I Learnt To Love In Liverpool | George Harrison ✅

♥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 ♥

1st September 1969

My babies were going to be starting school in a matter of days, and I had to do the hardest thing that I had ever done. I sat Julian down in my lap and cuddled him close to my chest, running my fingers through his hair.

"Mummy?" He asked me, "what's wrong?"

How did one tell their child that they weren't truly their child? That they'd been adopted without the consent of either parent but that it had probably worked out for the best?

I wasn't sure, but that was what I had to do.

George was watching from the armchair opposite, a concerned expression on his face as he watched me hold Julian.

I had no idea how he would react to this news.

"You're going to school in a few days," I said, trying to start the conversation off on a positive note since I knew that it would very quickly take a nosedive south, "are you excited?"

Julian thought for a few seconds and then hummed in reply, "I'd like to make some new friends."

I smiled, "well you'll definitely do that," I told him, "everyone's going to want to be your friend."

"Because of dad?" Julian looked at George, who bit his lip.

"Well yes," George said slowly, obviously wondering how best to continue. We both knew that we were on very dangerous ground, and that what we said next might break the relationship that we both had with our oldest child... forever. "But it's more that -"

"Julian, do you think that you look different to Nancy?"

"Well yes," Julian answered, "because she's a girl."

I should have expected that answer to my question. "She is," I agreed, "but she also has a different hair colour to you, doesn't she? And her face is a different shape."

"I hadn't noticed her face." My son replied.

"Dhani looks a little different to you, doesn't he?" George asked, trying a slightly different approach to an impossible task.

"Dhani looks like you, dad." Julian answered.

"He looks more like you than he does me, son," George replied, "and there's a reason for that." He sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he joined his hands in front of him, "y'see, Jules, there are things called genes and DNA." I sighed. There was no way that he was going to successfully explain this to a six-year-old using words like 'genes' and 'DNA'. Heck, even I barely understood that kind of terminology, and I was nineteen years on Julian and had completed school. "And genes control what you look like... you get your genes from your parents, half-and-half, see."

"So I look half like mum," he looked at me, "and half like you?" Julian paused, "I wish that I'd gotten mum's nose, it's -"

"You got half from your parents." I confirmed, "but not from us."

"But -"

"Julian, we love you as much as any parents love their children, but you weren't always ours..." I bit my lip, tears coming to my eyes. This was the crucial part. "Jules, when you were a tiny baby, you lived with a lady called Cynthia - she's your real mother -"

"Y-you're not...?" Julian began to cry loudly. I shushed him gently, trying to dull the pain that he was undoubtedly feeling and would be feeling for the next few days, probably longer.

"Not biologically, no..." I trailed off, "that means that you don't have my genes -"

"But I have dad's, right?" Julian looked desperately at George, silently wishing that something that he knew was real.

George hung his head, and Julian had his answer.

"Who's my dad?" He asked quietly.

I sighed. "John."

"As in Uncle John?" Julian asked for clarification.

I sighed again and nodded. "Cynthia and John were married, and they had you... and then, when I became John's girlfriend, he missed you a lot, so he brought you to live with us... except, when John and me broke up and we weren't together anymore, I kept you -"

"Why?"

"Why what?" I asked.

"Why did you keep me? I'm not your baby."

"B-because I loved you, Jules." I cried softly, hating to do so in front of him because I always tried to stay strong and stoic in front of my children so I could be their strength.

"D-did Cynthia want me?"

"I don't know, Julian." I answered quietly.

"Did she love me?"

George said, "she never tried to see you after you came to live with Em and John, so we don't know, Jules."

Julian cried. He didn't say anything else for several minutes. Neither George nor I broke the silence.

After a few minutes, Julian asked, "so Dhani and Nancy and Jack aren't my family? You're not?"

"Family isn't who you're born to, Jules," George said softly as he came to sit beside me on the settee and took Julian partly into his arms so that he could wipe the tears away, "family is who loves you... and Dhani is your half-brother. That means that you have the same dad."

"So Dhani's d-dad is Uncle John, too?"

I nodded, "but please don't tell him yet, Julian... we don't think that he is old enough to know, yet."

Would he tell Dhani when he was in a temper or would he protect his little brother? George and I could only hope.

"Why didn't Uncle John -" Julian cut himself off, "John," he corrected, probably still thinking of George as his father, "not tell me?"

"He's come to accept it in time." I answered, "Julian, you've had a happy and settled life here with George and me, and John hasn't become involved or tried to interfere with that because he knows that you're best off with that -"

"And we adopted you, son," George interrupted, "which means that legally, we're your parents."

"I-is that o-okay, Julian?" I asked nervously, knowing that he truly had no decision in whether or not we were his parents but wanting his approval anyway.

Julian was silent for several long seconds which seemed to stretch into hours.

Or it felt like hours, anyway.

But eventually, he nodded. "C-can I talk t-to John a-about it?"

George and I exchanged glances and then George said, "maybe wait until you're a bit older, Julian. It's a touchy subject for him."

Julian nodded slowly. George and I cuddled him, lavishing kisses on his cheeks, happy that we had told him and that he had had such a positive response.