Well, half past nine, half past four,
Fifty women knocking on my door.
Everybody's trying to be my baby...
Everybody's trying to be my baby, now.
'He's not coming, is he?' Cat asks for the third time as she leans her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees, sitting on the chair in our hotel room. She has tears in her eyes, which she's blinking back furiously, but her mascara has started to run. She touches the corner of one eye with her little finger and then absently wipes it on the skirt of her peach coloured dress, leaving a black mark. My heart breaks a little bit for her. I swear I'm going to slap George when he arrives. If he arrives.
'He'll be here soon,' I say, with more conviction than I really feel. I catch Ricky's eye and he raises an eyebrow at me. He turns away, inspecting the knot of his tie in the mirror on the wall. I try to smile reassuringly at Cat. 'He's probably just got stuck somewhere,' I tell her. 'I mean, their lives are so... so busy, aren't they?'
'Stuck somewhere without phones,' Ricky murmurs and I shoot him a look.
'Do you think so?' Cat asks, putting her little finger to the corner of her eye again, still trying to blot her running mascara.
'Yeah, of course,' I say. 'Why don't you pop and fix your make up and then I bet he'll be here by the time you're ready.'
Cat forces a small smile and stands, smoothing her dress down. She leaves for the bathroom and Ricky sighs, annoyed.
'They'll give the table away if we don't go soon.'
'I know, but what do you want me to do? The three of us can't go.'
'We'll go, just you and me.'
I look in the direction of the bathroom. 'I couldn't just leave Cat. She's upset.'
'You're all heart, Hannah.'
I frown at him. I don't know why Ricky wanted to do this. I don't know why George agreed to it, when he clearly didn't want to. He's had all day to come up with some excuse to get out of it. He could have called and said he was too busy, he was ill, anything. Standing us, and more importantly, Cat, up like this is just not acceptable.
Cat reemerges from the bathroom. She sighs and forces a small smile. 'Guys, I think I might just go home,' she says. 'I don't think he's coming and there's no reason to let it spoil your Valentines day.'
I frown at her. 'Oh Cat, no. We could -'
I'm interrupted by a knock at the door. 'Ah, the prodigal Beatle,' Ricky says as he answers it. He opens the door wider to reveal George, finally. He stands, looking sheepish, outside the door. He's smartly dressed. They seem to go everywhere in suits these days. He holds six red roses in his hand. 'You only just made it in time,' Ricky tells him.
'Sorry,' George says, stepping in. 'I got uh... delayed. We went to meet our bodyguard's family, at his home and we didn't get back til later than I thought we would...'
'Bodyguard?' Ricky echoes. 'Is that the life of a Beatle? I'm quite glad we don't need bodyguards,' he says back to me and Cat. 'Then again, we have got Hannah. I don't think anyone would try anything with her around. Look at her now, how angry she looks.' He gives me a wry smile. I return it with a withering look.
George offers the flowers to Cat. 'Sorry I'm late,' he says to her, sweetly. 'I brought these for you...'
Cat takes them from him, smiling widely, all traces of tears long forgotten. 'Thank you, they're beautiful.'
'...And, um, this one for you, Han,' he says, producing a large white petalled daisy from behind his back. It looks so scrappy and downtrodden compared to the pristine roses. George grins, as I take it from him.
'A daisy,' I say, flatly, trying not to smile.
'Happy Valentines day,' George says. He turns to Ricky. 'When Hannah and me lived in Liverpool, we used to go to Calderstones Park a lot. It's full of flowers like daffodils and tulips and primroses, but Hannah never liked any of those. She liked the dowdy old dog daisies that grew in the weeds outside the gates.'
'You remembered,' I say, drolly, but I'm unable to resist laughing.
'Of course,' George replies, grinning.
My eyes meet his and we look at each other, just a beat too long. I turn away sharply and lay the daisy down flat on the small circular table by the door. 'We'd better go,' I say, taking Ricky's arm. 'We're already late.'
*
The restaurant is Italian, naturally. I don't think we needed to worry about missing our reservation. The owners clearly know Ricky very well and they stand around chatting in Italian for ten minutes when we arrive, while the three of us wait awkwardly behind him.
They show us to our table which is in a raised part of the restaurant. Private, separated by a slatted wooden partition so no one can watch us, but we can still see out over the rest of the room. There's a piano player on the far side of the restaurant and a small dance floor space in front of the piano. The pianist plays without stopping, blending more recognisable tunes usually sung by Bobby Darin or Dean Martin with classical pieces.
