I stayed away from his room for three hours, hoping that by then they had cleared out.  I would have loved to have gone back and chatted some more with Elsie and Harry, who were already so warm and wonderful to me, but decided it would be best if Mo and I have a parting of the ways.  For the first time since arriving in London, I had the feeling of being in the way.

Brian was with him when I walked in.  Ritch looked very upset with me and asked if I went to Brazil for the coffee.

“Well thank goodness you’re back, young lady,” Brian said. “I’d surely catch more than an earful from John if he called and I had to tell him I didn’t know where you were off to.”

“I’m sorry, Brian.  I just wanted to give Ritchie some time with his family and his, er, friend.  So, tell me, Brian, did you put me on the payroll yet?  Enough people are saying it and I’m beginning to believe it.”

Brian looked puzzled and turned to Ringo as if he had forgotten to do something.

Ritch closed is eyes and shook his head.  “It’s not like that, luv…”

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Richard.”

“Yer gettin’ it wrong.  I didn’t say that for her, I said it for them, my parents.  Mum’s old-fashioned.  I didn’t want to give her the wrong impression of our livin’ arrangements, and I know you, you would have spilled the whole story.  You know how old folks think.  It’s important to me that she like you.”

“I think she did,” I said defensively.

“I know she did.  After they left, she came back in for her sweater, which she left behind accidentally on purpose, and said, ‘She’s very sweet, Ritchie.  I really like her.’  Mum could always read me like a book.  And I already told her you don’t really work for Brian.

“And as far as Mo, well, she’s not taking this break-up too well.  Mum told me she begged them to take her with them and they didn’t have the heart to say no.  She still goes over to my house every night to have tea with them and tries to be around when she thinks I’ll be callin’.”

Knowing how loath Ritchie was to hurt anyone, I asked him, “Does she actually know that you broke up with her?”

 He reached out and took my hand and drew me closer to the bed.  “I tried to do it as gently as I could.  I told her, ‘Ya know, it’s no good, I’m movin’ to London and we’re on the road all the time, and you have to get on with your own life, and we’re going in separate directions,’ but I think she still thinks I’m comin’ back  for her.  I never did or said anything to make her think that, I swear.”

“Like I said, Ritchie, you don’t owe me any explanations.”  I definitely did not want to talk about her anymore, and I also knew we hadn’t seen the last of her.

As if he read my mind, he said, “Don’t worry, they’ll be heading home after tomorrow’s visit.”

***

I would try to get out of the flat as early as possible as the noise from the workmen, power saws and such, was deafening.  The work was progressing quickly, and after just a few days the bookshelves and cabinets were being stained and varnished. 

It was fun shopping for bric-a-brac and odds and ends and I brought them over to the hospital for Ritchie’s approval.  When they got back, John could have a ball filling the shelves with his books.  I’d made it a little hobby to look for odd and unique ashtrays and placed them all over the house.  I’d found one in a shop in Portobello Road that was actually a smoke stand, the base of which was a cherub holding his penis, and quite a hefty one for such a little feller.  I put it in the guest loo, thinking that would get a laugh when they came home.  The amount of cigarette butts they produced was staggering.

I also found about twenty lapel pins and badges with various slogans and designs and bought them all up, knowing how mad they were for them.  I packed them in my suitcase to bring to Australia.  I smiled, thinking how little it took to please and amuse them. 

The beautiful furniture Neil and I had chosen was delivered – gray and burgundy  sofas, over-stuffed chairs, huge center table, lamps and end tables.  One night, to fill in the time, I made a huge dried flower arrangement for the table.  It turned out rather well, if I did say so myself.   When the cabinets were dry, I made a call to Abbey Road to ask their engineer, Geoff, to come over to set up the rather complicated hi-fi system and speakers.  Between that, shopping, and the hospital from about 2:00 to 8:00 every day, the time did indeed pass quickly.

One evening, I was so busy rearranging tables and lamps around the chairs, that I didn’t hear Brian let himself in with his key.  I did my usual jump out of my skin when he spoke.

“Oh my, it’s lovely.  You did a first rate job.”

“You’re all made out of the same stuff!  Is it a Liverpool thing?  Let’s keep doing it till she drops dead from a coronary,” I said, holding my chest.  “Could you at least jingle your keys before you speak?”

He smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you really think they’ll like it?”

“Absolutely.  What’s not to like?  Everything in perfect masculine taste, with just the right feminine touches,” he said, indicating the flowers on the table.

“That flower arrangement is mine, Mr. Epstein.”

“I’m more than suitably impressed.  I myself have an interest in interior design, and can say with certainty that you have a definite eye.  Sorry I didn’t make it over to the hospital today.  They will be releasing him soon and I had a ton of arrangements to make, on top of keeping a handle and a lid on what’s going on with them on this tour.  Have you had dinner?”

“No.  I just thought I’d rummage through the fridge and see what I find.”

“Come on then, throw something on.”

“What are we having?”

“French?”

“Ah, dressy.”

I sat across the table from Brian, sipping white wine (Chardonnay, he said, when ordering it) and my thought was, what an elegant, classy man.  I had a fleeting thought about what a waste of a tall, gorgeous hunk of manhood, but immediately felt sorry for thinking it.  People are what they are and Brian had the right to be happy and not made to feel ashamed.

“So, other than missing the first part of the tour, are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Oh Brian, it’s a dream come true.  I know that sounds like such a cliché, but you just can’t know!”

“Perhaps I can,” he smiled.

“Brian, I’ve been meaning to ask you this.  Do you mind at all that I’m here?”

“Mind?  I worried a bit at first about it getting out.  You know, I see things in scandal-ridden headlines, ‘Young unmarried girl living in Beatle love nest.’  But you’ve proven to be very discreet, and I trust you implicitly.  You’ve certainly made my life easier.  You look after them like a mother hen, and I no longer have to ride them about being on time.”

“Sounds like I’m making them boring,” I laughed.  You know, ‘interfering with the basic rugged concept of their personalities’ to quote a line from the film.”

“You just keep interfering!  I swear, they can drive me up the blasted wall.”

“I’ll get out my whip,” I said, and we both laughed.

“You’ve even reeled in Neil and Mal, who are sometimes more incorrigible than they are.”

“They’re not!”

“Oh, please,” he said.

A beautiful young waiter came to take our order and Brian looked to me.  I told him to surprise me as I ate most anything, and I knew whatever he chose would be wonderful.  He ordered for us, sprinkling the exchange with French words and some meaningful glances between him and the waiter.  He caught himself and quickly dismissed him, saying, “Thank you.”

I placed my hand over his and said, “It’s okay, Brian, you don’t ever have to watch yourself around me.”

He bristled and mumbled, “Thank you, John Lennon.”

“Don’t blame him.  You do know how much he loves you, despite his boorish behavior.  Don’t you?”

“Sometimes, I wonder.”

“Don’t.  He has a tremendous amount of respect and affection for you,” I said.

Brian visibly relaxed and said, “You’re very sweet.  And I learned a lot about you in the past few days.  What red-blooded girl would give up a chance to tour with The Beatles and choose to stay alone at night and spend her days in a hospital room?”

“I love Ritchie, and he’s sick.  There was no choice.”

“Then perhaps I’m missing something.  Or maybe you are.”

“I don’t think so.  If it weren’t for Ritch I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Not entirely.  When you were first corresponding, John referred to you at first as ‘Ring’s mail bird,’ and ‘Ring’s carrier pigeon.’  But later it became, ‘Read this, Bri, isn’t she great?  I have to get to know this one.’  He especially enjoyed your phone  conversations, and was intrigued with your sense of humor and the fact that you gave him back as good as he gave.  It was he that got me to intervene with your parents and get you here in May instead of July.  He’s acting like a boy having his first crush, but I caution you, John is a man who has most definitely been around and usually gets what he wants.  I would hate for this to develop into a situation.”

“Knowing what you know about them, you probably won’t believe this, but nothing is ‘going on’ here except some spectacular marathon kissing.  George is a great kisser too,” I said, trying to submerge my own inner conflict.

His look said you’re not fooling me, young lady.

“It won’t be a situation, Brian.  I’m leaving at the end of summer and they will forget me and be back to their lewd, skirt-chasing ways.”

“In this, you’re very naïve my dear.  They are skirt-chasing even as we speak.  The very fact that they are not lewdly chasing you round the bend speaks volumes.  You are not likely to be forgotten.”

“Please don’t say that, Brian.  I was weaned on guilt.”

“Ah, yes.  The Italian and Jewish mother syndrome.  I know it well.  So, my dear, your preference, or are you just hoping the better man will win?”

“I didn’t come here expecting to feel this way or John to…”  How could I make him understand?  “Besides, they are not in competition.  I love them both.  How could I not?  Richard is so good and sweet and funny and loving and sexy and John is…John is… sooo…all those things too, and more.”  I was dangerously close to tears.

Brian lifted a hand to halt me and just said, “Yes.”  He understood.  I figured he would.

“Have a care,” he said.  “I don’t want any of the three of you left hurting.”

“Nothing will ever happen between them, Brian.  Not over the likes of me.  I’m just a kid to them, not to be taken seriously.”  I didn’t expect the overwhelming sadness that came over me after having said that.  

Brian couldn’t contain his mirth.  “Ringo couldn’t, then wouldn’t, tell me how old you are.  That sort of says it all, and I figure you will tell me, if and when you’re ready.  He also told me you and your New York friends hang about in Greenwich Village, a place where one can get an eye-opening education at any age.  You are to be taken seriously.  You’re wise beyond your years, and can hold your own with them.  They wouldn’t tolerate you otherwise.”

“Yeah but, I’ve never, I mean I’m still a…”  I was blushing down to my toes.

Brian put his hand over mine, and said, “I figured as much...the most dangerous kind of woman to a man in love.  They will slay dragons for you.”

