Act Three

“I don’ want ‘em, I don’ think they’ve been helpin’ me, Astrid!”

George was irritated.  Astrid was trying to push those vitamins on him again.  He’d been a good boy, he thought, and he’d been taking them every night without fail, well, except for that one night when it’d got stuck in his throat and he’d had to spit it out after Astrid had left the room.  But enough was enough, they weren’t doing anything for him.  He’d been sleeping like the dead and groggy all day, then had to take extra prellies at night to stay awake on stage, and he was beginning to think the vitamins were reacting adversely with the prellies.

George finally took the pills to avoid a battle; Asser looked pretty obstinate tonight, and he knew he’d never be able to out-stubborn the pretty German girl.  He pretended to swallow them, holding the tablets between his cheek and gum, waiting until his friend left the room and Helge was undressing for bed before spitting them into his hand, gagging at the taste they left behind.  Uck, disgusting, he thought, rinsing his mouth with water from the nightstand, tossing the pills into the trash container.  With his head still swimming from the prellies he’d taken that night, he enthusiastically took Helge to his bed and made it as good for her as he could, knowing she’d fall into a deep sleep afterwards.

Lying quietly at the girl’s side, waiting for her telltale deep breathing, he thought about his plans for the evening.  They had less than a week before the gig was over, and George couldn’t believe the time had passed so quickly.  He hadn’t been able to get out to see Antanasia and he was ravenous for her.  Helge was great, a really sweet bird, but it wasn’t the same.  And anyway, there was that dénouement thing Antanasia wanted.  He thought Astrid must have been wrong about what it meant, and even though he didn’t really know what it was, he was a quick learner, and he thought he’d catch on pretty quick and be able to do whatever the bird wanted.

As he waited impatiently for Helge to fall asleep, George nervously decided he was going to ask Antanasia to come back to England with him, and he was determined that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  He’d bought her a friendship ring yesterday afternoon and had ‘George + Antanasia’ engraved in it; he hoped she’d like it, it had cost him a fortune!  He was really worried that she might not want to make a trip like that without getting married first, and if she insisted, he supposed he’d marry the girl.  He was kinda surprised at himself for that decision, but the three or four times he’d been with her had been enough to prove to him that he loved her, and he didn’t want to be parted from her for any reason.  He was certain that she loved him, too, even though she’d never really come out and said it in words.  But actions spoke louder than words, didn’t they?  And the bird’s actions were pretty conclusive, he thought smugly.  After all, she’d come to him, she’d proved her love by taking him to her bed.  He pushed down the memory of what she’d said about his friends, that was just a language problem, that’s all, he thought resolutely.

As soon as he could, as quietly as he could, George dressed and tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen; he found a nice juicy slice of beef roast that looked suitable and he ignored the way Lody looked at him reproachfully as she accepted the offering.   He walked out the front door and checked it carefully to make sure it locked securely behind him.  Couldn’t be too cautious, he thought as he walked down the street, his feet barely touching the pavement, his smile matching his excitement. 

Maybe he’d just go ahead and ask Antanasia to marry him anyway!  Yeah, why not?  He could call the ring an engagement ring, then he’d have to start saving money for a matching pair of wedding bands.  His parents might be a little upset about him wanting to marry so young, but they’d get over it and he was sure his Mum would be delighted with the idear of grandchildren.  He stopped and thought about that for a moment.  That was a bit scary, the thought of having kids of his own, but he reminded himself that he was an adult now, he could handle the responsibility!  All birds wanted kids, didn’t they?  He’d do whatever Antanasia wanted, he thought.

Smiling, he looked around at his surroundings, then realized he’d taken a wrong turn whilst daydreaming.  George whistled as he backtracked several blocks to find the correct road to reach the hotel.

* * * * *

John stood in the yard and tossed a pebble up to hit Astrid’s second story window.  All the lights had been out when they arrived, and he didn’t want to wake Mutter Kirchherr if he could help it.  He was feeling a bit silly about making the trek over here, but whenever he thought about what the woman had said regarding George, he’d started to feel shaky again, and he figgered it was important to tell Astrid and Stu about it.  Besides, he didn’t think he’d be getting much sleep tonight, not after that scene!  As long as he was going to be awake, why not have a party?  He smiled when Astrid’s sleepy face complete with tousled hair appeared at the window, blinking at them in confusion.

“John?  Is something wrong?” she whispered as soon as she’d opened the window.

“John ‘ad a visit from th’ loony bird tonight,” Paul offered before John could say anything.

“Let me get Stuart and Helge,” Astrid replied, suddenly looking much more alert.

“Just reach over an’ give ‘im a shake,” John supplied helpfully, laughing when Astrid scowled at him.

He went over to wait at the door, hoping Lody wouldn’t start barking.  The door opened in short order.

“George is gone!” Stuart blurted as he came out of the house to join them, dressed in pajamas and tying his robe.

“Oh, shit!” John groaned in irritation.  The kid had given them the slip again?

“Ach, I gafe him two sleeping pills tonight!  He could not haf woken!  Mein Gott, perhaps they’re no longer effective?” Astrid asked, her accent even stronger with worry.

