Shelter In Your Love (Beatles Fan Fiction)

88. Ding Dong Ding Dong

Ring out the old, Ring in the new,
Ring out the false, Ring in the true,
Ring out the old, Ring in the new.

'Nothing,' John says.

'Please,' I beg. 'Something. Anything.'

John sighs. He pulls open the flaps of a nearby cardboard box and makes a half-hearted attempt to look through the contents inside. 'But it's all just... junk.'

'John!'

'Well, it is, Spanner. What are you keeping it all for?'

'Because it's her's. It's Minnie's. Everything she loved and saved for--'

'Loved this, did she?' he asks, pulling a tall, brass table lamp out of a cardboard box. He holds it out to me, too close to my face so I have to take a small step backwards. The lampshade is missing and the fixture is cracked and chipped so it won't hold a bulb anymore. 'It's broken.'

'Yes, okay, not that then,' I say, batting it away from me. 'But other things. Please, John, there must be something you want to take? You can have anything you want.'

He drops the lamp into the box carelessly. The back of the plug comes off and clatters to the floor, rolling under a nearby chest of drawers. John looks for it but can't find it and gives up. He straightens his back and puts his hands on his hips, huffing again.

'Why have you brought all this crap here? It looks like it could be the entire contents of her flat.'

'It is.'

'What?'

'The entire contents of Minnie's flat. There's a load of furniture in the two rooms next door as well. You can have any of that too, if you'd prefer?'

John widens his eyes at me. 'Have you gone loopy, love? You've moved Minnie's flat, lock, stock and barrell back here?'

'No, I didn't--'

'It bloody well looks like you did!'

'--George did. George had it all brought here.'

John stares at me for a beat. 'Then you've both gone peculiar!'

'I didn't want to leave it at her flat to fester and rot. I wanted to sort it all out after the funeral, but I couldn't face it. It was too upsetting. George had it all boxed up for me and moved back here instead, so I could look at it when I was ready, but...'

I cast my eyes over the mountains of boxes and bags filling the drawing room at the rear of Friar Park's ground floor.

'I haven't got around to it,' I finish, with a sigh.

Since George had it all moved back here, I haven't been able to face sorting it. Two rooms hold Minnie's furniture and then the overspill of boxes, books, clothes and other things fill this one. The room is quite large but there isn't hardly an inch of floor space left, just enough room to sidle around the piles of boxes and a narrow path through the middle of them.

'Did you sell the flat?' John asks.

'No, it's still there-- Oh, do you want that? You can have it, if you like. I'd give it to you.'

'Give me what? Minnie's poky shoebox flat in Battersea?' He raises his eyebrows. 'No, thank you, Hannah. I don't want her flat. I don't want anything.'

'Well, why not?' I ask, irritation creeping into my voice. It's hard not to be offended by his absolute refusal to take something of Minnie's to remember her by. I've said he can have his pick, take whatever he wanted, but he can't be less interested. 'Isn't she worth enough to you?' I demand. 'You can't even be bothered to look. Or don't you want anything to remind you of her?'