***

After dinner, Brian’s driver waited as he walked me up to the door.  He said,

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to spend a couple of nights at my place?  Not quite so lonely…”

“Thanks, no, Brian.  What I want you to do is go back to the restaurant and find out when that waiter gets off work.”

He smirked at me and said, “Lock up, miss.”

“Thank you for a lovely dinner.  Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Definitely.  The three of us have to get together to finalize our schedule.  He’s being released day after tomorrow, which is the 11^th and I’d like to be able to make Melbourne by the 14th, that is, if you think he’ll feel up to playing,” he said as he walked back to the lift.

“Are you kidding?  He’ll be thrilled.  Oh, and Brian?”

“Yes?”

“Lose the tie before you go.”

I heard him laughing as the doors closed.

***

The phone usually rang between 10:00 p.m. and midnight, London time, if they were not in flight or at some scheduled event. After the operator rang off, one or the other of them would try (badly) to do the accent of whatever country they were in.  Sometimes I heard the telltale noise of a really wild party going on in the background.  Tonight it was quiet.

“Aalow.  Ees theese Missa Lee?” John’s voice said in my ear.  I checked the schedule.  Hong Kong.

“Missa Lee, missa you.  Hey!  How’s the Chop Suey?”

“How the ‘ell would I know?  They’re all freakin’ Brits ‘ere.  We were greeted with a goddamn high tea.”  He already had me laughing.

“So, how’re my Beatle boys?” I asked.

“Everyone’s pretty good, all things considered.  I think we’re insultin’ old Jim’s sensibilities.  So how’s the boy, and how’re you, mein fraulein?”

“The boy’s comin’ along, chompin’ at the bit to get out and back with you.  Doc says he could leave the hospital tomorrow.  Me?  I’m great.  Keeping busy.  Wait’ll you see what I’ve done with the place.  I’ve discovered I have great nesting instincts.  But I miss you like mad.”

The line was silent.  “John?  Hello?”

“I’m ‘ere.   I miss you too, baby.  Listen, I want to tell you something.  Since there are never any secrets in this family, I’ll tell you myself.  You’ll probably hear what a bad boy I’ve been in Amsterdam and that it’s been one continuous drunken orgy between shows.  Almost as bad as Hamburg, and that’s sayin’ something.  It’s like I’ve been fucking possessed.  I’m drinkin’ too much.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Jealousy and possessiveness overwhelmed me in ways that I did not think possible.

“I thought you invited me on tour because tours were boring and made you stir crazy.  Instead, it sounds like a great party.”  I didn’t do a very good job of keeping the hurt out of my voice, and I didn’t care.

“This tour is different,” he said.  “It’s like all the rules have changed.  We feel displaced and self-conscious because of Ring not bein’ here and Derek’s with us now and fuck’s the limit with this guy.  I know if Brian was here he’d be raggin’ on us.”

I thought about the books my girlfriends and I passed back and forth, and what we were able to pick up about sex and men not being able to help themselves, and how musicians seemed to be sexual breed unto themselves, but I guess my inexperience would not allow me to understand being able to be that intimate with complete strangers.  It boggled my mind what totally mindless organs they had – mindless and heartless.  Yes, I wanted to be touched, but I minded like hell who was doing the touching.

“Well, I hope you at least have the presence of mind to use condoms,” I said curtly.  I didn’t know where I was getting my nerve.

He laughed nervously, sounding a little shocked to hear me say that.  “Well, yes.  But is that all you’re worried about, my getting a disease or something?”

Self-centered bastard.

“That, and I don’t want you leaving little baby Johns all over the world.”  Having said that, I envisioned these mindless trollops carrying around these precious little babies that look just like his baby pictures and I wanted to spit.  Hands off my man!

He sounded annoyed when he asked, “And other than that, you’re okay with this?”

He was baiting me.  Unfortunately, I rose to it.

“Do I have a say in the matter?” I asked, really raising my voice.  “If I told you to stop, would you?  If I told you I wanted to come there and rip their slag hair out by the roots, would you stop?  If I told you I wanted to smack you for telling me this?  Would you stop then?”  The words caught in my throat in mid-sentence.  Great!  Now he knows I’m crying.  I pushed away the tears and covered my mouth with my hand so no sob would escape.

There was a long pause.  We listened to each other breathing.

“Then say it!” he demanded.

I didn’t know if I had the right.  Was that it?  Was he giving me the right?  What would it mean if I did?  Don’t think.

“John, I want you to stop.”

There was another long, deafening pause before he spoke.

“I…I’m sorry.  God, I really do miss you.  I need to hold you, talk to you.  None of that meant anything, I swear.  It never does.  It’s like a kid with a bag of sweets.  All he wants is more sweets, till he gets sick.”

“John, why did you feel the need to tell me all this?”

“I’m not sure, except I know I don’t want to fuck up this relationship.  I very often don’t do the right thing – it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last, and I want you to at least be able to trust me to tell you the truth.  I will kid you and tease you, but I will never ever lie to you, I promise.”

“I hope you know that I’d never lie to you either,” I said.

“’Course I do,” he said softly.  “I knew that the minute our eyes met.  Great meet, by the way,” he added slyly.

I was once again reminded of that epic kiss – that kiss that nearly sucked the life out of me…or breathed it into me, depending.

That was it – exoneration.  He had that affect on me – total absolution.  I’d be willing to bet that no drug could do to me what he could.

“John, I…”  I was about to say ‘I love you,’ but nipped it in the nick of time.  No, don’t say it first.  A cute, generic I love you was okay, but THE I love you, well, if it was ever going to be said, he was going to say it first.  Dream on, Lee!

 “I, I can’t wait to see you,” I said.

“Me too,” he answered.  I heard amusement in his voice.  Did he know what I really meant to say?  “Baby, are you biting your lip?”

Damn him.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said.  “Now get yerself here so I can bite it too.”

***

That night, when I got in bed, I picked up the copy of In His Own Write John had given me, to re-read some of my favorite parts before going to sleep.  When I flipped the cover, I found he had inscribed it.  When had he done this?  He hadn’t given it to me this way.

To:  Our Lady of the Lettuce (Baby!)

Lettuce play, and play hard

(as soft will never do on any front)

that your slay here withuce may (I)

soon have you on a bed of lettuce

(or any bed), mine notwithstanding.

Keep writing lettuce and mind yer

pees and loos. I answer all prayers.

                             Love,

                               John

4^th June, 1964

He’d written it the morning he left.  That night I laughed myself to sleep.

***

Ringo was really pleased when he was greeted with a huge yell of  “Surprise!” by George Martin and the studio staff, Brian’s staff, Cilla Black, the Stones and a select few of his closest friends upon his return home.

I ordered a special cake decorated with a caricature of Ringo dressed as a cowboy, straddling his bass drum, that said, “Ringo, back in the saddle again!”  He got a big charge out of it and I took lots of photos with his Pentax to show the boys.

Everyone was complimenting him on how well he looked and how lovely the place was.

“Didn’t look like this when I left, so I had nothin’ to do with it,” he said, and pointed in my direction.  Several people gave me thumbs up and I smiled and waved and got very embarrassed and headed toward the kitchen to hide.

Mick and Keith intercepted me, then cornered me on either side before I could get there.

“So, little darlin’ mystery lady, now you’re the decorator,” Keith said.  “Drink?” he asked, offering me his.

“No, thanks.  Good to see you both again,” I said.

“And you.  What have you done?  You seem different, more sophisticated.  Did you change your hair?” Keith asked.

“Well I’ve stopped wearing bangs, but you didn’t see me with them anyway.”

“Hmmm.  Definitely an air of something different, and very nice,” Keith said.

“So,” Mick said, “now that drummer boy is off the disabled list and reuniting with his Beatle buddies, you will need some looking after.  I’m thinking we might go out for a drink and some dancin’.  If you feel you need a chaperone, this guy might come along, but you will have to choose eventually.  I don’t like sharin’.”

I debated for a second whether or not I should be saying that I’d be going with ‘drummer boy,’ and decided against it.  Then, fortunately, I was rescued.

“It seems to me that I distinctly heard John tell you lot that this particular little girl was off limits,” Ringo said.

“Come on, Ring!  You know there’s no honor among rockers,” Keith said.

“There’ll be me sticks up yer arse if you don’t shove off.”  The line was funny but his look was dead serious.

Ringo took my hand and pulled me out from between them.  “Come on, nurse.  I’m feeling decidedly weak.”

“Nurse, now is it?  Does that mean I can’t even dance with ‘er at a club or party? Mick asked.

“No!” Ritch said as he led me off to his room.

I turned to them as I was being led away and silently mouthed “Yes,” and they cracked up laughing.

Ritchie caught me and smiled, and when he got me into his room and closed the door behind us, he pinned me against the door with is body and said, “You’ll pay for that, brat!”

“Oh, yes please, daddy!” I begged seductively.  He started to laugh so hard he couldn’t even kiss me.

“What the hell have you been readin’?” he asked.

“John left me some stuff.  I have to keep up,” I teased.

“Keep up with this!”  He lowered himself and then came up, grinding hard against me and his tongue melded to mine in our first really passionate kiss since before he got sick.

“I missed you, Ritchie,” I said, my arms locking around his neck and hugging him to me.

“Babe, you were by my side every day, sweet and loving.   I’ll never forget it.”

“I missed you here.  It was so lonely.”

“Daddy’s home,” he said and we both started to giggle.

***

The next morning I faintly heard the thrashing of drums coming from one of the sound-proofed music rooms.  I stuck my head in.

“Good morning.  I thought you never rehearsed.”

“No, I never do,” he said, “but I thought I needed to get my sea legs.  I dropped the damned sticks twice already!”

“You’re just weak from inactivity.  Don’t worry, you’ll get it back.”

“Did I ever tell you how good you are for me?” he said, as he threw an arm around my shoulders and led me off to the kitchen and sat me down.  He doled out some eggs and bacon from a covered pan and placed it in front of me.

