Early November, 1965

“I know, Ma, I know,” Lee said into the phone.  “Of course, I want to see you all, of course I miss the family.  But it’s been so hectic here, so much going on, you have no idea.”

She thought about all that had happened since just last year:  Beatles for Sale, Ritch’s  operation, John’s new book,  Ritch getting married, her and John, filming and recording Help!, premiers, parties, T.V. appearances, the European tour of France, Italy and Spain in June and July, her and John, the American tour in August (SHEA STADIUM!!!), a holiday in Tahiti, Ritchie and Mo getting a house in the suburbs, though he stayed here often, like now, as they were hard at work finishing up Rubber Soul (the best album yet as far as she was concerned), her and John, little Zak being born (such a little sweetie), M.B.E.’s, her and John, HER AND JOHN!

Anyone who thought the Beatles didn’t work hard had better think again.  Just putting up with the “mania” alone…

Her parents had no idea about “her and John.”  Of course they knew of her insanity over all things Beatles, but when Ringo got married, her mother had said over the phone, “So, what happened?” with disappointment in her voice.

It was the first indication she’d had that her mother wouldn’t mind if she snagged herself a Beatle, even if she was only seventeen, and despite the fact that it was completely understood that good girls waited till the wedding night.  When Ritchie assured her mom he had only the utmost good intentions and respect for her daughter, her mother had believed him and thought he was quite safe.   Her father was a different story.  Imagine what he would think about John!  She shuddered.  Her father was a man’s man and wouldn’t trust John as far as he could throw him. 

“What happened?” Lee answered her mother.

“He’s married.”

“Yeah.”

“So?”  Mother-daughter shorthand.

“I told you, Ma -- nothing was ‘going on.’  You didn’t believe me.  You and daddy just agreed with Brian that they would sponsor my education, whatever I chose to do.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re there,” her mother had said sarcastically.  Lee had to have gotten it from somewhere, and there it was.  She came to John well prepared.

When she came back to London with them last year, Brian had immediately enrolled her in a nearby public school, which in England was what Americans called private school.  Because she was already of age, she took and passed all her exams, acing English and Math.  She only had to take only a History class, as the History they presented in Britain was understandably different.  She now could apply to any college or university she pleased.  All she had to do was think a bit about what she wanted to do.

As far as she was concerned, she was doing it.  What?  Miss this film, this tour?  Miss being there as this album was created right before her eyes?  Miss anything?  Miss THEM?  Not on your life.  How much longer would this heaven exist anyway?  Neither she nor they had any way of knowing.  Besides, wasn’t all this travel and life experience an education?  It was as far as she was concerned.

If she thought about anything at all, she thought that writing might be in her future, but didn’t one need to do a bit of living before having anything of interest to write about?  She knew she needed to read great works, lay some sort of foundation, and John was helping her with that.  His interests were varied and diverse. 

Just being around the Beatles, she’d met so many interesting and talented people.  George was teaching her about all this Indian culture he was getting into.  She’d helped John coordinate and organize the material and drawings for A Spaniard in the Works, typing everything up for him and working closely with the publisher, as John couldn’t be arsed.  She’d found some great stuff going through his sock drawer.

Recently when they were all out to dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant, she had teased John that since she had rich benefactors, she was thinking of applying to Oxford.  Brian could certainly get her in.

“The only Oxford you’re gettin’ is the one on me foot and up yer …” he said, nodding his head and letting the rest hang.  “I’ve been to college, sort of.  I know what goes on.  Fuckin’ students!”

“Are you telling me I can’t go?  You promised my daddy,” she said demurely, pouting her lips.

“Do we have one ‘round the corner?” he asked pointedly, leaning in and with definite attitude.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then the answer is no.”  He abruptly got up from the table and went to the loo, serious as hell, looking none too happy.

She had expected one of his smart ass answers – that was John.  What she didn’t expect was to see him so visibly upset.

“Don’t mind ‘im,” George said.  “He’s scared you really want to.  We talked about it.  He knows how bright you are.” 

“Do you want to go, luv?” Paul asked.  “You know he really wouldn’t deny you anything.”