It's busy in the restaurant, with mostly couples dining tonight. There's a single red rose in a glass vase and a white candle on every table. I sit down next to Ricky and opposite George. Cat is next to George. She opens her menu and screws her face up. 'It's all in Italian,' she whispers.
I cast a look at Ricky. 'Couldn't you have taken us to somewhere where we can all understand the menu?' I ask him.
'Never trust an Italian restaurant with a menu in English,' Ricky says dismissively. He glances up at me. 'I can order for all of us anyway.'
I sigh. 'You'll have to.'
The waiter brings some wine and he and Ricky start to talk in Italian again. I turn to George. 'We watched the Ed Sullivan show,' I tell him, while Ricky's distracted. I don't really want to remind Ricky of that night, but not complimenting George on it seems rude.
'I thought it was just fabulous,' Cat says and George smiles, coyly.
'You didn't sing anything though,' I add. 'George used to sing a lot when we were in Hamburg,' I tell Cat.
'No,' George says. 'But I don't think I could have even if I'd wanted to. It was a wonder of modern science I could even stand up and play guitar.'
'What? Why?' Cat asks, concerned.
'I was really ill when we arrived here,' he tells her. 'It was, uh, what do they call it over here? Strep throat? And I had a fever of about a hundred and four. The doctor said I couldn't go on at all at first, but Brian wouldn't have it.'
'Brian Epstein?' Cat asks and George nods. 'Maurice is a bit like that, isn't he?' she says to me. 'I think your head would have to fall off before he'd let you have a day off sick.'
I smile at her. 'Are you better now?' I ask George.
George nods. 'Yeah, mostly. They gave me so many pills and injections I don't think I'll have another cold for about ten years. That's how I managed to catch your show. On Friday night, when everyone else went for dinner. Louise, my sister, likes it a lot.'
'I forgot your sister lives here,' I say.
'She lives in Illinois,' George tells Cat.
'Poor George,' Cat says. 'It's horrible being ill when you're in a hotel. When you're sick you just want your own bed in your own home. Not some horrible hotel bed that you don't know who's slept in before.'
'I think the Plaza, Manhattan is a bit nicer than the hotels we're used to, Cat,' I say.
Cat giggles. 'Oh yeah, it would be. Is that where you were staying?'
George nods. 'We're at the Deauville here,' he adds. 'Unfortunately I have a roommate, so it's not quite as luxurious as you might think...'
'A roommate? You can't afford your own rooms?' I ask him, teasing.
'I'm sharing with that DJ, Murray The K. Know him?' Cat and I nod. Everyone in America knows Murray Kaufmann. He's a DJ for the radio station WINS in New York. He's really influential, everyone wants to get their records played on his shows. He also seems slightly unhinged. He heralded the Beatles arrival like it was the second coming. He plays their records a lot and always seems to have inside information. I'm surprised he's close enough to them to be staying with them though. 'Yeah, he's driving me a bit crazy, actually,' George says offhandedly. 'Though he took us to see The Coasters last night. Before the Peppermint Lounge. Y'know, The Coasters? Yakety Yak? Paul used to sing Searchin'. That's a Coasters song.'
He's looking directly at me, speaking to me, rather than the others around the table. We used to spend hours talking about records when we still lived in Liverpool. Which ones we liked, which ones we didn't. 'Yeah, we've met them,' I reply. 'They came on the show once.'
George tilts his head sideways. 'Oh yeah, course. I keep forgetting. You're probably more famous over here than we are.'
'I doubt that,' I say, smiling. George smiles back and looks down. He still has the same smile. He reminds me of his seventeen year old self when he smiles. That young Scouse lad, trying to be a Ted, trying to act older to keep up with John and Stu. I think it might have been that smile I first fell in love with. He might wear a suit and a mop top hair cut now, but he's still the same underneath.
'Where's everyone else tonight then?' I ask and George looks up at me.
'They're all watching this stand up comedy show at the hotel,' he replies. 'Don Rickles, he's called. Didn't seem all that funny to me.'
Perhaps it was his eyes, I fell in love with. They're this gorgeous deep chocolate brown colour. Long black lashes. He really is good-looking. If anything, more so now than when we were kids.
I suddenly come to my senses as I realise we've been staring at each other for far too long. These thoughts, these memories, are much too dangerous. I look away, shake my head a little, trying to dislodge the notion.