“You cooked!”

“I have to do something to earn my keep around ’ere,” he said, as he ate his directly from the pan.

“I have an idea,” I said.  “Feel like doing something today?  Getting out?”

“Like what?”

“You’ll see.”

After clearing away the breakfast, I packed some sandwiches, some fruit and bottle of wine in a Harrods shopping bag.

I combed Ritchie’s hair away from his face and put a cap on his head and shoved as much of the remaining hair as I could under the cap.

“There.”

“You think this will work?” he asked, and looked at me as if I had three heads.

“Well, not on me, but the general public is not as obsessed as I am.  You’ll be surprised how ignored you’ll be if no one is expecting to see you.  Come on!”

As we walked through the lobby, Bill the doorman said, “Afternoon, miss.”

“Afternoon, Bill,” I said.  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Yes, indeed.”  He glanced at Ringo, then did a double take and said, “Oh, sorry.  Afternoon, sir.”

“See, he recognized me!” Ritch said, slowing down.

“Oh, no sir.  I wouldn’t have done, except I know the young lady here.  Greets me with a smile every day, she does.”

“See?” I said, pulling him along.  We crossed Bayswater and disappeared into Hyde Park.

The day was perfect, sunny and breezy, and we walked for a long time, holding hands, chatting and laughing.  He was starting to lose that pasty hospital pallor and get some color in his cheeks.

We came upon some boys playing football on a grassy field and the ball got away from them and came toward us and Ritch kicked it back.  We stopped and watched them play for a while.  They couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven; boys were so cute at that age, even though they yelled and swore at each other.

When the ball came toward us again, Ritchie not only kicked it back, but jumped into the thick of it, kicking, weaving, jumping about like a lunatic.  When the ball was shot to him, the boys started rushing him and he started backing off, not wanting them to get too close.  Naturally, he tripped over his own feet when he turned to run, landing face down, and the cap went flying.  His Beatle hair had a mind of its own, falling into place and framing his face.

The boys reached him before I did and when he lifted himself onto one elbow and turned, one of them said, “Cor, it’s RINGO!”

“Shhh,” he said.  “Please don’t give me away.”

“Yes, boys please, keep it down.  He never gets to spend a day in the park like you do,” I said.

“What’re you doin’ here?”

“Where’s the rest of The Beatles?”

“I thought you were in hospital.”

“Yeah, they got a new drummer, don’t they?”

“If I answer all your questions, do you promise to keep it down?” Ringo asked.

They all looked to each other and nodded agreement.  I made them all sit down on the grass around him and gave him back his cap to put on.

I sat there grinning as he answered all their questions, which only gave way to more questions and he kidded and mugged for them, giving them the full Ringo treatment.  One of them asked for an autograph, but none had a bit of paper.  I looked in my bag and only found a marking pen and Ritchie said, “Wait a mo…” and had the boy turn around and asked his name and signed the back of his shirt.  Naturally, they all turned around, demanding theirs.  He even signed the soccer ball.

“Now don’t let your mothers wash those shirts!” I laughed. 

As we got up to leave, Ringo said, “And speakin’ of mothers, mind yours and always treat ladies with respect and don’t forget to see The Beatles’ new movie, coming soon to a theatre near you,” he grinned.

I laughed, “You wouldn’t miss it, would you boys?”

“No. Never,” they all shouted.

He shook hands with all of them.  One little randy one shook my hand, too.  We turned to leave and Ritchie took my hand and said, “Bye, now.”  When we were a few feet away, we turned to wave and saw that they were staring after us, dumbfounded, and rooted to the spot.

One of them yelled over, “She yer girlfriend, then?”  Ritchie put a finger to his lips and said, “Shhh!”  The boy winked and gave his thumbs-up approval. 

We found a nice little hill under a shady tree and sat down to have our lunch.

“That was nice, with the kids,” he said.  “Good to be out among the livin’.”

“Do you realize,” I asked him, “that for some of them, that will be the most memorable moment of their lives?”

“Oh, no, luv.  That’s entirely too much responsibility.”

“True, though.  Not all of us are destined for greatness,” I said.

“I think I’m one of them ones that had it thrust upon me,” he said.

“No, Starkey, you’re pretty great, and the whole world knows it.”

“All ya’ need is for one other person to know it,” he said, lifting my chin and kissing me.

He found the corkscrew and opened the wine and poured some into the paper cups I packed.  “Ah, the good crystal,” he said.

We toasted ‘to getting back to work and the lads.’  “So, are you ready?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah.  I feel displaced without ‘em – like I’m missing a few limbs.  They really are me brothers.  Being an only child is a lonely business.”

“That’s funny.  John used that exact same word the other night.  Displaced.  Said he felt displaced without you.”

“Did he?  Well that’s nice to know.”  He looked very touched.

“It seems that they’re having an exceptionally wild time on this tour,” I said.

“I know.  Brian told me, though I can’t see him sharing all the gory details with you.”

“He didn’t.  John did.”

“Now why would he do a fool thing like that?”

“I kind of wondered the same thing,” I said.

“So he told you about the pictures, then?  Brian had to pay a goodly sum to get ‘em off the photographer.”

“What pictures?”

He put his hands to his face and pulled them down slowly.  “I thought you said he told ya’.”

“He just said something about drunken orgies,” I said.

“Orgies??”  Ritchie shook his head and sighed.  “John was photographed coming out of a whorehouse in Amsterdam, not a very flattering pose.  Apparently the pictures were offered to a local tabloid, but he made Brian the same offer, figuring he’d take the highest bidder.  Brian won, but you can never be too sure that they won’t surface anyway.”

“What about the orgies?” I asked.  That word again.  I could kill him for using that word.

“That sounds like John exaggeratin’ or else things have really changed.  Maybe wild man Derek…  Look, we were never innocents on tour.  There are always women throwin’ themselves at the stage door, beggin’ for it.  This is not new; this is even since the Cavern, on a smaller scale.  It goes like this:  Neil and Mal, we call ‘em the procurers, would pick out the best lookin’ ones and invite them back for a party in the suite with music, food and drink.  If we found one we fancied, we’d hit it off, or have it off, as it were.  Alone, thank you very much.  I’ve no desire to watch me friends gettin’ laid.  We’re all pretty straight laced that way, I promise you.

“I can also tell you that there were plenty of nights I just couldn’t be arsed and went to bed – alone!  We all have nights like that, except maybe Paul,” he laughed.  “I hope this doesn’t upset you too much, luv, but it’s pretty much the truth.  We usually keep a separate suite for this stuff, not where we sleep, and it was my intention to keep you out of this altogether.  I mean, I know you’re not stupid and think we’re choirboys.”

I was getting a different image of the whole thing, though why it seemed better, I wasn’t sure.  I was certainly growing up fast and getting an adult education.  Hadn’t I already gotten a glimpse of this at the clubs?  It was the life of a rock star.

“You know, Ritch, come to think of it, John did just mention his bad behavior in Amsterdam, and just mentioned orgies in general.”  

“John’s memory goes funny when he’s had too much to drink or pills, or fuck knows.  He sometimes has absolutely no memory of saying the cruelest things to someone that he’d never in a million years say sober.  Then, at other times, he apologizes over and over for saying or doing some imagined thing that never happened.  It might have just been a thought he had.  He’s really like a little kid sometimes, for all his brilliance.  I really love him.  He has a heart of gold.”

This man was not making it easy for me to sort out my feelings for either of them.  I was having the best day with him.

“Well, I guess it’s best that I avoid the party nights altogether, or you might have a catfight on your hands,” I said.

“Oh, no, now I want you at a party.  I have a fantasy goin’ that I meet you at one and pick you up.”

“You really are bad,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am.  Better than bein’ sweet sentimental Ritchie all the time.”

He laid down on the grass and put his head in my lap.  I fed him some grapes one at a time, and he held onto my hand and sucked one of my fingers into his mouth.  Well, that feels pretty damned incredible, I thought.

I took off his cap and ran my fingers through his hair.  We were both feeling it and he sat up and grabbed my neck and pulled me to him and kissed me so tenderly at first and then more urgently, his tongue hard and possessive.

“You know what?” he asked.

“Mmm?”

“I think I’ve had enough of the park for one day.”

“Me too.”

***

This was the final flight change on this damned, blasted trip to Melbourne.  It was taking forever, and through every non-ending hour, I could think of nothing except being reunited with John after ten days apart.  Ritchie had his head on my shoulder.  He was sound asleep and I couldn’t understand it, as I was so fidgety I couldn’t sit still.  I had to fight the overwhelming urge to break into the cockpit, put my hands around the pilot’s neck and say, “Step on it, please!”

Brian was across the aisle from me with Wendy by his side.  He looked at his watch.  “About another hour, I’d say,” Brian said.  I grinned from ear to ear.  Finally!  “You’re wearing your John face,” he whispered.

“Stop that, Mr. Epstein!”  Even he was getting to read me a little too well. 

I wondered if John really missed me as much as he said he did.  So far, both he and Ritch were very good at knowing when to apply the brakes when things got too hot.  At this rate, it didn’t look like the opportunity would ever present itself, but if it did, how would I handle it?  The only thing I knew for absolutely sure was that saying yes to one would mean forever saying no to the other.  That was certain.  I’m not made any other way.

I went back to my mental game of comparison that I’d been playing since starting this god-awful journey.

With John, I sometimes felt that he was teetering on the edge of a violent explosion, which gave me an incredible rush I knew I’d never have with anyone else.  Not as long as I lived.  I didn’t really fear him or believe that he would ever hurt me, but I enjoyed the idea that he could.  Shades of Rhett Butler again.   If that meant there was something wrong with me, I could live with it.  On the other hand, I felt safe and secure with Ritchie, which was also nice and definitely more practical.  Couple of extra points to John.

