s news?”

“It seems there’s to be a wedding,” Mary told him. “Emily and Stephen, as soon as you boys are home. I was wondering if you could tell me when exactly you’ll be coming back so that I can make arrangements for everything.”

“We’re due back on the eleventh,” George replied. “Our last show is on the ninth. Dad has our itinerary, he knows.”

“He thought something could have changed,” Mary said. “If anything does, please let me know as soon as it happens. I miss you, baby. Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Yeah, there’s not much else to do,” George said. “We’re pretty much just kept in our rooms unless there’s a show or a press conference. The hotel is surrounded by groupies and there’s really nowhere we can go.  So, old Stevie finally got up the nerve to ask her, did he? I was worried he never would, and I was sure Dad would suss ‘em out, the way they were carryin’ on.”

“You knew they were sleeping together?” asked Mary in surprise.

“Yeah, for a couple months now, but Em asked me to keep it quiet so Dad wouldn’t get wind of it. Stevie’s dead scared o’ Dad, ya know,” he added with a chuckle. “His mum thinks Dad’s the devil himself, from what I hear.”

“I know. They’ve met, actually, but I’ll let your father tell you all about it when you get home. You have to see his face when he tells the story,” Mary said, laughing. “He was none too pleased to find out that Stephen and your sister had been so intimate, though.”

“My God-- he knows? And Stevie’s still alive? I’m that surprised, Mum. Dad must be goin’ insane.”

“No, he’s all right with it, actually, pretty much,” Mary told him. “I’m very surprised myself. Your father is turning into a pretty modern character. He’s on the computer a lot--he bought one for Emily, and he liked it so much he got one for himself and Julia, too.”

“Sounds like I’ll be coming home to a lot o’ changes,” George said, looking at his watch. “Look, Mum, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you again in a couple days, all right? Give my love to Dad and the girls, and shake Stevie’s hand for me. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Goodbye.”

***

Mary hung up the phone in the kitchen and sighed. She missed her son and hoped that he really was all right. She knew a lot about what life on the road was like from hearing John talk about his Beatle days, and she worried about George now that he was on tour with the Savages. He had never been away from home before.

***

“Good, you’re back...I missed you,” purred the woman ensconced in the bed George had vacated when he returned. “I’m havin’ a great time, baby.”

“Yeah,” George said absently, “Me, too.” He fervently wished the woman would leave, but he was unsure of exactly what the protocol was in such matters. He sighed and got back into bed without removing his jeans. “Look,” he told the woman, “I’ve gotta get some fuckin’ sleep. You c’n stay if ya want, but really, you’ll need to let me sleep.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Okay...I guess I’ll just go, then, and see if anyone else is still up for anything. “Thanks, George. See you next time you’re in the States?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he mumbled. “G’night”

Before she left,  he was snoring gently. The woman got dressed and left, closing the door behind her.

***

“John? Can I talk to you for a few minutes, baby?” asked Mary. John was in the room formerly occupied by Julia, which was now a combination sewing and computer room. He was sitting in the dark, his face illuminated by the glow of the screen in front of him.

“Sure, love,” he told her. Just let me shut this thing down, an’ I’ll give ye me undivided attention. There are hundreds of sites here dealing with the Beatles,” he said. “I’ve been lookin’ through some of ‘em, and I’ve joined a couple discussion forums incognito an’ I’m havin’ an animated discussion with some idiot who thinks he ‘understands what I was tryin’ t’ say’ when I wrote I Am The Walrus. I was gettin’ sick o’ his yammerin’ anyroad. So what’s on yer mind, darlin’? Any coffee in th’ kitchen? I thought I smelled some, before.”

“Yes, there is. Come on out with me, why don’t you, and I’ll get something for you to eat while we talk. You must be hungry. You’ve been sitting in here for hours,” Mary replied, rubbing his shoulders. “Your muscles are all tight. I’ll feed you and then give you a massage. How would that be?”

“Sounds great,” he said, “But ye know what’d be even better? Ye c’n give me th’ massage first, then I could give you summat before we eat.”

“I like the way you think. Come along, then, and I’ll get the oil.”

“I’m right behind ye,” he said, switching his monitor off. He got out of his chair, stretched, and followed Mary down the hall to their bedroom.