“It doesn’t matter, love, but we’ve gotta find him!” Stu replied.  “Christ, who’d have thought one skinny Liverpool lad would be so much trouble to keep track of?”

“Any idear where ‘e might be?” Pete asked quietly.

They all looked at Helge when she spoke up, saying something in German too quickly for John to follow.  He thought he knew a bit of the lingo, but not enough to keep up with what the girl said.  Astrid smiled, then hugged her friend.

“Helge found matches in their room from the Kempinski Hotel, perhaps that’s vhere he’s headed.  Gif me a moment to dress and ve’ll go there, ve can make much better time in the car than George can on foot.  Ve’ll beat him there and bring him back, he’ll be fine.  Come in, ve’ll be ready in a flash.”

John paced in the living room as he waited impatiently for his friends to dress, the dog watching him and keep a cautious eye on his movements.

“You didn’t do a very good job guardin’ ‘im, now did ya?” John asked under his breath, and the dog laid her head on her paws, her liquid brown eyes shifting uneasily at his tone of voice.  Shit, he was gonna have to sit on the boy and knock some sense into him, John thought angrily, then sighed and let his anger slide away.  The kid was in love with his first love, and Georgie didn’t know what they knew.  He had to feel sorry for the lad, not angry.  Poor kid.

They were quickly packed into the car, and then John was hanging on for dear life.  God forbid he ever drove with Astrid when she was in a hurry again, he thought as he crawled from the vehicle in front of a posh hotel.  Christ, he was surprised they hadn’t been in an accident, she’d been driving so recklessly!

Their entry into the hotel lobby didn’t go unnoticed, and the night manager seemed quite affronted by John’s demand to know Antanasia’s room.  Astrid had to calm things down, and John didn’t envy her the task.  She finally came over to the couches on which they’d arranged themselves whilst waiting for her to hopefully get the information they needed.

“He von’t even admit that she is staying here, but I think there vas recognition in his eyes vhen I described the voman.  Ve can vait here for our friends to arrive, but if ve cause any trouble, he vill call the police,” she said as she sank down on the couch between John and Stu, her entire manner exuding weariness.  “You don’t haf a very good manner vit people, John, next time, please let me handle things.”

John snorted wryly.  “Yeah, well, I ‘ope there’s not gonna be a next time.”

“George couldn’t ‘ave got ‘ere ahead of us, could ‘e?” Paul asked for perhaps the fifth time since they’d arrived, nervously chewing on his nails.

John had started growling at him after the third time he’d asked the question, and he thought he’d completely lose his temper if he had to reply again, so he ignored Paul.  Shit, how would he know?  Maybe George wasn’t even headed here?  Maybe he’d just gone out for a drink or something?  They’d been here for twenty minutes now, and the time was dragging; he thought all their tempers were incredibly short by now.  Not being able to do anything had been the worst of it, not knowing if George was somewhere upstairs with the crazy woman, or if he’d run into trouble on the way here, or……. what?  They didn’t even have a freakin’ plan, he thought in irritation, what the bloody hell could they do?

He looked up quickly as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye; two people were entering the lobby, and the relief that poured over him threatened to make him dizzy.  It was Antanasia, looking as beautiful…..and as desirable…..as ever, arm in arm with a handsome blonde stranger.

“Well, well, look what th’ cat just dragged in,” he commented quietly, directing his friends’ attention to the approaching pair with a jerk of his head.

“What are you rabble doing here?” she asked easily as she came within talking distance.  “Are you back for more, John?  Couldn’t wait to assuage your curiosity?  You want me, don’t you?  Admit it.”

The blonde man stood at her side, looking quizzically between her and the group of friends sitting on the couches, obviously not understanding what was being said.  John stood up and faced Antanasia, his friends standing as well and grouping themselves loosely at his back.  He could feel their support behind him, and it gave him fresh courage.  Besides, the bird didn’t look quite so scary here in the well lit lobby of an exclusive hotel, he thought.  Not quite.

“We jus’ dropped by ta say there’s no deal.  Yer not gettin’ George, th’ boy’s not fer sale.”

He saw a familiar lanky figure enter the lobby at the bird’s back, walking towards them, and the threatened dizziness was nearly overwhelming, almost taking him to his knees in relief.  Thank God, they had beat him here.  John turned his attention back to the woman, thinking furiously.  Bloody hell, he needed a plan!  Any plan!  Shit!

“Oh, you can’t stop me, you know,” she was saying, with a sly smile stretched across the crimson lips.  “He’s mine.”

“Yeah?” John asked loudly.  “Well, if ya love th’ boy, then why were ya with me tonight?  An’ with Paul th’ other week?  An’ who’s this poof ya got ‘ere?  Is ‘e yer latest conquest?”

“Love?  However did you get that idea?  This is too delicious!” she laughed, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement.  “I merely want George, the boy is simply one of many, and I’ll have him until I’m finished with him.  I have no feelings for him aside from that, he could be anyone.  I’ll take whom I please, you or your friends, any of you, even the blonde bitches, it doesn’t matter.  Why don’t you come upstairs with me, all of you?  We’ll have a lovely party and I’ll take you all.  Come with me.”

