"We shouldn't really...it's wrong" he said quietly, she nodded slowly "very wrong" she replied - but his lips were on hers and it seemed they would never disconnect.
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It had been a week since twenty one year old Isabelle Vaughan became Mrs George Harrison.
They had flown to Barbados for their honeymoon a few weeks ago and were due to return today. The flight home had been anything but quiet, Brian had phoned and said there were interviewrs and news stations all swarming the airport to try and catch a sight of the new Mr and Mrs Harrison– Isabelle couldn't complain really, she knew this would be apart of her life now and she had just spent a fortnight frolicking in the middle of the Caribbean with no interruptions what so ever...George how ever was absoloutely fuming. He had told Brian sternly, before the left, just how annoyed he would be if he and his wife's trip was to be ruined.
It's not every day you get married. And George already felt priviliged enough to be married to Isabelle in the first place he didn't want to ruin it already.
The whole journey he had complained and moaned.
"I told him Issy!" he exclaimed, the woman folded her boomark over and placed her book on the top of her bag, "George they're your fans- they haven't saw you in atleast a month" she reminded while connecting their hands anxiously. She didn't like landing or taking off, the rest of the flight she was fine.
He stroked the back if her hand with his thumb and nodded. "I told Brian to deal with it- tell them all to leave off. It's our month and they're interrupting it" George confirmed and turned his head to look at the woman. She shook her head with a gentle smile.
"And it's been a lovely month Georgie, but we need to get back to work at some point" she reminded and the man nodded and brought her hand up to kiss the back of it. And then let his head smack the back his seat. "I don't want it to ever end" he sighed blissfully.
"That's good because I have your name now, so your stuck with me"
𖣘
"George when can we meet the mystery woman?!" one man screamed a large mass amount of cameras were shoved in his face, George pushed Isabelle infront of him to get her past safely first.
She had his jacket over her shoulders having forgotten about how harsh Britains weather was compared to the intense heat she had been succumbed to recently. Then she had her scarf wrapped over her head guarding her from the paparazzi on top of that.
George waved at one of the cameras and that cause a few to head off, having got what they needed. "How was the honeymoon in Barbados?!" "hot" the musician responded and a few of the men chuckled.
Then George sped up into a jog to wrap an arm over his wife's shoulder to walk her out with him towards their car.
Instead they were met with more cameras and George had to push someone back who had gotten much too close to knocking Isabelle over- obviously assuming she was a member of the public and not the Mrs Harrison.
News outlets had been going wild trying to find out who Isabelle was. They knew her name and that was all. It was almost like Cynthia and John all over again, except George had seemed to take Isabelle's, very secret, identity to the next level these days.
The reasoning being he knew just how annoying it all could be and he saw first hand how they have treated Maureen, Cynthia and Jane, he wasn't just going to sit about and see his wife go through the same thing. What kind of husband would that make him?!
He opened the car door and placed their two bags in the back before he then opened the passenger door and helped his wife step in.
Since the wedding he had done everything to try and sweep her off her feet. And everytime Isabelle blushed like she had done on the night of their school dance in 1957.
"I swear those twats never catch onto the fact I don't want to speak to them" George hissed as he bent his neck at a strange angle in order to fit into the tiny blue car– it had been a wedding gift from John, neither of them knew why he had got them a car, but it was a nice thought...maybe. But with John you could never know, Isabelle wouldn't be surprised if one day she sat down to drive to work and the airbags plowed towards her with John popping out and yelling about how well his impractical joke had pulled off perfectly.
"They didn't touch you did they?" he asked after inserting the key and letting the car warm up slightly. Isabelle shook her head and lent in for a kiss, which he gave her gladly before beginning to pull out.
"Let's go home- oh we'll need to change the letterbox! We can finally write 'The Harrisons' on it instead of George and Isabelle" the man grinned proudly.
- a very short uneventful update but another should be up vv soon, sorry for my very long inactivity, i've had no ideas but i think know where im going with the book from here on out!
can we appreciate 1966 george harrison more please?? just look at him!!!
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