15 December, 1960
At first no one quite knew what to say. John was there, had been there, all this time. Last night, he'd slept right around the corner from them, in his aunt Mimi's little house that was identical to the Twickenhams' and bordered their backyard.
Or maybe he hadn't slept there. Fiona hardly knew anything about his life anymore; he could have been anywhere, with anyone.
But here he was now, and for a quick moment it was easy to remember why she'd fallen for him all that time ago. He looked harder now, bolstered with crude wisdom and cold toughness picked up on the Hamburg streets. His brow, though sterner, still framed his eyes the same way. His features, though sharper, still carried an air of childlike mischief with them. His brown eyes caught hers for a moment, but the corners of his mouth didn't turn up the way they used to. Rather, his lips thinned and he shifted his gaze away, passing over her.
But perhaps the most apparent difference how empty he looked. John always had something to say or do, some comment to make, some secret plot you could see forming in his eyes if you looked. But now he was a shell of himself, blank and dim, the brightness gone from him.
Paul at first grinned in contented surprise, but less than a second after he grew serious, frowning as he shook his head. "What're ye doin' here?"
John didn't look at him. "Came back."
"When'd ye come back?" George asked, stepping closer to John. Fiona felt Lewis reach for her hand and gladly took it.
"Last week."
"Why?" Paul sighed, visibly frustrated to be getting nowhere in this conversation.
John shrugged. "Was bored."
"An' Stu?"
"Still there."
There was a pause where no one said anything. Bob Wooler seemed to sense the tension building in the room; clearly this reunion had not at all gone how he'd envisioned.
Paul sighed again, throwing his hands out helplessly before folding his arms. "Why didn't ye tell us, John?"
"Coulda come an' found us," George added, his Scouse accent adding a natural sing-songy ring to his voice even when he was annoyed.
For a moment Fiona thought to say something. In her old world she would have; she would be there defending John, telling off the rest of them, fleshing out the story when John wouldn't elaborate. But she didn't step forward now. She had nothing to say. If anything, she was just as bloody confused as the rest of them.
John downed the remainder of his beer in one swig. "You three left, an' Stu and I needed somethin' to do. He's lookin' at the art school they've got there, an' most nights he goes to Astrid's and paints with her and Klaus. I went around a few nights, tryin' to play with whatever group was on, when I could.
"After a while, figured I oughta just come back. Hamburg rejected me, it bloody rejected all of us." He paused. "I guess comin' back and seein' you all would mean I'd given up, an' I didn't wanna do that."
Paul nodded to the chair John was sitting in. "Well, here you are now. Can ye see us?"
"Unfortunately, yeah."
Paul could never stay angry at John for long, and a moment later there he was clapping John on the shoulder, forgetting his frustration within minues now that the band was reunited. John playfully nudged George's shoulder, then cordially nodded hello to Meg. Paul introduced Lewis, who seemed to hesitate a moment before nodding his own hello. John turned to Fiona last, instantly locking eyes with her.
He was staring at her, the solemn expression of being lost instantly recognizable on his face. His lips stayed tightly knit as they observed each other. His eyes flicked to her fingers intertwined with Lewis', a hint of question in his face as he looked back up at her. They were trapped a mile apart, both of them desperately needing to say something but neither knowing where to begin.
At last John scratched the back of his neck. "Ello."
"Ello." It was nothing, a pleasantry, a beyond underwhelming way to greet someone when there was so much more to say. But none of it was coming to her now. There was only John. Looking into his eyes now, she could see how different he looked at her. He'd evolved without her, and the face she saw now was that of a complete stranger.
Her eyes stayed locked on him even after he had snapped out of it, his voice a blur in her ear as he turned away and nodded around to his bandmates. "Pint for all of us, then?"
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19 December, 1960
The ship came in later that week. And the boys, who'd had no choice but to leave their instruments and amps behind in Germany, were beyond ecstatic to have their gear back. Not even a blizzard could stop them – though it certainly put up a fair fight.