I turn away and Ricky is watching me. I feel myself start to blush. I offer him a small smile, glad that he can't read my mind. Ricky smiles back, thinly.
George coughs and clears his throat. 'Would you like to dance?' he says, his voice sounding a bit strained. I turn back to him. He's asking Cat. Of course, he's asking Cat. I pick up my water glass and take a big gulp as Cat nods and they both stand up, George taking Cat's hand.
'Are you alright?' Ricky asks as George and Cat leave the table.
'Yes, of course I am. This... uh, this restaurant is nice, isn't it? Very romantic. I'm getting a bit hungry now though. It's hours since we had lunch...' I'm babbling, like I'm nervous. I need to pull myself together. Ricky's already wary over me and George. He's going to think there's something going on at this rate. Why on earth did he suggest this meal? Is he trying to trip me up or something?
I turn around in my chair to watch them dancing. There's three other couples on the small square dance floor with them. The pianist plays Beyond The Sea. Cat and George make a nice couple. Cat is a few inches shorter than him. He holds one of her hands in his, her other hand on his shoulder. She looks up at him. I'm not close enough to see her face properly, but anyone can see she's totally enchanted by him. I stifle a sigh, wondering how I would feel if they started seeing each other properly. My best friend and my... George.
I turn back to the table. Ricky, sitting back in his chair, is still watching me, studying me. 'They look good together, don't they?' I say to him.
Ricky casts a glance at them and nods perfunctorily. 'Hannah,' he says and hesitates.
'What?' I reply, turning to watch the dancing again.
'Will you marry me?' he says. His voice is so plain that I don't take in what he's said for a moment.
I turn back to him. 'You've already asked me that,' I say, grinning at him.
Ricky sits forward. 'Yes, but that was... a little unfair, wasn't it? To ask you in front of an audience. A national one at that. I don't have to tell you who's idea that was.'
'Maurice?'
Ricky nods. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket he brings out a dark blue velour covered ring box and sets it on the table between us. 'Plus, I didn't get the chance to give you this,' he says, opening the box.
'What's that?' I ask him.
'It's a sack of potatoes. What do you think it is?' he says, as he pushes the open box towards me. Inside is a silver solitaire diamond ring. The stone catches the candlelight. 'So, Hannah -'
I open my mouth but Ricky puts his hand up.
'No, think about it, baby, please, before you answer.' He casts a glance over to the dance floor and George and Cat, making sure, I think, that they're not about to interrupt us, but they're still dancing. 'Will you marry me?' he repeats.
'Yes, of course I will,' I say, feeling a lump in my throat.
Ricky smiles. He takes the ring from the box and I offer him my left hand. He slips it onto my finger.
'They want to film it, you know,' he says. 'The wedding.'
'Really?' I ask, looking up at him. 'Can they do that?'
Ricky shrugs.'We'll soon find out,' he says with a little shake of his head. 'The, uh, marriage will be real, though, Hannah. That's why you need to be sure.'
'I am sure,' I insist. 'Ricky, I wouldn't have said yes if I wasn't.'
He leans forward to me and kisses me. 'Okay then,' he says, smiling mischievously. 'So long as you know what you're letting yourself in for.'
I smile at him but I feel awful. How can I sit here, gazing at George, thinking... all sorts, when I have Ricky here next to me. Ricky who loves me. Ricky who wants to marry me. I am a terrible person. I take another mouthful of water and resolve to pull myself together. Whatever I had with George was over years ago. It was nothing more than a teenage romance, puppy love. With Ricky, it's real.
*
The food is delicious. Of course it is. Ricky's not taken me to a bad restaurant yet. I make more of a concerted effort to concentrate on Ricky and not George for the rest of the meal. I talk to him, leaving George to Cat. I make sure it's him I'm gazing at now. I hold his hand under the table. As we finish the main course, the maitre'd from the front of the restaurant approaches us. I drop Ricky's hand, casting him a black look before he's even noticed him. I already know what's coming.
'Sorry to interrupt, Mr West, there's a telephone call for you.'
Ricky gives me an apologetic look as he stands up.
'Ricky, leave it,' I say testily.
'I won't be a moment.'
I sigh, but Ricky's already lightly jumped down the steps, disappearing after the maître'd.
'Who is it?' Cat asks me.
'Maurice, probably,' I reply sulkily. It seems we can never go anywhere without being interrupted by him. He always needs to know exactly where Ricky is. He's always calling, asking Ricky to go somewhere or do something, and Ricky always indulges him. I think half of our dates have been interrupted by Maurice.