Looks.  John had it all over Ritch, however, Ritchie’s beautiful eyes, sweet smile and sunny disposition more than made up for not being as drop-dead gorgeous as John.  I wasn’t superficial, or this exercise in self-abuse would have to include Paul and George too, and I just was not going there right now.  As far as body and way he carried it – advantage John.  No one moved like he did, and I had to avert my eyes sometimes, lest he catch me drooling.  Actually, he had caught me (figuratively, of course) and the arrogant s.o.b. always found a way to let me know he knew what I was thinking – a little remark, something.  (“Like what you see, Missy?” “Buying or just browsing?”)  Ritchie was always a gentleman and would never embarrass me.  So who gets the points?  I’m losing track.

Intellect and wit.  Ritchie was not dumb, as people might have thought.  I thought he cultivated this idea on purpose due to insecurities and his lack of even a basic education.  His use of malapropisms (John’s word, I had to look it up) were a shrewd way to get the laugh and steal the show, and I thought he knew exactly what he was saying.  He was a perfect sweet natural clown.  Sometimes there seemed to be a sadness about him because he felt he wasn’t creative.  I told him his time would come because he wanted it, and it would.

John’s mind was so complicated and quick that sometimes, if I blinked, I’d missed something so profound I could kick myself.  I worried that I was way out of his league and would never be enough woman for him.  I wasn’t nearly as wise-cracking as I was when I was around him, but I didn’t want him to get bored.  Boring was the kiss of death for John.  One night, before he went away, we had a discussion about some of his favorite books and I asked to read some of them so we would have some common ground to discuss.  I’d always loved reading but was often told I was reading the wrong sort of books.  John laughed and said his teachers told him the same thing.  He said it didn’t matter what you read, as long as you did, and sod them all because they all got it wrong anyway. 

His music astounded me, and although they didn’t work too much before they left, I did get a couple of brief looks at him with guitar in hand and jotting down the words to a fantastic new song with a middle eight that went “I’m so glad that she’s my little girl.”  It made my toes curl because every time he sang it he made eye contact with me.  He was most definitely a musical genius, instinctively able to get the exact right balance between being vastly commercial and intellectually stimulating, but never sappy.  Who in rock music ever rhymed the words ‘please’ with ‘trivialities’?  And that voice, that voice!  Sigh…

Richard stirred.  “Mmm…we there yet?”

“Almost, babe.  Showtime!”

He got up to make his way to the loo and I tried to rub some feeling back into my arm.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” he said.

“That’s perfectly okay.  I’ll just let it dangle there for a couple of hours.”

He smiled.  “You really are a smart mouth brat!”

I had to laugh and grab his hand and kiss it.  John would have called me a bitch.

***

I left the plane alone and was surprised to be met at the bottom of the stairs by Neil and Mal, who both greeted me with a big kiss.  Mal lifted me off the ground in a crushing hug.

“Didn’t I just do this a month ago?” Mal asked me.

“Yeah, only I hugged you.”

“Details.  You women are always interested in details.”

Brian made sure the Australian press had advance notice of Ringo’s arrival so that he was sure to have a warm reception and media coverage.  He needn’t have bothered, because the press wired everything to each other and we couldn’t get out of London without a fuss.  Ringo was very moved as he stepped out of the plane with Brian. The three of us stood at the bottom of the stairs yelling “Ringo!” and jumping and whistling.  The crowd went wild.

I’d heard about the enormity of the crowds to greet them in Sydney, and Melbourne was no exception.  The hotel we were booked into looked awfully small and not much of a fortress of protection against this amount of fans.  In fact, it looked like some enterprising nutjobs could climb up these balconies rather easily.  Neil assured me that they had half the police force posted inside as well as out. 

I was really frightened to get out of the car.  I had my tour pass hung securely around my neck and as soon as the car came to a stop, Wendy got out and I followed.Just as I got about three feet from the lobby door I felt my hair yanked back by very tall girl with arms like a gorilla.  “Who the bloody hell are you, and you better not be with my Ringo,” she hissed.

I tried to fight her off, but was at a disadvantage because she still had hold of my hair.  Neil ran to me as soon as he could.  He grabbed hold of her wrists roughly and yelled, “Let go, you stupid bitch!”  He shook her hard and when she finally let go he gave her a shove backward, the only thing saving her from going sprawling on her ass was the crowd holding her up.  He wrapped his arms around me and ushered me into the lobby quickly.  Mal was right behind taking care of Ringo, because as soon as they saw him emerge from the car, they went potty, as John was fond of saying.

“Oh my God!” was all I could manage to say when I looked around at the relative calm in the lobby.  Every door, stairway, elevator and window had at least two cops posted.

Smoothing the hair back and away from my face, Neil asked, “You okay, luv?

That bloody cow!”

“Yes, I’m fine, Neil.  Wow.  Remind me to wear my hair in a very tight bun from now on.”

“My world, and welcome to it,” he smiled. 

We had the whole top floor of the hotel, and many of the doors to the suites were open.  It was early and several of the rooms were still a mess, obviously the remains of last night’s ‘party.’  I was a nervous Nellie again, like on day one, and couldn’t wait to see them.

Neil led us all to the suite furthest down the hall.  The door was closed and he opened it with a key.  I got this last second brain storm and stood right up against Big Mal’s back and held on to his jacket and put my finger to my lip to the others.  Neil walked in, followed by Brian and Ringo and I heard Paul and George jump up with shouts and whoops and Mal sidled in with me behind him, and no one noticed.  He stood off to the side behind a sofa.

“Hey, back from your extended holiday, I see.  Good to see you, buddy,” Paul said.

“Our son, home from the wars,” George said.  “Missed you mate, you have no idea!”

Ritchie’s voice sounded choked up when he answered, “Oh, I have a damned good idea!”  I heard what sounded like hugs and slaps on the back.  I saw a makeshift sign someone made – “Welcome home Ring and don’t ever fuck us again!!”  There were presents on the coffee table.

There was a mirror on the wall and I saw John come out of a bedroom and walk over and grab Ritchie by the face and kissed his head with a big “swack.”

“The Boy Wonder.  Finally!” John said.  “Old Jim was about as useless as tits on a bull.  Paul would go ‘One-two’ and nothing. ‘One-two’ nothing.  Thank God you’re home…so, where’s my girl, then?” he asked, looking around.

Ringo said, “Your girl?  You better re-phrase that.  She decided to stay home, feather the nest.  She is, after all, the lady of the house.”

“You better re-think that!  There are hospitals here too, Starkey.  Where is it?”

“And that’s another thing, John.  This business of calling her ‘it’ is played out,”

Ritchie said.

John walked over to the door and looked down the corridor.  Mal started to giggle and I pinched him.

“Ow!”

John turned around and walked toward Mal.  Mal started backing away and when John tried to go around him, Mal reached back and turned me with him.  By that point I was hysterical and I could see George and Paul.  We waved to each other.

“So Malcolm, do you enjoy working for us?” John asked.

“Opportunity of a lifetime.”

“I thought so,” John said.  “And isn’t your first obligation to your employer?”

“Depends.  Sometimes the female can be pretty deadly.  Ow!”

“Get out from behind that hulking beast, you!” John said.

George came and grabbed me from behind Mal and pulled me into his arms and said, “First dibs.”  It was just the longest, most loving hug, with squeezes and back rubbing, and it felt delicious.

“Mr. Harrison, such love, what did I do to deserve it?”

“We’ll work on that,” he said, kissing me with a little too much enthusiasm. 

I laughed and went to Paul next for my hug and gave John a backward glance, making him wait.  His look was his usual you’re gonna get it, miss look, but then he smiled.  I decided to give him the business and said, “Paulie, missed you so much.  No one to tuck me in at night,” I said, kissing him.

Paul hugged me to him and whispered in my ear, “Yer in for it now!”

I wasn’t done yet.  “I was looking in the rooms for Beatle Jim.  I mean, I haven’t ever made out with him yet, and all Beatles should get equal time, don’t you think?  Maybe I can catch him before he leaves?”

“I’ll give you Beatle Jim!” Ritchie said, raising his fist.

Neil said, indicating himself and Mal, “What about us?  The 5^th and 6^th?”

“I thought the 5^th was Murray the K,” I said.

“Nah, at best he’s maybe 8^th,” Mal said. “It’s that hat.”

John raised an eyebrow, and said, “Mind yourself, madam, or me boot will make the acquaintance of your lovely little arse – or I’ll have you over my knee!”

“Sir, you’re no gentleman!!” I said.

“Thank Christ,” he and I said at the same time, then pointed at each other and had hysterics.  He pulled me from Paul’s arms and picked me up and spun me around.

“God, I missed this lusty, smart mouth wench,” he said, hugging me tight.

I squealed and said, “Errol Flynn, my hero!”

“Quite the cocksman,” he said lewdly.

“I thought it was swordsman?”

“You go to your church, miss bawdy Lena!” he said hugging my head to his chest.  Neil had his camera ready and had been immortalizing the reunion.

Mal ordered up a huge luncheon buffet from room service and we had a great homecoming party, just the ten of us, including, Brian, Wendy and Derek.

***

After lunch, the four of them retreated to a back bedroom to be alone for a while to talk.  They needed the time and no one intruded.  When you came right down to it, it was just them in the middle of this circus madness, and they needed to connect.

“Neil, which is my room?” I asked.

“I’ve moved my stuff out of this one for ya,” he said, indicating the door off the common room right next to the one John came out of earlier.  There was a door in there connecting to John’s room as well.  The rooms were small, with one double bed in each and Neil said the boys liked it because they didn’t have to double up.

Neil said, “I’ve moved into Derek’s suite, which is the next in the corridor if you need me.”

“Ah. You’ll not be getting much sleep in there,” I said.

“You’ve heard, huh?  Don’t worry, we’ve promised to watch our manners a bit now that you’re here.”

