The weeks were passing with frightening speed, Deirdre thought as she wrung out the mop and attacked the kitchen floor at the sandwich shop.  She had to come to a decision soon, it was barely a month before the baby would be due and she still hadn’t figured out what she was going to do, keep the baby or give it up for adoption.  She’d come to fully believe the Graves’ astounding offer over the past weeks, they’d been pestering her nearly the entire time.  Well, not ‘pestering’ so much as ‘nudging’, she reflected.  Ritchie usually took her over for dinner twice a week, and while he never seemed to say very much, she always got an earful from Elsie once the meal was over.  It wasn’t as if she was being mean or anything, Deirdre thought, but more as if Ritchie’s mum was steering her towards what she felt was right.  But was it right for her, Deirdre?  And Elsie was knitting baby clothes by the score, too!

She stopped and rubbed her back, this was getting more and more difficult.  What was it going to be like over the next several weeks?  She already felt enormous, she didn’t think she could possibly get much bigger, and she felt incredibly awkward.  Not only that, but she was worried about the actual birth process, the thought of being alone during that was absolutely frightening.  Well, she wouldn’t be totally alone, the midwife would be there, after all.

Sighing, she started scrubbing again before her boss berated her for idleness.  She grimaced as the baby gave her a kick, even as she marveled at the feeling.  He (or she!) was being extremely active this entire week.  It felt so strange.

Finishing with the floor, she attacked the grill, it was the most hated thing she had to clean, and she thought she should probably get it out of the way first.  But she detested it so much that she always left it for last, perhaps wishing forlornly that it would disappear whilst she was cleaning the floor and the prep area, but it hadn’t happened yet.  She daydreamed as she scrubbed, trying to imagine her life after the new year.  What would it be like if she gave the baby up for adoption?  What would it be like if she kept the baby?  She had no idea, either way, and the uncertainty was agonizing.

Once everything was finished, she was so tired that she could barely pull on her sweater.  She shivered, thinking that she really needed a coat, and she thought longingly of all the clothes she’d left behind when her parents had kicked her out.  She’d only taken one suitcase, and it had contained mostly spring and summer items.  Had her parents thrown everything away, or given it all to charity?  Perhaps she could pick up some things at a thrift store, she’d already let all her skirts out to the full extent of their seams, and if she got any bigger, things would be desperate.  Oh, she felt so ugly and swollen!

A tap at the window roused her from her exhaustion, oh, it was George!  She hadn’t seen him for several weeks!  What a nice surprise!  She walked out the door with a smile.

“Hullo, George, how are you?”

“Fine, Dee, Jesus, yer huge!  Look at ya, gurl, ya could almost pass fer a barge on th’ Mersey, love!  Didn’t know ya could get that big!”

She swallowed the tears with difficulty, but when he continued in that vein as they walked to the bus stop, she finally hit him on the arm and shocked him into silence.

“You’re being very unkind, George, the last thing I want to hear is how awful I look, I have eyes, I can see what I look like.  If you’re trying to make me cry, you’re doing a very good job of it, but if you’re stupid enough to think it’s funny, then I’d rather walk home than ride the bus with you,” she said sharply.

He had the grace to look abashed, and then he didn’t say anything for several minutes as they waited at the bus stop.  He finally mumbled an apology.

“Sorry, Deedee, love, I didn’t mean ya look awful, ya look kinda cute.  I mean, ya barely even look preggers from th’ back, it’s just all up front on ya.  I was jus’ surprised how it happened so quick, like.”

She laughed shortly, still out of temper with him.  “It feels as if I’ve been like this forever,” she admitted, rubbing her back.  “I just hope there’s a seat available on the bus, I’m so tired, I’d really enjoy sitting down for a change.”  

They stood quietly together until the bus arrived, and Deirdre was amused that George was so solicitous of her, helping her up the steps, and then bullying a man into giving her a seat.  He stood in the aisle at her side during the ride, and they didn’t really have a chance to talk much, but once they reached her stop, she was feeling on better terms with him for his consideration.  She stretched a can of soup by thinning it with extra water, and pulled out a packet of crackers, sharing her meager dinner with him.  He’d been by often enough to know she didn’t have much more, and didn’t make the mistake of rummaging in her kitchen to see what else she had to eat.  He’d done that once and she’d nearly blistered him with an acid tongue, she remembered with amusement, but it had taught him a lesson.

Sipping tea after dinner, they sat and talked, she catching up on neighbourhood news, he asking if she knew what she was going to do yet.  She shook her head, still undecided.

“Well, can’t ya always give th’ baby up fer adoption later?  I mean, if things aren’t working out?”

She laughed.  “Well, I suppose so, I don’t really know.  It’s all so frightening, Georgie.  I just don’t know if I’d make a good mother or not.”

“Oh, yeah, right!  You’d make a great mum, Deedee!  Don’t ya remember how ya always used ta babysit th’ Wilson twins, an’ you were always dressing yer dollies up an’ taking ‘em with ya everywhere!”

“Oh, yes, I remember that, and I remember a certain someone who was always trying to undress my dollies and how that certain someone always hid them from me and made me cry!”  She laughed when he blushed.  “What I want to know is this: were you the one who cut my favourite dollie’s hair off that once?  She had such lovely blonde hair, and someone took a pair of scissors to her and she looked like a boy afterwards!”

“Wasn’t me, musta been me brother or something,” George replied, all innocence, and she looked at him suspiciously.  He didn’t blush, so she thought he was telling the truth, and she put her tea cup on the tray and stood to take it back into the kitchen.

“Ow!” she exclaimed as the baby kicked her, hard.

“What’s th’ matter, you ok?”

“Yes, here, put your hand here.”  She took his hand and placed it on her belly, holding it trapped and pressing it firmly against her abdomen when he tried to pull it away in embarrassment.  “Shhh, wait a minute, just hold still.  There, did you feel that?  And there, too.”  She thought the look on his face was one of startled wonder as he nodded, wide-eyed, ceasing his attempts to escape from her grip.

The buzzer rang and she let him go and walked over to answer it.

“What d’ya want?”

“Dee?  It’s Ringo.  I brought some dinner over, can I come up?”

“Oh, Ritchie, how wonderful, you’re so sweet, I’ll buzz you in!”

It appeared that the thin soup had merely been an appetizer, and she hoped he’d brought enough food for three!  Or rather, nearly four!

***

Ringo knocked on the door and it was immediately opened, she must have been waiting at the door for him.  He stepped into her flat with a smile, then paused as he saw George sitting on the couch, watched with a sinking heart as the younger lad bounded to his feet and came to greet him.

“’ey, Ringo, ‘ow are ya?  Ready fer Saturday?  I guess it’s gonna be pretty big, innit?  Whatcha got in th’ bags?  ‘ere, lemme help!”

He took one of the bags and carried it into the kitchen and began rummaging through the contents as he continued speaking.

“Mmmm, egg rolls, I love ‘em!  So when d’ya go on, after Gerry an’ th’ Pacemakers, or between us an’ th’ Remo Four?”

“What are you talking about?” Deirdre asked, pulling out some plates from the cupboard. 