John tried not to look at George’s stunned expression; his friend had been within hearing distance for the entire exchange.  John tugged his shirt collar as if he were suddenly warm, exposing the bruised mark on his neck, knowing George saw it; the misery in his mate’s eyes was unmistakable.  John ruthlessly pushed down any sympathy he was feeling; the more agony right now, the quicker it would be over, he thought.  He thought about what the woman had said, about how sweet it would be to kill George, and he told himself that he might be crushing the boy’s heart, but if he could break the lad’s infatuation with the loony bird, it might be the difference between life and death.  He tried not to think about his own relationship with George and the effect this confrontation might have upon that.  Save the kid’s life first, worry ‘bout th’ rest later, he thought.

“Yeah, well, I told ya, yer not me type.  So stay th’ hell away, from all of us,” he snarled.

* * * * *

George forced himself to speak, to say something, anything.

“It was all a lie, then?” he asked quietly, miserably, watching as Antanasia whirled ‘round in surprise. 

He felt, rather than saw, his friends come over and group themselves around him.  There was a little jostling and whispering as they arranged themselves in some way, with Stu and Pete ending up standing next to him, but he didn’t pay much attention to that.  He couldn’t blame John or Paulie for accepting what the girl had apparently offered them so freely, and he’d never known either of them to lie about anything like that.  Besides, she hadn’t denied anything, she’d even said she’d take any of them, even the girls, for Christ’s sake!  This was just perfect, wasn’t it?  He’d fallen hard for his first girl, and to have it end like this….. oh, this was just perfect.

“George?  Oh, but I never lied to you, my love!  However did you escape your keepers?  It doesn’t matter, come upstairs with us, Heinrich will be the appetizer and you’ll be the main course!” she said with a smile, motioning him to come closer.

The pull was strong, but his resolve was stronger.  George shook his head in distaste at her patent insincerity, at her my love bullshit; she was a bloody two faced liar, that’s what she was.

“No.  You can go to hell fer all I care.” 

He turned around and walked back across the lobby of the elegant hotel.  He heard the light patter of footsteps behind him, and his heart leaped as he thought that maybe he’d been mistaken, maybe Antanasia hadn’t meant what she’d said, maybe she was coming after him to tell him she loved him.  He heard John snap a command and more footsteps followed him.  It wasn’t her, he realized as he turned slightly at the door.  It was Helge, with Pete and Paul following close behind the blonde girl.

Come to me.  Come to me!

George faltered, swallowed hard, and then pushed open the door.  He wasn’t going to look back; he refused to look back.  Once outside the building, he closed his eyes and sighed, tried to blank his mind and ignore her call.  It was all in the mind, anyway, he thought resolutely.  She didn’t love him.  He opened his eyes in surprise when he realized he wasn’t alone, Helge had followed him out into the warm summer night, and Pete and Paul joined them, warily watching the entrance to the hotel.  Helge took his hand and held it, her vivid blue eyes looking up at him with a pleading expression.  George sighed again as Helge led him over to Astrid’s car, and the four of them stood waiting for their friends to join them.  He heard his mates whispering between themselves as they lit cigarettes, but he was too heartsick to pay them much attention.  He didn’t want to make Helge feel bad, but he just wanted to be alone.

* * * * *

Standing in the lobby at Stuart’s side, Astrid thought the creature looked stunned, as if she’d expected George to return to her at any moment.  Astrid had seen in his eyes what George had been feeling, and her heart nearly broke at the sight.  It didn’t look as though he would be returning any time soon, she thought with pity and sympathy and pride in her young friend.  She thought she’d never loved and admired George as much as at the moment when he’d told the creature to go to hell and then walked away.  She was glad that John had sent Pete and Paul out of the building to stay with George, at least one crucifix was with each group now, and the creature shouldn’t be able to touch any of them as long as they stayed close together.  She was thankful that Stuart still wore her grandmother’s cross, and she made certain to keep him between herself and John.

“It’s gonna be light soon,” John remarked casually, “dawn comes awful early in the summer, doesn’t it?” 

“You can’t stop me,” Antanasia hissed.  “I’ll have him very soon.  You’ll pay for this.”

Astrid suppressed a shiver; the look the creature had leveled on the three of them was positively venomous.  The woman spun on her heel and glided towards the lift, her new paramour following behind her, asking a question in ….. Russian, Astrid thought, although she wasn’t all that familiar with the language.  She waited until the lift returned to the ground floor, then money discretely changed hands as she persuaded a room number from the lift operator.

The three of them walked out of the hotel and to their car, grateful that their friends were waiting for them.  It was a quiet and crowded drive home, Astrid thought.  John and Paul both apologized to George, but the lad wasn’t talking.  He sat with Helge on his lap due to the crowded conditions, and he kept his face turned away, staring out the window for the entire trip.  Astrid could see him in the rear view mirror, and his face was blank, a mask, hiding his feelings very well.  But he couldn’t hide the despair in his eyes, she thought with a quiet sigh; he couldn’t hide it from her.  Arriving back at the house, George went up the stairs to his attic room followed by Helge, still without saying a word.  The poor dear child, Astrid thought, her heart aching for her friend.

