I Learnt To Love In Liverpool | George Harrison ✅

♥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♥

Six Weeks Later,

Friday 8th November 1963

I ignored the people walking towards me as I strode down the pavement, shopping bags in one hand and my handbag in the other, my head turned to look into all of the windows of the big shops - the ones that I had read about in the magazines in America when I was just a young girl - I could hardly believe that I was now one of the elite - one of the few rich enough to shop in them!

Well, Paul was, anyway.

He had given me a ridiculous amount of cash and had told me to go and buy all of my Christmas presents for everyone, and some nice bits for myself and for the baby.

I had bought some newborn baby clothes, but there wasn't an awful lot, and it was difficult to get anything specific because I didn't know what gender the baby was going to be. It was all so exciting, and I was really looking forward to being a mother -

"Emeraude?" I groaned inwardly. It was Jane Asher, and she was staring at me with a nasty little grin on her face before she turned sideways to draw my attention to who was beside her.

"Cynthia?" I said in surprise.

"Hello!" Cyn enthused, "haven't seen you in ages, how are you?"

"I'm -"

"Are those maternity clothes?" Jane asked, looking pointedly at my outfit.

I looked down at them and then blushed a deep red.

"I, um -"

"Are you pregnant, Em?" Cynthia asked excitedly.

I blushed a deep red, and that was their answer.

"So that's why Paul moved out." Jane crossed her arms against her chest and then turned to Cyn, "I told you they were hiding something -"

Cynthia hushed her before turning back to me, "who's the dad? Do we know him -"

"Do you?" Jane asked, implying that I wouldn't know the father of my own child and therefore slept around - that I was a whore, effectively.

For a few seconds, I had to physically bite my tongue because I wanted so badly to taunt her with the fact that I was carrying a Beatle's child, and she wasn't - I knew that she would have loved nothing more than to become pregnant with Paul's baby - but Cynthia was beside her, and I couldn't.

"Is it George?" Cynthia asked excitedly, ignoring Jane's remark. "He hasn't been the same since -"

"It's not George." I told her.

"Do I know him?"

Better than most, I'd say...

"I, uh -" I looked down at the floor uncomfortably, trying my best to avoid giving an answer. "Oh, is that the time?" The clock chimed in the distance - Big Ben. "I better be going!"

I dashed past the two of them (and Julian), and into the first shop I saw, hurrying to the back of it and resting my back against the wall and taking several deep breaths. I closed my eyes, thinking about how close I had just been to blurting it all out to Cynthia - and Jane.

If anybody would tell the media, it would be Jane, and that was exactly what I didn't want.

"Excuse me?" I jumped, my eyes darting open as I stood bolt upright and stared at the stranger who was completely dressed in black and had a black flat cap on. "Are you Miss McCartney?" I opened my mouth to ask him who he was, or why he was asking after me, but he cut me off immediately. "I've been sent to collect you by Mr Harrison."