Love, Love Me Do (Beatles story)

Chapter Thirteen - Meeting The Parents (part 2)

“Come on in, love,” George opened the door of his parents house, leading me in by the hand as he entered without knocking.

”Maybe we should have knocked first,” I said cautiously.

“Nah,” George replied. “They’d be annoyed if I did. They’re my parents, family aren’t supposed to knock.”

“I know that, George,” I sighed. “I just don’t want them to think I’m rude, they’re your parents and I want them to like me.”

George stopped outside a door, of what I assumed was the sitting room, turning around to face me, he cupped my face in his hands and pressed his forehead against mine, so that we were looking each other in the eyes. “They’ll love you, they’re looking forward to meeting you,” he reassured, pecking my lips. “I’m also looking forward to showing you off.”

What did he think I was? His new guitar or something?

Before I could reply to his previous comment, he’d pushed the door open to reveal a middle-aged couple, seated in two arm chairs and smiling at George and I as we entered the room.

“George,” Mr. and Mrs. Harrison greeted as they rose to their feet.

“Mum,” George kissed his mother on the cheek. “Dad,” George shook his father’s hand. “This is my girlfriend, Charlene McCarthy,” he gestured towards me, smiling lovingly at me.

“Ah, so you’re the girl that all of George’s fans are so jealous of,” Mr. Harrison smiled, shaking my hand in his.

“It’s so nice to meet you, dear,” Mrs. Harrison smiled, pulling me into a motherly hug.

“It’s lovely to meet you both, Mr and Mrs Harrison,” I greeted, waving awkwardly at them.

“Come on, Char, sit down,” George said, leading me over to the couch and sitting down.

“You can call me Louise, Charlene,” George’s mother told me.

“Call me Harold,” George’s dad insisted.

“Okay,” I nodded, smiling down at my lap.

“What age are you, Charlene?”

“I’m seventeen,” I looked up as I spoke.

“How long have you two been together?” Harold asked none of us in particular.

“Six weeks,” George smiled at the memory of our first meeting, the one where he was sober.

“You’re the first girl George has taken home to meet us,” Louise told me happily. “We’re just glad he’s finally starting to settle down.”

I blushed and bit my lower lip nervously, but George didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed, flinging his arm around my shoulders, he pulled me closer and dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

“She gets embarrassed easily,” George explained, much to my embarrassment because              I knew he was right.

“I don’t,” I denied, my face contradicting my words as my cheeks burned slightly.

“Sure you don’t, love,” George agreed, all three of the Harrison’s chuckling at me.

“How did you two meet, Georgie?” Louise asked.

It was George’s turn to blush, it wasn’t exactly an ideal thing to tell his parents about, I just silently stared at him, wondering if he’d actually tell them the truth or make up some lie.

“Me and the lads were walking home from the pub one night and we were chased by fans through the streets, so we hid down a lane,” George rushed.