John stripped out of his clothes and lay on his stomach across the bed. Mary closed the door before undressing herself, then poured some oil into her hand and warmed it before rubbing  it into his back. She straddled him and leaned forward, kneading the tension out of his neck and shoulders.

“What’d ye want t’ talk t’ me about, darlin’?” asked John. “Mmmm, that feels really good,” he added.

“I wanted to ask you about touring,” she replied. “I’m worried about George. I spoke to him on the phone earlier, and he sounded tired to me. I mean really tired. He sounded as though he was falling asleep on his feet.”

“Yeah, well, it gets that way, sometimes,” he admitted. “Don’t worry, though. He’s young. He’ll be fine. Th’ gurrls are probably wearin’ him out, like.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that, although I’ve tried not to. I don’t like the idea of my son carousing with a bunch of loose women who might be carrying who knows what sort of dread diseases. It’s not like it was when you were young, John. A dose of penicillin won’t help if our son gets AIDS.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I think of it meself. Thank God we didn’t have that to deal with. I told him t’ double up on th’ condoms when he’s shaggin’ a groupie an’ stick t’ th’ ones who don’t seem too experienced, but I still think of it an’ hope he’s okay.”

Mary continued to rub the oil into his shoulders and back, working in slow, wide circles.

“John, are there really so many of...those women trying to get into the beds of the band members?”

“More than ye’d ever think,” he replied. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, right there.” He sighed and continued, “I was worried about Bobby on that score, but he’s holdin’ up well, I guess. George tells me he spends every night alone lookin’ at television an’ writin’ letters back home t’ Julia. By th’ time he gets home, he’s probably gonna drag little Robby over here for ye t’ take charge of so he c’n spend a couple days violatin’ our daughter. He’s gotta be goin’ outta his mind by now.”

“I can’t wait till they get home where they’re safe,” said Mary fervently. “I hate it when Bobby’s away, and now he’s taking George with him.”

“It’ll be okay, Mary, replied John gently. “Th’ boy needs t’ make a livin’, an’ he loves playin’ guitar. He’ll be back under yer wing soon enough, an’ ye c’n fuss over him till th’ next tour comes up. I lived through it, an’ so does Julian. Yer baby boy’ll be just fine.He an’ Bobby’ll look out for one another.” He moved a bit to readjust the rapidly rising erection Mary’s ministrations were producing. She noticed and climbed off his back to lie beside him.

“You said you had something for me,” she reminded him. “I think I’d like to have you give it to me now.”

“Yer wish,” he replied, turning to take her into his arms, “is my command.”

He took her mouth with alacrity, his tongue searching out her own and caressing it with firm insistence. Mary answered the kiss with equal passion, wanting him desperately, giving  herself over to his sure, practiced touch eagerly. She wanted him to make the world go away for a while so that she could pretend that her children were not scattering from her and becoming too grown up for her to be able to protect them any longer. John’s warm, graceful hands were moving over her body in their knowing, familiar way, touching her just the way he knew she responded to best. He pressed his throbbing hardness against her soft belly and she found herself as hungry for him as she always was. It never became routine to either of them, although they made love nearly every day. Every encounter was as exciting and fresh as the first had been on that first night twenty-seven years earlier.

“I want ye, gurrl,” he whispered into her hair, against her ear. His warm breath made her shiver, and his words made her need him even more. She moaned softly and he turned her in his arms, pulling her legs forward so that she ended up on her knees. she pushed back against him and he mounted her from behind, reaching around with one hand to caress her with his very talented fingers as he entered her. Mary liked this position, which they had begun using regularly when she’d been pregnant with George and had kept as part of their repetoire simply because they both enjoyed it so much, even though it had not been necessary for many years now. John was moving in long, deep, even strokes, effortlessly taking her with him, closer with every moment. Mary loved the way he felt inside of her, and his rapidly moving fingers were driving her closer to the edge with every stroke he made.

“Feels so good,” he whispered. “Mary, I need ye so bad--”

“I’m almost there, baby,” she managed to say. She was breathing heavily, her mind beginning to blur as she moved beneath him. “Take me with you, I’m ready for you.”

He pulled his hand back; it was no longer necessary to stimulate her further. He grabbed her hips and began to plunge into her faster and harder. The room was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, their harsh, ragged breathing, and their soft moans of pleasure. Mary moved with him, meeting his every thrust, the feeling growing rapidly until she could no longer contain it. She cried his name out loud and let herself go. He let out a hoarse cry and allowed himself to finish, both of them held and shaken to the very core of their beings by a shuddering climax before collapsing to lie, still joined together, murmuring words of love to one another in fierce, breathless whispers.