“Yes, eventually.  But not right now, or in the near future.  Too much happiness right here.  I’m just coming up on eighteen, there’s time, if and when.”

Lee’s mother was still yapping into her ear when Mal came in, laden with two sacks of Chinese take-away.  She waved him into the kitchen.  The Beatles and Neil were waiting, forks in hand, like starving vultures. 

They were anxious to get back to the studio.  When things were going well, like they were now with this album, it was better than any party.  She loved the folksy feel of the new songs, but with a definite hard edge.  Her two favorites so far were “Norwegian Wood,” with George’s brand new contribution of the sound of the sitar.  He said he didn’t know what he was doing, playing it like a guitar, but he was determined to learn more for later recordings.  Her other favorite, which John had finished last night, was “Girl,” that voice of his absolutely killing her, only now she didn’t only have to imagine what it would be like to be with him.  She knew.  Fookin’ heavenly bliss, she smiled to herself.

Lee usually tried to keep out of the way in the studio, sitting at the back of the control room, watching and listening, marveling at how easily it all seemed to flow out of them. 

She didn’t think there were more brilliant songwriters, ever.  Sometimes a song started out one way and ended up sounding completely different after tweaking it and working on it.  She always felt flattered when George Martin would her ask what she thought after a take.  She so admired him, and thought he was brilliant as well as incredibly handsome.  They often agreed on which were the better songs.

The other day, when the others stepped out for a smoke, John called up to her, “Missy, could you come down here please?  Geoff, could you get another headset down here for her?”

“Sure, John.”

He sat her in a chair off to the side, and said to her, “I need a little inspiration for this one.”  He picked up his acoustic guitar and winked at her, putting his finger to his lips.

“Could we get these lights down a bit as well?”  Someone in the control room turned down the bright overhead lights.  “Now Geoff, remember, I want the intakes of breath amplified.  Really loud.  Okay, ready?”  Then he started singing, “Is there anybody going to listen to my story…” 

As he stood there in the darkened studio, singing this incredible song to her in his purest voice, that voice that made her melt into the seat, his sexuality reverberating into her ears, she knew that this was one of their great moments, his and hers, one that would remain imprinted in her brain and heart forever.  This man made her walk about in a perpetual state of wet and sent chills down her spine.  She could not see it ever getting old for them.  At least not for her…

“Are you listening to me?”  Her mother said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes, okay, I will be home for Thanksgiving, all right?  Christmas is out of the question.”

“And staying through till your birthday!  You don’t come home nearly enough.”

She thought about it.  Thanksgiving was always the last Thursday in November, her birthday the first week in December.  Hopefully, the album would be finished way before then.  It was due to be in the shops for the Christmas rush.  She didn’t want to miss any of the sessions.

“All right, I’ll be home for Thanksgiving and my birthday, okay?  I promise.  And I did see you in August.  That wasn’t so long ago.”  To Lee, it seemed like last week -- the pace of their lives was such a whirlwind. 

“Yeah, for two days.  Not even.  Then you nearly made us go deaf at Shea Stadium!  Couldn’t hear a damned thing from the stage,” her mother complained.

Lee sighed.  Italian families!  The warmest, most loving people in the world.  Also the most guilt-imposing, exasperating, bossy…never let their children go…  She still marveled at the fact that Brian even got her father to agree to this, despite his assurances of providing her with a first rate education.  Her parents felt education was for men only anyway, that women born for the sole purpose of marriage and breeding.  Her guess was that they felt in the end this thing was bigger than any of them, much too important to her, and that she would end up running away if they didn’t give in.  It was better to give it their blessing.  God bless Daddy, God bless Brian, God bless Beatles, she thought happily.

“Okay, Ma, look, I have to go now, but I’ll call you next week and give you the details of my arrival date and all that.  Give everyone a kiss for me and tell them I love them, okay?  Bye.  I love you, Ma.”

“Lee, c’mon, everything’s gettin’ cold,” Ringo yelled from the kitchen.

Whew, Lee thought.  This should be fun.  “Coming.”  She came in to find them exchanging cartons and fighting over the ones they liked best.

“Should’ve gotten more prawns, Mal,” Neil complained.

“Next time you do the step ‘n fetch it, Mr. Tour Manager,” Mal shot back.