“So what d’we do now?” John asked.

Astrid sighed.  “I’m going to call my friends vit the information ve haf picked up tonight.  Knowing vhere she’s staying and her room number, knowing vhat her latest conquest looks like, and his name, could be a good tip, especially if that Heinrich turns up dead later today.”  

She paused to whisper a brief prayer for the unfortunate young man, feeling almost as if she were an accomplice to murder.  The blush of dawn lit the sky outside, and she thought that whatever might have happened to him had already occurred.  Picking up the phone and dialing, she told herself that it was better Heinrich than George, and she tried to push everything else from her mind and concentrated on remembering, ignoring the chat going on around her in the living room.  She told her friend all that she could remember, going over every detail several times.  She described Heinrich as closely as she could, told him her suspicion that the man was Russian, gave her friend the room number she’d gotten from the lift operator, described who had been on duty at the hotel in case the police needed to question anyone.  She finally rang off nearly three quarters of an hour later, exhausted but happy.

“So why’s yer friend willin’ ta help like this?” Paul wanted to know.

“His brother vas in the King Lee band, von of the two who disappeared last autumn, and my friend still has hope of finding him.  I’ve lost hope for that, but the information I’ve given him may tip the scales, and perhaps the police can at least pick up the woman on suspicion of murder.”

The assembled friends became quiet when George stumbled down the stairs.

“What’re ya doin’ up, junior?  Thought you’d be asleep by now,” John said casually.

* * * * *

George just shook his head in reply to John’s question.  He couldn’t sleep although he was dreadfully tired; he couldn’t even lie still, he’d just tossed and turned as soon as he’d crawled into bed.  Helge’s presence hadn’t helped, either, because he didn’t really want anything to do with her, even though she’d snuggled up to him and tried to get him to relax.  George wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, then dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring he’d got for Antanasia, looking at it for a moment before stuffing it back into his pocket in disgust.  Returning to the living room, he looked for a place to sit.  Astrid moved over a bit and made room for him, and he settled down at her side, let her put an arm around him.

“Ach, George, mein liebschen kind,” she said quietly, stroking his hair.

“Don’ call me that, Asser, it’s embarrassin’.”

George knew his mumbled protest was halfhearted.   He just wished he could lose himself in the oblivion of sleep, and he wondered briefly what Stu thought about Astrid calling him that and putting her arm around him like this.  But he couldn’t muster up the strength to leave her side, she was a friend and her touch was gentle and comforting.  He tried to light a cigarette, but his hands were shaking too badly to strike the match, John had to lean forward and do it for him.  What was wrong, was he coming down with something again, George wondered irritably?  He sighed and tried to relax, wishing he wasn’t feeling so nervous and jittery.

It was even worse later in the day, he hadn’t been able to sleep and he was exhausted but just couldn’t close his eyes to rest.  Everyone else had fallen asleep where they sat or lay, sprawled across couch or chair, or stretched out on the floor with a few pillows.  He’d pretended to be asleep when Mutter Kirchherr came downstairs; she’d quietly let them all lie as she did a few chores and then left for a visit or shopping or whatever.  George lay despondently awake for a long time and tried not to twitch.  As the afternoon stretched out in unbroken boredom, he finally disentangled himself from Astrid’s arm and stood up, stretched and looked at all his friends, giving Lody a pat as she raised her head to watch him.  He simply couldn’t keep still any longer.  He decided to take a walk, and quickly left the house, surprised that it was already dusk

He was halfway down the street before he heard the call from behind him.

* * * * *

It was full dark before Stuart woke, and his first conscious thought was that something was wrong.  Looking around, he quickly realized that Astrid and George were gone.  He woke John and they searched the house, succeeding only in finding Mama Kirchherr cooking in the kitchen, a sleeping Helge in George’s bed and Pete and Paul still asleep in the living room.  Once everyone was awake and reasonably alert, they split into groups to search for the missing duo.  Stuart tried to explain to Mama Kirchherr that they were going out, but it was taking too much bloody time!  He finally simply gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and a kiss on the cheek and then he left the house with John close on his heels. 

Stuart raced into the Kempinski hotel with John, but they were thwarted in their efforts to find out the woman’s room.  The night manager remembered them and threatened to call the police, so they had to leave before they were arrested, and the old friends started cursing each other on the way back to the club to meet up with Pete and Paul.

“Why th’ bloody hell didn’t ya listen to Astrid when she was talkin’ on th’ phone, she knew th’ bitch’s room number!” John growled.

“I didn’t listen because you were talking in me ear, John!  How th’ bloody hell was I supposed to listen to Astrid when you were talking me ear off?” Stu snapped angrily.

“Shit!  Maybe Pete or Paulie had better luck,” John snapped back.

“I hope so,” Stu said, closing his eyes in brief prayer, knowing his friend was snapping at him because he was worried, too.  If anything had happened to Astrid……

The meeting at the club revealed their friends had not been able to locate Astrid or George, either.  But Paul had interesting news.