Once he had slipped from her body, Mary turned to face him and he took her into his arms and kissed her tenderly.  “I’ll be grateful forever that I found ye, Mary,” he whispered into her soft, fragrant mass of hair. It was not as thick as it had once been, and Mary had attempted a few times to wear it up more, but John refused to have it. He loved her hair and insisted on her wearing it hanging loose and free. It was now shot through with silver highlights, but John pronounced them beautiful and a complement to his own graying mane. John’s hair was thinner as well, but he still wore it fairly long, brushed forward as he’d worn it in earlier years to hide a slightly receding hairline. Both of their faces bore a few marks of advancing time, but neither of them were much changed. A few lines around the eyes and a little morning stiffness did not do much to betray their ages. Mary’s waist was a little larger, and her breasts were not as high as they had once been, but in John’s eyes she was every bit as beautiful as she had been when he had first seen her, and to Mary, John’s handsomeness was only enhanced by the gentle touch of the years upon his famous visage. He looked better than when they had first met, because the haunted, desperate look had long since been banished from his ageless, enigmatic eyes.

***

So...you’re the famous George Lennon,” said the girl, settling herself into his lap. “I’ve been trying to meet you for weeks. I followed you from England for this opportunity.”

George put his arms around her agreeably.

“Have ya?” he asked. “That’s a long way to come, just to meet me.”

She slipped her hand into his shirt and caressed his skin.  “Can I come to your room after the show tonight?” she asked, withdrawing her hand from his shirt and brushing the backs of her fingers across the crotch of  his jeans, which were doing little to conceal his rising erection. Besides his famous face, George had also inherited his father’s legendary sexual appetites. He pulled the girl closer and took her mouth hungrily.

“You can,” he agreed when he released her, “And I’ll go you one better. Come with me now.  I have twenty minutes before I have to be onstage, and I wanna spend that time with you.” He got to his feet and pulled the young woman into the men’s room, locking the door behind them. Remembering his father’s warning, he stopped for long enough to get a condom out and put it on with shaking hands. As soon as he had done this, George took the woman into his arms eagerly. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, practically tearing her blouse off. “I want ya, woman,” he growled.

“Then I’m yours,” she said softly, kneeling in front of him and opening his jeans.  She took him into her mouth and he leaned against the door with a deep groan of pleasure.

“Baby, you’re good!” he exclaimed. He tangled his hands in her long. blonde hair and thrust forward gently, taking care not to choke her. She paused and looked up at him.

“Don’t hold back,” she said, her eyes glittering feverishly. “Give me all you’ve got. I can take it.”

He hauled her to her feet with a desperate moan and yanked her skirt up. He went to remove her underwear and found that she was not wearing any. He turned and pushed the girl against the wall, entering her  roughly. She moaned with pleasure and gazed into his eyes.

“Do it hard,” she whispered. “I like it rough.”

George held her by her legs, bracing her back against the wall, and hammered into her unmercifully, thrusting relentlessly into her body until he could not hold back any longer.

“I’m gonna come, baby,” he groaned.

“I’m ready,” she replied in a tight voice. “Oh, honey, yeah!”

His knees almost gave out as he gave himself over to an earth shattering climax, and he cried out wordlessly.

There was a sharp rap at the door.

“That you, Lennon? You okay? We’re on in ten.” called the voice of Jimmy, the bass player for the Savages.

“Yeah, I’m fine, right out,” George called. “I’m not alone in here.”

“I hope not, makin’ a sound like that.” laughed Jimmy as he walked away.

The girl, whose name was Jasmine, accompanied the band for the remainder of the tour and shared George’s bed. It was decided that she would accompany him back to England and attend Emily’s wedding as his date. He found himself falling for her and from the night they met, and the two were rarely apart for more than a few moments.

***

Emily was on pins and needles on the night before the wedding.

“Mummy, are you sure everything is all set for tomorrow? George isn’t even back yet!” she exclaimed, checking her mother’s list over.

“He’ll be here, don’t worry,” Mary told her quietly. “Just calm yourself, Emily.”

