The Singer and the Bookworm | J.P.M

Chapter Seven

Violet woke up the next morning feeling both incredibly excited about Christmas and sort of disappointed at the same time. Sure, it would be nice to have a long break, but school was almost a distraction for her, and without it she was inevitably going to be bored in the last week or so.

She kicked out of bed and made her way downstairs. Her parents were in the kitchen, her mother baking bread and her father reading the daily newspaper with his feet propped up on the table.

"Morning Mom, Dad," she greeted.

"Morning, honey," her Dad said, looking up over the paper with a warm smile. Her mother ruffled her hair fondly and opened the oven to get the bread out.

"Your Dad and I are going to have to pop out of town for a bit of Christmas shopping," her mother began to explain. "You're gonna have to stay here on your own for a few hours, if that's alright with you. There's food for lunch in the cupboards, and if you need us for anything, I've written a phone number for the shops we are going to be visiting, your grandmother and the hospital."

Her mum always took so many unnecessary precautions before leaving Violet home alone. It wasn't like she was going to suddenly drop dead of an unknown illness in the span of time they were going to leave her for. Deciding it were best not to say anything, she nodded along as though she was actually processing anything being said. She kissed her parents goodbye in the next ten minutes when they left. From the front room, she heard them start up the motor of the car and drive away down the street.

That was the first time in a while that Violet decided she was going to go out — by herself.

She quickly ate a bowl of cornflakes and drank a glass of water before returning to her room to dress in a fluffy black sweater and denim trousers, and slip some boots on her feet. She pulled her hair back into a braid and began to plan out where she would go.

There was the park, but it was cold, and she didn't fancy walking around outside on a three-degrees winter's morning. She could go clothes shopping if she wanted, but there was something she would much rather spend her pocket money on; vinyl records.

Before she had time to reconsider anything, Violet found herself paying a few shillings to get on the Number One bus into town. She felt her pocket for the money resting inside it that she had set aside to buy something with; perhaps a Frank Sinatra LP or an Elvis one, although she probably had practically everything by those two artists.

When she got there, she opened up the door to the sound of a tinkling bell and instantly froze in her tracks. A man in a coat in the aisle in front of her, who had just been browsing a stack of dusty cheap records, spun around to make eye contact with her.

It was none other than Paul McCartney.

Violet was honestly starting to get sick of this guy; he seemed to be following her around. She quickly tore her eyes away from his and fixed her attention on the section of the store to her immediate left before striding over to it. Paul's eyes were on her the entire time.

Gazing at the vinyl and at the photographs on the fronts got her lost in her own little world, which was probably why she was so startled when she felt the gentle hand on her shoulder. She gasped softly and spun around. He was there, standing behind her with the faintest look of concern on his face.

I didn't mean to frighten you, little darling," he said sweetly. A part of Violet died. "I just wanted to see how you were."

"Why do you care about me?" she asked him. He was about to reply, but Violet cut him off. "And don't call me 'little darling' again."

"Okay, sorry boss," he responded with a light hearted chuckle. He shifted the record tucked under his right arm to his left hand and held his right hand out, as if to shake Violet's. She stubbornly folded her arms.

"I promise I don't have diseases." Violet raised her eyebrows at him.

"Right, well — in that case, would you do me the honour of eating lunch with me now?" he asked suddenly. Violet hadn't been expecting this. Her arms fell to her sides. "You wouldn't allow me to shake your hand, so you get the privilege of eating with me instead."

Her heart fluttered. Was Paul McCartney, the guy who all the girls went crazy over in the school fields and threw themselves at when he was playing bass in the Cavern, asking her to have lunch with him? She glanced at the clock. She still had numerous hours before her parents were due home.

"Fine, but make it quick," she sighed. Paul grinned.

"Whatever you say."

Once they had both paid for their records, Paul grabbed Violet's arm at the wrist and began to drag her towards a deli across the street. This time, she didn't refuse.

Thank you guys sm for 200 reads! Please do continue to spread the word if you like the story, I'm proud of how this fic is turning out ngl ❤️

Also please do go check out my other book, The Coffee Lounge — it's not a Beatles fanfic but I've had drafts saved for it for ages now and I finally decided to publish them x