And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 23: A Fight In A Back Alley In Germany

    "Yeah, I know Paul too. I know the lads."

    Cal looked at me, bemused. "Wow. This is certainly new." He chuckled a little and sipped at his drink. "I love their style. Such rock and roll."

    "I don't know where they are," I said, lying through my teeth. They were probably sitting in their room playing cards or writing music. John might be doodling or writing a letter or sleeping. "Well, if I see them, I'll be sure to introduce them to you."

    After a while Cal asked if I wanted to dance.

    "I don't know how," I told him, bemused.

    "I'll show you."

    During our dancing I thought I saw a familiar face standing at the doorway that led to the bedrooms, and I froze. George was there, leaning against the doorjamb in his familiar black turtleneck, looking up at the Hurricanes with a contemplative expression on his face. If he was here it probably meant the others were there as well.

    "I'm going to the washroom," I told Cal. I hurried over to George, feeling like a huge red flame in my vermillion dress.

    "George."

    "Cora!"

    "Just here for a little dance," I said. He took in my dress. "You look amazing."

    "Thank you! It's Anna's." I remembered her comment about George from before. "She's really great, you should meet her sometime."

    "Uh huh," he said. He lowered his voice. "Look, Cora, John really misses you. He's in his room writing with Paul. D'ya want to say hi?"

    "I'm so sorry," I said. "Maybe another time."

    "I understand," George said. We stood and watched Rory Storm for a few minutes until I went back to Cal, forgetting about my promise to introduce him to George.

***

    I stood outside of the Kaiserkeller in the back alley, looking up at the two story building above me. Iron railings which formed balconies held drying clothes in the still night. I was wearing Cal's coat; it was chilly. I had told him I needed some air and he had given me his coat so I wouldn't be cold. Cal was a real gentleman.

    I had had a good night so far. My breathing had eventually relaxed as the night went on. I hadn't seen John at all. Right at that thought, someone spoke.

    "Beautiful, innit?"

    I jumped; the voice had come from behind me, from the door that I had come out of. I spun around; to my left was a very familiar figure, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette and looking up at the sky.

John. Speak of the devil.

    "John. You tosser! You bloody scared me," I said, and laughed nervously, a reactionary laugh. My laugh quickly faded into the night air.

    "All that laundry," he said, ignoring my comment. "They're like giant trees." I could smell the alcohol in his breath from where I was standing. He was being his typical observational self.

    "Right then," I told him. Another nervous laugh. I stepped a little in my heels, kicking at gravel, wondering whether I should go in or not. A street lamp buzzed in the distance. Someone spoke in German in sharp, hurried tones, a few feet away at the alley opening.

    "I saw that lad you were with," John said darkly.

    I edged closer to the door, not speaking, and a hurt look came over his eyes. "Hey, hey, Cora, shhh, please don't leave, I won't hurt you," and I tensed up, and froze. He looked so heartbroken seeing me tense up at him, and I said, "I'm sorry," my throat feeling thick with emotion.