1963 | J.Lennon

Chapter Thirteen: Come Around

It wasn't unusual for a stray band member to pop 'round into the offices; Bill and Virginia offered a welcoming environment, full of mirth and the Liverpool warmth Evelyn had grown accustomed to over the duration of her stay, and she noticed people liked to come in every now and again to be apart of it.

Today it was Beatle Paul, in his tight, blue trousers and a grey sweater, with Chelsea boots to suit. He'd come in a little after she had, bringing cuppas and conviviality.

"'ow ye'd break free?" Bill asked Paul. Evie sipped on the bland cuppa Paul had brought her. It needed sugar, too much of it, but she was happy to have the warm liquid regardless

"Ah, a disguise," Paul tapped his pocket, grinning, "I've bought a little mustache and a 'at, so the birds won't guess who I am."

"An' it works?"

"Sure." He nodded. "Well...not today, no, but me cars faster than their little feet."

Bill grinned. "So I s'ppose we'll be flocked wit' gerl this mornin', 'uh?"

"No, no—I parked away from 'ere. I'm not daft, Billy."

"Are ya goin' t'the Cavern tonight?"

"Me an' Virginia are," Bill responded, "Evelyn's goin' t'to see a different gig. There's a lot of gigs in Liverpool," Bill commented absentmindedly.

He was only half in the conversation. Before Paul had come, he'd dug out some papers and began the editing for next week's edition, and as Paul sat and chatted, Bill continued to mark up the pages.

"Yeh," Paul nodded. "There's loads of 'em now. I don't even know 'alf of the blokes anymore, yanno. It seems we meet someone new ev'ryday."

"'ow's that, meetin' all those bands?" Virginia interjected.

Paul grabbed a chair and sat it beside Evelyn's desk. "I like it. We learn a lot from bein' wit' other bands. We all work off each other, I think."

"I like seein' ev'ryone treat each other kindly," Evelyn spoke. She sat the tea down beside a pile of papers and began to sort her day's work.

Admittedly, when she first saw Paul's brown flock of hair outside the window, she was afraid it'd soon be followed by an auburn one. Since her and John had had that row of sorts at her flat, she hadn't found the opportunity to speak to him properly about it. Discussing it in a letter seemed informal and a telegram seemed too professional. She decided she'd rather just wait it out, let him determine if he was still angry with her or if it was just a daft row, and then she'd speak with him.

It'd been a few days; they'd play a couple of gigs since then and not been home. She used the time to sort through her stuff, conduct interviews outside of the Beatles, and allow her attention to shift onto other bands. Knowing John could take away the article so quickly embedded fear in her, and contributed largely to the reason she wasn't going to the Cavern tonight. She wasn't angry with him, she just needed another piece to depend on if his didn't fall through.

"Me too, Evie." He picked up the paper beside her desk and gave it a looksee. "This this week's?" he asked no one in particular.

"Yeah," Evelyn responded. "Mr. Epstein has his piece in there, an' John too."

"Mind if I take it?" he looked over at Bill, "Fer John, ya know?"

"It's yers." Bill waved it off. "Say, is 'e comin' 'er 'is 'e stayin' 'ome?"

"'ome. Said somethin' 'bout Mimi, yanno," Paul shrugged. "George'll be by, I expect. I told 'im too, at least. I don't know if 'is Mum we'll let 'im, though. We don't get t'stay 'ome often. Tomorrow we're going back t'London t'record a radio broadcast an' then we'll be headin' t'Doncaster after that fer an evenin' gig. We won't get t'go back 'ome after the Cavern."