“What, no prawns?” Lee stared at Mal accusingly, suppressing a grin.

“Don’t start!” Mal said, pointing at her.

“Look, he’s hoggin’ all the noodles,” George said, grabbing a carton from John.

“Jeez, are you guys going to the chair or something?” Lee asked, sitting down and checking out the cartons they didn’t seem interested in.  “Mmm.  What’s this?” she asked, holding it out to them.

“Dunno,” John said.  “Looks like tree bark.  I’m not having it.  So how is Mama Leone?”

Ever since John heard there was a famous old restaurant in the theatre district of New York called Mama Leone’s, that’s what he’d taken to calling her mother.  It conjured up images of an old fat lady with a bun.  Her mother, though, was a quite beautiful 40-year-old, her youthful looks in direct opposition to the way she thought.  Her values were those of the fat old lady with the bun.

“She’s fine.  Everyone’s fine.”  Lee got up and stood behind John and put her arms around his neck.  “Umm, as a matter of fact…”

“Here it comes,” John said, his look of exasperation going around the table.

“What?” Lee asked indignantly.  “I haven’t said anything yet!”

“Whatever.  Something’s up.”

“They want me home for a couple of weeks for the holidays,” she said timidly, stroking his chest.

“Out of the question,” John said, finality in his voice.

“Yeah, we have the invitations at the printer for our big Christmas bash here.  We need you, you’re the hostess,” Paul said, making his case.

“Can’t have Christmas without you, luv,” George implored.

“She’s not goin’!” John said emphatically.

“Well, no, I talked her out of Christmas, but said I’d make it for Thanksgiving.”

“When’s that?” John wanted to know.

“Last week in November.  So she roped me in for my birthday as well.”

“No,” he said stubbornly.

“I can’t tell her no, John.  She’s my mother!”

“Yer a grown woman now, on yer own.  You do as you please.”

What planet was he on? she wondered.  A girl raised in an Italian family, coming up on eighteen years old -- he hadn’t a clue about the inbred issue of respect!  At least sometimes.   George and Ritch called their mums often. 

Even though she had been with them now for a year and a half, she was still being very vague about coming clean to her parents about the exact living arrangements.  She still let them think she roomed with Brian’s assistant, giving them Wendy’s home number first, then Brian’s office, then the one at the flat.  She called home twice a week to keep them happy, telling them never to call her, as it was much too expensive.  It was, actually.

If her father knew about ‘her and John’, he’d come after him with a baseball bat, not impressed at all by Beatledom.  There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would -- followed quickly by her mother demanding that he marry her for having ‘ruined’ her.

“You and I had a very different upbringing, John.” Lee explained patiently.  “Even though Mimi thought she was a strict disciplinarian, it was you who ran the show.  I don’t think she controlled you much past the age of eight.  Anyway, I’m a girl.”

John pulled her around and onto his lap.  “This I’m aware of.”

“And you’re trying to control me, just like them.”

“I?” he asked, all wide-eyed and innocent. 

“Yes, you -- which I usually don’t mind, it’s kinda nice,” she said, stroking behind his ear.  She had her ways of wheedling him.  “But the truth is, I really would like to go home for a bit.  I’ve even been missin’ that stinkin’ brat of a brother of mine, and my parents and my grandpa.  Please?  It shouldn’t be for very long.  She wanted me for a couple of weeks, but I should be able to keep it down to ten days, maybe eight.  I’m quite sure I couldn’t take being away from you all for much longer than that anyway.”

“But we wanted to do something special for your birthday,” George said.  “Eighteen’s a special one.”

“We can do it when she gets back,” Ritch suggested, then made a sheepish face when he saw the look John shot him.  “Or…not,” he added.  Everyone laughed.

Lee looked imploringly into his eyes.  “John?”

He softened.  “All right, then, but I’m comin’ with ya.”

“You what?”

“Don’t want you to make the trip alone.”

“I got here alone, as I recall,” Lee reminded him.

“Am I not good enough to take home to mum?” he challenged her.