“Errr, George’s band an’ my band are playin’ a gig on Saturday over in New Brighton, th’ promoter’s callin’ it Operation Big Beat, ‘e’s got four bands playin’ fer th’ night in th’ Tower Ballroom,” Ringo replied.

“Yeah,” George chimed in, mumbling around a bite of egg roll, “an’ we’re gonna ‘ave ta play thur, then skip over ta Village Hall in Knotty Ash, an’ then run back ta play th’ finale at th’ Big Beat.  Ya gonna come an’ see us, Deedee gurl?”

Deedee girl?  Oh, wasn’t that just so cute, Ringo thought in disgust, they had little pet names for each other.  He thought he’d be ill, and he took the plate Deirdre dished for him with ill grace as she laughed.

“What, me come to see a bunch of fellows cavorting on stage, playing loud music and smoking and drinking?  I’m sure I’d look very much at home there, you must be joking!  Maybe another time, though, after the baby’s born.  Ow!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, Ringo, c’me ‘ere, man, ya gotta feel this, it’s really weird!” George enthused, wiping his greasy fingers on his jeans and grabbing Ringo by the arm, pulling him towards Dee and placing his hand on Dee’s swollen abdomen.

This was really embarrassing, Ringo thought he could feel a blush creeping up his face, but then he felt the baby move and he forgot about his discomfort.  Oh, wow!  Oh, that had to feel so strange for the bird, to feel that on the inside?  Oh, weird was right!  He saw she was smiling, but her gaze was focused to his right, and he looked to see that George was beaming at her as well.  It was just disgusting how they were mooning over each other.

Ringo pulled his hand away, tried to mumble something polite, then walked over and sat on the floor beside the couch.  He ate quickly and barely listened to their chatter, made his excuses, accepted their enthusiastic thanks, and left.  Why had he bothered coming over?  Again.  He just couldn’t seem to stay away, he realized with a sigh of exasperation.  Sister, sister, sister, that’s why he’d gone over, because she was like a little sister and he wanted to make sure she was eating right.  He smacked himself in the head, he was such an idiot!

***

Deirdre’s first thought upon seeing him on the following Sunday afternoon was that Ritchie didn’t appear to be feeling well.

“You look awful,” she commented as he held the car door for her.

“Can ya please not talk quite so loud?  I got a ‘eadache,” he whispered, wincing as he closed her door once she was settled.

She watched him walk gingerly around the vehicle and then climb into the driver’s side.  Oh, he’d been playing that big event last night, she remembered, he’d probably been out very late as well.  She decided to feel a little sympathy for him and kept quiet on the trip to his home. 

Her home, if all worked out well. 

She’d finally come to a decision, she had to try to keep her baby.  Feeling it growing inside her, especially these last several weeks, it was impossible to remain unmoved by it.  She’d tried hard, and for the longest time, to pretend the baby was simply an ‘it’, but now she found herself wondering about its sex, and what it would look like, and if it would take after her . . . or Tony.  She might despise the father of her child now because of his treatment of her, but she’d loved him when the baby had been conceived, and the child was mostly hers, anyway.  Tony might have supplied one thing, but she’d supplied the rest, and she couldn’t simply give the baby away.  It would be difficult, but she had to try, and maybe with the help of such good people, it might be possible.  Tonight she was going to accept Elsie and Harry’s offer.

None too soon, she thought with a grimace as the baby struggled for room and pressed on something or other that caused her some pain.  She shifted in her seat in discomfort.  He or she was going to want out soon, and she hoped Elsie would be there with her.  The older woman had become very dear to her over the past few months, a good hearted soul with never a cross word to say about anyone.

“Ya all right?” Ritchie asked quietly.

“Oh, yes, the baby’s just really active all the time now, and I’m becoming less and less comfortable.  What about you, though?  Did you . . . play well last night?”  She wasn’t quite sure what to ask, she’d only ever seen the bands at school dances, but he seemed to brighten at her question.

He nodded.  “Yeah, ta.  It was a good night, there were about three thousand people there.”

“Really?  That’s incredible!”

“Yeah, it was a lot o’ good exposure.”

“How did George’s band do?”

There was a pause, and Ritchie looked as though his headache was worse.  He probably needed something for the pain, she decided.

“Yeah, th’ Beatles played really good, th’ crowd went mad fer ‘em.”  He seemed to force a chuckle.  “They almost got us in an accident last night after our last set, Rory thought ‘e’d race ‘em, so we were speedin’ along an’ we nearly hit a tree when th’ car skidded ‘round a corner!”

“Ritchie, you’ve got to be more careful!  You could have been killed!”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, Dee.  We’d just gone over ta watch ‘em in Knotty Ash, an’ we were on th’ way back t’ th’ Ballroom fer th’ Beatles’ last set, an’ John an’ Rory decided ta see who could get there first.”

He seemed in a somewhat better mood during the remaining drive, and they were shortly ensconced at the dinner table, enjoying Elsie’s tasty roast chicken, a Sunday staple.  Once Deirdre and Ritchie finished the dinner dishes, she made tea and Ritchie carried the tray into the living room to join Elsie and Harry.  Deirdre wondered at how comfortable she was in this little home already, and she thought again about how much her life had changed over the past nearly four months.  And it was all because of Ritchie!  She thought that she could nearly fall in love with him, simply because of all he’d done for her.  He was such a wonderful man!

***

Ringo sat on the floor and thanked the girl for the cup of tea she passed him.  Mmmm, just right, a bit of sugar and a splash of milk, perfect after dinner fare.  He sighed in near contentment.  His headache was finally gone and he was feeling much better.  He mused that the girl had been right, he’d have to be a little more careful in the future, it could have been bad the previous night, if they’d crashed Rory’s car, all of them could have been hurt pretty badly. 

It had been a fun night, though, and he’d really had to work hard to keep a distance from the lads in the other band.  They were all a lot of fun, except for maybe that Pete Best, he pretty much kept to himself, and Ringo wondered how they all got along, they were so wild and he was so staid.  He sighed, it was hard being aloof from the lads, his very nature made him want to join in with their laughter and fun.  But he couldn’t forget that George was seeing Deirdre, and he had to keep himself reserved around the lad.

“Well, Deirdre, I’m beginning to suspect you won’t come to a decision until you’re in labour, dear, it’s not really good to procrastinate about this for much longer, you know.  I don’t mean to push you, but Ritchie mentioned that the baby’s been very active of late, and you know a first child could come soon or late, it’s all in God’s hands.  We hope that you’ll be moving in with us very shortly, for your own safety and that of the child.”

Ringo hid a grin, his mother wasn’t one to beat around the bush, not at all!

“Elsie, I don’t know how to thank you and Harry, you’ve been so wonderful, I never expected to meet anyone like you.  I seriously think the luckiest day of my life was the day Ritchie came into the sandwich shop and asked me for a date.”

Oh, hell, the damned cat was out of the bag now, and Ringo ducked away from the withering glare his mother leveled at him.  He was sure he’d hear about this later, he’d kind of forgotten to mention that he’d originally asked the bird out and that was how they’d met.