A few moments later, Bobby’s new van pulled in through the gate, and the boys piled out.  Bobby sprinted towards the garage and George dragged himself up the front steps.

“How was it?” asked John as his son came into the house. “Where’s young Mr. Warren?”

“Where do you think? He couldn’t wait to get to Julia. He hasn’t been with a woman in three weeks--I’ll tell ya, Dad, that’d drive me fuckin insane. I hate t’ go a day without some action, ya know?”

“Yeah, I understand. I’m exactly the same way meself. Fortunately, I managed t’ marry a gurrl who c’n keep up with me,” replied John with a wink.

“Right, well, I’ve met someone myself,” George said, dropping onto the sofa and pulling his boots off. He put his feet on the coffee table and sank back into the cushions with a sigh.

“Really? An American gurrl?” asked John.

“No, she’s actually a local lass,” George told him, “Though I did meet her in America. She was with us for the second half o’ the tour, and she came back with us on the plane.”

“Did she? Who is she, son?”

“Name’s Jasmine,” George replied. “Jasmine Welch. You’ll meet her tomorrow, she’s gonna be my date for the weddin’.”

“Sweetheart! You’re here!” cried Mary as she came into the room “I was in Emily’s room, I didn’t hear you come in.” George got to his feet and hugged his mother tightly.

“Have I missed anything?” she asked when he finally released her.

“Dad was just tellin’ me what a sexy wench y’are, Mum,” said George, “And I was tellin’ him about a girl I met on tour.”

“Your father shouldn’t say such things,” said Mary, blushing. “What girl, honey? Is she nice?”

“Her name’s Jasmine, and yes, she is. You’ll meet her tomorrow; she’s comin’ to the weddin’ as my date tomorrow,” said George. “Got anything left from supper?” he added, “I’ve been starvin’ for your good cookin’, Mum.”

“Come on, I’ll take care of you, then a nice hot shower and into bed with you,” Mary told him, adding, “You need some sleep! You look dead on your feet, darling.”

***

Emily’s wedding was to be held in the back garden of George Harrison’s estate.  He was her godfather, and the party was his wedding gift to her. The ceremony would be performed by a public official, since Stephen did not belong to any church and was opposed to organized religion in general. His mother had changed her mind and decided to attend after all, but would not speak to anyone before the ceremony.

At last, it was time for the ceremony to begin, and Stephen and George took their places in front of the guests to await the bride. The bridesmaids came down the aisle and finally John and Emily came out of the house.

“Ye c’n still change yer mind, darlin’,” whispered John to his daughter. “I’ll take ye home if yer not sure about what yer doin’.”

“I know, Daddy, but it’s all right,” she told him, taking his arm. “I’m very sure. I love Stephen and I want to do this.”

“Okay then,” he said gently, “Let’s go.”

The wedding march began, played by Paul on a portable organ, and John and Emily made their way slowly down the center aisle between the guests. Stephen watched her approach, his face shining with adoration.

When they got to Emily’s place, John kissed her and released her.

“I’m gonna tell ye th’ same thing I told young Bobby when he took Julia from me,” John said softly to Stephen. “Be good t’ me baby, or I’ll make ye sorry ye were ever born, son.”

“I’ll always treasure her, sir,” said Stephen. “You have my word.”  John nodded and took his seat beside his wife.

During the ceremony, John’s mind wandered back to the night Emily had been born into his own hands. Mary nudged him and he looked at her. She pointed to the officiator.

“Who gives this woman in marriage?” the gentleman said again.

John got to his feet.  “Her mother and I do,” he said, and he resumed his seat. He gazed at Emily and his mind went back to her childhood. He was grateful that the leukemia had not taken her in her infancy. The disease had not left any mark upon her. She was healthy and beautiful, looking very much as Mary must have at the same age. He watched her say her vows and Stephen slipped the ring onto her finger, then he was kissing her, and everyone stood up.

There was a disturbance behind him, and John turned to see what was happening. As if in a dream, his eyes fell on Stephen’s mother and the gun she had leveled at him.

“Dad!” shouted George, “Get down!”

Mary screamed, and there was a deafening report. There was searing pain high in John’s chest, and as he fell slowly to the ground he saw the woman being subdued by his three friends. Paul threw the gun aside and Bobby was speaking into his cell phone, asking for the police and an ambulance. Mary’s face seemed to float above John’s, and he heard Emily and Julia crying somewhere outside his line of sight. There was the sound of children crying. He tried to rise, but Bobby and George were there, pressing him down.

