Wildfire ~ George Harrison

Chapter 25: Ice circles and a flicker of you

George and his bandmates moved out just before Christmas. A day later I left the Green Street flat to spend the holidays with my family in our country house in Buckinghamshire. Though it was more by force than by will, I couldn't deny the pleasure that the long stretches of field, covered by snow gave me.

By the time I arrived back in the freezing depression that was called London in January, Green Street had returned to the peace and quiet of before the Beatles had moved in. The street was empty of teenage girls for the first time in more than three months. Gone were the shrieks of excitement as soon as there was some form of movement in the hallway. Gone were the sounds of too many people living in the small flat, the sounds that had always been audible through the wall.

But also gone was the sound of music that had flowed through my bedroom wall, the wall I had shared with George's room. There was none of the enticing melodies of George's guitar playing that I had taken for granted when he was still here.

There was no more knowing when he got home and recognising the sounds he'd make to get ready for bed. There was no more of the very low murmur that was him snoring. Something that was barely audible through the flimsy wall, but if I listened very intently, I had always been able to hear it.

There was none of that anymore. No, it was very clear that he was truly gone. George had left Green Street and it was very obvious that he hadn't even said goodbye to me. Of course that was my fault, I knew that much

There was no way of knowing what George had wanted to tell me when he had haunted me down to talk, but now I was sure that he had wanted to tell me they were leaving. He had wanted to tell me he was moving out.

I could hit myself. I wanted to. I had robbed myself from a talk with George, possibly a last talk, all because I was too headstrong.

The building was quiet without the young lads. Because the flat was empty again, our landlord asked, once more, if we wanted to make the move to that bigger flat. Five months ago, Kathleen and I had thought about it, but not now. Maybe Kath could, but I couldn't live there anymore.

I didn't have a lot of time to notice the emptiness of the building as work was straight back into full swing as soon as the holidays were over. It got more demanding and less forgiving and more than ever I was working overtime. Besides, they weren't here anyways; the Beatles were busy taking over France in the meantime.

My next challenge came in the form of Henry. Even if our courtship was based on lies and pretence and there was no reality to it, we still had to keep the façade up by going on outings. He invited me to go ice skating on the rink at the National History Museum, one of my favourite spots in London.

We met on a cold Thursday night in the middle of the month, in front of the South Kensington tube station. He was bundled up in his coat, as was I and a friendly smile broke out on his face when he spotted me.

'Charlotte, what a pleasure,' he said after he pecked me on the cheek as a greeting.

'Henry, thank you for inviting me,' I said and I meant it. Our situation was the way it was, but I knew I could be worse off and it wasn't as if I had any other option.

I didn't know if I wanted to be with him forever, because my heart was still pining for a certain guitar player. But actually, if I didn't have a choice – and realistically, I didn't – then there were much worse people than Henry. He was nice and polite and had always been honest with me. I couldn't ever feel more for him than him being a friend, but maybe that was enough? If I couldn't have George then Henry would be enough for me.

'No worries,' he smiled. 'Shall we go?' He offered me his arm and I took it and like that we walked to the entrance of the ice rink. There was a queue but Henry led me past the line to the front. I wasn't surprised but figured he had likely arranged for us to get in straight away.