“That sounds to me as if you’ve come to a decision, dear,” Elsie replied, turning her gaze back to the girl, and Ringo could see how fond she was of the bird.  “So . . . tell us what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” the girl said again, “and . . . I’d like to accept your very kind offer . . . but . . . .”

Ringo sat up straight.  But?  But what?

“The only way I can do this is if you’ll let me pay rent.  I’ve saved up enough to last through the baby’s birth, and I should be able to work several more weeks before then, I think.  And hopefully, I’ll be able to find a job quickly after the baby’s born, so I’ll be able to pay you for caring for the baby whilst I’m at work.”

Uh oh, this was bad, Ringo thought, watching Elsie bristle at the mere thought of payment for something she wanted to do.  It was negotiation time for them, and perhaps a ciggie would be a good thing right now.

“’ey, Harry, wanna smoke?”

Harry nodded gratefully, and Ringo and his stepfather shrugged into their jackets and escaped to the porch.

***

“There, it’s all settled, then!  I’m so happy you’re moving in, Deirdre!”

“I can’t thank you enough, Elsie, but I think we’d better call the men in from the porch, they’ve probably frozen to death by now.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but it’s good for them.  They’ll be much more appreciative of the warmth now,” Elsie smiled.

What wonderful people, she still couldn’t get over her good fortune, Deirdre thought as the older woman went to the door to ask the men inside.  Oh, yes, she thought with a grin, Ritchie definitely looked cold, and she poured another cuppa for both men.

“Mmmmm, ta.”

“Ritchie, do you have time tomorrow to help Deirdre move?”

She thought he’d nearly spit his tea out upon hearing Elsie’s question.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, she needs to be moved in immediately, the baby’s going to be coming shortly, and we don’t want her working such long, hard hours any more.  It’s not good for her, or the baby.  She’s going to quit at the sandwich shop tomorrow, and she’ll have to tell the café owner that she’s leaving as well.  But we need to have her moved in immediately, and since the rent is due tomorrow, it’s as good a time as any.”

“How th’ bloody ‘ell did ya get ‘er to agree ta that, Elsie?” Ritchie mumbled, and Elsie gave him a rap on the head with her knuckles.

“Don’t be swearing in this house, my boy!”

“Right, right, sorry,” he muttered.

Deirdre nearly laughed at how humble he sounded.  Elsie obviously ruled the roost, but she ruled it with an iron hand and a gentle heart.  She watched Ritchie shake his head in bemusement.

“Right then, let’s get it done an’ move ‘er in tonight.  There’s not a lot ta pack, an’ th’ sooner she’s outta there, th’ better.  Ready, Dee?  Harry, wanna come along an’ give us a ‘and?  Guess I’ll be sleepin’ on th’ couch fer th’ next few weeks, at least ‘til I leave fer Hamburg.”

She found herself back in Ritchie’s car, squeezed between the two men, and squeezed equally on the return trip.  They hadn’t let her move a thing, so she’d gone across the street and talked with Frank, who’d been happy for her change in circumstances, but said he was sorry to see her go.  Perhaps she could return to work with him once the baby was born, she thought as she watched the men carrying her pitifully small amount of goods into the house.  Home, she thought with a smile and a few tears.  Home.

***

Ringo settled down with a magazine after supper.  He thought the bird had settled in pretty easily during the past three weeks; she was quiet and unobtrusive, and she helped out around the house with as much cooking and cleaning as his mother would allow.  That had apparently been the result of the negotiations, and he knew Elsie had probably prevailed and Deirdre’s savings was staying safe in the bank.

He reflected that the couch wasn’t the most comfortable to sleep on, but it wasn’t for much longer right now.  And he’d been right about Elsie’s glare that night; she’d read him the riot act about the girl, but he’d assured her he had no evil designs on Dee.  And he didn’t, really; she was off limits to him, what with her living here and so preggers and George’s girlfriend.  He might have been able to justify something if only one of those conditions had been existing, but three was just too many, and he’d assured Elsie that the girl’s virtue was safe from him.  

Regardless, once Elsie’d been convinced of his lack of interest (well, he’d had to bend the truth a little), he’d had to sit through her lecture about preventing unwanted pregnancy, and he’d been highly amused by the whole thing.  Elsie must still think he was still a bloody teenager, but he was nearly twenty-two years old . . . well, twenty-one and a half, anyway!  He’d known all about that sort of thing since long before he’d turned sixteen.  He hoped his mother would have a talk with the girl about it, though, either she’d not known about it, or she’d trusted that rat bastard boyfriend of hers and he hadn’t taken care of matters.  It was something she’d have to think about, especially if she was still seeing George after the baby was born.

George!  Ringo grimaced.  It was impossible to avoid the lad; if they weren’t meeting up at gigs around town, it seemed as if the boy was always visiting Dee.  He seemed to have a fascination with her expanding pregnancy or something, but Ringo had to admit that he did, too, a little bit.  Ringo thought that he’d never been this close to a pregnant bird before, he’d been amazed at the changes a human body could go through, and when he’d felt the baby move that evening at her flat, well, that had been incredible. 

Ringo sighed, remembering that he’d been the one to let slip that Dee was living with his parents, one evening after a gig whilst downing a pint with lads from several bands.  What a mistake that had been.  He’d had to endure some sly looks and jokes, but George had stood up for him, telling the others to sod off.  Of course, that had only made matters worse for Ringo, he’d been prepared to ignore the teasing and it would have ended there.  And of course, once George had known where his “Deedee” was staying, he’d been by far too frequently.

Ringo flipped pages in the magazine but he wasn’t really paying any attention to it, perhaps it was a good thing he was leaving for Hamburg the following week.  But he was going to miss the baby’s birth.  Well, perhaps that was good, too; he’d heard all sorts of horror stories about that type of thing, how did birds go through it to begin with?  Sounded awful!

“Ritchie?  Could you come here please?”

He put his magazine aside and walked down the hallway; his mother was standing at his bedroom door.  Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen much of the bird today, he hoped she was feeling well.

“What’s goin’ on, Elsie?”  He looked blankly at the slip of paper she handed to him.

“Here’s the address, Ritchie, we need you to bring the midwife as soon as you can.”

“What?  Th’ midwife?” he repeated stupidly.  “Is somethin’ wrong?  Is Dee ok?  What’s goin’ on?”  His heart was pounding in sudden fear, had something happened to the girl?

“Oh, nothing’s wrong, the baby just decided it wants out of its prison a little early,” his mother said happily.  “We’re going to have a baby, Ritchie, and probably tonight!  But you must hurry, dear, quickly now!”

He was out the door before she’d even finished speaking.  It took him a while to track the midwife down, and it was late in the evening before they finally arrived back at the house.  Ringo was frantic.

***

“Now don’t push yet, Deirdre, you’re not quite ready for that, but everything’s going just fine, dear, it’ll be another few hours before we begin the hard part,” the midwife said soothingly, checking her and then sitting back to chat with Elsie about another birth she’d just attended.

