Little Talks

Absolute Beginners

They'd been here for just under four hours now, but were still talking and mingling with everyone in the garden.  Really, it was impressive that they could smile and talk together for that long.  I had happily retreated back to the drinks cart on the veranda, were I was just out of sight of anyone who really mattered.  Which at this party, seemed to be everyone.  Somehow they all fit into the garden area, which was walled in from the beach.  That was the part I hated about this estate so much; you didn't have a clear view of the waves crashing ashore from the garden.  Instead, you had to climb over the stone wall -or use the gate at the end of the garden- to see the beautiful white sand.  I realized that I wasn't the only one who hated that wall.

Paul and George had abandoned Ringo with one of the guests and were now leaning against the wall, drinking gracefully balanced on the top.  I wasn't sure whether I should go interrupt them.  Having been the guests of honour at so many similar parties, I understood the vital importance of slipping away.  Those small moments were to far and few between, and thus needed to be relished.  

I thought of a better idea; one that would get me out of this party temporarily, and maybe even allow a conversation with Paul or George.  Quickly, I took a bottle of champagne from the bucket, and slipped quietly around the side of the veranda.  There the stone wall was shortest, and was underneath willow trees that would allow to me escape virtually unseen.  I set the bottle carefully on top of the wall and pulled myself up, careful not to catch my dress on the rough stones.  Once on top, I slipped my shoes off, and with heels in one hand and champagne in the other, hopped down into soft grass.  I didn't bother to put my shoes back on; they were made for titled parlours, not grass and sand.  

The beach was empty considering how many people were packed into the garden.  It was generally considered ill behaviour to leave the gardens at such events, but I didn't really care anymore.  I sat down on one of the rocks and uncorked the bottle of champagne.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see George watching, but Paul was no longer with him.

That's because Paul was apparently walking towards me, while George was keeping lookout.  He didn't say anything.  Instead, he just sat down and took of his jacket, tossing it near where I'd abandoned by shoes.  Not sure how to handle the situation, I extended the bottle in his direction.  Once again, he didn't say anything.  He just took a swig from the bottle and passed it back.  This didn't seem like the Paul every magazine interview portrayed him as.

"Abandoning your own party doesn't seem like a hostly thing to do."

His voice caught me off guard.  I looked away from the sea and saw he was holding the bottle out again.  I took it quickly and laughed a little.

"And the main guests don't usually leave half way through."

That one got a laugh out of him.  Good one Alanna.  I took a sip from the bottle before leaning it between the rocks between us.  My hands had become numb from holding it all this time, and I didn't want the champagne to go warm quickly. 

"So you're not a fan of garden parties?" I stated, a little snark in my voice.  "You've fooled me for the last four hours or so."

Paul leaned back on the rocks.  "Its not that we don't like them, it's just that once you go to so many, they all start to look the same."  

"Plus we were told this was going to be a vacation."  The new voice, which sounded even more tired than Paul's, came from George, who was now just a few feet from us.

Paul laughed and passed the bottle back to George, who eagerly accepted it and sat down.  He didn't pass the bottle back to Paul though.  No, kept ahold of it, and once I realized he wasn't going to be returning it anytime soon, I rolled my eyes and went back to talking with Paul.

"You really should get an itinerary before agreeing to any trip. Basic step."

"They said Côte d'Azur, which sounded like relaxing on beaches without hassle."  Paul smiled and looked back at George, who was now holding the cold bottle to his head.  "Besides," he grinned, "apparently this is the only major engagement."  Paul swiped the bottle away from George, took a mouthful, and passed it back over to me.  This time I kept it.

"Well," I said, not wanting to sound like a tool, "you're apparently staying here, so I can't promise this is the last party.  Father's very fond of his cigar clubs and local diplomats."

Paul and George both feel silent.  And there you go, I though, you've gone and made it awkward and horrible again.  I passed the bottle back to George, almost as a form of apology.  I couldn't think of anything to say.

Paul broke the silence first, and thankfully in a happy manner.  "You're right about the diplomats," he agreed.  "How exactly are you here?"

I was taken aback.  What did he mean how was I here?  "Uh, my parents are English, but I was born in Marseille, if that's what you mean."

Paul nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.  George started asking questions about living here, which I was happy enough to talk about.  It wasn't a bad life, just not always the easiest.

An hour passed and the champagne bottle was now empty and warm.  We were all comfortably sitting in silence, glad for our own reasons to be away from the crowded garden.  Eventually we'd have to go back.  The sun was beginning to set, but we probably had another few minutes before someone would come looking for us.  Paul had noticed too.  He grabbed his jacket from under George's head and stood up.

"I'd love to take another bottle of champagne from a waiter, but I think they might see."

George and I both groaned and stood up.  I picked up my shoes and gently placed the empty bottle behind a bush.  

I started walking back to the wall, but this time to the gated entrance.  "I can maybe cover you for long enough to get into the guest wing again," I said quietly, trying not to draw attention to our presence near the gate.  "But you're both on your own once dinner is called."

George gave me a quick smile and nodded, then entered through the gate, with Paul a stride behind him.  They stayed close to the wall and kept their heads down.  

I quickly stepped back into my heels and pulled my face into a smile.  With a deep breath, I stepped into the path of the closest waiter, and shrieked as his tray came crashing down on me, causing my dress to turn a shade of merlot.  Suddenly everyone's faces were turned on me, the host's daughter drenched in wine, and in a tangle with a waiter.  No one noticed George and Paul walking up the tower stairs to the guest wing, or Paul's horrified face once he saw what happened.