Ricky returns a moment later. The look on his face already tells me what he's going to say.
'You're entitled to a night off,' I tell him, before he can speak.
'I'm sorry,' he says sheepishly.
'Ricky, for goodness sakes, it's Valentines day.'
'I know, I know. I'm sorry. He just needs me to go and help him with something.'
'What? What can be so important it can't wait until tomorrow?'
'Is there an emergency?' Cat asks. Ricky shakes his head at her.
'It's nothing. Don't make a fuss, Hannah.'
'Well, I'll come with you then,' I say.
'No,' he says a little too quickly. 'Stay here. Finish your meal.' He turns to George. 'Um, I'm sorry to put this on you like this. I couldn't ask you to make sure the girls get back okay, could I?'
George nods, his mouth full with the last of his dinner. 'Yeah, sure,' he manages, swallowing.
'Ricky -' I start.
He bends down and kisses me briefly. 'I'll be as quick as I can, but don't wait up for me,' he says quietly.
'Ricky -' I repeat, but he's already backing away from me.
'Bye, Ricky,' Cat trills, oblivious.
'Bye, Cat,' he replies. Turning back to me, he mouths, 'I love you.' I don't respond. He turns and he's gone.
I look down at my left hand. The ring he's just given me glints in the low lighting. I consider removing it, putting it in my pocket. Waiters appear and start to clear the empty plates away. Looking up, George is watching me. 'Sorry,' I say to him and Cat. 'He's always doing that.'
'Everything... okay?' George asks tentatively, as another waiter hands out desert menus.
'Yes,' I say quickly, opening the menu and positioning it in front of my face, embarrassed. 'Order the most expensive dessert you can. It's alright, Ricky will have overpaid for it all on the way out anyway.'
No one wants a dessert though, we all just want to leave now. The atmosphere has been spoiled. The maitre'd insists we all have a complimentary limoncello short before we go. I don't know what Ricky's given them, but they're all falling over themselves to try and press more food and drink on us.
Cat sips at her limoncello and pulls her face. 'It's really nice and really horrible at the same time,' she says, and pushes her glass towards me. 'You have mine, Hannah. I've had enough anyway.' While she's saying this she picks up her wine glass and absently drinks the remainder in it before standing up. George and I get up as well. As Cat steps back she staggers a bit and George has to put his arm out to steady her. Cat falls into a fit of giggles, grabbing on to George and he looks at me, a little alarmed.
I try to hide my smile. 'How much have you had to drink, Cat?' I say.
Cat recovers and releases George. 'Too much,' she says. She links her arm through George's, flicking her eyes up at him. 'Fizzy wine always makes me giddy,' she explains, apologetically. George casts me a glance over his shoulder as I follow them out of the restaurant.
The cab takes Cat home first. It would make more sense to drop me at my hotel first, it's closer, but George thinks we should take Cat. She's a bit more drunk that I realised. She swayed coming out of the restaurant and now she's clinging onto George's arm, sitting in between me and him, chattering on at him, asking him about music and the Beatles and England. George looks over at me and catches my eye. He raises an eyebrow at me and I stifle a laugh.
When we arrive where Cat's staying, George gets out with her to see her to the door. I turn away. I don't want to see if he kisses her goodnight. Cat will no doubt tell me if he does or not, but I don't want to see it. I stare out the window in the opposite direction until George gets back in the cab a few minutes later.
'Is she okay?' I ask him.
George nods. 'Yeah. She might not be in the morning though,' he says. 'I didn't think she'd drunk that much?'
I smile. 'Wine always goes to her head a bit. Do you... Do you like her?' I ask, unable to stop myself.
'Yeah, she's very nice,' George replies, not quite understanding my meaning.
'I mean do you... Never mind.' I look away, out of the window, although I can't see much. It's too dark.
When I look round again, George is looking at me strangely. 'What?' I ask him.
'Nothing. Just...'
'What?'
'You look... You seem really happy now, really... contented. A lot happier than you were in Liverpool. Or Hamburg, for that matter. America must agree with you.'
'Thanks... I think. I wasn't that much of a drag back in Liverpool, was I?'
George laughs. 'No, that's not what I meant. You just seem... better now, Han. There always seemed to be something bothering you before.... um, holding you down somehow.'
A feeling ripples through me. A chain around my neck, yanking me back to where I'm forever tethered. A chain that I thought I could forget about, that I thought I had forgotten about. George is still talking. I draw myself up, plaster a smile on my face.