“Th’ police were by, askin’ questions about th’ bird!  They weren’t sayin’ why, but one of th’ fellows at th’ bar said he thought there’s been too many bodies found floatin’ in th’ river, an’ the police are out to get whoever’s responsible!  A blonde fellow, a jazz musician, was found late this afternoon, an’ I guess that’s one body too many.”

Heinrich?  The sense of foreboding that Stuart had felt all evening heightened.  He didn’t want to let on to John, but he was nearly frantic with worry for Astrid.  He still didn’t believe that the woman was a ‘creature of legend’, but she was bloody dangerous, and the thought of his sweet lover in danger from the mad bitch turned his blood to ice.  He tried to think how long it had been since dusk, where could she be?  Oh, Christ, if something happened to her, he’d…..

“Check it out,” Paul commented quietly, breaking into Stu’s thoughts, nodding towards the door.  “As cool as you please, just waltzin’ in here as if she owned th’ place.”

Stu and John turned abruptly, saw the woman walking towards them, a scowl marring her countenance.  Stu walked to meet her, knowing that John and the others were only a step behind him.

“I want……” she began.

“Where is she?  An’ where’s George?” Stu interrupted her with a scowl of his own.  “What th’ hell have you done with them?”

He noted her eyes widen for just a moment, then a crafty smile replaced her scowl.

“What’s wrong, Stuart, is there a…..problem?” she purred.  “Has your lover perhaps run off with the young man?  Or perhaps they’ve simply disappeared together, never to be seen again?  Perhaps two more bodies will be found floating in the river, what do you think?  It’s possible, isn’t it?  Oh, dear, you didn’t expect something like this when you meddled in my affairs, now, did you?  My, my, I wonder if the young man has run off with your lover, or maybe they’ve…..met with an accident?  I wonder, I wonder.”

Stu lunged for her, but he was hampered by the restraining arms of his friends, even though he struggled violently for freedom.  Antanasia looked at him with a scornful expression, stepping forward with apparent deliberation, placing herself bare inches from him, so close that he could feel the heat of her body.

“Poor Stuart, left all alone like this.  It’s so sad.”

John spoke up, sarcasm colouring his tone, his grip tightening on Stu’s arm, his arm going around Stu’s neck, nearly choking him.

“I’ll tell ya what’s sad, ya crazy bitch, it’s so sad ta see ya go.  Th’ police ‘ave been by askin’ ‘bout ya, they’re onto ya, you were pretty messy with th’ cleanup detail on poor ol’ Heinrich. Ya know, I don’ think you’ll be able ta satisfy yer sick fetish from behind bars, will ya?  Yer gonna ‘ave ta leave ‘amburg.  So get th’ hell outta ‘ere, ‘cause they’re closin’ in on ya.” 

Stu tried to get away but John’s grip was too strong, and the other two had hold of his arms, he thought desperately.  Some friends!  Shit, he couldn’t get free!  What was John doing?  He needed to find out where Astrid and George were, but John was driving the bitch away.  If she left without telling them, how could they find the missing pair?  Shit, what was his friend doing?

“Hey, Werner!” Paul called to the bartender.  “Call th’ police, tell ‘em th’ bird they’re lookin’ fer is ‘ere!  Uhhhh, rufen Sie die polizie!  Schnell, schnell!”

“No!” Stu cried, breaking out in a cold sweat, reaching for the woman in desperation, fear nearly turning his stomach as she stepped back and laughed at his futile struggles.

“You’ve ruined everything here.  It was so simple, all the tasty musicians, so easy to take whomever I wanted.  This party might be over for now, but I’ll be back,” she promised, still chuckling as she turned and walked to the door, stopping to glance back.  “Good luck finding your lover and ….. young George,” she said with a laugh as she left the club.

“Jesus Christ, lemme go, you lot!  Lemme go!” Stu snarled, battling frantically for his freedom.  He snarled again as John shook him.

“Stop it, man!  Relax, she doesn’t know anythin’!  Didn’t ya see ‘er eyes?  She didn’t know they were gone!  Look, Astrid’s a smart bird, c’mon, she an’ George are just layin’ low, we’ll hear from ‘em as soon as they think it’s safe.  Trust ‘er, Stu.  Everything’s ok, I promise.”

Pete chuckled as he let go of Stu’s arm.  “Jesus, we couldn’t ‘ave done that better if we’d planned it!”

“Get off, you’re not the one with a missing girlfriend!” Stu exploded, finally succeeding in shaking himself free of his restraints, turning to the door, surprised when John grabbed him again in a tight embrace, his mate’s arm locked around his neck and nearly cutting off his air supply.

“No, but we got two missin’ friends, Stu, an’ I was watchin’ th’ bird pretty close.  She’d never win a poker game against me, she can’t bluff worth shit.  She was surprised to hear they were gone, man!  She was just tryin’ ta needle ya, I’ll bet she came here ta collect Georgie an’ you surprised ‘er with th’ news.  C’mon, man, think about it!” John hissed in his friend’s ear.

“He’s right ya know,” Paul added, chewing on a nail.

Stuart took a deep breath and stood still, tried to replay the entire exchange in his head.  She had been surprised, and when she’d walked in, she’d started to say something, “I want…”, but he’d cut her off with his question.  John was making sense.  For a change, he thought wryly, relief and fear warring in his stomach.