Dee was dripping sweat with the effort to follow directions.  She thought she needed to bear down so badly that she’d die if she couldn’t do it.  This was horrible, this was worse than anything she’d ever felt in her life!  And the “hard part” was yet to come?!?  The only thing that kept her from screaming was that she knew Ritchie and Harry were in the house.  Elsie had tried to shoo them away, but they’d stubbornly remained in case anything should be needed of them.

The early hours of the morning had arrived before the midwife finally announced that it was time and that she should push with the next contraction.  Deirdre sucked air in through clenched teeth whilst mentally cursing Tony and every other male person in the world, her father and Harry and Ritchie included.  How could any woman possibly do this more than once, she wondered as she struggled to breathe?  She’d be happily celibate for the rest of her life to prevent having to go through this again!  She shut her eyes and tried to think of pleasant things.  Like what, she wondered foggily?  Christmas, springtime, chocolate cake.  Oh, it was starting again, and this felt even worse than the last one.  Her contractions were so close together by now that she barely had any breathing room between them.

All she had to do was push, Deirdre reminded herself as she held Elsie’s hand, rousing a little from her exhaustion.  Push and it would be over all the sooner, let’s get the job done, do it now, push now, push now!  With each ‘now’ that she thought, she pushed as hard as she could, ignoring the pain as best she could, intent only on that one thing.  It became a song in her brain, and she repeated it over and over and over as she worked with the midwife to deliver her first, and God willing, only child.

“Right, dear, that’s good, here we are, just another little bit, ohh, here’s the head, right, just a bit more, there, that’s good.  Relax for just a moment, I need to clean the baby’s nose and mouth, try not to push for a moment, love.”

Oh, wonderful, she’d just got a steady rhythm of pushing, and now she was supposed to stop?  Deirdre gulped air into her lungs, barely feeling the cool cloth that Elsie applied to her sweaty brow.  She wanted to get it over with, please, please, couldn’t she push, she wondered frantically?  Oh, please.  She pushed as hard as she could as soon as the midwife gave her the ok, and she thought she was going to split in two.

“There, that’s done it, love, oh, what a bonny little girl, relax, dear, you’ve done well, just relax for a moment, I need to take care of her for a moment, then we’ll finish with you.”

Deirdre lay back on the bed, absolutely spent, exhausted, sweating and shaking from the ordeal.  Thank God it was finally over. Thank God.  She lay quietly, eyes shut, simply breathing and trying not to twitch from leftover phantom pains, still feeling somehow otherworldly.  The sullen gray dawn of another day was barely peeking out as the midwife slapped the baby and Deirdre heard her infant daughter cry for the first time.  Oh.  Oh!  She stopped cursing men in general and held out her arms for the baby.  The midwife muttered some nonsense about having never seen such an easy birth (easy?!?), whilst she took care of the remaining chores and did some stitching that didn’t even bother Deirdre, so involved was she in looking over this tiny miracle of life.

“Oh, Elsie . . . .”

“I know, dear, I know.  She looks so much like you, she’s so beautiful.  What are you going to name her?”

Deirdre thought that the older woman was nearly in tears, and she understood the feeling.  Oh, the baby was just incredible, wasn’t she?

“I think I’ll call her Rose.  She had a bit of a thorny beginning, didn’t she?”

They laughed and cried together, checking out fingers and toes and marveling over every little thing.

Once the midwife was finished and the room was cleaned up from the mess, Deirdre asked Elsie if she thought Ritchie and Harry might want to see the baby.  As Elsie walked the midwife out, the men tiptoed in at the call, looking very sleep deprived and nearly as exhausted as Deirdre felt.  She pulled aside the blanket that covered the baby, so that they could see her.

“Rose, this is your grandpa Harry, and your uncle Ritchie,” she whispered to the sleeping infant, and then looked up to see their reaction.  She had to laugh through her own tears, both men had suspiciously bright eyes, and they were grinning like fools.

“She’s pretty bald, not sure I like that look on a bird . . . .”

“Ritchie!”

“Jus’ teasin’, love, don’ be sour, she’s beautiful.  ’ey, Rosie, ‘ullo, little gurl, welcome to th’ world, darlin’,” he whispered, reaching to touch her face with a gentle finger, hesitating as if he wasn’t sure it was allowed.

“Would you like to hold her?”

“Yeah, can I?”

“Here, careful, now, be sure and support her head, yes, like that.”

“Look at ‘er, Harry, look at ‘ow little she is!”

“Aye, she’s so tiny, but she’s a beauty, son.  Right, then, I’m off ta bed, lass, congratulations, she’s a bonny little gurl.  Ya feelin’ all right?”

“Yes, I feel wonderful.  Thank you so much, Harry,” she replied, reaching for the older man’s hand and squeezing it, then watching as he left the room.  Deirdre turned back to Ritchie, smiling at the sight of him holding her baby so stiffly, almost as if he was afraid she’d break.

“I kinda like th’ sound of ‘Uncle Ritchie’,” he said with a smile, still looking down at the sleeping infant in his arms.

Deirdre had to swallow and blink rapidly.  “I like it, too,” she whispered.  “Thank you so much, Ritchie, just . . . thank you.  For everything.”

He smiled and put the baby back in her arms, then dropped a kiss on her forehead.

“Get some sleep, love.  Congratulations, Dee.”

She watched as he left the room, then turned her gaze back to the sleeping baby in her arms.  She was exhausted, yet absolutely exhilarated as well.  She was so lucky, and it was all because of Ritchie.  He was sure to be little Rose’s favourite uncle; he was already Deirdre’s favourite person in the whole world!  Brother or friend, he was wonderful, and she owed him . . . everything.

***

Ringo slit the envelope open and pulled the letter from its interior.  “Dear Ritchie,” he read as he leaned back on the pillows of the bed in his tiny flat.  “I’m so sorry you missed Christmas, Rose’s first, although she certainly didn’t notice it very much.  All she wants to do is sleep and eat, but at least she’s sleeping a bit more than before you left for Hamburg!  I’m still sorry that you had such a hard time sleeping that week after she was born, but I had to laugh at your tired face when you weren’t looking, because it was equally hard for me.  But I admit I at least only had to care for her, I didn’t have to go out and play the drums all evening.  But you’d be amazed at the changes in only four short weeks!  She even turns to follow my voice now, and she’s so strong, she can hold her head up a little bit already.”

Ringo reached to turn on the light beside the bed, it was getting dark and it was hard to read.  He found his place and began again.

“We had a quiet New Year’s celebration, can you believe it’s already 1962?  Your uncle and aunt came by and we played some records and sang old songs, it was lovely.  Your parents have been incredible, I hope you know how great they are.  And I hope you know how much I appreciate them.  Harry found me a job at the corner market, and I’m going to be starting there next week.  Your mother!  I swear, she’s a true mother hen, she’ll only let me work half days ‘until you have your strength back’, she says!  But I feel wonderful, Ritchie!  I can’t believe I ever thought of giving Rose up, but you know that’s what I’d have needed to do if it hadn’t been for you.  I can’t thank you enough for your friendship.  I think you’re quite wonderful, you know!”

