Within You Without You ~ George Harrison/The Beatles

Chapter Twenty Four: Something

July 1969

Things in the band were getting tough. The cracks that had begun to show years before were deepening into chasms, and it was getting trickier for any of them to focus on what really mattered. Each night when they'd decided to throw in the towel and head home, sick of the petty and snide disagreements as well as playing the same songs over and over, George was exhausted. It was hard to separate business from their personal lives when all they'd been living the last few years was their career, not to mention it was hard to forget any arguments he'd had with the band, who were once more more like his brothers rather than colleagues. What was once exciting left him feeling downtrodden and bored, which made him feel more relieved than ever that he got to go home to his wife and daughter, the greatest possible distractions from the madness.

Since her first book was so successful - a number one bestseller, she liked to remind everyone - Connie had reduced her workload at the New Times. She went into the office three times a week and only worked on the more important articles, and the rest of her time she spent working from home, trying to work on her next book. Trying was of course a key word there, as most of her time in the day was spent looking after Josie, the eleven month old being rather time consuming as much as she was a joy. Connie couldn't complain though as whenever George was home he was great with her and she always managed to get some writing done, but in the last few weeks she'd noticed the change in George's temperament and how he rarely mentioned work anymore.

She tried to ask him about what was going on but he never really liked to talk about it, seeing home as the escape from all the stress of the Beatles. He didn't like to feel like he was bringing a negative energy home, because as young as she was he didn't want Josie to pick up on any tension, thinking that he was meant to protect her from that sort of stuff. He'd refuse to talk to Connie about any business things while ever their daughter was in the room, and whenever she was asleep he'd always manage to change the topic so seamlessly she barely realised he was doing it. It was annoying, and she wanted him to know that he could talk to her about his problems, but she didn't want to force him to talk if he really didn't.

Instead she just tried to make sure they had the best home life possible. The two of them were still madly in love, and they had Josie to love now as well, and the little girl was the greatest distraction from any sort of work troubles. She'd grown up way too fast over the last year, but she amazed them everyday with how clever she was. Connie always thought mothers were ridiculous when they praised their children with the generic labels, always wondering just how clever, caring or funny a baby could actually be, but that was before she had her own. She was biased, the fact that she was so easy and rarely cried possibly swaying her perspective, but Connie thought Josie was the greatest kid ever, and George definitely agreed.

Josie being so great was one of the reasons why being in the studio was so hard though, because as much as he loved making music, he just wanted to be with her. She changed a lot everyday, and sometimes he got in from the studio so late that she was already asleep and he didn't have the chance to say goodnight to her. Connie constantly reassured him that their girl adored him, but it wasn't the same as actually being there with her, which made him feel so glad that they'd not had her while the band was still touring, the thought of being so far away being unbearable.

That night as he got back to Kinfauns in the early evening, he thought he'd have missed Josie yet again. He had the night before, going in the living room to see Connie sleeping on the sofa surrounded by building blocks and children's storybooks. He felt bad that she was alone so much with her, so he had his fingers crossed that he'd made it back just in time.