I Learnt To Love In Liverpool | George Harrison ✅

♥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♥

3rd April 1964

I watched on the television with Julian in my arms as the boys' plane touched down on the tarmac at the airport, and I watched as they walked down the stairs and waved to the swarms of devoted fans. I watched them smile. I watched them talk to the press. I watched them act as if nothing had changed.

But of course, everything had.

They were now the biggest act in the world. The Beatles. Every girl wanted them, every boy wanted to be them. They were untouchable...

They were the world's and not mine, anymore.

Paul didn't belong to me or Jane. Instead, he belonged to every female who opened a magazine or saw him on the TV.

George didn't belong to me, or to his mother or even his sister Louise, with whom he had always been close. He belonged to all of the boys who wanted to play guitar like him, and the girls who preferred the quiet Beatle.

And then there was John. John didn't belong to anybody, and he never would - not permanently, anyway. He had been Cynthia's, and then I had stolen him. He had been mine, but then he had been stolen by however many girls in America. And now he belonged to the fans; the people who could make him into their idol... but he would never truly be anybody's.

"Mummy?" Julian asked, sucking on his thumb. I looked at him and smiled, stroking his face and wishing for the thousandth time that my own baby would be born soon. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to have him heal the enormous hole in my heart that was entirely John-shaped. "Mummy?"

"You thirsty, Jules?" I asked him, sitting him on the settee beside me and then standing up before I bent over and gathered him in my arms once more.

The door. The door's ringing.

Julian was asleep on my chest and I was very comfortably laying on the settee. I didn't want to get up.

Stupid bladder.

And I needed to use the bathroom. I sighed and set Julian on the settee, throwing a few cushions on the floor so that if he fell he wouldn't be too hurt, and then I went to go and use the toilet - whoever was at the door would have to wait.

And it's probably those stupid girls, I reasoned with myself, knowing that I had told the fans at the gate to not come back before the boys were back in the country. Boy are they going to be upset when they find out that John doesn't live here anymore -

My eyes widened as soon as I opened the door.

"George?" I exclaimed in disbelief, surprise and happiness. I practically threw myself into his chest, and the tears were flowing before he had even cocooned me in his arms. George just held me as I cried, stroking the top of my head and pressing soft kisses against my hair, comforting me as I let out all of the emotion of the last eight weeks. It had been a long eight weeks.

After ten or fifteen minutes, George let me go and I stood upright again, "mind if we go in? Those girls are watching us..." he shot his eyes to two girls who had their faces pushed between the thin iron bars of the gate, and were very obviously watching - and they were calling for George, reaching out with their arms as if their limbs would extend and they'd suddenly be able to reach him.

I nodded, taking his hand and leading him inside.

As soon as we walked in the front room, George saw Julian. He walked over to the sleeping baby and picked him up, snuggling him against his chest. "Hey little baby," George cooed, "I missed you - ain't you gotten big?"

Julian was asleep, so of course didn't move to show that he had heard George, but the sight of the two of them was adorable.

"Want something to drink, George?" I asked, gesturing for him to follow me into the kitchen, "I want to hear all about America."