He smiled, but then realized that the next paragraph was something about George, and the smile quickly turned to a frown as he continued reading, disgruntled.

“George was really disappointed that he didn’t get to see Rose when she was born, but he’s been by several times during the past month, and he even stopped by on Christmas day with a toy for the baby!  Not that she’ll be able to play with it for a while, but wasn’t that sweet?  And he and his band have hired a manager, a Brian something-or-other, I can’t remember.  On top of that, The Beatles had an audition on New Year’s day, in London, for a company called Decca Records.  He seems quite excited about it all, and he’s convinced they’re ‘on their way to the top’.  I do hope he makes it, it seems very important to him.”

Ringo grimaced.  He didn’t like hearing about ‘wonderful George’.  He sighed, trying to get over his mood; it was great to hear from Dee, and she sounded so happy.  He was homesick for his family, and he had to count her as part of the family by now.  The letter continued, so he turned the page over and read the final bit.

“Do you know when you’ll be coming home yet?  It’s a typical dreary winter in England, but I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.  The only thing that would make it better would be if my parents could meet their grandchild.  But maybe it will happen some day.  Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, George . . . .”

Ringo nearly threw the letter down, George again!  Damn!  He rubbed his eyes and disgustedly started to read again, surprised when a smile crept out on his face as he got further into the paragraph.

“. . . caught up with Tony (the baby’s father, I guess you might as well know) and knocked him a good one!  I was so surprised!  Poor George was sporting a black eye from the encounter, but I’d like to think that Tony had one as well!  George was quite chuffed with himself, you would have laughed, he was strutting like a peacock, I had a hard time not laughing aloud at him myself!”

Hmmmm, that was interesting, the tone of her writing was affectionately teasing, but not really loving.  He wondered what that meant?  The letter was forgotten when there was a knock at the door.  He’d have to reply later, he thought as he got up from the bed and crossed the room.

“Guten abend, Ringo,” the girl giggled, and he drew her into the room with a smile.  Inge was a lovely Teutonic blonde, she’d caught his eye last week during a late night set at the Top Ten Club and they’d been nearly inseparable since.  She was a little bigger than he normally liked his birds, but she was a delight.  And he knew just enough German to accept the offer she whispered to him.

“Ja, bitte, Inge.”

The language barrier hadn’t been much of one, he thought as he abandoned himself to a pleasant evening with the girl.

***

Deirdre read the postcard twice over with a smile.  Ritchie didn’t write very often, and he called even less, so any instance of a letter or a call was an occasion to smile!  He didn’t seem very happy, though, things weren’t working out very well with that Tony Sheridan, he’d said.  What was it about fellows named Tony?  They must all be bastards, she thought, then smiled at the silly idea.

“Look, Rose, Uncle Ritchie is coming home in a few weeks, won’t that be grand?” 

She read the card to little Rose and held a picture of Ritchie for the baby to gurgle at.  It wasn’t as if Rose knew what she was saying, but she hoped that by showing her Ritchie’s picture every day, she wouldn’t throw a screaming fit the first time she saw him.  At three months old, she was still little enough that she mostly slept and ate, but a growing awareness of her surroundings was dawning.  Deirdre smiled when Rose reached for the picture of Ritchie, she had such a sweet little smile on her face.  Maybe she’d recognize Ritchie when he came home.  She hoped so.  Rose already doted on her ‘Uncle George’ and of course Grandma Elsie and Grandpa Harry were her favourite people in her little world besides Mummy, Deirdre thought happily.

When Ritchie arrived home two weeks later, Deirdre greeted him with a hug and a smile, blushed at his nice comment on her much altered appearance, and then took him by the hand to come see his ‘niece’.  Even if he wasn’t a blood relative, he was the closest thing to it that she had, and she wanted him to be a part of her baby’s life.

“Look at ‘er, ‘ow’d she get so big?  She’s a giant, she’s gonna be bigger than me any day now!”

Ritchie picked the baby up, and Deirdre held her breath, hoping against hope that her ‘lessons’ had worked.  Oh, hurrah, she thought in relief when Rose smiled and babbled some nonsense syllables to her wonderful friend.  Thank God the baby hadn’t pitched a fit! 

“D’ya think she’s ever gonna grow any hair?”

“Ritchie!”

“Okay, okay, just teasin’, don’t get sour!  Is she sleepin’ yet?” Ritchie asked as he swung her in the air alarmingly high and Deirdre had to press her hands together to keep from grabbing the little girl away from him.

“Errr, yes, nearly six hours a night now, and she can roll over, too!  Errr, could you please not do that, she’s so little!”

Rose squealed in delight as Ritchie swung her in the air again.  “What, this?  She loves it, look at ‘er!  Okay, okay, I’ll be good, Dee.  It’s great ta be ‘ome.  I’ve already talked ta Rory, I’m back in with th’ band, an’ we’ve got some gigs lined up this weekend already.  We’re gonna be goin’ over ta France in a couple o’ weeks, doin’ some mess dances fer the American blokes stationed there.  An’ Rory’s got a gig set up fer Marabella, over in Spain next month, I’m turnin’ into a bloody world traveler, I am!”

“Don’t you dare swear around Rose!” Deirdre exclaimed, and she burst out laughing at Ritchie’s nonplussed expression, then hugged him tight, it was so good to have him home, but it didn’t look as though he’d be around very much!  What a shame!

***

Well, it was back to the regular grind, Ringo decided late the following month, but it was a relief to be back with his mates.  They’d been playing all over town again, back at the Jive Hive, at the Cavern, the Iron Door, the White Star Pub over on Mathew Street, the Cabin, the Blue Angel, you name it, they played it!  The trip to France had been enjoyable, and he’d been able to see a few sights whilst there.  But Spain had been fantastic, the food and the wine and the beautiful dark eyed senoritas, mmmmmm!  Fantastic!

Back home for a month before heading off to another summer at Butlins, Ringo was enjoying his break.  They still had gigs most every night, but they were all fairly close to home, and he was able to spend some time with his family.  George was by fairly often, but Ringo tried to tell himself that he felt a bit better about the situation now, maybe he’d grown up a bit whilst traveling about.  If the girl was happy, he’d be happy for her, he decided.  Still, with George and the Beatles headed for Hamburg in just a little while, he looked forward with relief to a no-George month at home.  They’d be leaving shortly after the upcoming gig at the Tower Ballroom in Wallasey, the Hurricanes were sharing the bill with them for the ‘Beatles Farewell Ball’. 

Ringo sighed as he thought about his competition . . . the band and the lad.  The Beatles were getting more attention than the Hurricanes lately, and he had to admit they were really good; their new manager had spiffed them up really well, they were a regular professional outfit now.  And then there was George.  The boy was so friendly, it was bloody difficult to keep his distance, but he still felt somewhat reserved around him.  He told himself it was because he was just looking out for his ‘little sister’.

He realized he was thinking of Dee more and more as family, and he decided that the beautiful Spanish senoritas, as well as a lovely little French lass, and Inge over in Hamburg, had probably helped matters a little.  He’d noticed this cute little bird in Liverpool, too, Maureen somebody or other, she’d asked for his autograph one day and he’d chatted her up a bit.  So his life was enjoyable, he was happy to be home, and if he spent a lot of time that month with his adoptive niece and sister, then it was just time spent with family.  That’s all, he firmly told himself.