Around noon they'd driven out to the docks in Lewis' car, braving both the snow that pelted them in the face and the dirty sea breeze that blew so loud it made it hard to hear each other. The sky was dark with heavy overcast, the sea a green mirror of the blankness above. The boat, a bright body of white, was impossible to miss – the boys hungrily watched it getting closer, all of them too eager to be musicians again. After John had come round, they'd all agreed to start playing gigs again – and now they'd have their equipment back, they finally could. This boat was bringing their lives back.
Presently Paul and George were loading the final amp into Lewis' tiny trunk, while Meg brushed the snow from Paul's hair and eyelashes. John had run to grab one more thing, and Fiona and Lewis lingered by the car to help squash everything in. They'd made good work of it; there would still be room for the six of them if they crammed.
Fiona shivered in her London trench, watching the snow melting on the water that lapped against the docks. John's muffled voice faded in and out of earshot behind her as he went back and forth from the car, then someone else's footsteps were rapidly approaching, crunching the snow behind her.
"Lookin' to catch your death?" Lewis teased, wrapping a puffy arm around her shoulders. He was nothing but a cute little boy with his pink nose, snowflakes balancing perfectly on top of his freckles.
"It's a lovely day," she smiled with mischief. "Enjoyin' the weather."
Lewis chuckled, guiding her away back toward the car. "Get inside, you loon."
The layout in the car was slightly interesting. George had already climbed in the back beside Paul and Meg, the three of them bickering over who would have to squeeze in the middle.
Already sitting halfway down the front bench, to her surprise, was John, who was at present turned around, trying his best to win the back middle seat for George. Fiona climbed in through the driver's side door, shutting it quickly as Lewis came around to close the trunk.
Without really thinking about it, Fiona nudged John's side. "Budge up, you." He turned to her, almost in surprise. Nudging him, touching him, suggested a sort intimacy that was out of place between them.
"Ta." She at last said after a breath, sliding into the middle, brushing the snow from the lap of her coat. She tugged off her gloves and then glanced back up at him, realizing he was still watching her. For a second she had the instinct to reach up and ruffle his hair. But then she heard the door open, felt the wall of cold air on her back, and there was Lewis sliding in next to her, shutting the door again and starting the car. John dropped his gaze to the floor as Lewis, unaware of anything that had transpired, greeted them warmly.
Fiona couldn't help smiling in relief when Lewis rested his arm on the seatback behind her to reverse the car, and kept it there once he'd started driving. Because it made John flinch. She could tell, she knew what it meant when John withdrew and kept to himself. She didn't want to admit it, but she was glad to make John uncomfortable. He'd caused her enough uncertainty and anxiety in the past months – and as much as she hated it, it felt good to throw some of that back at him. She rested her head on Lewis' shoulder, a wave of vindictive satisfaction creeping through her as she saw John turn toward the window.
"You all right?"
"Mhm."
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𝙃𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧!
𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙚𝙨, 𝙄'𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙚! 𝙄𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙩𝙤𝙣!
𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 ❤️
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Hours later the flurries had stopped, leaving a good foot of dense, packed snow on the ground. They'd been gathered around the Twickenhams' small kitchen table for most of the evening, sipping hot tea and listening to the wireless playing softly in the background. Daddy and Lynn leaned back against the cabinets, glancing at the clock every now and then and smiling tiredly to each other.
There hadn't seemed to be any immediate conflict between John and Lewis, and Fiona was glad of it. She'd told Lewis about John of course, though she'd left out some of the more colorful details (which she'd been eager to forget, herself). She'd seen them steal a glance at each other once or twice over the course of the last few days; John always looked like he had something to say but had thought better of it, Lewis somewhere between apologetic and questioning.
With another split-second glance at John, who was staring silently down at his tea, Lewis tapped the table and rose, looking responsibly to the clock above the doorway. He reached up to rub Fiona's shoulders. "Getting late."
"Mmm."
Paul's doe eyes widened as he read the time too. "Better get going, y'know, George," he said with a yawn, finishing the last of the tea in his cup.