“Where d’ya think…..” he began, only to be stopped by a nonchalant headshake and shrug from John as his friend let him go.

“I dunno, man, but if I know Astrid, she’ll call as soon as she can.  We just gotta wait.  But I feel a lot better right now than I did fifteen minutes ago.  C’mon, we’re missin’ our lead guitarist, think you can sit in with us on bass?  Paulie’ll ‘ave ta play lead, right?  Should be a couple o’ interestin’ nights, glad th’ gig’s almost over.”

Somewhat comforted by his friends’ words and by the casual routine, the normality, of playing on stage with them, Stuart found that the night went by quickly.  As if by unspoken consensus, the four men left the club after their last set and walked back to the Kirchherr home, where they sat for the remainder of the night, smoking and talking and watching the phone, waiting for it to ring.

It finally rang late the next morning.  Stuart grabbed it and struggled to decipher what the operator was saying.  She was simply talking too fast, and his German wasn’t that good!

“Sprechen Sie Englisch?” he asked in desperation.

“Ja,” the operator replied in heavily accented English, “vill you accept a collect call from France?”

“Ja!  Yes, yes, yes!” Stuart exclaimed.  “Hello?”

“Stuart, my love?”

The connection wasn’t the best, but Stu was hard pressed to keep from crying when he heard Astrid’s voice.  Thank God, thank God, thank God, his fevered brain repeated over and over.

“Astrid!  Oh, love, what th’ bloody hell are you doing in France?  Is George with you?”

* * * * *

George looked out the window of the hotel, sighed and then resumed pacing in the tiny room, five steps to the window and five steps back to the door.  He paused only long enough to light another ciggie with shaking hands, taking a deep drag.  What was Astrid thinking, the damned room only had a single bed and a chair!  She couldn’t be wanting to …. no, not Asser, he thought with an irritable shake of his head over that idea, Astrid was a friend, not to mention she was so in love with Stu that there was no chance she’d stray; maybe this was all that had been available at the hotel.  George shook his head again and wished he could relax, but the events of the past days kept spinning about in his head, over and over, like a record that had stuck on the turntable, and he simply couldn’t sit still.  His head hurt and his stomach was upset, he was simply feeling worse and worse.  He tried to keep his mind off of his last sight of Antanasia at that posh hotel, and instead focused his mind on the past eighteen hours.

When Astrid had caught up with him down the block from her house, George had tried to protest that he was just taking a walk.  She’d confronted him, accusing him of heading to the Kempinski Hotel and he’d hotly denied it.  But to be honest, he was too depressed and unhappy to even think very straight, and when Astrid had said she was going to take him home, he’d been feeling so sick that he barely acknowledged her announcement.  He’d thought she meant she was taking him back to her place, but she took him to the train station and onto a train that departed only moments after their arrival.  He’d tried to protest, tried to question her.  What about the gig, what about his clothes, what about his guitar?  The stubborn German girl had countered every argument with one of her own and he’d finally subsided, feeling too ill to even keep the conversation going.  By the time they arrived into France, it was late the following morning, and he still hadn’t slept. 

George paused to look out the window again and decided he was actually feeling worse than he had when they’d first got here.  He realized that it was a good thing they’d left Hamburg, he didn’t think he’d have been able to play the guitar like this.  He felt so weak and shaky, irritable and unhappy.  He didn’t know what he was coming down with, but it was bad.  Shit, he felt just awful.  Astrid had said she’d be right back, but what if she wasn’t coming back, what if he’d driven her away by snapping at her and being so sick?  He was all alone here, he didn’t speak French, what was he going to do?   Hell, what if Astrid just left him here like this, maybe she didn’t like him any more either?  Hell, he didn’t even like himself very much right now!  Everything was just falling apart, wasn’t it?  George went to the window and looked out again, wishing forlornly that it was a tall building, maybe he’d just throw himself off the roof.  His stomach cramped and he sat down for a moment, doubled over with nausea, breaking out in a cold sweat, but he couldn’t sit still for very long.  He started pacing again in spite of his discomfort, sweat on his brow and despair filling his heart.

* * * * *

Astrid nearly started crying when she heard Stuart’s voice accept the collect call.  She was so anxious to explain that it was hard waiting for the operator to tell her the charges were accepted.  She nervously kept an eye on the hotel entrance to ensure George didn’t leave, grateful that the phone booth was only a few buildings away from the entrance.  Her fear and lack of sleep on the train ride had amplified her trepidation, and the sunshine breaking through the clouds only slightly mollified the terror of the nighttime flight from Germany.  The words flowed out of her like water in the river when the operator completed the connection.

“Ach, Stuart, it vas the only thing I could think of!  George didn’t even know vhat he vas doing, but I know he vas headed for the hotel, and her.  I had to do something, and the only thing I could think vas that I must get him out of Germany!  The express train for Paris vas leafing just as ve got there, there vas barely time to buy tickets, and I couldn’t take the time to call, I’m so sorry I vorried you, my love.  But that’s not the only problem, Stuart.  The vay he’s acting, he’s so depressed and nervous, the way his hands shake, I’m certain it’s not just heartache.  George is going through vithdrawal, ve successfully addicted him to the sleeping pills, I think,” she admitted, horrified and guilty at what they’d done to their young friend.