***

“So d’ya want it fast or slow?”

“Well, I don’t know.  Sometimes fast is best, you’re such a tease the way you drag things out!  How about if you go fast, then if it’s not very satisfying, you can give it to me slow?”

“Am not a tease!”

“Are so!  And you’re proving it right now!  So hurry up and tell me the news!  You’ve been home from Hamburg for a week already, so I’m sure you’ve got a lot to talk about.  But here, how’s this?  You tell me the neighbourhood news fast, then you can tell me all about Germany slowly, because I’m sure that’s what you’re most interested to talk about, right?”

“Well, yeah, okay.  I’ll do it fast then.  Here’s th’ best part.  I’m gonna go talk to yer parents next week.”

Deirdre was so shocked she simply stared at George.  He was positively glowing with suppressed excitement.

“What?”

“Yeah!  An’ that’s not all!  Me mum an’ yer mum ‘ad tea last month an’ Mum said she’s looking really sad, I think she’s regretting what ‘appened, Deedee!  So I’m gonna go talk to ‘er an’ we’ll see what ‘appens from there.”

“George, that’s really sweet of you, but . . . .”  Deirdre swallowed.  How could she say this gently?  “But I’m worried about you getting involved in a neighbourhood squabble.  This is really between my parents and myself.  I think perhaps it just needs a little more time.  Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

He folded his arms across his chest, glowering at her.  He was so stubborn, she thought in irritation, glaring back at him.  Elsie chose that moment to ask if they’d like tea, so Deirdre gave Rose to George whilst she made tea for all of them.  When she came back out of the kitchen with the tray, she had to smile at the sight of the two of them playing on the floor of the parlour.  George’s long, thin frame was stretched out on the carpet as he played a game of peek-a-boo with Rose, and the baby was laughing so hard that she’d got the hiccups.  He was a wonderful uncle to her little girl, Deirdre thought fondly, and a wonderful ‘brother’ as well.  She set the tray down and surprised him with a kiss when he got up from the floor.  She had to smile when he playfully scrubbed his hand across his cheek, as if wiping her kiss away.

“What was that fer?”

“Because I love you, you little brat!”

“Am not a brat!”

“Are so!”

“Am not!”

She broke down laughing and poured the tea.  She couldn’t believe how quickly time was passing.  She was sorry George had missed Ritchie; he’d left for Skegness, the Lincolnshire holiday camp, just two weeks ago, and he’d be gone for the entire summer.  She’d have to arrange to visit him if she could, she already missed him so much.  Summer was here and Rose was teething, she thought as she wiped some drool from the baby’s face.  Well, it was all part and parcel of the whole thing, and one had to take the good with the bad!

“So George, tell me about Hamburg?” she asked with a smile.

***

Ringo worked frantically to clean the little caravan, his ‘home away from home’ during the entire three months at Butlins.  Deirdre was coming to visit, her bus should arrive here by late afternoon and he didn’t want her to see the kind of mess he usually lived in whilst away from home.  He’d kept putting off the cleaning, and then he’d overslept.  Perfect, just perfect.  He stuffed some dirty clothes in the oven to get them out of the way, and crammed some newspapers under the sink.  The knock at the door of the little caravan came far too soon for his peace of mind, she was early!  He took a last look around, it wasn’t too bad, perhaps she wouldn’t notice.

He flung the door open with a big smile of welcome, then blinked in surprise.

“John?  Paul?  What are you lads doin’ ‘ere?”

“Can we come in?” John asked with an easy smile.  “We gotta proposition fer ya, Ringo!”

Ringo stepped back to let them in.

The three of them were celebrating with a bottle of wine when another knock sounded at the door.  Ringo rushed to answer it.

“Dee, c’mon in, ‘ow are ya, love?” 

He reached to take her overnight bag from her and then stepped back to let her in.  The little caravan looked much smaller when filled with four bodies, and he turned to set the girl’s bag over by the couch as everyone said their hellos.  He’d been hoping for a hello hug, but maybe not while the lads were here.  Although what they thought of her being here at all, he didn’t know.  Well, he’d worry about that later.

“Dee, I’m a Beatle!  I still gotta let Rory know, but I’m gonna start drummin’ with The Beatles next week.”

“Oh, congratulations, Ritchie!  But what happened to that Pete fellow?”

The question was directed towards the two men sitting at the cramped kitchen table.  They both looked somewhat guilty.  John lifted his glass of wine and twirled it around, taking a sip.  Paul muttered something.

“Sorry?  What was that?”

“Errr, ‘e wasn’t workin’ out very well,” Paul said quietly, glaring at John, probably for not speaking up, Ringo decided.  “We needed a new drummer an’ Ringo’s always done a good job sittin’ in fer us in th’ past, so we thought we’d offer ‘im th’ job.”

“Yeah,” Ringo added.  “Twenty five pounds a week, too.  I’m so tired of doin’ th’ Butlins gigs, Dee, I’m really lookin’ forward to it.”

They talked a little more, and then John and Paul said they had to be leaving for the trip back to the ‘pool.  After seeing them off, Ringo came back into the caravan, brushing the hair out of his eyes, it was a windy night!

“It’s good ta see ya, Dee!  Yer lookin’ great, love.  ‘ow’s me little Rosie doin’?  ‘as she got any hair yet?”

“Ritchie!”

“Easy, love, jus’ teasin’!  So ‘ow’s me li’l darlin’?”

“Oh, she’s wonderful, Ritchie!  She’s so smart, and such a happy baby, you wouldn’t believe it!  And Elsie and Harry just dote on her.  They’re wonderful grandparents, and they’re so good to me, Ritchie.  I’m a little bit nervous, this is my first time away from her, but Elsie said it would be good for me, and she and Harry send their love.  I still can’t believe how much my life has changed.  You know Rose is nearly 9 months old now?  You’ll be amazed how much she’s grown since you left at the beginning of the summer.  You know, George even got my parents to talk with me, and I might be moving back home shortly.  They’ve come ‘round quite a lot, and I think they’ve regretted what happened.  It sounds as if I can take my exams as well, and perhaps do some university work to get some skills!”

“Yeah?  That’s great, Dee, that’s . . . great!” Ringo said when he could get a word in.  He really was pleased for her, but to hear that George was involved . . . well, he had to be pleased that things were going well with her parents, he thought.  The girl was beaming as well as babbling, he’d never seen her looking so happy.  Or so pretty.

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?  George went to see them early this summer and apparently read them the riot act, told them they had a beautiful granddaughter who was going to grow up without even knowing their natural grandparents and . . . .”

Ringo sighed as she chattered on, he didn’t really want to hear any more about wonderful George.  And he was feeling a tad jealous that George had been there for the girl whilst he’d been stuck in Hamburg with Tony Sheridan or here at Lincolnshire with Rory and the lads, another bloody season at Butlins.  He remembered that it would be his last season, and he felt a little better . . . and a little worse.  He’d be working with George every day or night, would he be able to be friendly with the lad?

