The Object of My Affection: My Band Mate's Sister

Staring at the Ceiling

Lying on her back, her hands hugging her duvet and eyes focused on the ceiling above her bed, a realization dawned on Brona Harrison dead into the night of Christmas Eve. Her life was a mess. She had to admit it wasn't new information. But what was frightening is that this time last year the same thought burrowed its way into her brain. She had made progress but when she compared herself to this time last year, she felt she was back at square one. It all fell apart in a few days.

Christmas of 1962 was not a happy one. At least not for her. Maybe her reasons were selfish and she was forced to look long and hard at herself, scratching the surface to find blemishes in her life. However, the brunette did acknowledge her strength even though she was nearly in tears in front of a huge crowd.

The memory singed her. She was consumed in feelings, emotions and flash backs as it all came flooding back to her. Brona closed her eyes tightly, tears brimming. What an eye opener it had all been. The catalyst for change.

It was unusually hot inside the Harrison household for a snowy December night. Or at least Brona had found it warm. Maybe it was all the people crowded into the sitting room like a club. Maybe it was all the alcohol. Or maybe because she had been finding out fragments of alarming information these past few days and because the fluid had well escalated to everyone's head they were leaking information to her when she wasn't prepared for it.

Brona took a big gulp of Baby Cham. Well what was left of the Baby Cham and whatever amount of John's beer she used to fill her glass. "Louise is half way around the world." Her back was pressed up against the soothingly cold wall of the sitting room. George was by her side, drinking out of his beer bottle. They stood back, observing their friends, family and neighbors in the midst of the chaotic Christmas party. Boiled with the heat and stunned with shocking news, she went to stand back for a few minutes but wasn't only alone for a second before George joined her. "Harry was my ally and he's gone. Now Siobhan... and Stu's-" she stopped, unable to say it. "...And you're about to leave for a tour and take the lads and probably their girlfriends with you."

George was struck with her comment. "Brona, please I must live my life."

"What, and leave me alone with Peter?" she asked brows raised. "When you read in the paper that I'm on trial for murder, it will be your fault." George laughed, looking down at his sister to see her frown turned into a smirk. He knew she'd take it well. A thought dawned on her, evident in her facial features. "Oh no our Pete is moving out next month, isn't he? Wow," her eyes were wide and she was taken back. "I never thought I'd be the last one to leave. I always thought it'd be you or Peter."

"You should get an apartment around 'ere. Maybe with Cyn and Dot. Or Cilla."

"What's the point?" she said grumpily. "They'll probably go with ye and it won't be long, I'd imagine, until Cilla gets her own tour."

George raised his bottle to the corner of his mouth. "Come with. You like to travel. Come with and I don't know become an actress or model or even a singer. You know bring Sadie and the Hotheads back."

Brona laughed in good humor at the thought of her band reuniting, smiling fondly at the memory. "Nah, I think we've all gone our separate ways."

"I'm sure you could even get work in a corner shop, if you wish," he shrugged. "Just come along and be."

"I have obligations- George, you know what? I'm tired and I've just got unexpected news. I'm a drag." She managed a laugh, arranging her hair so it would cover her face more as she felt tears creeping up. "I'm not in the fittest state to discuss the future."