Ain't She Sweet

Chapter 2- Little Child

Angie

The first few hours with the boys were rather... surreal. I was reserved with them too, hardly uttering a word aside from saying 'please' and 'thank you'. I had a slight feeling that they were just as terrified as I was, but they never lost their cool. Especially George, that man was scarily composed.

I'd never been in a flat as nice as theirs before. When I was a child my mother had carted us across the U.K in a van, we'd never actually had ever owned a flat. They had a room for me at the end of the hallway of the first floor. Painted a lovely periwinkle colour, John had remarked that he personally picked the shade, and that he'd rather boil in oil than to raise a girl like me with a preference for pink. I laughed, and earnestly agreed with him.

"Hey, love? Would you like some tea?" Paul poked his head into my room as I settled my very few belongings onto the shelves. I turned my head with a gentle smile and nodded.

"Oh I'd love some, thank you Paul." I said politely, brushing a piece of my dark hair behind my ears. He nodded with a grin, his cheeks forming round robust spheres.

"Would you mind it at all if I called you Annie? I jus' thought of it and I was wondering if you like it." Paul asked me with an expectant grin as he crept closer into my room.

I nodded my head with a chipper expression, authorizing his nickname.

"Of course! You lot adopt me, and you also get the right to dub me!" I said softly, and Paul jeered.

"Oh that's grand! Why don't you come and sit with John and I yeah? We're hashin' out some tunes and I'm sure he'd like an audience." Paul suggested, and I agreed immediately, springing to my tattered converse-clad feet.

Looking down Paul grimaced and gave me a sympathetic glance.

"Tomorrow we'll go out to the shops and pick out all the clobbers you could ever wish for. Sound alright?"

"That would be wonderful, oh thank you!" I ran over and attacked him with a tight embrace, and he responded just as warmly.

"Oh it's no trouble at all. You are our daughter after all, yeah?" He quipped and I felt at ease. Already Paul had begun to break the ice of the uncomfortable strangeness that came with bringing me into the four lads' home. But the strangeness of it all didn't tarnish their friendly, welcoming nature.

"Come 'Ed, let's get the kettle on"

_____

John Lennon was a man of variety, as I had come to learn within the 15 minutes I had spent with him by myself. Paul retreated to their (I guess our now) cozy little kitchen to get some crumpets and tea. But he got distracted by a call from Jane Asher, his steady girlfriend, that had called him to check when they were going back on tour.

"Okay okay, how does this sound?" John strummed a few lazy chords on his acoustic guitar, as we both banted over his song that was in the process of being written.

"Well...soft, down to earth, homey. Makes me feel right nostalgic." I commented with a quick glance at John's reaction. His thick brows shot up, and he snorted.

"Yer oddly wise, for a thirteen year old."

I shook my head with a weak smile and John's smug expression fell.

"Well, don't I have to be?" I said rhetorically, and John quickly shut up and went back to strumming at his acoustic.

"Ta, if ya don't mind me asking, how did you end up in an orphanage?" John knew the answer to the question before he'd even made the audacious decision to ask it.

The 24 year old wanted to hear her answer, wanted to pick apart the mind of the child he now had an obligation to.

Angie shifted in her seat uncomfortably at the inquiry, but didn't deny Lennon his much anticipated answer.

The story of her mother and father wasn't one of rainbows and happy endings, surely there were a few happy moments with them, but those moments were shrouded by the pain and agony of the dark times that were abundant in her childhood.

"Me mother, was diagnosed as a Schizophrenic after she 'ad given birth to me. Doc said some kinda rare post-partum condition. Me father fought in Korea, and he came back damaged. He was taken away when I was about 5, he was found guilty of war crimes and other horrible acts and was sent to prison. Me mum lost her job 'fter tha', and we worked the streets and I got taken away too. Me mum hadn't been the nicest woman to live with, even on her good days. Always so mean and temperamental. Anyways, that's 'ow I ended up in the box for unwanted children." Angie explained, keeping her eyes trained on the guitar in John's lap.

Talking about her past brought up some unsettling feelings. Feelings that she had stowed away for years.

John regretted asking his rather personal question, but felt grateful as soon as Paul walked in with tea and some snacks in tow.

"Ah John, did you tell the lass 'bout the new album we've been working on?" Paul broke the tension in the room, reanimating the teenage girl, piquing her interest.

"New album? Oh that's mighty exciting!"

"Would you like to hear a few lines?" John asked Angie and she jeered with excitement.

"Would I!"

Paul and John both exchanged grins and Paul pulled out his guitar from its spot on the floor and strummed a soft tune.

"Yesterday... all my troubles seemed so far away... now it looks as though they're here to stay... oh baby, how I love your legs..." Paul said with a cheeky grin and Angie giggled at the naughty lyric.

"Perhaps ya should say 'oh I believe in yesterday? The legs part doesn't really fit." She laughed, and Paul nodded quickly, taking a pen in his left hand and scribbling the words on a sheet of paper and commended the young girl.

"Gear idea, Annie!"

"Ah so we're on a nick-name basis now are we?" John teased as he stole a playful glance from Angie, a brilliant idea blooming in his head.

Angie laughed and shrugged her shoulders dismissively.

"I would suppose we are."

"Alright then, princess, how about joining us for the tour, yeah?"