Ringo knew he still had quite conflicting feelings about the whole situation.  Dee was a friend and nearly a little sister, and he’d tried for months to tell himself that’s all she was, and he had to want what was best for her and what made her happy.  But he still felt a bit of an attraction towards her, no matter how much he’d tried to deny it because of the George situation.  And truth to tell, the attraction was rather strong now, what with her looking so pretty and happy.  He sighed to himself.  If George ever treated Dee badly, Ringo knew he wouldn’t stand for that, and that could spell the end of his job with The Beatles.  Still, she was so happy and so excited about her possible reunion with her parents, he couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m really glad things ‘ave worked out fer ya, Dee.  I’m so glad ya didn’t ‘ave ta give Rosie up fer adoption.  Ya seem really ‘appy, love.”

“I am, Ritchie.  She’s such a joy, I never thought . . . I never realized . . . .  She’s a wonderful baby, and I feel incredibly lucky.  And it’s all because of you.”

It seemed natural to hug her after that statement, and he held her tightly for a moment.  It felt so right to have her here, right now, and in his arms like this.  Without pausing to think about it, he kissed her, her breath sweet and her lips soft against his.  He ran his fingers through her silky hair, enjoying the subtle scent of something like apples that wafted from the dark, loose curls. 

Ringo gathered her closer, not thinking of much besides how she felt in his arms, touching her soft lips with his tongue, breathless as her lips parted to allow him to slip into her mouth and begin a slow, sensual exploration.  He nearly gasped as she responded to his attentions and began an exploration of her own, her arms going around him and holding him close.  His body was on fire for her, but his mind tried to stop him.  This was Deirdre, his friend.  Was he about to ruin that friendship?  But his body knew what it wanted and it wasn’t about to let his mind take over the situation.

***

Deirdre blinked up at him, she owed him so much; she owed him everything.  Oh, it had been such a lovely kiss, and such a long time since she’d been kissed; her body was on fire for his touch, but her mind was telling her something else.  This was Ritchie, her friend, was she about to ruin the best friendship she’d ever had?  But her body knew what it wanted, it hadn’t had it for so long, it was over a year and a half since she’d conceived Rose, and her body was hungry for it.  Her mind sullenly subsided to the eagerness of her body and she kissed him again, reaching with trembling fingers to unbutton his shirt, anxious to touch his bare chest.

His fingers were on her buttons as well, and when her shirt was open, they stroked gently over her skin, making her shiver with longing.  Her mind roused enough to protest, but she ignored it, noting that he’d paused for a moment, was he having second thoughts as well?  What were they doing?  Was this . . . right?  Or should they stop now? 

When he resumed his stroking, she sighed and opened herself to his kiss; she’d think about it later.  This was Ritchie, her friend and the most wonderful man she’d ever met.  And she loved him.

Their clothes were removed from their bodies in slow motion, his shirt falling here, her skirt falling there, a stocking or a sock over by the couch, her bra by the kitchen table as they worked their way to the little bedroom, knickers by the door to the tiny toilet.  Not a word was spoken during the unveiling.  Permission was granted by mutual desire; there would be no denial tonight.  She’d face the complications later.

Lying together naked and entwined on the bed, with the touches and kisses growing deeper and more urgent, she made him pause before going any further.

“I don’t want to fall pregnant again, Ritchie.”

“I’ll take care of it, Deirdre.”

“That’s what Tony said.”

“I’m not Tony.”

She nodded in agreement, he was absolutely right, he wasn’t Tony, he was nothing like Tony, and she put her trust in Ritchie and sealed her acceptance with a kiss.

He touched her like she’d never been touched before, he made her feel things she’d never felt before, and he took her places she’d never been before.  It was fantastic, incredible, unbelievable, she thought afterwards.  He was a generous, experienced lover and a strong leader.  She’d felt shy and awkward at first, but he’d coaxed her responses and teased her a bit, put her at her ease and made her comfortable with her body . . . and with his.  It was a sensual and rapturous dream, a loving search for total fulfillment of all the senses, and it lasted all night long, until the gray light of an approaching dawn filtered through her half closed eyes.  It had been wonderful, she thought as she lay in his arms in a pleasantly exhausted stupor. 

And now, so many hours after their first kiss, she finally had the leisure to face up to what her mind had been trying to tell her all night long. 

Somehow, for some reason, it hadn’t been . . . right. 

She’d tried to ignore the slight uneasiness during the long hours they’d spent in each other’s arms, and her overwhelmed senses had allowed her that luxury.  But now, lying together afterwards, after an entire evening of loving and being loved, Deirdre could no longer push her thoughts aside.  Perhaps she looked to Ritchie more as a brother than she’d thought, and this, as wonderful as it had been, was somehow . . . wrong. 

She couldn’t do this again, she thought sadly. 

How could she possibly tell him that she loved him deeply, but not like this?  It had been lovely, and it had been everything she’d ever dreamed it might be.  And she couldn’t let it happen again.

***

Ringo lay back and simply held her in his arms.  Fantastic!  She was everything he’d ever thought she’d be, a little shy and tentative perhaps, but he’d been able to draw her out, and it had been incredible. 

And . . . for some reason, it just felt . . . wrong. 

He’d never felt like this before, a bird was a bird, and he’d never felt regretful afterwards.  And he wasn’t exactly feeling regret now, but . . . something about it just wasn’t right, and he couldn’t ignore his uneasiness any longer.  Perhaps he’d grown accustomed to thinking of her as a little sister, and this, no matter how wonderful it had been, just seemed . . . wrong.  But how could he possibly tell her that?  He knew he loved her, but not like this.  He couldn’t do this again.

He thought about laughing, imagine, Ringo Starr saying he didn’t want to do this again!  But he couldn’t laugh, because on top of the ‘almost-regret’, there were other complications.  They were friends, had he just ruined one of the sweetest friendships he’d ever had?  And . . . he had to face facts, if she was still involved with George, then he’d just bedded the girlfriend of his new band mate.  It wasn’t exactly the best way to start a new job, he thought wryly.  Oh, this hadn’t been well thought out at all, but it had just seemed to blossom so naturally last night.  Now, in the cold light of a gray dawn, everything seemed so different.

He felt her shiver, and he gathered her closer, cuddling her against his chest as they both caught their breath from the final round.  Ringo knew it was the final round, his body wasn’t responding to her at all, his senses were sated with her even as his mind mulled over the implications of their night of passion.  What had he done?  And what was he going to do about it?  He realized it would have to wait, at least a little while, he could barely keep his eyes open; he was utterly exhausted from the night of passion, and from the sound of her breathing, she was likewise one centimeter away from falling asleep.  He reached to pull the covers up over them both, cuddled her close, and drifted off to sleep.

***

Deirdre woke with a start, what was that awful noise?  Oh, memory came flooding in even as she realized she was lying on her side with a warm body at her back.  Oh.  Had he been snoring like that the entire time they’d slept, she wondered?  She was surprised the walls of the little caravan were still standing, she’d have thought they’d rattle off their rusty hinges from the noise! 