“Dad,” whispered George, “Daddy, don’t try to get up. The ambulance is coming. You’re gonna be okay.” His son’s face was wet with tears, and Mary was holding John’s head in her lap, her eyes, wide and black like bottomless holes in her face, streaming tears. Her keening wails along with those of his daughters blended with the approaching sirens in a way that sounded weirdly beautiful to him. He tried to lift his hand to touch Mary’s face, but the movement caused blinding pain and the soft, blessed darkness of oblivion closed over him.

***

John opened his eyes slowly; he was so tired...there was a bright light over him and then he seemed to be moving along at a fast pace although he could not feel much of anything. Voices were raised in a cacophony of hysterical confusion. A series of lights went by above him. At last he was taken through what seemed to be a pair of heavy doors which closed the noise out and there was another light glaring into his eyes. He turned his face away from the light and a needle stung his arm.

“You’re going to be all right, Mr. Lennon,” said a voice, and the eyes of a doctor, warm with concern, were looking into his; the bottom half of the man’s face was covered by a surgical mask. “You’ve been shot,” the doctor explained, “We’re going to take the bullet out now. It just struck your shoulder, no vital organs were damaged. Your shoulder is broken and you’ve lost a great deal of blood, but you should be just fine. Relax, sir. I’m going to put you to sleep now.”

***

When he fought his way back to consciousness again, John was lying in a bed in a room which was dimly lit. He turned his head and there was Mary, her head down, her lips moving in silent prayer.

“Mary,” he whispered, and her head came up, her eyes meeting his.

“John!” she cried, jumping to her feet. She got gently into the bed beside him, burying her face against his neck, weeping quietly.

“Whist, gurrl,” he said softly. “No more tears. I’m all right; ye know I’m too obstinate t’ die. Me shoulder hurts like a bastard, an’ they say I lost a lotta blood, but I’m gonna be with ye for a good long time yet--or is that what yer cryin’about?”

“Oh, baby,” Mary whispered, “I was so frightened! There was so much blood, and it looked like the bullet might have gone into your heart -- all of the children are outside, and so are Ritchie and Paul. George stayed to talk to the police, but I called him as soon as I found out that you would be okay.”

“I wanna see our kids, Mary. Tell ‘em t’ come in,” he said. Mary opened the door and told the children that their father was awake and wanted to see them. They came in slowly, first George, then Julia and Bobby, and finally Emily, still in her wedding dress.

“Where’s me new son-in-law?” asked John. “Where’s Stevie?”

“He’s outside in the hall with Uncle Paul and Uncle Ritchie,” replied Emily, bending to kiss her father. “He thinks you won’t want to see him, because of--what his mum did to you.. Because of what she tried to do to you.”

“Well, it wasn’t him who did it--tell ‘im t’ come in, Emmy.”

“Are you really going to be all right, Daddy?” asked Julia. Her voice trembled on the verge of tears, and she kissed his forehead tenderly.

John patted her swollen belly with his good hand gently.  “I’ll be fine, Puss,” he replied, “As soon as I get this fuckin’ cast offa me.”

“I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt you,” said George, shaking his head in disbelief.

The door opened and Stephen came in slowly. He did not look at John right away.

“C’mere, son,” said John encouragingly. “C’mon over here. I wanna talk to ye.”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered, coming near to stand beside John’s bed. Stephen looked into John’s face with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, sir,” he said quietly.

“What for?” asked John. “It was none o’ yer doin’, lad. Yer mum is a sick woman, an’ I think it’s amazin’ that ye turned out t’ be such a fine lad in spite o’ her. D’ ye have any idea where yer dad might be?”

“I don’t even know his first name,” Stephen replied. “I’ve asked my mother about him, but she would never talk about him. I just don’t have one, sir.”

“Well,” John told him, “Ye’ve got one now. Quit all that callin’ me ‘sir’. If Julia’s Bobby c’n call me Dad, so c’n Emmy’s Stevie. Ye did nothin’ amiss. Yer a good lad, Stevie, an’ I’d be happy t’ have ye join me family. Get rid o’ yer flat, whydon’tcher, an’ come stay with us. I like t’ keep me gurrls around me. Ye c’n stay in Emmy’s room for now; it’s a big one, an’ we’ll make yer own place for ye in a bit.”