“You know better than that.  It’s just that…”  She tried picturing John in the small New York apartment she grew up in, sitting around the Sunday dinner table, with the tons of food and the aunties and the bickering.  “I’m just envisioning the worlds colliding, and it ain’t pretty.  You know you’ll have to behave in front of everyone, no touching, no saying “fuck” ever.  Ever!”

“Do you think I was raised by wolves?  I can be very charming,” he said, smiling at her and looking quite adorable.

“Well, why else would I love you?”

“I may be sick,” George said, and Lee reached over and pinched him.

“ey!” George said, rubbing his arm.

“Then it’s settled,” John said.  “I’ll be in New York for Thanksgiving.  Isn’t that when you invite the Indians over and kill a goose?”

“Turkey!”

“Right, turkey.  As the guest of honor, I think I should.  Do I have to do it with me bare hands?”

“Of course, otherwise it’s seven years bad luck,” she said, hugging him.

***

Brian was dead set against John making the trip with Lee.  When John wouldn’t back down, he suggested separate flights but John wouldn’t have it.  He didn’t want to be alone for all those hours and didn’t want her alone either.  That was the whole point.  In the end Brian bought up the first two rows of First Class so no one would be sitting too close to them or had to pass them going to the loo.  He arranged V.I.P. treatment, and they were ushered onto the plane at the very last second, Neil driving the car right up on the tarmac.

Apparently greasing the palms of some of the airport personnel went a long way in keeping this quiet, especially with the promise of more on the return trip if all went well.

The flight manifest listed John as Jonathan Stanley.  The same deal was arranged in New York, and a car would be waiting for them.  Lee’s father had been all prepared to pick her up at the airport in the family Buick, but she explained that Mr. Epstein had arranged a car for her at The Beatles’ insistence.  She never did tell them she was bringing John.  The questions would have been never-ending.   

Their bags were loaded right in with them, and John wore a baggy overcoat, stuffing his hair into a ridiculous-looking rain hat with a brim and wearing a pair of his old black frame glasses.  He looked like a businessman with bad fashion sense.  As soon as they boarded, the door was closed, and the plane was prepared for take-off.

The stewardess took their coats and kept eyeing the rather odd man in the window seat at Lee’s side, who refused to give up his hat.  After take-off, as soon as the seatbelt and no smoking lights went off, John lit up a cigarette and Lee got up to peruse the First Class section.  Stroke of luck, she thought.  Brian needn’t have bought all these seats.  The section was empty, save for one elderly couple sitting a couple of rows back.  She parted the curtain and looked out into the coach section, noticing several empty seats.

“Smooth sailing, my love,” Lee said, returning to her seat.  “Just an old couple up here and not even a full house back there.  Are you going to wear that silly hat all the way across the Atlantic?  I can’t look at you.”

“I copped it off Mal.  Don’t you love it?”

“Looks like a chamber pot.”

The stewardess came up and leaned over, whispering “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Lennon?  Miss Mauro?”

“Sorry, the name’s Stanley,” John said, trying to disguise his distinct nasal tone.

“Don’t bother,” she said smugly.  “I wasn’t sure at first, but I’d know that voice anywhere!”

“In that case, I’ll have a Scotch and coke.  Make it a double,” John said lifting the hat and smoothing down his hair with his fingers.

“Don’t worry, we get a lot of celebrities and indiscretion could cost me my job.” The stewardess said.  “Relax.  Your secret is safe with me, if I could impose on you for an autograph later.”

“You got it,” he said, bending in to get a look at her nametag. “April.”

“Thank you.  And for you, Miss?”

“I’ll have a ginger ale, thank you,” Lee said.

John removed his glasses and put them in his inside jacket pocket.  He relaxed and settled back, taking her hand.  “Happy?”

“Well, we got past hurdle number one.  Plenty more to go.”

“What are you so nervous about?  They’re gonna love me.  They already do!  I recall gettin’ a chuckle out of yer dad, and I charmed yer mother.”

“That was before, when you were just one of ‘them’.  Now you turn up unannounced at their doorstep, alone with their daughter?  Don’t ask!”

“What do you mean, ‘just one of them’?  And I told you to tell ‘em I was comin’.”

“When I left home, they knew my big crush was on Ringo, who’s now safely married.  Did I or they have any idea that you would seduce and ravage their only daughter, who is very much underage?”

