Ain't She Sweet

21

Thursday October 17th 1963

"Grace, I can bet he's sitting at 'ome beside the phone, waiting for your call." Ringo frowned, twirling his fingertips around the telephone chord tauntingly.

I turned over to my side, nestling my face into the back of Ringo's sofa, a place I'd been sleeping since leaving George's almost a week ago.

I heard him sigh, and felt a weight seat beside my feet.

"I know you're upset love, but you can't possibly be comfortable here! You miss George. You know you do!"

Sadly this was not true.
Well, not entirely.
I'll admit, he'd damaged my feelings beyond imaginable, what with such blatant and inconsiderate words, but as a result of the ugly way we'd last spoken, I didn't miss him in the slightest.

"Leave the poor girl." Said a more feminine voice from behind the sofa. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need! Don't let Ringo pressure you like that."

"I wasn't-" Ringo objected.

"Eerrhhmm." She cleared her throat.

"Thanks Mo." I sighed, twiddling my thumbs.

She too joined Ringo and sat by my feet on the arm of the couch.
I tried my best to ignore the expressions of angst they sent each other, though these were faces I saw regularly since staying.
I knew I'd be far more welcomed at Paul's for instance, however I'd thought best not after everything with Jane. And though Cynthia would have also opened her arms to me, anywhere where John was situated was a clear red zone for me.

"Would you like me to make you anything Grace?" Mo offered. "You haven't eaten very much. You must be starving!"

I shook my head dismally.

"A drink?" Ringo added.

I rolled onto my stomach.
I could hear Maureen whispering in his ear, and mutters of agreement between the two.

"Grace?" Ringo began, without hesitation for any sort of response. "I think it's time you got up, and went out for some fresh air."

I shrugged.

"I hate to be a pushover, but you look sort of pale, and I think you really need to get out there."

Nothing.

"Grace!" Mo barked, making me jump, falling straight off the edge of the sofa. The last time I'd laid on the ground beside this sofa had been when Paul had tried to kiss me. I missed him.

"Sorry." Mo chuckled, crouching down to help me up. "I just think he's right, you know?"

I nodded.

She smiled, smoothing her fingers over my hair to make me appear somewhat more appropriate, as I hadn't changed in days having brought nothing with me.

"Wait, now?" I asked, realising why she was tidying me up.

"No time like the present!" She rubbed my shoulder in mollification.

I shrugged.

"You okay?" She held me by the arm as we reached the door.

I nodded.

"Okay." She bit her lip. "Try to have a more optimistic approach towards the day, eh?"

I nodded my head as I clutched the handle and strode through the door, Mo watching over me protectively until out of sight.

I had to admit, the cool, fresh air felt sensational to my lungs, as I had been so confined in the Starkey household, coughing up every smoke that proceeded. Stumbling across the thought brought a minor sadness to me; George had never smoked in the house. He knew I detested it.