“Please don’t.  The last thing I need or want is for anything to change because of me.  I have enough sense to know when to be out of the way.”

John came out looking for something.

“Nell, did you see that writing tablet I had?”

“Right here, John.  Well, I’ll see you guys later, I’ve a few things to take care of.”

John stared at me.  “You look good, missy,” he said, sitting down next to me on the sofa and throwing his arm across the back.  “That ‘no-fringe’ look has the desired effect.” He played with some wayward strands resting on my shoulder.

“Thanks,” I said.  “Mick thought so, as well.  You look good too, even better, if that’s possible.”

“Mick?”

“Mick,” I said, nodding.  “We had a little homecoming party.”  I was being a real stinker, but he deserved it.  He hadn’t even kissed me once yet.  Ten days and I could think of little else but his lips on mine, and nothing.  He was in a white tee shirt and jeans again, just like our last night together and my heart couldn’t take much more.

“So, my dear, how did you find it livin’ alone with our boy wonder for a few days?  Any new developments?” he asked, watching my face carefully, and biting his lip, I noticed.  So that was it.

“New?  No, I wouldn’t say that.  It was very nice, though.”

“Yeah, I heard.  Just as long as the earth didn’t move.”

“Sometimes the earth moves, even if you don’t expect it,” I said, and we both smiled, remembering our last night together.

“Yeah, but that’s only because you love me,” he said, looking all pleased with himself.

God, was there anything he didn’t know about women?

“Who said?”

“You did.  I heard ya.”

“Never did.”

“You absolutely did,” he said.

“When?”

“At least a dozen times.”

“You’re daft.  Hearing things.”

“Are you saying you don’t?  Because that would be a lie and you said you’d never lie to me.  I heard ya.”

“Well…I think maybe it’s you who loves me, I said.

“Who said?”

“You did.  Said you were going to fall in love with me that very first night,” I reminded him.

“I had to be nice.  Welcome you properly.”  He couldn’t contain his amusement.

“Are you saying you don’t?”

“Wouldn’t say that.”

“Bastard!” I said, gently punching his chest.

“Oh, yes!  I knew you’d be a dirty talker, Nellie,” he said, keeping hold of my hand.

“You’re not giving in, are you?”

“Never.” he said.

“You’d better get back in there before I won’t let you.”

“Okay, but hold that thought,” he said, and gave me one of those exaggerated winks.

***

The trip had really taken the starch out of me, and I’d just stepped out of the shower feeling wide-awake and refreshed.  I wrapped a fluffy bath towel around me and another around my wet hair.  There was pounding on the door that leads to the rest of the suite.  I’d locked both doors before going into the bath, knowing of their cute ‘hide’n seek’ games.

“Stop that banging,” I said, quickly grabbing a pair of panties and yanking them up.

“Open up,” John said.

“Give me a couple of minutes.  I’m not dressed.”

“Open this fuck-ing door NOW, or I’ll kick it in.”

It had to be okay, they were all out there, right?

“Jeez, what is it that can’t wait two minutes?” I said,as I opened it a few inches and peered out.

John pushed his way in and locked the door behind him.

“Finally,” he said.

His hands grabbed both my arms in a vise grip, and he pulled me to him and pasted his mouth to mine.  My head went back as I melted into the kiss, and I lost the towel on my head.  I quickly tried to keep a hold of the other towel, but he wouldn’t loosen his grip on my arms, and it was starting to hurt.

His mouth tasted mildly of booze, and he was kissing me so hard I was sure he was bruising my lips.

“Oh baby, I missed you so much,” he moaned, pushing me back toward the bed.  When we reached it, I lost my balance and sat down.

“Are you drunk?” I asked.

“Just had one to welcome back our kid.  They took him over to meet old Jim.  We are very much alone,” he said suggestively, then added, “Nice outfit.”

“John, really, just let me put something…”

He cut me off with his mouth, and I weakened as he pushed me down onto a pillow and straddled me.  He moved the wet hair out of my face and stoked my cheek with his hand, and his kisses became soft and sweet and not so urgent.  My arms went up around his back as I pulled him to me.  Had it really been only ten days since he kissed me like this?  Had he ever kissed me like this?

As he moved above me, his knee caught the towel and sunk into the mattress, and as it pulled, it popped open the little tucks I’d made to hold it closed.  My breasts popped free.  Instinctively, my hand came up to tug at the towel and he quickly grabbed my wrist and said firmly, “Don’t!”

He stared down at me for what seemed like an eternity, then his gaze came up to my face, searched my eyes.  He then separated the rest of the towel.  He got a surprise finding the panties.  Well, at least they were pretty silk and lace bikinis, and didn’t leave much to the imagination, especially the lacy parts.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.  What was he looking at?  They were only breasts, after all.  He’d seen hundreds, I was sure.  Only not mine.  My heart pounded and I could see my chest palpitating in the space between them, my breathing shallow and quick. 

He lowered his head and kissed the space between, where my heart was beating.  I held his head and breathed in the smell of his shampoo and rested my cheek against his silky hair.  So handsome, so…God help me…

He pulled back again on his hands and knees and his gaze moved down and then up again into my eyes.

“I hope I’m the first to tell you how beautiful you are,” he said, as his hand slowly caressed one of my breasts and his fingers gently squeezed the nipple.

The breath caught in my throat and I barely nodded.

“Good, because I’d hate to have to go to New York or even the next room and throttle someone.”

He continued his ministrations to one breast, sending shock waves to every nerve ending I had.  I think his scrutiny was having even more of an affect than what he was actually doing, if that was possible.

“You mean, I’m the very first to do this?” he asked in bemusement, as he kissed and licked and bit my other breast as he continued to massage the first.

“Yes,” I answered slowly, with difficulty. 

“And this?” he asked, as he took much of it into his mouth and sucked on it hungrily.

“Oh, Jesus, yes,” I saidn holding his head with both hands.

He let go and said, “Leave ‘im out of it.  Just you and me here, and I’m not sharing you with anyone.  Understand?”

Usually a line like that would be accompanied by a grin, but he looked extremely serious.

“Yes, John.”

I pulled his face to mine and kissed him tenderly, my head and heart so filled with love for him, I absolutely ached.  This gave me the temerity to lift his tee shirt up and over his head.  My hands came up and stroked his chest and I pulled him down to feel his bare skin against my breasts.

I had no idea whether men liked this or not, but I pushed him up and kissed his nipples. He let out a guttural groan.  I guess he liked it.  I sucked and nibbled.

“If you don’t stop that, woman, I won’t be responsible.”  He pushed me back, hands over my head.  “Where you getting your education?”

“Divine inspiration?” I teased.

“Good answer” he said, as he moved his legs from astride to between mine, and slowly unzipped his jeans and moved them down and kicked them away.  Oh, good Christ!  I averted my eyes not having the courage yet to look.

I tensed.  He put his thumb to my lips.  “Shhh.  Don’t worry,” he said.

His right hand reached down and caressed my hip, slipping his fingers under the band of my panties and stroking that hollow  place beneath my hip bone, which I just discovered was most definitely an erogenous zone for me.  I moaned and held my breath.

He picked up on it immediately and spent some time stroking me there.  He didn’t know it, but at that moment I gave him the keys to the manor.  Even though I was scared, this felt absolutely right.   Don’t stop there, Lennon! 

I could see the blood pulsating in his neck and I touched my fingers to his Adam’s apple and kissed it.  His tongue found mine again, teased and prodded, then withdrew to kiss me sweetly again.

He murmured unintelligible words as he kissed my brow, my ear, my neck, sucked my nipple, and in between I kept hearing “Want you,” over and over.

For the first time in my life, I got this heady feeling of power, that I could possibly render a man like him to this state, this hot, babbling, throbbing…but that feeling quickly reversed itself when I felt his rock-hard erection and he started moving it against me slowly.

My hands slid down his back and I discovered he was still wearing his briefs.  I had this overwhelming urge now to see him, touch him.  Can’t do that.  He has to call these shots.        

“It’ll be okay,” John whispered hoarsely.   I didn’t want to be reassured.  My brain was screaming, Touch me John, please, take me now!  He was right there,

rocking against me at just the right pressure, just the right spot.  He was also doing a pretty good job of demonstrating his ‘dimensions,’ which were more than impressive and intimidating, rendering me stupid and barely able to murmur his name.  It felt like he could do some major damage with that thing, but it felt like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I wished there were no barriers.  Our pace quickened…

“Let go, baby, I’m here,” he said, holding me so close…

There was suddenly loud pounding on the door.  We both jumped.

“Fuck!” he whispered through clenched teeth. 

“John, you in there?” said Paul.

He covered my mouth with his hand and looked at me and shook his head.  A few seconds went by.

“Jo-ohn!  I know you’re in there,” Paul said, in a sing-song voice.

“Paul, there had better be a fire, or at least an earthquake!” John spat.

Paul laughed.  “We’re waiting on you.  Derek said the press wants a photo of the five Beatles NOW!  Jimmy’s leaving early in the mornin’.”

“Fuck Derek and fuck you...five Beatles, indeed!”  He collapsed against me.

I squeezed him tight and after a while said, “It’s okay, John, you’d better go.”

He held my face and kissed me.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare be.  That was pretty incredible.”

“Amazin’, and to be continued,” he said as he got up, and I covered myself with the towel.  He grinned at my modesty and treated me to a frontal underwear view.  As

he hiked up his jeans, he put on an exaggerated show of how he packed away the “package” and zipped up with that evil, lascivious grin of his.  I giggled, knowing we had crossed a major threshold in intimacy here.

“Go!” I said, and he went through the connecting door to his room.

“John?” Paul said again.

“He’s in his room, Paul,” I answered.

“Sorry, luv,” he said.

I could hear them talking in there because the door on my side was open and Paul was pretty animated. 