“I have me doubts, Nellie, about who did the seducin’!” he said, poking her.

“You do know yer a cad, don’t you, Lennon?”

“Among other things.”

They both laughed and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.  He toyed with the ring on her finger, which she had never taken off since the day he placed it there.

“You must’ve put out big time for a piece like this,” he said in a lecherous voice.

“Keep it up!” she said, hitting him.

He moved in close, staring down his nose at her with his distinctive ‘John look’ and said, “That’s your job.”

“Well, I’m on holiday and you won’t be seeing any of that for a while,” she said, backing away.

“Don’t threaten me, miss.  Now I won’t be able to keep me hands off ya,” he said, pulling her to him and kissing her deeply. 

Just then the stewardess arrived with the drinks.  They pulled away awkwardly and took the drinks from her.  Yes Brian, I hear you, we’re not being careful, I know, I know, Lee thought.

“Cheers,” John said, and they clinked glasses.  “This should be fun, finally getting to see a bit of New York.  Most we got to see was in the helicopter ride to Shea Stadium.  Where are you taking me?”

She grinned, loving the way he said “hell-ee-copter.”  “Oh, I don’t know.  Are you one for all the tourist traps?  Or would you rather wing it a few days and see what’s doing?”

“A bit of both, I think.”

“Great.  That part should be fun.  The family…that’s another story.”  She lifted her eyes and shook her head.

“I don’t know what the big problem is.  Didn’t I take you home to meet Mimi?  She loved you, and she doesn’t love too many people.”

“I’m probably the most normal girl you’ve ever brought home.  Besides, it was a very casual meeting a while back, and you did not introduce me as ‘your girl.’  And Ring and George were there too.”

“Yeah, but she knew what I was thinkin’.  She always does.  She told me she thought you were down-to-earth and had old-fashioned values.”

“Yeah, she did grill me a bit, but we got on well.”  Lee sighed.  “Old-fashioned, huh?  Like waiting ‘til my wedding night?”

“Wedding nights are overrated…or so I hear.”

“Mmm,” Lee said, staring down at her ring.  That will have to come off before I walk in the door, Lee thought.  As it is, the minute they see my face they’re gonna know, I just know it.  Catholic-Italian guilt.  Nothin’ like it.  She did not want to have to explain this ring.  Her father had a friend in the jewelry business and he knew good stuff when he saw it.  Much too expensive not to mean something, and if she said it didn’t mean anything, they would want to know what she did to deserve it.  They were too much. 

After they finished their drinks and picked at their meals, John got up to use the lav, removing his suit jacket and throwing it over the seat across the aisle.  He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirtsleeves.  Even the sight of his forearms made her crazy.

Lee decided she might as well go now too, taking the one next door.  He started tapping something on the wall, some sort of song, but she couldn’t make it out and it started her giggling.  She heard his door open first, and when she stepped out, she said, “What was that?  Any…”

…and he yanked her into his lav and locked the door.

“John, no, we can’t!” she protested.

“Why not, it’s not like we haven’t done it before, like on the last tour,” he said, grinding against her.  She was practically sitting in the wash basin.

“But we had the whole first class cabin, a lot of comings and goings, no one was paying attention.  The stewardess will know this time.”

“Comings, definitely,” he said putting his forehead against hers, kissing her sweetly at first, then hungrily.  She hadn’t the strength to stop him.

“Excuse me, Miss -- BOAC Security Inspector.” he said with a put-on posh accent.  “I’ve been instructed to make a complete and thorough body cavity search of all first class passengers.  Contraband, you know.”

“I understand and agree to cooperate fully.  Do these searches include the eighty year old woman outside?”

“We’ll see what we find here,” he said, undoing her belt buckle and zipper and dropping her slacks to the floor.  He slid his hands into her panties, fore and aft, his fingers everywhere, working her into such a state that her moans were getting too loud, even for him.

