I had left Jack at home with George and walked to their school, my heart light with the excitement of seeing my children again and hearing about how their days had been. But Dhani had been silent since I had picked him up. He hadn't even spoken to Nancy, who excitedly chattered away at him, explaining each and every detail of her day over and over again until I whispered to her that Dhani knew that she had built a sandcastle in the sandbox at playtime, and that he probably didn't want to hear about it again.
And Dhani wouldn't even talk to George, which was a big blow for him.
"Dhan!" I called up the stairs, "dinner!" He was usually the first down - I didn't even have to call him, usually. He would smell the food wafting up the stairs and hurtle down the stairs. "Dhani?!"
There was no reply.
I sighed and went up the stairs, knowing that his day had gone badly from his silence and desperate to know what exactly had gone on.
"Dhan...?" I knocked on the door, not waiting for a reply before I slowly pushed it open. I saw him lying on his bed, flying one of his spaceships in the air. I sighed again and went to sit on the edge of his bed. "Dhani? What happened, baby?"
"N-nothing..." he hiccuped, and I noticed that his face was a very bright red, his eyes blotchy and sore-looking. My heart ached because my son had obviously been crying.
"Dhan, come on," I said, gathering him up into my arms and encasing him in them, "tell me what happened. Did you not make any friends?" Dhani was silent. "Was the teacher nice to you? Dhani, I need you to tell me."
Dhani's chest was rising up and down very quickly, and I could tell that he was about to cry. I held him more tightly, giving him the support that he needed.
"T-they chased m-me..." he sobbed.
"Who did?" I asked, my nostrils flaring as I imagined my poor Dhani so alone.
"M-my class..." he buried his head in my chest and cried.I carded my fingers through his hair, long like George's, and tried to ground him and calm him down. "T-they were s-singing Yellow S-Submarine."
I groaned. Of course they were bullying Dhani because of his ties to The Beatles - biologically, he was John's son, though he didn't know it yet - and on paperwork, he was George's.
"Mummy," Dhani cried, "I h-hate them!" He wiped his nose against my dress and I sighed, wishing that he hadn't because it was my favourite.
"Oh, Dhan..." I continued to stroke his hair, the time slipping away from us. Before I knew it, George had come in, and he had two plates in his hand.
"Hey," he said softly as he came to sit opposite me on the bed. Dhani pulled away from me and took the plate which George was holding out to him, he dug in hungrily. I refused my plate from George's hand and instead he put it on the bedside table beside him. "What's up, son?" George asked, "you've been quiet all day."
"They chased him, Georgie," I said quietly, continuing to softly brush Dhan's hair with my fingers as I spoke to my husband, who looked dismayed at what I was telling him. "They chased him and sang Yellow Submarine."
George's thick eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Dhani between us; our sweet little boy who we both loved so much and so differently to Nancy and Julian, even Jack, because we knew that he needed special care.
"What did you tell 'em, Dhan?" George asked.
Dhani looked away from his food - curry, as promised - which he had practically inhaled.
"That my daddy was George Harrison." Dhani answered, "Freddie Rice was saying that his dad was a firefighter, and I said that you were better because you were George Harrison and in The Beatles."
George asked, "did Freddie Rice start the singing?"
Dhani nodded, "him and Matthew Collins."
I looked at George and we held each other's gazes for a few seconds before George said, "we'll talk to your teacher tomorrow, Dhan. I'm not having you being bullied because of me."
"I have to go back?" Dhani asked in disbelief and fear, the fork in his hand clattering onto the plate as he dropped it in surprise.
"You have to go back, Dhan," I confirmed, "I'm sorry, baby, if I thought it would be best then I would keep you here with me and never let you go again... but you need to be in school, making friends and -"
"None of them want to be my friend!" Dhani wailed. "Mummy, they all hate me."
"Wasn't there anybody who was nice to you?"
"There's a girl called Mandy -"
I shot a look at George, who looked like he was bursting to tease Dhani about the girl that he had just mentioned.
George resisted the urge and instead said, "Mandy?" Dhani nodded, "she sounds nice."
"Why don't you invite her round for dinner?" I suggested with a smile, trying to give Dhani something to be excited about for the next day at school and for the coming week. "Any night of the week -"
"She said she doesn't like The Beatles." Dhani said, looking at George, "I can't be her friend if she doesn't like daddy's band -"
"Everybody has different tastes in music." George said, "Mandy doesn't have to like the band to be your friend -"
"But if she comes here and isn't nice to you -"
"Then I won't be offended, Dhan," George promised as he took Dhani's now-empty plate from him and put it on the floor. "It's good that Mandy knows what she likes at her age."
"Did she join in when the others chased you and sang Yellow Submarine?"
Dhani shook his head, "no, she told Mrs Foster."
Ah, so that was the name of Dhani's miserable teacher, then.
"And did Mrs Foster stop it?"
Dhani looked at George, "she told me to go and sit on the bench and everybody to leave me alone... but Mandy sat with me."
I smiled, grateful that Dhani seemed to have one friend at least.
"Tomorrow, Dhan, we'll ask Mandy's mummy if she can come for dinner, eh?" George suggested.
Dhani nodded. "Okay, dad..."
* * * * *
Later that night, after we had put all of the children to bed, George and I put our pyjamas on and then climbed into bed together. He put his arms around me, resting his chin on top of my head. I sighed.
"Something wrong, Em?" George asked quietly.
"It hurts that they can be so mean to him, George," I replied, "he's just a baby." I felt my eyes brimming with tears.
George nodded in agreement, "I know, Em, I know." He agreed, "but at least he's got one friend - Mandy, wasn't it?"
I hummed in reply, "you will ask if she can come to dinner, won't you?"
"Of course. I'll ask Dhani to show me her tomorrow."
I smiled, nestling my nose into the side of his neck. George breathed out contentedly, pecking the top of my head before replacing his chin in its previous place, "then come home and tell me what her mother says."
"I will."
"I'll have breakfast waiting for you."
I could practically feel how excited he was about breakfast. George loved to eat, and could eat as much or as little as he wanted and never gain any weight. It was quite frustrating, but adorable in the best way.
"Love you, Georgie." I murmured.
"And I love you, Em." George answered softly.