“What are you doin’?  Are you out of yer fuckin’ mind?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, maybe.  So choose your words very carefully, Mac.”

Paul said, “Well, I hope I saved you from yourself.”

“It wasn’t going that far.  You know me better than that!”

“Okay, okay.  Is that what you’re wearing?”

“You’re a major pain in my ass, Paul.  Yeah, I’m wearing this – it goes with my blue balls.”

I heard Paul laughing as they left the room.  They were just so cute.

***

It was nightfall and Mal and I were playing cards when they got back.  Ringo looked weary and said, “I’ve had enough of re-uniting, uniting and waving for the cameras and crowds for one day.”

“I’ve not been off this floor all day,” George said.

“None of us have, George,” Paul said.

“Well…come on, then,” George said, pulling me up.  We went into one of the bedrooms and he grabbed blankets and pillows, piling them in my arms.

“Come on, you lot!”

They all did the same, also grabbing bottles, glasses, snacks and stuffing them into the hotel laundry bags, and we all traipsed upstairs to the roof.  Spreading out the blankets, we all lay down under the Australian stars, and breathed in the cool night air.  Neil came up with some large free-standing candles and lit them in a circle.

“This is great!” I said.  “Looks like you’ve done this before.”

“Whenever practical,” Neil said.  “This hotel is not too big and management hasn’t bothered us.  I don’t think we’d get away with it in New York.”

“Alarms would go off in New York!” I said.  “I’ve never been to camp.  Come on, let’s hold hands around the campfire and sing camp songs.”

There were moans, groans and grumblings and mutters of “don’t know any goddamn camp songs.” 

“Me either,” I laughed.

Mal said, “The bar is open,” as he mixed some drinks. 

“What do we have?” I asked.

“We have Scotch and coke, and Scotch and coke, unless you’d like a Scotch and coke?”

“Don’t put yourself out.  I’ll have what they’re having.” I said.

“That’s right!  You’re a champagne lady, aren’t you?” George said, winking at John.

“Yeah,” John said.  “The one with the cork leg.  That stuff has a way of creeping up on you, though, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I said, suspiciously.

Ritchie said, “Yeah, it’s also been known to affect the memory.  Lot’s a things can’t be remembered the next morning.  Promises made.   Makes for some interesting chat ’round the dinner table.  We should be talkin’ about that for years to come.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I was otherwise engaged for that homecoming,” Paul said.  Looks like I missed a bit a fun.”

“Such shocking behavior in one so young,” John said.  “And that dance!  Don’t forget that dance with the seven veils.  I thought we’d seen it all in Hamburg.  This one would make them blush!”

“That was following the actual strip tease, then the veils came out!” George revealed, with a look of triumph.

“All right, that’s enough,” I said apprehensively.   “I don’t know what you’re on about, but…”

John said, “Oh, but I think you do, missy.”

“No, I don’t mister!  Just because I got a little tipsy…”

John said, “Tipsy is what a little lady gets after a sip or two of wine.  You were pissed to the gills.”

“Sloshed,” George said.

“Four sheets to the wind, my love,” Ritchie said.

“And I didn’t forget the flirting you did at the club.  If I catch you flirting outside the family again, you’ll get it but good,” John warned.  “Aren’t there enough men for you here?”

John’s eyes had mischief in them, so I knew he was teasing about that.  Paul, Neil and Mal were pissing themselves – rolling on the floor as they didn’t have far to go.  Their laughter was so contagious, I started cracking up myself.  I hid my face behind my hands.

“All right, all right, I give.  For almost the past two weeks, it’s been driving me crazy.  Who undressed me and put me to bed that night?”

George said, “I told you, you sat the three of us down and stripped for us!”

“Stop it!” I said, sideswiping him with a pillow.  “You wouldn’t be such cads and allow me to do such a thing, nor would I do it, even stinking drunk!  Besides, Ritchie will tell me.  He can’t lie.”

John pointed a finger at Ringo and said, “Remember, you took an oath.  Brotherhood!”

He thought about it, then turned to me and deadpanned, “I’ll never tell.”

“Bastards!  One and all,” I said.

George, who was sitting on my left, threw an arm around my neck and nuzzled my ear.  “If you’re nice to me, I might tell.  I have brothers.”

“See that alcove over there behind the brick thingy?  Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

“It’s a date,” George said.

“Have another drink first,” I said to him, and we all fell about hysterical.

It was the most wonderful night of talking, laughing, games of tag, silly ghost stories and stolen kisses, until, one by one, we all fell asleep, our heads propped up haphazardly on pillows and on one another, until the sun came up.  Then, we woke each other and went downstairs and fell into our respective beds until after noon.

***

I was so excited I couldn’t contain myself as I applied my make-up and got ready for the concert.  I wore my red silk blouse so they would be able to spot me, because even the number of people and photographers backstage could be considerable.

“This ought to knock their socks off,” I thought, pulling up the black leather skirt I had bought that morning in the shop in the hotel lobby.  When did I become such a femme fatale?  I guess two days before, when the towel came off.  I’d been able to think of little else since.  Yesterday there was a mass civic reception, press conference and dinner, and we hadn’t a moment alone since.

I got a bit of a tongue lashing that morning from Paul upon stepping off the lift after buying the skirt.  I was first up and went downstairs, knowing I wouldn’t be gone long, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone.  I made the mistake of leaving my door open and not even leaving a note.  Paul assumed I was with one of the others, but when he found I wasn’t, he got everyone, including Neil, Derek and Mal searching all the rooms, the stairwells and the roof.

When I stepped off the lift, he was standing there waiting and he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.

“Where the hell have you been?  Are you crazy?” he yelled.

“What? What happened?  Is someone hurt?” I asked.

“What happened!  We couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I was just in the lobby.  I didn’t want to disturb anyone.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you ever do that again without tellin’ someone where you are.  Is that understood?”

I’d never seen him so angry.

“Oh, Paulie, you love me!”  I smiled, trying to make light of it.

“Is that so?” he said as he pulled me to him and hugged me.  I really was touched that he showed me this side of him and made me feel very special indeed.

The other three gave me the business over breakfast, though.  Whenever I spoke, they ignored me.

“Did you hear something, Ring?” John asked.

“Not a bloody word.  Pass the milk,” Ringo said.

The two of them seemed to be in cahoots on the subject of me, and I wondered if they’d had a meeting or something.

I produced a brown paper bag from under the table.  “Gee, it’s too bad no one can hear me, then they can’t have any of these swell buttons and badges I brought.”  I spilled them out on to the table.  “Too bad too.  I just know…”  They fell all over each other trying to get the best ones.

“Uh-uh,” I said slapping their hands.   “For every one you take, it will cost one kiss.”

“That’s pretty steep,” George said.

“Take it or leave it,” I said.

George picked up six buttons from the table.  “Taking it,” he said, and took my hand and led me off to his room.

“Ey!” the other three yelled.

“That door had better stay open,” Ringo yelled after us.  George slammed it.

***

Their stage clothes for this show were beautifully tailored black suits with black velvet collars, which were loaded in the equipment van and brought directly to the venue, and they dressed there.  They were all sitting around in jeans and casual shirts when I stepped out in my leather vixen skirt, my dark hair smooth and shiny, softly framing the tailored look of my red silk blouse.

“Oh God, I’m so excited, I can’t stand it!” I said.

They were all four slouched over, legs casually thrown over the arms of the chairs and couch.  One by one, they all slowly sat straight up, giving me the once-over.  George lifted his eyebrows and had a similar expression as in the scene in the movie when the secretary is putting on her shoes.  I laughed and said, “Thank you, George.”

“No problem,” he said as he looked to Paul and grimaced as if in pain.  Paul nodded in agreement.

Neil came in and said “Ready?”  Seeing Neil reminded me of the hair-grabber the other day, and I ran back into my room and said, “Wait up!”

I pinned my hair up in a tight bun and put on a pair of shades.  This should keep the fans’ eyes off me, I thought. 

“Booo,” John said, when he saw me.

“What the bloody ‘ell?” Richard said.  “Jesus, you look like a schoolmarm.”

Neil laughed. “She had a run-in the other day and would like to keep her hair.”

“Were you hurt?”  John sounded concerned.

“Not too, but not a very pleasant experience I’d want to repeat.  I’ll fix it again when we get there.”

***

 To me, nothing was sexier than a man in a well tailored suit, and formal dress was an absolute orgy.  They all stepped out of this communal dressing room, one by one, fixing their ties and looking so handsome, I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.  I had to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from blubbering. 

Richard came and enveloped me in his arms.  “Come on,” he said, “you’ve got to get me through this.  You got me this far.”

“They’re here for you tonight.  You’re so handsome I can’t stand it,” I said straightening his tie.

Neil came in.  “Come on, girl.  I’ve got to set you up out there.  The opening acts are almost done.  All the crowd keeps chanting is ‘Ringo, Ringo!’  You’re definitely on tonight, Ritch.”

“See” I said.  “I told ya.”  He squeezed me to him.  George and Paul both asked for “a kiss for luck.” 

John looked positively green, which very much surprised me.

“John?” I said.  He looked at me apprehensively.

Paul said, “Don’t worry, luv, he always gets like this.  He’ll be fine once he’s on and plugged in.  We’re lucky he’s not spewing.”

“Johnny?”  He came and clung to me like a little kid.  I held him tight and rubbed his back.  “Okay?” I asked.  He kissed my lips, not sexily at all, but sweet and loving, and I felt the tension leave him as he nodded. 

Neil pried me away.  “Now, luv,” he said.

This place did not have a well in front of the stage where we could stand, so Neil brought me over to the stage left wings.  There was some photographers there and someone with a large camera who would be filming the whole performance.  The men and the amps were blocking my view.  From this angle, I would only be able to see John’s left side and maybe the top of Ringo’s head.  No, this would not do.  Neil had already left me, and I headed all around the stage to the other side, where the view was at a much better angle and I’d be able to see all of them. I positioned myself between two sets of curtains. 