“Shhh,” he said, “or they’ll really call security.” He sat down and roughly yanked down the panties, and she stepped out of them.  He started kissing her ‘there’ and somehow the thought that someone might be right outside the door listening as John Lennon was doing this to her turned her into a nymph.  “Oh John, oh yes baby, there, don’t stop,” she cried.  His tongue caused her to start convulsing in very short order.  “Oh, God, oh God,” she said, as her head rolled back.  She took his head and pushed it away, the pleasure so intense it was almost causing her pain, and then she pulled him up and kissed him with abandon.

“You naughty girl, getting away from me that quickly, and look what ye'v left me with,” he said incredulously, taking her hand and trying to place it around him, which was difficult with his trousers fitting so snugly.

“You poor baby.  I’ll just bet, Mr. Inspector, that no one appreciates what a really hard job you have, such a huge responsibility” she said, undoing his pants and slowly drawing his zipper down.

“It is hard, and someone has to do it.”

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance. Ease your load?”

He grinned and silently mouthed, “You’re bad.”

“Actually, I’m quite good,” she said, her hand encircling him and stroking him gently at first, then faster, harder.  She tried guiding him inside her, but he was too tall.  He bent and lifted her from the back of her thighs and onto him.

“Ahhh...” She sighed, then laughed as her weight caused him to lose his balance in that confined space. His feet were still in his pants, and he fell backwards onto the seat with her straddling his lap.

“I think your inspection tool has caused me a serious injury, Sir.”

“Allow me to make a thorough examination,” he said, reaching down and stroking her slowly.  “You all right? Really?” he asked, with a slight look of concern.

“Yes, my love, really,” she said, pushing his hair from his face and kissing him.

He unbuttoned her blouse and lifted her breasts over the top of her bra, kissing and sucking, making her lose it as she started lifting and lowering herself onto him, languidly at first, then urgently.  He grabbed hold of her hips, moving her the way he needed it, and he leaned back a bit and looked down at them.

This part still embarrassed her, when he actually “watched,” because then he would look up at her face with that smoldering look of his.  These moments were pure sex, and still made her feel a bit shy.  He knew this and always tried to reassure her – “Don’t worry baby, you’re so beautiful.  I’ll take care of you.” 

He started moving her faster, faster.  She saw the cords in his neck as his face turned red and she said to him. “Come on baby, now, I’m there.”  He grimaced and let go, filling her, seeming to go on forever.

“Sweet Jesus!” he said burying his face in her breasts. Her arms hugged his head as she kissed and stroked his hair.  

“I know!” she answered, absolutely drained.  They stayed like that for a while, rocking a bit, holding each other.  When they finally pulled back, they looked at each other and smiled and gave a quick kiss on the lips.

She reached up and grabbed some tissues, giving him some as well, and eased herself away slowly.  “The fun part,” she said, grimacing from the sensitivity.  She took some towels and gave herself a quick wash, and then quickly donned her clothes and fixed herself, while she tried to give him enough room to do the same.

“You go out first,” she said.  “I may stay in here for the rest of the flight in mortification.”

“Don’t be daft.  They see this all the time. How else are people supposed to pass the time on long flights?” he teased.

“Then you’d think they’d make these rooms bigger.” 

He slowly unlocked the door and peered out.

“John,” she said, touching his arm.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for wanting to come home with me.  I love you so much.”

He smiled.  “I love you more.  Remember when you said that to me?”

“Yes.  Less than a month after we met.  Was it the right response?”

“Dead on.”

She hugged him tight.  He took her hand.  “Come on,” he said, opening the door.  “You know what I really need right now?”

…and they both said at the same time, “A nap!”

                                                                      ***

When they pulled up in front of her building, Lee reminded John not to forget his pisspot hat.  The driver helped them into the building and the elevator with the bags.  Lee felt so odd standing in front of her door without her keys.  Why did everything seem so small now, even the door?  Strange, she thought.  She lifted her left hand and tapped the knocker three times.

“Your ring!  It’s gone!  Did you leave it on the plane?” John asked, visibly upset.

“No, no, it’s all right.  I have it.”

“What do you mean, you have it?  Where is it?” he demanded.

“Shhh.   Don’t worry, it’s in my pocket.”

“And why’s that?” he said, his attitude rising to the surface.

She heard the door being unlocked.  “Please,” she whispered, touching his face, “I’ll explain later.”