“There wasn’t a choice, love, so don’t feel guilty.  Are you gonna take him to hospital?” she heard the tinny, scratchy voice ask.  She almost couldn’t make out the words, the connection was so bad.

“Ve can’t risk it, ve’ll just haf to get through it somehow.  I’m so sorry, Stuart, I didn’t mean to vorry you, but there vas nothing else I could do.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just glad ta hear you’re both ok, we were all pretty vorried, you know.”

Astrid laughed shakily, knowing he was trying to make a joke, trying to relax her.

“Stuart, ve are going to need money, can you wire some quickly?”  She gave him the name of the bank across the street from the hotel.  “I can pick it up there this afternoon, but I used everything I had for the train fares and the bedsit.  Ve are going to need money for the ferry crossing and for food and clothing.  And for my return trip, of course.”

“Oh, so you’re not runnin’ off with the lad, eh?  Somebody tried to convince me that you an’ George had run off together.”

Astrid laughed.  “That must have been John, ja?  The scoundrel!  You didn’t belief him, did you?”

“Nah, wasn’t John, he was pretty cool ‘bout it, really.  Yeah, thanks, man.”  Astrid wrinkled her brow, the other lads must be at home with him, she thought, then listened as Stuart continued.  “But what’s this ‘bout a bedsit, love?  There’s not much room in one o’ those, ya know.”

Astrid smiled at his teasing tone, apparent even through the long distance connection.  She felt nearly lightheaded from her near-sleepless state. 

“Oh, Stuart, it vas all I had money for.  You know how I feel about George, don’t tease me, my love.  I can’t vait to come home to you.  But I vill haf to get George through his vithdrawal from barbiturates before I can take him to England.  The poor boy is so confused and miserable that he’s not even asking me any questions.  His heart is broken, Stuart.  He’s so depressed, I cannot talk long, I really must get back to him.”

“How are you feeling, love?”

His concern was apparent in his voice and Astrid blinked rapidly to forestall any tears.  He was such a wonderful man, she thought gratefully, wondering if many other men would be as understanding in a situation like this.  She nearly giggled, but stopped herself by sheer force of will; not many men would be in a situation like this, thank God!

“I’m all right, just very tired.  And I suspect I’ll be even more tired by the end of this.  Ve should be here for several days, I don’t think it vill take any longer than that.  Ve might even arrive into England before John and Paul and Pete.”  She paused to swallow against the rush of emotions threatening to turn her voice into a squeak.  “I love you Stuart, I vish you could join me here,” she whispered.  “Be careful.  Be careful, my love.”

“I will.  I love you, too, Astrid, I’ll be here holdin’ down th’ home fires.  An’ finishin’ up the gig at the Top Ten with John an’ th’ lads.  Hurry home, sweetheart, ya did th’ right thing, love, an’ you’ll get him through it.  Take care of our kid, right?  But ya better not have a crush on him when you get home!”

Laughing, grateful for his confidence and approval, relieved that Stuart was feeling well enough about it to joke with her, she rang off and returned to the hotel.  Walking back into their tiny room, she was surprised when George grabbed her in a fierce hug, his body stiff with tension.  She put her arms around him and held him close as his grip tightened around her in desperation; he took one deep, shuddering breath and then released her to begin pacing again, his face once again a blank mask, emotionless and still.  Except for his eyes. 

Confused by her friend’s actions but relieved that he hadn’t tried to leave, Astrid hung a crucifix on the back of their door and laid another at the single window, finally breathing a sigh of relief and kicking off her shoes to relax.  It was too bad she hadn’t enough money for a larger room, but they’d have to make do.  And anyway, being in one room meant she could keep a close eye on her charge.  She thought she’d have to sleep lightly, if at all, but she knew she’d do it, for her juenger bruder’s sake.

“George, it’s important you stay here in the room vit me, all right?” she asked her pacing friend.

“Why?” he demanded, spitting out the word, his tone miserable and irritated, angry and depressed, and Astrid tried hard to avoid flinching.  He stopped pacing for a moment and muttered an apology, lighting another cigarette with hands that visibly shook.

Thinking quickly, she replied soothingly, “It’s alright, George, but you’re coming down vit some influenza or something, and it’s important ve stay inside or you might get vorse.  George, I’ve never been to France before, and I’m frightened, I’m all alone here and I don’t speak the language,” she lied.  “I don’t vant to be alone, liebling, please stay vit me?”

She listened as he sullenly promised he’d stay in the room, and then he started pacing again.  His very moodiness and energy was exhausting, and Astrid wondered why he wasn’t getting dizzy from his movements, the room was so small.  She lay down on the bed and watched him for a while.

“George,” she finally asked, nearly worn out from simply watching him, “von’t you please lie down for a little bit?  Please? Just for a little while, liebling?”

