1963 | J.Lennon

Chapter Twelve: Chances

There was a sudden halt in Evelyn's heart as the moment of complete desperation waved over John and herself. She peered over at him, and he looked steadily at her, unsure what to do other than to remain quiet. Even then, he had an unforgiving, smug demeanor about him that provided slight comfort to the woman as she searched for an excuse or a proper hiding place for him. 

He wasn't nearly as panicked as she; John was alert, but he wasn't worried.

 "Stay here," she demanded harshly, albeit quietly and he nodded obediently. 

She crept over to the door, counting her blessings, praying to a God she only came to in times of need anymore. She needed all the help she could get if it was the relentless flat owner she thought it to be standing outside her door, and if it was, she hoped she could muster up a lie for the smell or noise--or whatever it was that brought the old back up.

The knocking continued restlessly. "I'm coming," Evelyn spoke. She picked up her speed and opened the door hastily, not even bothering to look through the peephole, because there was little point to it. 

However, when she opened her door, she found a woman much different in size and demeanor to the owner of the flat. She was practically a girl, not much older than Evelyn herself, wrapped in a pink nightie. She had her hair in curlers and looked greatly angered, and Evelyn wondered who she was and where she came from.

"Hello," Evelyn breathed.

"Hello," the woman spoke with veiled anger. "I've come to complain about the noise, which 'm sure ye'r aware ye'r makin'." Her accent was thick, thicker than most, and Evelyn had a difficult time deciphering it for a minute, but she managed. 

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. I'll quiet down. You see," a steady calm invaded her and she shifted her wait, continuing, "'m working late and I've had to move some...boxes an' the like."

The woman outside frowned, unsatisfied. "Me auntie said that ye were probably a bit of a troublemaker when she gave me 'er flat."

"She gave you what?"

"'er flat."

"Are you the owner now? Isn 't that--"

"No 'm not the owner, I live 'ere now an' I'll report you all the same if you don't keep quiet. I work too, rather earlier."

Evelyn smiled apologetically. "I'll be quiet, sorry ma'am."

As soon as the words left her mouth, in a cruel bit of irony, something fell from John's direction and echoed through the flat. Evelyn turned her head and closed her eyes in misery, hating John with a great passion at the moment. If he was to get her evicted, then what would she do? She certainly couldn't return home with this story. Men in her flat? They thought that as improper as the lady who owned this place.

"What's that?" asked the nosy girl, peeking her head in. "A cat? An animal?"

"No," Evelyn barked.  "It's nothing. I must've placed somethin' too close to the counter."

"Let me see!"

"You don't own this place," Evelyn huffed. 

"I'll get ye kicked out though, won't I?"

"Its a guy!" Evelyn shouted, stopping the girl from entering her home. "'e's not my boyfriend or anything, and we're not doing anything indecent. I jus' have to interview him for my work, and I do it often because he's always busy."

"Yeah, I believe that. Do you think 'm daft?" The girl crossed her arms. Evelyn frowned. John peeked his head around the corner, and they made eye contact. She glared at him and he shrugged his shoulders, apologetically.