The door opened to reveal a teenage boy.  “Hey, bratlet,” she said to her thirteen-year-old brother, Robbie, hugging him.

“No kissin’,” he said.

“Don’t worry!” she answered, stepping in.

“Oh my God,” he said when he saw John peer his head around from the side of the doorframe.  “Ma!” he yelled.  Then he whispered, “You’re gonna get it for not warnin’ her,” poking Lee in the arm.

“About what?” John asked.  “The British are coming!”

Robbie stuck his head out the door to see if there were any of the ‘others.’

“’s only me,” John said, giving Robbie a backhand to the gut, intended to give him a little warning to watch his step.

Lee’s mother, Annie, short for Antoinette, came around from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.  The minute they saw each other they hugged and screamed and kissed.  “You’re early, I didn’t expect you for at least another hour.  I know how long it takes to get out of the airport!”

“Well, we got some very special treatment…”

At that moment Robbie stepped aside to reveal John, and not having looked beyond her son in that small foyer, Annie gasped and froze.  “Oh my…”

“Hello, Mrs. Mauro.  It’s wonderful to see you again,” John said, extending his hand, then bending down to kiss her cheek.  She was much shorter than Lee, who took after her father’s side of the family, all quite tall.  But she definitely took after mother in looks, and John thought, if she looks like this at forty, well, all right!

She took his hand, and kissed his cheek in return.  “Well, John, it’s certainly a pleasure to see you too.  I wish I’d known, so…”

“So what, Ma?” Lee asked.  “So you could slaughter another cow, make another vat of sauce, redecorate?  We smelled everything from out in the hallway.  I’m sure there’s more than enough for this skinny man.  It’s not even Thanksgiving yet!  And the house couldn’t be any cleaner.”

“Not so skinny, these days,” John complained about himself.

“One week of eating here, and you’ll have to be rolled out,” Lee complained.  “Give me your coat, John.”

“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” Annie said, noting all the bags, then eyeing her daughter suspiciously.  Lee knew just where her mother’s mind was racing. 

“Come in, John, please,” she said, taking his arm, ushering him into the living room and over to the sofa.  "Can I make you a drink?”

“What have you got?” he asked.

“Scotch, Rye and some red wine, I think.”

“Scotch is fine, with some Coke if you have it.  Ta.”

“Scotch with Coke?  Are you sure?” she asked, looking at him as if he had three heads.  “And ‘ta’?  Doesn’t that mean goodbye?”

“It can.  But in this case, it just means thanks.  Liverpool slang.”  He took his pack of ciggies from his jacket pocket.  “Do you mind if I smoke, Mrs. Mauro?”

“Mind?   I need one myself.  And please call me Annie,” she answered, grabbing her pack of Pall Malls from the dining table, which was just off the living room.  She struck away at her book of matches, not able to get a light.  Nerves.  John was up in a flash with his lighter, and she inhaled deeply.

“Thank you.”

“Just say ‘ta’,” he said, looking adorable.

“Ta,” she laughed, and stepped into the kitchenette to make his drink.

“Don’t you ask me if I want one?” Lee baited her mother.

“Since when do you drink?”

“I’m kidding, Ma!  I’ll have a Coke, and I’ll get it myself.”  John had a very amused look on his face as he watched the mother-daughter interplay. 

Robbie sat down next to John, eyeing him suspiciously.  John gave him a very intimidating look in return, already wanting to hang him on a hook.

“Where’s Daddy?” Lee asked.

“He left work a little early and was going to stop off for a haircut on his way home, since he didn’t have to pick you up.”

Go Read Part Two!

Lena King a New York State Supreme Court Clerk, and she loves her job.  In a prior incarnation she worked as a secretary and married quite young (twenty) to a Beatle person (twenty-one), a match made in Beatle heaven, or so she thought.  Would you believe his birthday was July 7th?  Typically, he had is mid-life crisis at thirty.  He got his new trollop and she got their beautiful daughter, who ironically, is now twenty years old.  She knows almost as much about the Fabs as her mother does, whether she likes it or not.  (She does.)  "How did they get outside the train mommy?" she giggled at four.  She's been spoon fed the stuff ever since.

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