She ignored how he grumbled under his breath, waiting until George threw himself down on the bed as far away from her as possible.  She regretted her request almost immediately, because he lay twitching and fidgeting until she thought she’d scream at him.  She finally scooted across the bed and pulled him into her arms; he lay stiff and shocked in her embrace, apparently not remembering how she’d done this whilst he was in hospital, she thought with amusement.  She brushed the hair back from his eyes, kissed his forehead, stroked his face, somehow calmed him enough that he started to relax a little bit.

“Mein liebling, oh, George, I vish I could make you to feel better, ve just need to give it a little time, I promise you vill feel better soon,” she said quietly.

“I dunno, Asser, I don’ think I’ll ever ferget ‘er.  I don’ think I’ll ever meet another gurl like ‘er,” he admitted in a whisper, his depression evident in the way his voice broke.

“You’re probably right,” she agreed, knowing she’d been referring to his withdrawal and he was speaking of his broken heart. 

She thought he sounded like he was a centimeter away from tears, but he was refusing to cry.  Well, she knew he’d survive this, although he might feel as if he didn’t want to right now.  And she sincerely prayed he’d never meet another ‘gurl’ like that one!  She debated about whether to say anything, finally deciding to keep it very simple.  He would never believe the truth, but he might believe this.

“I’m sorry, George, but Antanasia vas the von I varned you about.  She vas bad news, my young friend, I vish I could turn back time so that you had not fallen in love vit her.  I’m so sorry.”

George accepted the information with barely a twitch.  He didn’t rush to the creature’s defense and Astrid thought that was a good sign.  Trusting her instincts, she dropped the subject and concentrated on getting her young friend through his misery.

* * * * *

It was a long, miserable three days filled with fevers and nausea, utter wretchedness and very little sleep, compounded by never ending heartache, but at the end of it, George thought he was feeling somewhat better, at least physically.  He was still depressed, but it wasn’t as bad as when they’d first arrived in France, and he decided that it had been the worst bout of influenza he’d ever had; he hoped he’d never get sick like that again.  He was glad Astrid hadn’t caught the sickness from him, and also glad she’d been there to take care of him, there wasn’t much worse than being sick in a foreign country.  He’d initially felt pretty uncomfortable about staying in a single room with her, but as he’d gotten sicker, he’d simply been grateful that she was there.  He thought she’d probably stayed awake with him the entire three days, leaving only to get some money from the bank, and food and a few essentials they hadn’t brought on the trip with them.  But now that he’d finally started feeling better, it looked like Asser was relaxing and getting some much-needed rest.  He lay beside her in the single bed and watched her limp, sleeping form for a long time, thinking what a lucky guy Stuart was, finally drifting off to sleep at his friend’s side.

He was still feeling a little weak and shaky when Astrid said she thought they could continue the journey, but he was looking forward to being home again.  He was quiet and docile, simply following his friend as she took care of everything from checking them out of the bedsit to buying tickets for the ferry crossing.  He was a little surprised that she spoke fluent French, hadn’t she said she couldn’t speak the language here?  He didn’t really remember, he’d been pretty sick and maybe he’d imagined it, but it didn’t really matter anyway.  Nothing mattered anymore, did it?  No, that wasn’t true, George decided after thinking about it for a bit.  He might never love again, he thought with an eighteen-year-old’s mournful wisdom, but he still had his friends.  And his music.

* * * * *

The trip across the Channel eased a tension to which Astrid hadn’t wanted to admit.  Standing at the railing of the ferry, trying to grow accustomed to the rolling pitch of the little vessel, she watched as George pulled something from his pocket; it looked like a ring of some kind.  Before she could stop him, he threw it into the ocean as hard as he could, his face blank but his eyes dark with emotion.  It didn’t look as though he wanted to answer any questions, so Astrid merely stood quietly beside him, putting her arm around him in companionship and friendship.  When he turned into her arms and hid his face in her shoulder, she simply held him close, pretending not to notice that his face was wet with more than just the salt spray of the ocean.  She was silently grateful for his tears, knowing they were the beginning of the boy’s healing.

She breathed a sigh of great relief upon setting foot in England.  It had been quite a journey, she thought with amused exhaustion, a train and a room and a ferry and now another train.  George’s parents were surprised to have a young lady bring their very subdued son home, but they made her welcome when she explained that she was Stuart Sutcliffe’s girlfriend, and that she’d brought George home because he’d been ill.  Saying goodbye to her young friend the next day was difficult, but she was anxious to return to Hamburg.  And Stuart.

“You vill take care of yourself, liebchen?  Promise me, ja?” she asked, hugging him and pressing a kiss against his cheek.  She brushed the hair back from his eyes, not really wanting to leave him, he was so dear to her.

“Ja,” he replied quietly, unsmiling.  “Have a safe trip, thanks fer bringin’ me home, Asser, thanks fer takin’ care of me while I was sick.  I’m glad you didn’t come down with it, too.  I’m gonna miss ya, love.  Tell Stu thanks fer me, right?  An’ tell yer mum I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

Astrid’s heart was breaking over this sad, dispirited youth, but she would pray for him; that was really all she could do now, she decided as she boarded the train for the ferry.  The lone, slender figure on the train platform remained etched in her mind for a long time after the train had pulled away.