“Do you mean it?” asked Stephen, “Really, sir--I mean, Dad?”

“I do,” he replied. “Whattaye say?”

“I’d like that,” Stephen told him softly. “I’d feel honored, as long as it’s all right with Emily.”

“Sounds great to me,” said Emily. “That means I don’t have to pack and move, and I can still use Mummy’s car.”

“Then it’s settled,” said John. “Ye’ll come stay with us. Now, all of ye get on home, an’ Emmy, I’m sure ye’ve missed yer plane t’ Bermuda. Stephen, ye’ll take her tomorrow; Mary’ll arrange a new flight. Me baby gurrl is gonna have a great honeymoon even if she never did get t’ have a weddin’ reception. I bet yer Uncle George is eatin’ that fuckin’ cake right now--five hundred pounds, th’ bloody thing cost me.”

“I love you, Daddy,” whispered Emily, kissing him gently. She took Stephen’s hand and followed her brother and sister out of the room.

“Tell th’ lads t’ come in, Mary,” said John, “An’ then I think I’ll be needin’ a bit o’ sleep.”

“My God, John,” said Paul when he came in, “You will go to any lengths to be the center of attention!” He smiled warmly. “Seriously, mate, I’m glad you’re all right. We really thought we’d lost ya there, for a bit.”

“Linda and Mo would’ve come,” Ringo added, “But they’re up to their necks in our kids and your grandson is with them as well. Jesus, John, we were dead scared you were gonna die.”

“I saw ye grab th’ crazy bitch an’ take th’ gun from ‘er,” said John. “I guess I owe the two of ye  me life. I want ye t’ know I appreciate what ye did.”

“Ah, it wasn’t anythin’,” replied Paul. “You would’ve done the same for any one of us.”

“We’d better go,” said Ringo. “Let ya get some sleep. like. Ya look knackered.”

“I am,” John admitted. “Thanks for bein’ there for me, an’ tell Miss Mary t’ come on back in here, will ye?”

“Sure thing, John,” replied Paul. “See you tomorrow.”

Mary came back and got carefully into the bed beside him, settling herself as close as possible. John gave in to the sedative he’d been given in his IV and fell asleep with his good arm around Mary, his face in her hair.As for Mary, she lay awake for quite a while just thanking God that John was safe. It terrified her to realize how close she’d come to losing him, and she was more grateful to have him still with her than she’d ever been for anything in her life.

***

John was released from the hospital the following day, and when the former Beatle and his wife emerged from the hospital there was a crowd of press outside. Several policemen flanked the couple and escorted them to their car with cameras rolling from every direction. Finally, they were on their way home.

“One good thing about this,” said John reflectively. “I’ll bet it’ll really boost the sales for me new record.”

“CD, darling,” corrected Mary. “You know that.”

“Yeah, well, I still think of ‘em as records,” he replied. “I’m gettin’ old, Mary. I can’t change now.”

“Old? You?” laughed Mary. “John, that will never happen. When you’re ninety you’ll still be the same young man I fell in love with, the same young man who conquered the worl with a few friends and a dream. You’ll always be the same. You, my love, are absolutely timeless.”

“Tell that t’ me achin’ joints in the mornin’,” he said with a wry smile, “If ye c’n get ‘em t’ listen t’ ye, I’ll be forever grateful. Jesus, me shoulder hurts like fuckin’ hell.”

“Well, baby, you’ve been shot, of course it’s going to hurt. I have your pain pills from the doctor, I’ll give you one as soon as I get you home.”

“Better make it two,” he told her.

***

When they arrived at home, Mary opened the gate and pulled the car around the side of the house so that they could go in through the kitchen door. George was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him and the phone in his hand.

“Yeah, he’s fine. As a matter of fact, they’ve just come in, so I’m going to have to let ya go. I’ll call ya later, love. That’ll be fine...uh-huh. Right. Bye, Jasmine.” He laid the phone down and got to his feet.

“Hi, Dad, how’s your shoulder?” asked George. “Need any help gettin’ to bed?”

“Who said I was goin’ t’ bed?” John replied. “I’m not gonna be buried back there in th’ bedroom. I’m gonna camp out on th’ settee an’ watch some old films on th’ VCR, be near th’ center o’ the action around here, like. I’m not an invalid, ye know.”