Morning-after regrets filtered through her mind, all of the unresolved complications she’d thought of early this morning, worries and fears and who knew what kind of heartache.  She didn’t want to hurt him, and she was afraid she’d do just that, afraid he’d feel rejected.  What had she done?  And what was she going to do about it?

She squinted at the clock on the wall, it was near one in the afternoon and she was feeling moderately rested as well as pleasantly sore from their nocturnal exercise.  She carefully moved out of his sleeping grip, trying not to look at him as she got out of bed, afraid she might cry if she looked at him.  She prayed they could still be friends, but she didn’t know how this was all going to work out. 

Gathering her clothes took a little bit of time, and she couldn’t find her bra for a short while, but the search area was limited, and, armed with clothes and her overnight bag, she retreated to the tiny toilet and washed and brushed and was soon feeling fairly presentable.  Looking about the little kitchen, she found a tin of blueberries as well as a muffin tray under the sink (what were those newspapers doing there, she wondered?).  She lit the oven and began preparing muffins for breakfast.  Or lunch, she thought wryly, it was so late already.

***

Ringo’s eyes were tearing from the smoke, but at least it was warm enough that they could keep the windows open to air the caravan out.  He coughed experimentally.

“What kind of bloody fool keeps dirty clothes in the bloody oven?” Dee asked furiously, and he winced.  “What kind of bloody housekeeper are you?”

“Well, I didn’t know you were gonna make me brekkie, love,” he tried to placate her.

They were sitting on the step of the caravan whilst the heavy breeze was hopefully working to air out the interior through the open windows.  Ringo lit a cigarette and puffed on it, wishing for a cup of tea, but he wasn’t going to brave the kitchen for another few minutes.  He’d woken to a room full of smoke and Deirdre’s shouts for him to wake up, and they’d struggled to dig everything out of the oven and throw it out the door before it caught them on fire. 

He thought they’d survived the brewing disaster, but his clothes were a loss.  Thank God his suit hadn’t been in there, he’d have nothing to wear to the gig tonight if it had been ruined.  Rory would be angry enough with just three night’s notice before he left to join The Beatles, it would be so much worse if his suit had gone up in flames!

As it was, Ringo was sitting on the step in barely enough clothes to call himself ‘decent’.   He was just grateful that they were in a remote area apart from the holiday camp and it wasn’t likely any of the guests would see him.  He got up and walked over to the pile of singed clothing, kicking at it to see if there was anything salvageable.  Not much, he decided in disgust.

A giggle from the step made him turn.  Deirdre had apparently gotten over her ire, he thought gratefully.

“What?” he asked, pleased but puzzled by her laughter.

“You!  Standing there in red satin boxers, black socks, a fag in your hand and just barely awake, your hair’s a fright, and you’re picking over a pile of scorched clothing.  I wish I had a camera, I’ve never seen anything so funny in my life!”

He took one last puff from his ciggie and then stubbed it out on the ground, walked back and methodically tickled her until she begged for mercy and apologized for laughing at him.  Sitting together and on good terms again, he put his arm around her and she leaned her head against his shoulder with a sigh.  He wondered if he should say something about his reservations.  She beat him to it.

“Oh, Ritchie, last night was wonderful.  But we can’t do that again, love.”

Oh, blessed relief, he wasn’t going to hurt her after all, she apparently felt the same way.  But he had to ask.

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure, but it just doesn’t feel right.  I mean, it was lovely, it was fantastic, I’ve never . . . well, I mean, it was . . . simply incredible.  But I just don’t think we should repeat it.  I love you, Ritchie, I really do, and you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.  But I love you . . . in another way, I guess.  I’m worried that I’ve ruined a very good friendship and I’m so afraid of losing you.”

He thought she might cry, and he hurried to reassure her, relieved and happy with her assessment. 

“I’ve been worried about it, too, Dee.  I love ya, gurl, yer really a special lass, an’ ya mean th’ world ta me.  It was fantastic, but yer right, I don’t think we should do it again, either.  As great as it was, I love ya too much ta want ta jeopardize our friendship.”

There was a long pause of a fairly comfortable silence.

“Think we’ll be able ta survive last night?” he finally ventured.

She sighed, but she was smiling, he could see it out of the corner of his eye.

“I hope so.  As long as we survived me almost burning your caravan down this afternoon, I suppose we could survive anything, don’t you?”

He hugged her tight and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  Great, fantastic, thank God!  Now he only had one other obstacle, and he sighed; it was a big one.

“Yeah, I think we can, love, let’s just take it as it comes, right?  I got a question fer ya, though, an’ I’m pretty worried ‘bout it.  Ya know I’m in th’ Beatles now, an’ George is me band mate.  I’m worried about that, I’m feelin’ a bit guilty ‘bout it, love.  What d’ya think I should do?”

“Guilty?  Why, about what?  What do you mean, what should you do?”

“Well, if yer still seein’ ‘im, then . . . well, what we did last night isn’t th’ best way fer me ta be friends with ‘im.”

“Seeing him?  What do you mean?  George and I were childhood playmates, we’ve never ‘seen’ each other.  I had a little crush on him when I was younger, and I think he had one on me at one point, but the timing never clicked, he’s just a friend.  Like . . . a little brother, I suppose.  I’ve sort of adopted an interesting family, you know, between you and your parents and George.”

“Yer kiddin’ me?  What about that night I came over ta drive ya ta work an’ George was there?” he asked in astonishment.

She laughed.  “Did you think . . .?  Oh, yes, I suppose you did.  George slept on the carpet that night.  I’d gotten all upset and was crying and he stayed to comfort me and he missed the last bus.  He borrowed a pillow and a blanket and he bedded down on the floor.  I’ll tell you something, Ritchie, if you promise never to tell George.  He’s about a year older than me, but he’s very much a younger brother type to me, a little boy.  I love him, too.  But you’re more of an older brother, and I love you and look up to you as well.  You both mean the world to me, but you’re . . . you’re . . . you’re Ritchie!” she finished in exasperation, apparently unable to find the exact words she needed.

Ringo laughed as he gave her a hug and promised he wouldn’t tell George.  Imagine, he’d been wrong about the entire situation all along.  It made him feel a lot easier about his band mate.  He’d always liked George, but once he’d thought George was seeing Dee, it had definitely prevented him from getting to know the younger lad any better.  He’d tried to be a bit standoffish, and to realize that he no longer needed to keep his distance was a decided relief.

He gave Dee another hug and kissed her on the forehead, feeling happy and relaxed.  And utterly relieved. Yeah, he thought, they could survive this.  He’d make certain of it; she was far too good a friend to risk losing the relationship they enjoyed.  He gave her a hand up from the step; he thought the caravan was probably mostly aired out, and he wanted his morning cuppa.

C.A.Jones is a long-time fan of The Beatles, but was never lucky enough to see them together in concert. An avid reader since childhood, C.A. only recently tried her hand at writing and now has another hobby with which she consumes her all-too-little spare time. She lives in the Western United States with husband and pets and computers.