"Oh, stay!" Lynn said, setting down her mug as she peeled back the curtain, seeing the snowfall outside. "You'll freeze out there."
George shrugged. "Nah, we've walked from Fi's house before. Good to be doin' it again, I think we remember the way well enough," he added, grinning at the Twickenhams.
They had no room for guests, anyway. With Meg and Lewis already staying, there'd be nowhere but the parlor floor for anyone else to sleep.
"We'll be all right," Paul agreed. "The street's mostly thawed."
"Thawed, maybe, but it's a slushy mess..."
"Nah, that's okay, Mrs. Twickenham-"
"Let me drive you," Lewis said, concern knotting his brow. He once again glanced to the unresponsive John, as if he expected him to jump at the idea. His pocket jingled as he reached for his keys.
"Lewis, it's really all right-"
"Yeah, sooner we leave sooner we'll be back-" They had both tugged on their coats by now, their indifference to Lewis' offer apparently upsetting to him.
"I don't want you two freezing out there."
"It'll be fine, Lewis, we're not far."
"Just let me drive you!" Lewis was almost shouting now.
"Lewis, jus' leave it alone..." She rubbed his hand, which had balled itself into a fist. "It's not London, they'll be fine." Paul and George nodded along meekly, George's eyes meeting Fiona's with concern.
"Don't be stupid," Lewis scoffed, though at the look Fiona was giving him he slammed his hands on the table in frustration and marched up the stairs, grumbling something about going to bed. The sound of his stomping gradually moved over their heads as he approached the landing. John watched him go all the way up, and there was a moment of paused silence before everyone resumed. Paul and George finished tugging on their wraps, and without a look at John Fiona led them to the front.
She knew immediately what they were thinking, and put a warning finger to her lips as they moved out of earshot before either of them could say a word.
Paul just bit his lip. Fiona frowned. "Somethin' to say, you?"
Paul's eyes dashed to the stairs and back again before he shook his head. Clearly, he was fighting his better judgment to speak. "He always this bad?"
She crossed her arms. "He's had a long few days. We all have. What's wrong with tha?"
"Nothin," he shrugged, "but that's no reason to go stormin' away like tha..."
"He get that angry with you a lot, Fi?" George continued, concern lingering in his dark eyes.
Fiona sighed and shook her head. "He's not angry at me."
"Didn't look too happy, way I saw it."
She shut her eyes for a moment, pushing her fingers through her hair. "Look. I appreciate this. Don't need you two lookin' out for me, though. Got Lewis for that."
Paul frowned. "We're always lookin' out for ye, Fi."
His eyes flashed to George's, a look that was impossible to miss. Neither of them said anything else, but before stepping outside Paul leaned in her ear. "He ever does or says anything to you tha you don't like, you come to us, got it?" She vaguely wondered if by 'us', he meant John too.
"Not worried about tha, Paulie. Get 'ome safe."
He paused a second longer before giving in, pulling her in for a quick hug, and stepping out into the cold. George nodded farewell before shutting the door quickly against the wind.
Fiona sighed to herself. They knew something was off. Truth was, she didn't know what was up, herself. Lewis didn't usually snap like that. But he was probably just in one of his moods. He needed to write, he needed to clear his head. He was used to writing news stories infused with sarcasm and critique; that was where he got all his anger out – and he'd had no time to do it since they'd arrived. It had been so easy to forget they'd been there almost a week already.
John emerged from the kitchen a moment later, draping a scarf around his nose and mouth and tugging on his hat, still damp from the snow earlier. Lynn hurried out behind him, still fussing over would he make it home all right and was his coat warm enough.
"I'll go with John," she heard herself saying, unfazed even when John snapped to look at her.
Lynn's eyes flicked up the stairs for a second. "All - right?"
"S'only around the corner," Fiona reminded her, taking her coat from the couch. Daddy raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged and followed Lynn back into the kitchen.
