Lonely People

The Revolution is Strong

After denying Brian, I felt bad. I felt as if I had offended him and the lads. They all said they understood, and they weren't offended. I told them we would never truly separate, Revolution just had to carve their own path. Even if they understood, I still felt bad.

"Come off it, Melly, it's nothin' to feel bad about," Ringo tried.

George nodded, "We all understand. You've got your own thing going, we're proud of you."

"Besides, it's not like you're abandoning us," Ringo said, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

I laughed, "You lads wouldn't know what to do without me."

"Can't argue with that," George replied, "Let's find some food, I'm starved."

I nodded in agreement. The three of us were wandering through our favorite park. There was nothing else to do but wander aimlessly, looking for entertainment. John and Paul were writing songs, Molly was at school, and Janice was with her Mum. Everyone was busy, leaving the three of us behind.

George and Ringo have been spending a lot of time together since Ringo joined the band. Some of the time, I join in. We're like the three musketeers of Liverpool. It seemed like everybody left us more often than not. Those who were left behind tend to gravitate towards each other. 

"I bloody hate the coast," I muttered, "Smells like fish. Bad fish."

Ringo wrinkled his nose, "I've become accustomed to it."

"Doesn't mean I like it."

We waited by the wall waiting for George to return with our fish and chips. From our position, we could see the fishing boats leaving the pier. The fishermen on board threw around ropes, nets, traps, etc. Their shouts were carried on the wind all the way back to land. 

George returned with three cardboard baskets of fish and chips. He passed them out, and we all sat on the seawall, watching the waves lap at the sand.

"We're about to release another single, we are," George said around his mouthful of fish.

I grinned, "What's it called?"

"Please Please Me. Pretty good, I'd say."

"Course, you play it."

Ringo laughed loudly. George rolled his eyes, shoving more chips into his mouth. I simply smiled and looked out to the coast.

The lads were accomplishing so much in so little time, I was proud of them. They were growing steadily in popularity, they were recording songs, and they even had a Scottish tour coming up. They had evolved so far from the four kids playing in a club, and they could only grow more.

"You should play one of your songs," I said, glancing at George.

He shrugged, "John and Paul have enough to fill a show and an album."

"You can never have enough music, Georgie," I continued, "Your music is just as good and theirs, and they will recognize that soon enough."

George didn't reply. Ringo glanced between us, "You write songs?"

"Sometimes. I dunno, they're not as good as John and Paul."

"Rubbish!" I exclaimed, "Georgie, you're one of the greatest song writers I've ever met, and don't you forget it."

George grinned, "Thanks, Melly."

I only nodded. George had written several songs, all of which were shelved. The only George song ever played live was The Birds, and Revolution was the one that played it. The Beatles only once played that song, and that was back in The Quarrymen days.