Some local deejay came on to introduce them.  I could hear groups of fans starting chanting rituals of “We want The Beatles” and it picked up momentum.  Also, others screaming for Ringo, everyone well aware that he was finally back.  When they were finally introduced, they passed me on the left totally unaware that I was there, and did their half-run, sexy walk onto the stage.  Pandemonium and the flashbulbs popped like a million stars as they plugged in and plucked a few notes before the first count in.  I stepped forward a bit so they could see me. Ritchie was first to spot me and blew me a kiss.  At that moment I was not the girl temporarily living with them, but a swooning, weeping fan finally standing before her larger than life gods, feeling the most excitement of her life.  One by one, they all spotted me, giving me a little high sign, Paul a wink, George a big lopsided smile, John lifting his right index finger and waving a little “hi” with it, and giving me a goon face, then a big bright smile.  I blew them all a big kiss.

After the first number, Paul made a special announcement to the crowd welcoming Ringo back, and when he stood up, looking so happy and waving his fist in the air, the tears just spilled over and I was bursting with pride, as if I’d given birth to them or something.  I looked out over at the audience and I realized once again how lucky I was, because I was one of those girls out there, and I knew what they were feeling for their own special favorite, and all of them for that matter.  To love one was to love them all.  Any true Beatle person would feel this instinctively. 

John was doing his spastic comedy schtick and Ritch was right on him with the drums.  John then sang “You Can’t Do That” for the first time on stage, and looked at me much of the time, and when he winked at me, I thought I would climax right there.  Yes, Lennon, I see you straddling that mike and cradling  that guitar high so we can see all your wares, and yes, you’re driving me insane, and you know it too!  You’re doing it to me and every other girl in this place who is not afraid to look at a real man who knows what he’s doing.  I’d never seen him looking so good. 

This is what all the fuss was about, I thought, when George hit the last note on his twelve-stringer and the crowd screamed even louder.  It sounded note perfect and his voice was incredible.  I was totally lost in the moment and the tears clouded my eyes.     

Just then, I felt someone grab my arm and jerk me around.  A security guard had grabbed me from behind and tried to pull me away from my precious spot.  “Come on, you,” he rasped at me.

“I have a pass,” I said, fumbling for it, but by that time he grabbed me around my waist and lifted me.  I started fighting him, not appreciating the way he was manhandling me. 

Even if I had been a fan who had gotten through, I wasn’t causing any trouble, and I knew the boys wouldn’t appreciate any of the girls being treated this way.  I started kicking and punching at him.  “Put me down, you moronic ape!” I said, as I brought down the heel of my shoe on his instep.  He yelled out and I got free, but he managed to still grab hold of one arm and twist it behind my back.  I cried out in pain.  “You bastard, let me go!”  The pain was excruciating and shot up my arm and shoulder blade. 

After that, everything went spare.  John came running off the stage, his guitar just thrown off and left clanging to the floor.  He grabbed the guard from behind, arm around his neck and yelled into his ear, “Let her go, you fucking bastard, or I’ll break yer neck!”  When he let me go, John turned him around and punched him hard in the gut and when the guy doubled over, he kicked him hard in the groin, sending his balls up to his throat, I was sure.  By this time George was off the stage too and the guard was down on the floor, writhing in pain.

John grabbed the guard’s arm and turned him and twisted it up and behind his back.  “How does ‘t feel, you low life piece of shite?  Huh?”  He was twisting it hard and George had to use a lot of force to pull him away.

“No, John.  Don’t!” George said through gritted teeth.  John was seething and straining to catch his breath, as George pushed him back and as far away from the man as he could and held him at bay, both hands firmly on his chest.  I became hysterical, and George turned to me.  “Are you hurt, baby?” he asked as he grabbed my shoulders and tried to calm me down.

“Twisted my arm behind my back, couldn’t take much more.  Couple of more seconds, he would have broken it for sure,” I said, sobbing.  “Oh God, please, please get back out there.”  I couldn’t bear the thought that the show had stopped because of me.  Ritchie was standing on the riser now; I was sure he hadn’t seen a thing until John ran off the stage.  I waved for him to stay there and not come down.  Paul was looking to us for instructions.  By this time, Brian had made his way to where we were, along with our whole entourage and a couple of more security guards. 

John rasped, “Brian, this mother-fucking excuse for a security guard attacked her and twisted her arm around her back.  I’ll kick his bloody head in for ‘im!” Brian held John back and said reassuringly, “I’ll handle this, John.  Please calm down and get back out there.  Both of you.”

“Don’t give me any of this ‘the show must go on shit’ Brian.  This was totally uncalled for and unprovoked.  She’s got a fucking pass around her neck, for chrissake!”  John’s face was crimson and I’d never seen him in such a rage.

“John, please,” I said. “I’m okay now.  Go out there and finish the show.”  I said all this without grimacing and trying desperately not to let on how much my arm was throbbing.  “I’m okay now, I swear,” I repeated.  He threw an arm around my neck and pulled me to him, holding my head fiercely to his chest.  When I pulled gently away from him and looked into his eyes, I saw pain in them and so much more that was speaking volumes to me.  “I know,” I said softly into his ear.  “I love you more.”  I kissed his lips.  “Get back out there for me, please?”

Brian said, “George, John, please.  I will handle this.  I’ll have his job for this, I promise.”  Brian fussed with John’s jacket and fixed his tie and turned him around and gave both him and George a shove toward the stage.  “Go!” he demanded.

“Who’s in the fucking mood, now?” John complained bitterly as he and George stepped back on to the stage. George whispered something in Paul’s ear and John spoke to Ringo.  The crowd roared and diplomatic Paul made an announcement of, “Sorry, folks, nature call,” before he looked to the others and counted in the next number.  If anyone actually heard him I’m sure they wondered how both John and George had an emergency at the exact same moment.  Funny.

Backstage things happened quickly.  The security guard was stood up on his feet and walked off and Brian took my arm to escort me back to the dressing room.  “Ow!” I yelled, and Brian said, “Oh damn, Neil, you had better get her to a hospital and have that looked at.” 

“No, no please,” I insisted.  “It’s just sprained or bruised or something, not broken.  Please, no fuss.”

“Move it for me,” Brian demanded.  I winced as I lifted my arm as high as I could.  “Okay, get her back to the dressing room,” Brian said to Neil.  Neil put his arm around me protectively and said into my ear, “This is not where I left you, miss.  This area was supposed to be left clear for them to move in and out quickly.”

“I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t see a thing from that side.  You can’t know how very sorry I am.  Damn it!”  The enormity of what just happened hit me again and I started to sob uncontrollably.  “I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Neil, first the other day coming into the hotel and now this.”  He pulled me into the dressing room and closed the door and let me cry it out, holding me and shushing me like a little child. 

About fifteen minutes later, Mal came in and said, “Come, you lot, they’re on the last number.”  They walked me to the stage door and put me in the limo, and then Neil and Mal went back to escort them out.

***

The rest of the tour was wonderful and went off without a hitch, except for one incident of egg-throwing by a small group of students, but by the end of it we were all very weary and thrilled to be finally heading back home.  The unending hours of the flights manifested itself in a new-found fear of flying by all of them.   It became a question of how long can you just hang here in the air without one of the engines conking out?  Every bump and bit of turbulence became a white knuckle experience, and I was very much in demand by all of them to sit next to and hold hands and give comfort.  It was great!

On our arrival at the flat, John, Paul, George, Mal and Neil just kept walking around, admiring the finished product – the furniture, the shelves, the hi-fi system, all the decorative finishing touches.

“Lena, you’re amazing.  It looks fantastic!” George said.

“Told you,” Richard said.

Paul came over and hugged me.  “Did you know you had all this talent?”

“Not at all, but Neil and Mal helped me pick out the furniture.  The rest just sort of took care of itself.”

Neil said, “But you put it all together and coordinated everything so well.  You’re incredible.”

“Thank you, sirs,” I said, blushing.  “I’m happy you’re all pleased.”

John came over and gathered me up in his arms.  “Well, I knew from day one that she was a woman of discernable and incredibly good taste.” 

Richard took my hand and gently pulled me away from John and hugged me close, saying, “Especially in men.”  I mockingly “punched” his arm. 

John smiled and shook his head resignedly and said, “You’re officially in charge of organizing our first big bash.  How about after the American tour?  Shall we make it for Christmastime or my birthday?” he asked excitedly.

Not being able to get a grip on my emotions fast enough, my lip started quivering and my eyes filled with tears.  “You forget,” I said, “I don’t live here, and I will be gone at the end of the American tour.”  I ran to my room and slammed the door.

***

July was a wonderful month, bringing with it the premiere of A Hard Day’s Night on the 6^th in London.  It was so very exciting arriving at the London Pavilion to the crowds and the sheer magic of it all.  Princess Margaret came to the reception with Lord Snowdon and was so beautiful and gracious.  The boys looked uncomfortable and hot in their formal dress, but I thought they were just adorable, of course.  I was careful to stand behind Brian, Neil or Mal much of the time, avoiding getting in any of the shots.  They got so much of the spotlight, that anonymity could be had if one was careful and vigilant.  I was so thrilled and proud of how well the film was received, and Ritchie was given accolades by the reviewers.  It made me so happy that Mr. Lester was able to capture him so well and he really came into his own.  He deserved it.

On the 10^th it was on to Liverpool for a repeat premiere.  The boys were worried that they would not be well received back home as they’d heard so many stories about how they were traitors for leaving their hometown.  They were absolutely floored that Liverpool came out for them with so much warmth and in such astonishing numbers. 