The trip back to Mendips was mostly silent, apart from the murky slush spattering the sides of their boots as they walked. The night was eerily serene; the overcast sky above was a pale gray-green that encapsulated Woolton, and Liverpool beyond. But being on the path back to John's house was comforting. Even though Mendips was so close to Daddy and Lynn's, she hadn't walked it in the few days she'd been back.
John seemed content to direct his focus to the ground, to stepping carefully around the many puddles of melted slush. It was unusual behavior for someone who hardly ever kept his mouth shut, but Fiona had no problem with it. If he wasn't talking to her, she didn't have to think of things to say back.
Several times she almost tripped and slid forward on the black ice, her heart racing every time she threw her arms out and fought to stay upright. John didn't seem to notice, but kept walking on. His thin lips were pressed together, his eyes almost squinting the way they did when he was thinking about something. He looked tough and intimidating in his black wool coat with the cuff turned up, but the cold had colored his nose and cheeks a rosy pink that cut right through his façade.
The thing about John was, he was exceptionally skilled at covering up whatever he was really thinking or feeling. Back when they were together he'd opened himself up around Fiona, he'd let her know him. But now, tonight, he was closed off and distant.
When they rounded the corner, John finally sighed, his heel scraping the concrete sidewalk as he stepped up onto it.
"Didn't need to walk me home, y'know."
His comment took her aback a little. He'd made it sound like he owed her, that walking him around the block had been a burden on her.
She tried not to sound hurt. "I know."
John didn't say anything.
"How was Hamburg?" It was a stupid question, but the only thing she could think to ask. She saw her breath in the air.
John paused for a moment. "Don't feel like talking about it. Loud. Busy. Different from here." He shuffled a pile of slush around with his boots. "But we're taking a long break for a while. Playin' around here, cleaner places and better hours... no more stayin' out till seven in the damned morning."
She'd remembered him, and then Paul in retrospect, telling her about their wild schedule. It was one of the last things she remembered from his few letters. It would be better for them overall to be playing at somewhat humane times again. And something in her sprung with joy at the thought of the boys staying local.
She stuck her finger through a hole in her mitten. "Why'd you come back?"
He shrugged. "Didn't feel like doin' it there anymore."
"Ye sure it's not to do with George bein' seventeen and Paul and Pete lightin' the cinema?"
He shot her a sharp look, his eyes cold. She'd gone too far. "That was just them bein' idiots for no reason. We really need the break. I need a break."
Damn right, he did. John had regained some of his chaotic jokester energy in the few days since the band had been reunited, but something about him still felt deflated. The zest he used to have for everything he encountered was gone now; whether it was vanquished or only dormant in the light of their expulsion remained to be seen.
They were at his gate now, a generous ring carved out around it where Mimi - or one of her boarders - had already cleared the snow. "How long have you known Lewis?"
She pushed her breath out, forming another cloud that swirled and disappeared. "Few months. We met back home."
Shit. She had to get a grip of her own damned tongue, unless she wanted to keep letting words slip out that she didn't mean. Was London really home to her? No, she thought to herself. No, as long as she missed this place right here from somewhere deep in her heart, she knew in her head London could never really be 'home'.
John stopped at his door, swearing to himself as he fiddled in his pocket for his key.
"John, I-"
He shook his head. "It's all right, s'all right. I know I wasn'... keepin' up with you." He opened the door to his dark front room. "All tha..." She could barely see his face in the scant lighting. "You, eh, deserve someone who keeps up with you. Fin."
The sound of her old nickname shot through her lightning-hot, and though she used to hate it so many years ago, right now it was the most strikingly beautiful sound in the world. One that was just for him to use, one that wouldn't sound right in anyone else's voice. She wondered for a moment if she'd only imagined him saying it. The cold was probably getting to her damned head. But before she could say anything back, John had shut the door.
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Hello again!
I hope you've enjoyed Chapter 3! If you liked, I appreciate if you'd take the time to vote! Helps people find the book :D
Peace and love to all. Stay tuned for next week to see what comes next!
Till then✌️