“Course not,” said George, “What was I thinkin’...I’ll get ya some pillows and a blanket and Mom and I will get ya situated.”

John sat at the table and Mary poured him a cup of coffee, then went to help George get the bedding for the couch.  The back door opened again, and Bobby and Julia came in with three year old Robby.

“Granddad!” cried the boy. “You’re okay!” Robby hurled himself at his grandfather, and John did his best to catch him with his good arm, but a look of pain flashed across his face.

“Easy there, lad,” he said. “Yer poor old granddad’s not in th’ best o’ shape at th’ moment. Tell ye what...go on out inta th’ sittin’ room, whydon’tcher, an’ pick out a film ye like, an’ I’ll be in after a bit. We’ll watch it together while yer grandmum waits on us hand an’ foot like a good wench.”

“Honestly, Daddy,” scolded Julia, giving him a kiss. “Teaching him such things. You’ll give him the idea that women were put on earth to serve men.”

“Ye mean they weren’t?” asked John, looking surprised. “That’s news t’ me. Get me a slice o’ yer mum’s chocolate cake t’ go with me coffee, willye, Puss?”

She went to get it for him, and John winked at Bobby, who stifled a laugh.

“Did Stevie an’ Emmy get on th’ plane okay?” asked John.

“We’ve just come back from the airport,” Bobby replied. “They’re on their way.”

“Here you go, Daddy,” said Julia, placing a piece of cake in front of John. “And don’t think I missed your point. I’m just humoring you because you got hurt, and because I love you. I don’t know what we all would have done if you--” she stopped, and her face crumpled. “Oh, Daddy!” she cried, dropping to her knees beside him and putting her arms around him. “Daddy, if we’d lost you--” she pressed her face against John’s uninjured shoulder and wept as she had so many years earlier in the very same place when she’d learned that her old cat had died.

“Whist, Puss, it’s all right, I’m just fine,” John whispered into her soft, blonde hair. “Don’t get yerself inta such a state, it’s not good for ye in yer condition.”

Mary and George came back into the kitchen, and in a few minutes, the couch was ready and John was settled with his grandson in his lap and an old Peter Sellers movie on the television. Mary sat beside John, and Bobby and Julia sat together in the big chair on the other side of the room. George left, saying that he had a date with Jasmine.

***

Somewhere around the time the third movie ended, John had drifted off to sleep, relaxed by the pills the doctor had given him, and little Robby nodding off in his lap. Julia and Bobby collected their son and went home, and Mary laid her head on John’s good shoulder and pressed close to him. His arm encircled her in his sleep, and he mumbled something unintelligible. Mary allowed herself to drift off as well, listening to the strong, regular rhythm of John’s heart beating beneath her cheek.

It was late when Mary woke. She sat up and turned the lamp on next to her. She felt a little stiff herself. Mary looked at her husband, sleeping peacefully beside her. He stirred in his sleep and Mary went to pull the blanket back up over him. She noticed a pronounced swelling in his jeans and, on an impulse, she unzipped him carefully and knelt beside him to take him into her mouth. His body responded to her automatically for a few moments, then he suddenly woke and his hand went into her hair.

“Jesus, gurrl,” he moaned as he came violently.

Mary got up and sat beside him, and he pulled her close.  “Violatin’ me in me sleep,” he said, “An’ me helpless t’ do a thing about it...it’s a fuckin’ outrage. What sort o’ woman are ya, anyhow, Mary Katherine Lennon? I’ll tell ye--yer a wanton wench, an’ I’m very glad o’ that.”

“It’s all your fault, you know,” Mary told him primly. “You corrupted me completely. One night with you twenty-seven years ago turned me into an absolute nymphomaniac.I can’t leave you alone now.”

“Look at th’ state ye’ve got me in with yer base talk,” said John, taking her hand and placing it in his lap. Sure enough, he was ready for her again, erect and throbbing. She gave him a firm squeeze.

“Let’s see how we can do this,” she whispered.

“Th’ kitchen table,” he said in a tight voice. “Now.”

Mary removed her underwear and sat on the table.  John put his arm around her and kissed her as though he were trying to devour her, and she helped him unbutton her blouse. He pushed it impatiently from her shoulders, his mouth still on hers, breathing heavily.

