Carry On (A Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter Forty Seven

A/N: Shorter chapter, but things are wrapping up. Like I said, have tissues on standby, this story is probably going to be finished either today or tomorrow. Enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Forty Seven:

Ringo and I took a cab to the camera shop where the shop owner was very helpful. He did speak English, like Ringo had said, but I had to help the poor man out a couple times because he had a very thick accent and Ringo was sometimes hard to understand, especially to a Frenchman. We had to wait for the photos to be developed, so we perused some shops nearby. We chatted back and forth, but nothing stressful. Ringo knew how to keep it light and I appreciated it. I browsed through some cheap jewellery, Ringo was quite captivated by all the postcards. It was really nice. When we went back to get the photos, I was actually quite excited to see how they turned out.

"Let's wait until we get to the café, makes it more suspenseful." He suggested, wiggling his eyebrows as the camera shop owner gave him the package of pictures, and we left. I tried to remember all the times I'd had my picture taken by him. At first, I wasn't overly keen on the idea, given the fact that I wasn't even supposed to be in this timeline, but I'd lightened up. Maybe those photos would one day give conclusive proof that I wasn't off my block crazy. I recalled my dream again as we walked and it gave me shivers.

"Are you chilly?" Ringo asked me.

"Um, no. No, I was just thinking." I admitted.

"You have a lot on your mind lately, huh?" I nodded.

"Yeah, you have no idea."

"Well that's what right now is for. To take your mind off everything." He was so sweet.

"Thanks, Ringo." I smiled at him as we approached a café.

"Is this the one?" I asked and he nodded. Walking inside, I was hit with a waft of coffee and fresh baked goods mixed together. It was quite calming.

"Smells amazing in here." I voiced my thought.

"I'll say. Should we sit down?" He suggested. So we did, at a cute little table for two. As I removed my jacket, a waiter came over with a rather funny looking mustache and began asking us in French if we'd like to start off with some drinks. Poor Ringo looked baffled for a moment until I leaned close to him and asked him what he wanted to drink. I ordered both of us coffees in French and thanked the waiter, before he left.

"It's still so weird that you can talk like that." Ringo noted. I smiled and picked up the menu.

"You're telling me they never taught French to you in school?" Ask a stupid question...

"You kidding? It was Liverpool, we basically learned how to spell and add. That was it." I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but I laughed anyway. When our coffees were brought over, I ordered our lunch and we were left alone again.

"Should we see the pictures now?" I asked him eagerly.

"Oh right. Yeah, let's have a look." He replied, taking the package out of his jacket pocket. He opened the flap and took the stack out, setting it in the middle of the table. The first ones were the most recent, from the Eiffel Tower only the day before. I liked them, they turned out great. They were black and white, but I didn't care. Back in 2015, black and white was a sought after feature for a lot of pictures.

"Hey, look at us. They turned out good." I smiled, going through few more pictures. They went backwards because there were some from America I'd nearly forgotten about. Some were of all of us, some only had me, some only a few of the lads or one of them at a time, some were of me with one of them. Some I didn't even know my picture was being taken, sort of a candid shot. There was one of me laughing at something George had said and I felt a pang in my heart again. He was so happy.