As July wound down and August loomed in front of me, the days seemed to speed up and end so quickly that I became very reflective and upset much of the time.  What’s the old saying?  Time flies when you’re having fun?  Fun would be the grossest understatement ever made.  It just couldn’t be August yet.  August meant the American tour, starting in San Francisco and working our way across the U.S.,winding down in New York, and the very end of my existence.  In the beginning, all I could see was the pure excitement and joy that this summer would bring to me and it was all in front of me and seemed like it would never end.  Now all I could see was the despair of having to be separated from them.  They were the very essence of my being.

They tried reassuring me several times that the telephones worked and they would have me back next summer, my room would be waiting for me, and nothing would change.  I would always be “their girl” and definitely the lady of “this house.”  While that sounded all so sweet and reassuring, I lived in the real world, and knew how easily and quickly the women passed through their lives and how absence didn’t necessarily make the heart grow fonder, but how it just made the heart wander.  They would not be living monastic lives, and I knew I would lose John forever, and Ritchie too, for that matter. 

And to add insult to injury, I was heading back to America in the same virginal state in which I had arrived.  There had to be some sort of law against that!  Forget about anything happening while on the tour.  We lived, literally, in each other’s pockets on tour.  The crowds kept us clinging to each other for dear life.  No, this was pretty much “it” for me.  I wished more than anything that these last five weeks could be spent here at home, together, in this beautiful fairy tale existence, where I could be with them when they were writing songs, recording, lazing about watching the telly, having breakfast, going out dancing.  The laughs and the pranks and closeness we’d all come to share would be missed most – even more than the loving, affectionate (and sexy) moments.  I truly meant that.  I’d had the best days of my life before my seventeenth birthday!

No, I definitely did not want to go on this tour.

***

New York.  Here upon me before you could blink an eye.  The tour had gone wonderfully well.  I knew my parents would not stand for my not coming home in time for the new school semester.  I was lucky to have had this at all, and wouldn’t dare push it.  Brian had arranged a beautiful homecoming dinner for me with my family so they could meet the boys.  It was great fun, and George was very patient and kind with my younger brother’s guitar questions.  He idolized George, and George gave him a gift of a lovely guitar which he autographed for him, and which I was sure my brother would never play, and would probably encase in glass!  My parents both smoked, which made them both all right with all of them, and they presented my mother with a gold cigarette case and my father, a gold lighter.  They also gave my mother a bouquet of roses and thanked them both for the wonderful company of their “lovely daughter.”  I peered at all of them, knowing them all so well by now, my expression saying aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?  They were being so sweet, and in turn each one of them returned an expression to me that said, Shut up!  I had to stifle my laughter.

We had a very interesting visit from Bob Dylan and his boys at our hotel suite.  Bob was very much the flavor of the month for them then.  They were really so much of one mind when it came to musical trends and trying new things.  Well, Bob came to visit and brought along with him what woulds very much become the “new thing” in their lives.  Marijuana.  Mr. Dylan was very much surprised that they had not partaken before, and they explained that it had seemed to be part of the black jazz musician experience and not the British rock scene.  They all gave me a don’t even think about it look, which they needn’t have bothered, because the smoking of anything at all was abhorrent to me.  I did, however, partake of the cheap wine.  It was a great party and the laughter was side-splitting.

***

I’d spent the last two days putting on a brave and cheerful face and the last two nights crying myself to sleep.  They seemed not to notice how upset I was, which might have been their way of coping, or else they were taking it very much in stride.  Either way, I was not happy.  Tomorrow I was going home.  They were leaving New York.  I could hear them all in the living room, having a “larf,” as John had come to call it, and here I was, sobbing into my pillow.  I silently cursed Bob Dylan. 

I heard a knock on my door.  “Lee, are you all right?” Paul asked.

“No.  Go away!”  I heard him try the doorknob, but I had locked it.

“Are you sick?  Let me in,” he demanded.  I heard them all giggling outside.

“I’m not sick.  Go away, please.”  I was inconsolable tonight.

“If you don’t let me in, I’m going to do myself a terrible injury trying to break the door down.  You know what weakling pansies we are!”

I got up, thinking what a pain he was, and let him in.  “What, what!?” I demanded. 

“You’re the one crying.  Look what you’ve done to that beautiful face.  What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?  What’s wrong?  I’m leaving tomorrow.  But none of you seem aware, or if you are, none of you seem to care.”  I heard hysterics outside the room and couldn’t tell if they were eavesdropping or just in on their own private joke.  Either way, I didn’t like it.

“Oh!  Is that all?  Don’t be a silly goose,” Paul said, walking out and closing the door behind him.  That’s it?  That was the extent of his comforting words, his loving affection?  I threw myself on the bed again.  

***

Not having gotten much sleep, I put the last of my things into my bags and hauled them outside and placed them near the entry door to the suite.  Breakfast trolleys had already arrived, and Mal walked in and gave me kiss on the forehead and sat down next to me to have some breakfast. 

“Mal, please kidnap me,” I begged.

“I’d gladly give you my seat, luv,” he said.  “Take my ticket.”

“Well, that’s more love and emotion than I got from any of them!”

He laughed.  “Didn’t I tell you on day one that they needed you around?  None of them have bitten my head off all summer.  That has to be the Lena influence.”

“I was thinking so too, till we got to New York.”  I hugged him gratefully.” Oh, well,” I said wistfully, “I’m gonna miss you, big guy.”  When I looked at his face he had a huge smile.  What was wrong with everyone?  They were leaving me.  I hugged Mal again anyway, never wanting to let go. 

They all came in, one behind the other and all took a plate and something to eat from the trays.  John looked at me and Mal as he passed.  “The minute you turn your back, they’re making it with the help.” he said with a backward glance.

“Watch your mouth when you talk about my sweetheart,” I shot back at him.

Ritchie asked, “Are you packed?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Her bags in the limo?” he asked Mal.  Mal nodded and left the room, head down, stifling a sound I couldn’t tell was laughing or crying.

“Limo?  I thought I’d just take a cab.  You’re driving me home?” I asked.

Ritchie said, “I don’t think so.  I don’t think we could drive the limo across the Atlantic.  I mean, we’re not Jesus or anything.  Although, maybe…”

“Saint Ringo of the Water,” John mused.  “Say three Our Fathers, one Heil Hitler and hop on one foot.”

“I know what you guys are playing at, and I don’t appreciate it.  This separation thing is going to be painful enough for me without having to endure your ball breaking,” I said, losing what was left of my patience.  The tears were flowing now and I carelessly wiped them on my sleeve.

Ringo crossed his arms in front of him and shook is head.

“Eejitt!” he said.  “You’re not listening.”

“Not at all, at all,” George said, also shaking is head as if he were in the presence of the most dense individual on the planet. 

“She is pretty thick after all,” Paul said.

“Yeah,” John agreed.  “I’m having second thoughts.  Can’t have a thick lass ‘round our necks all the time.  What would people think?”

“What?” was all I could manage to say.

“Get rid of ’er!” George said, with a dismissive wave of is arm.

“What?” I repeated and stamped my foot.  I was beginning to sound like one of John’s spastics.  “What are you saying?”

John picked up on it instantly.  His hands went all cockeyed, his tongue in his cheek, and he spoke out of the side of his mouth.

“Are you coming home with us, or not?”  He stomped his foot.  “Do one for yes, two for no.”

Brian came in just then.  “Oh, good,” he said.  “I was hoping to be here for the show.”

“Don’t mess with me, Lennon,” I said, crying openly now.  John gave up in exasperation.

Ritchie sighed and said, “Stop yer crying now, luv.  You’re comin’ home with us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  How could I?  What about school?”

“All fixed,” Paul said.

“My parents would never agree to this in a million years.”

“Actually, it was taken care of ages ago,” Brian said.  “I had some very nice talks with them.  I did have to sign a blood oath, though – some sort of Italian thing.  There are some interesting conditions, which we’ll discuss later.”  I smiled between sobs.

“Brian, are you telling me the truth?”

“I have to be.  I have no sense of humor, after all.”  He looked at them all pointedly.  I checked out their faces carefully.  They all had the same smug smiles on, like they all just swallowed the same canary – and it was ME!

“Oh, my God!”  My hand came up and covered my mouth.

Richard got down on one knee and took my hand.  “Lena, would you do us the honor of coming back to London with us and being our…our, help me out here, boys.”

“Yer on yer own, Ring.  Could get arrested puttin’ a label on this thing,” George said.

“Well, will ya?” Ritchie asked.

Barely nodding my head, I took him by the shoulders and stood him up.  His arms went around me and I buried my face in his clean white shirt and whimpered like a baby.  I never wanted to let him go.

This time there was no cheering or whistles like on our first day – just a sweet tender moment.  We’d all been through so much together in such a short time.  I felt tugging on my blazer.  John stood behind me, waiting his turn and pulled me to him and held me so tight I thought I would burst.  “Always bawlin’,” he said, wiping my cheeks with his hands, kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, “I couldn’t let you go.”

The hugs came quickly from George, Paul, Neil and Mal.  But I saved the only kiss I had in me after this shock for Brian.  I pulled his face down to me and kissed him square on the lips, a big loud smack, and he blushed profusely.  I hugged him around the waist. 

John couldn’t resist, “Now there’s a first!”

“Thank you, Bri.  I know you’re somehow responsible for all of this,” I said gratefully.

“My pleasure, my dear.  Have to keep my boys happy, after all.  And, for the record, I wouldn’t have bothered at all if I didn’t think you were a wonderful girl.  Now, if you don’t mind, we have a plane to catch.”

“I have to speak to my parents,” I said.

“They’re waiting for us in the V.I.P. Lounge at the airport.  Let’s get a move on.”

“Brian, you thing of everything,” I said.

***

In the lift on the way down, I was back to raising my voice, “Now, whose bloody idea was it to keep me suffering to the last possible second?”  And, without a blink, they all pointed in different directions at each other and said, “HIS!”

“Bastards!”  I said.

Lena King is 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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