IF NOT FOR YOU {George Harrison}

Chapter 7

That afternoon, a letter arrived from Louise Harrison, aka George's mum and enclosed in the envelope was a written copy of her very own Lemon Pie.

I stuffed the envelope and the short letter enclosed (I didn't read it) inside of a drawer.

He has a bloody girlfriend and failed to mention it when he practically asked me out?

I felt annoyance and indignation rise in my chest like a snake.

"That common kissing hedge pig. Probably has two girlfriends, and wanted me for the third one."

I angrily began making toffee. That's what I did when I was stressed: Bake and clean.

Dumping butter into an extremely tiny pan, I prepared the sugar and water to add once it was melted.

Why was I so upset that George had a girlfriend? I barely knew him. And asking someone to make a pie with you isn't exactly a date. For all I knew, I was pressuring him into doing something he didn't want to do, and he was just humoring me. But that didn't answer my own question: why was I upset?

I knew the answer, but I was scared to admit it.

I took a breath, muttering, "Oh, hell to it," and followed with, "Because I really like him. I don't know him and there's no reason I should like him, but I do. I want to get to know him better. I want to go out with him and have long conversations into the night. I want to be with him."

I gently poured the water and sugar into the pan, stirring.

"But I can't have him. And I'll just have to accept that."

Saying all of that out loud actually made me feel a lot better, which wasn't any surprise, since I am a very auditory person.

I sighed. After a few more minutes of silent thought and consideration, the toffee was ready to cool. I poured the boiling caramel liquid onto a cookie sheet, leaving it too cool.

That was when a knock sounded at the door. It made me jump, but I walked over and opened it.

It was none other then a weary faced Paul.

"What'd'ye want, Paul? I'm in the middle of making-"

Paul, who looked a bit stricken, cut me off, and quickly said, "Listen, I know ye don' know me or any of the lads too well, but John, he's got an awful sore throat and a battering ram to his 'ead. To be honest wit ye, we're broke, and we 'aven't got any medicine of any sort and no money to buy any and I'm worried abou' 'im. Do ye 'ave anything?"

He took a short breath, and whispered, "Please, I didn' know who else to come to. Astrid said yer da's a doctor."

Taken aback by this sudden appearance and request, I didn't know what to say for a moment. After a moment of digesting Paul's words, i gestured for him to come in.

"I've got some aspirin and lemon tea, but if he's got influenza or even a form of streptococcus, he'll need to go to a doctor. Untreated, he could get very, very sick."

Paul looked genuinely surprised. (A/N: I've been watching a lot of call the midwife so that's where I'm getting any and all information :))

"The 'ell ye been reading?"

I laughed, pulling a few things off my shelves. Thank goodness I got that tea.

"Me da always talked about his day at dinner. Picked a lot up, I spose."

I put everything I thought I would need into my handy extra large purse, including a blanket, which I put on Paul, and turned to him.

"Shall we then?"

Paul finally looked a bit more at ease.

"We shall."

He led the way out of the apartment. I prayed John wasn't as bad as Paul made him sound.

John was as bad as Paul made him sound.

When we got to the disgusting flat, John was on his bunk, shivering and burning with fever. I took the blanket off of Paul and put it over John.

"John, love, can you hear me?"

He opened his amber eyes, and he smiled. His voice croaked and he sounded pained to talk.

"Ah, thought ye were mum again."

I rolled my eyes.

"Is this how yer always going to greet me?"

He closed his eyes, muttering, "It is now."

I put my lips to his head, feeling the temperature was higher then it should've been.

"Oi, yer George's girl. He'll whoop me if he finds out ye went round kissin me."

"I'm not George's girl. He's with someone else. And ye need to shut up if ye want to feel better."

He mumbled something about me being a tyrannical nurse, but didn't talk again.

I poured some of the aspirin into my hand, having Paul fetch a glass of water for John to drink it with.

I helped John to sit up and take the medicine, and then laid him back down. He was asleep again within minutes. I pulled Paul outside, who immediately lit a cigarette and began to smoke.

"That aspirin should help with the headache, but I don't know what to do about the sore throat other then wait and see if it gets to the point where he has to go to the ozzy. I'm sure he's caught some sort of disease from this horrid place. Ye know, this really isn't the sort of place to live in."

Paul shrugged.

"We haven't got any money to go anywhere better. Besides, we'll be going home soon anyways."

I frowned at him.

"What do ye mean? Ye can't be leaving?"

He nodded, taking a long inhale of the smoke.

"We aren't good enough. 'Specially with Stu missing practices to be with Astrid and Pete off impregnating every girl he can. This was a nice dream, but I don't think it was meant to last."

I took his hand reassuringly.

"That's jus it, Paul. You are good enough. In fact, the other night when I heard ye for the first time, it felt like bloody magic. Like a blanket of warm fog had rested over me and made me feel safe. Your music is meant to be heard, Paul. Don't give it up before it's had a chance to blossom."

He smiled at me softly, his long eyelashes flicking luxuriously. He's got to wear some sort of mascara, i thought offhandedly.

"Thank you, Dash. That's the only good thing anyone's said about our music, so at least we've got one supporter." He took a drag of the ciggie. "And if yer to be 'round, ye'll call me Macca. That's what the others call me."

I laughed and nodded. "Righ' then, Macca. And I'll support the Silver Beats or the Shoes or the Tangerine Monkeys or whatever your name ends up being. You'll be able to find comfort in knowing you've got one fan out there."

He chuckled, breathing out a puff of dark smoke. It smelled foul.

"I like you, Dash. Ye should hang round us more."

I took his cigarette and flung it away.

"I like you lot too. And that," I gestured to the cig. "Will be the price of my incredible company."

Paul gazed up at the clouds, a smile still on his face.

"Then that's that, I spose. No more fags for the lads."

A/N: This chapter was kinda long. Poor Johnny :( who knows what he's contracted.
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