' - except for on vinyl, but that's not the same thing.'
I shake my head. 'Yes, erm, sorry? I... My mind was wandering.'
George smiles. 'I said, you've achieved all this. You've done really well and I've never even heard you sing live.'
'Oh,' I say. 'No, you have, George. In the Cabaret Club back home, remember?'
George laughs loudly. 'That hardly counts,' he says. 'Besides, it wasn't your singing I was taking note of at the time,' he adds with a wink.
I laugh at him, shaking my head. 'You're just the same as you always were.'
'Of course I am. Who did you expect me to be?'
'I don't know. You're so... so famous now. I would have thought it might have changed you, but...'
'You're famous too,' George says, with his trademark grin, teasing me.
I shake my head. 'I'm not famous, not really. Only because of Ricky. It's nowhere near the success you've had.'
'You're just the same as you always were too,' he says kindly.
'I've missed you,' I tell George, the words tumbling out before I have time to think what it would sound like.
'Have you?' George pauses. He considers me before he speaks again. 'I... I missed you too, Han,' he says hesitantly.
'Now you're here, it hardly feels like any time's passed at all,' I say hurriedly. 'You were my best friend, George. I did miss you terribly when you went back to England.'
'You didn't wait for me,' he says, softly. 'You said you would, but when we got back to Hamburg you were gone.'
I stare at him. 'I wrote to you, I told you why where we were going,' I say. 'We couldn't stay. We had no money, no job. Everyone except for Stu had left...' My voice trails away, as I relive those days. 'You never replied to any of my letters.'
George opens his mouth to reply, but stops. The taxi cab pulls up outside our hotel. The driver turns around to us to tell us the fee, interrupting. George sits up, feeling for his wallet.
'There's going to be one more drop off actually,' I tell the driver. 'But I'll pay for it all now,' I say to George, opening my bag.
'No, don't be daft,' George says, as he checks through his wallet. 'It's the Deauville, please mate,' he tells the driver.
'Thanks.' I put my hand on the door handle. 'It's been... nice seeing you again,' I tell George, the words not really adequate for what I would like to say.
He smiles. 'Yeah, you too.'
'I wish we had more time.'
'How long are you in Miami for?'
'We're going home on Monday, but we've got shows on Saturday and Sunday.'
'What about during the day?'
'I don't know. I think we've got a magazine interview at some point. Why? Doesn't being a Beatle keep you busy enough?'
George laughs. 'Yeah it does but... I can always make time.'
We look at each other, both of us perhaps a little reluctant to part. 'Why don't you come inside?' I say eventually. George cocks an eyebrow. 'Just for a quick nightcap in the bar, I mean,' I add, grinning at him.
'Wouldn't your fella object?' he asks carefully.
'Well, seeming as Ricky thought it was okay to abandon me half way through dinner tonight, I'm not particularly bothered if he does.'
We walk into the hotel bar, but it's quite crowded. George pauses at the door unsure. Last night, at the Peppermint Lounge people were bothering George and the others all night for autographs and pictures. The restaurant was more private, but he's bound to be recognised in here.
'We can go upstairs,' I say to him. George raises an eyebrow questioningly. 'Just for a drink,' I clarify, laughing. 'Besides, Minnie should be back by now.'
There is a queue for the elevator so we take the stairs, even though our rooms are on the fourth floor. Our suite has two bedrooms with a shared bathroom and sitting area. It's quite nice and big, more like an apartment than a hotel room. In fact, I think it might be bigger than the flat me and Minnie share back in New York.
At some point, George puts his hand on the small of my back, and we're walking close to each other. So close that I find I have keep glancing up at him to see him as we chat and laugh.
There is a twisty corridor at the top of the stairs which leads to our rooms on the east side of the hotel. As we head towards it, I find we're walking slower and slower, elongating the last few moments we have alone together. It's nice, now it's just me and George. It was lovely at dinner, with Ricky and Cat, too, but now it's just us, it's like old times, with easy conversation and good natured teasing.
'This is our room, at the end of here,' I tell George as we turn the last corner on the corridor. As I indicate to our door, the back of my hand brushes against George's accidentally. He stops and reaches for me, taking my hand in his, as our eyes meet.
'Hannah,' he starts and I feel my breath catch in my throat.
A loud noise cuts him off, a scream. It comes from the end of the corridor. There's only our rooms down there. 'Minnie,' I say, my eyes wide, and dropping George's hand, I run towards it.