25. Lay His Head

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I know that I seem strange to you sometimes,

And who is it in here, you have often thought.

But what can I tell you,

That you don't know already?

'Are you sure you don't want to go?' Minnie coaxes. She stands in front of me wearing a cream linen sleeveless dress, printed with green and orange variously sized dots. She'd ordered it from a boutique in London especially and it had taken ages to arrive. It is a little late in the year for sleeveless dresses now, particularly in linen, but there is no denying she looks amazing in it.

Meanwhile, I'm wearing old jeans with a hole in one knee and a jumper with a large bleach stain on the front. I'm curled up on one of the green sofas in the living room of our apartment, pretending to read a book, but secretly watching Minnie get ready for the Beatles show.

'I've got four tickets,' she tells me. 'They're as rare as hens teeth. It's gonna be a much smaller show than in August so it'll be a load better. And it's for charity. C'mon, Han...'

I just shake my head. 

'Bet wants to take her friend, but I'll tell her she can't if you want to come?'

'No, thanks though. I want to get an early night. Got to be up early in the morning.' I attempt a smile which I hope comes off as sincere.

I'm trying to concentrate on the positive. I should be excited. I should be happy. I'm getting married tomorrow.

I'm trying not to examine my feelings. I'm trying not to let the fact The Beatles are back in New York again tonight spoil everything. I'm trying not to dwell on how and why and where exactly my friendship with George broke down and became irretrievable. When we met in Miami, it was okay, it was good - for a while. I shouldn't have kissed him. That's what ruined it all. It hurt George, it confused me, and it meant that now we can't be friends anymore.

Minnie frowns. 'Okay, if you're sure,' she says, reluctantly. 

'I am,' I say resolutely. 'Don't be late back, will you?'

She smiles. 'Nope. I'll come back tonight, I won't be late, I promise. At six AM I will be hammering on your bedroom door!' 

I hold my smile in place, but I'm skeptical. As soon as John Lennon comes into the picture, I know Minnie will forget all about me and her responsibilities. She's still claiming she and John are 'just good friends.' I don't believe her for one minute. She always said that when we were in Hamburg with them too. He's married, so I can understand why she'd say they were just friends to other people, I don't know why she says it to me. 

Still, it might not be an ideal situation, but he seems to make her happy. They talk on the phone sometimes. He sends her odd postcards that he doesn't even write on most of the time, just fills the space with funny little doodles. She's been through so much this year, I can't begrudge her going to see them tonight, even if the timing isn't great. 

'Alright then. Have a nice night,' I say, trying to sound cheerful. Instead, it comes across rather wistful.

'Oh Han, what did he say to you?'

'What? Who?'

'George, of course. What did he do?'

'He didn't do anything. Besides, why would it matter to me?'

She purses her lips. 'I know that you still have a soft spot for him.' 

This makes me feel strange. I have deliberately avoided talking about The Beatles, and especially George, since they were here in August. Although, I have thought about him a lot. I've brooded over the fact that he seems to hate me now. I should have other things to occupy my mind - Ricky, and the wedding, and the TV show. It shouldn't bother me. It shouldn't, but it does.

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