“I want ye, Mary,” he whispered when he finally released her mouth. “God, gurrl, I want ye so bad--”

Mary lay back on the table and opened herself to him. “Then take me,” she whispered. “I’m all yours.”

John positioned himself in front of her and entered her with excruciating slowness. Mary held very still, her eyes closed, a small moan escaping her when he had finally sunk his full length into her warmth and softness. He began to move within her, long, deep, regular strokes drawing her along with him as he increased his speed with every plunge. They were both breathing heavily, their eyes burining into one another’s gaze, when his excitement grew to the point that he was unable to wait any longer. Mary read the unvoiced question in his eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Baby, I’m ready. Take me with you!”

He let out a deep, wordless cry and supported himself on the edge of the table with his good hand, thrusting relentlessly, madly driving both of them over the edge and into a great, surging whirlpool of shuddering ecstacy. John cried her name out at the top of his voice, and her wordless cries blended with his as she arched upwards to take him yet deeper, her body clutching him, accepting all he gave and still seeking more. John’s knees went weak and he leaned heavily on her, taking her mouth again, this time with gentle, languid ease.

“Baby,” she breathed. “Oh, John.”

“I love ye, gurrl,” he whispered into her soft cloud of hair, his breath against her ear making her skin prickle and her nipples harden. “I’ll love ye forever. Yer all I want. yer all I need.”

“Darling,” said Mary softly. “You’re my life. Thank God you’re all right. I was so afraid...”

“Whist, gurrl,” he said tenderly. “I’m fine, an’ we’re gonna be together for a lotta years yet. I can’t leave ye, love, I couldn’t stand t’ miss a single moment with ye.” He kissed her gently. “Yer everythin’ t’ me,” he whispered fervently.

There was a knock at the door and John yanked his jeans up as well as he could with one hand. Mary adjusted her clothing and helped him fasten his jeans.

“What is it?” she called. “Come in, the door’s open.”

Bobby came in, his face white. “Julia needs to go to the hospital,” he said. “I’m taking her in the van so she can lie down. The baby’s coming. Will you come with us and take care of  Robby?”

***

They sped towards the hospital, John riding in front with his sleepy grandson in his lap and Mary kneeling in the back of the van beside her daughter, who was doing her best to alleviate the pain with her breathing exercises.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” said Mary, smoothing Julia’s hair back, caressing her cheek with a warm, comforting hand. “You’ve done this before, you know what to expect this time.”

“We oughta get our own room at this fuckin’ hospital,” said John, trying to peer into the rear of the van to see the women on the floor. “How is she, Mary?”

“She’s doing fine, don’t worry,” replied Mary. “Her water just broke, and the pain is getting worse, but we have time.”

“Hang on, Julia,” called Bobby, “We’re nearly there.”

***

Three hours later, Mary was placing their brand new granddaughter in the crook of John’s good arm as a proud Bobby and an exhausted but happy Julia looked on.

“She’s bloody gorgeous, Puss,” said John, smiling down into the baby’s face. “She looks just like ye. It’s like goin’ back t’ th’ day ye were born when I look at her.”

“She’s lovely, sweetheart,” Mary told her daughter. She took the baby back from John and laid her in Julia’s arms. “Just beautiful. Now, you need to get some rest, like Robby there,” she added, indicating the little boy sleeping at the foot of the bed. “He has the right idea. Daddy and I are going to call Max to come and get us so we can go home and get a little sleep, and we’ll see you this evening, all right?”

“Okay, Mummy,” Julia said, her eyes shining. “And Mummy? I wanted to tell you, she’ll be called Mary.”

“That means so much to me, baby,” her mother said, kissing her. “Thank you.”

***

Once they had arrived home, Mary asked John if he wanted her to make anything for him to eat.

“Bed,” he said wearily. “We c’n eat later. I’m knackered, Mary. I’m dead on me fuckin’ feet.”

They got into bed together and Mary settled herself against him.  “I miss being on the other side of you,” she said. “It feels strange to be on your right. I’ll be glad when you’re healed and I can get back into my rightful place.” She reached up and kissed him. “It’s been quite a weekend,” she noted. “Emily’s married, we have a new granddaughter, and you got shot.”

“Yeah,” John said with a yawn, “It never ends. There’s always summat.” He drew Mary close and kissed her gently. “We’d better get a bit o’ kip while we can,” he added. “God only knows what’ll happen around here next.”

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