Chapter 4
The Beatles
Help!
"Vince will you please let me help?"
"No!" Vince almost shouts in frustration.
"Please, Vince."
"No! I can manage."
"You're ill, you shouldn't be unpacking the shopping. Let me. Go and lie on the sofa." Howard says, finally pulling his friend away from the bags and giving him a gentle push towards the sitting room.
"Howard, I'm fine, honestly!" Vince protests, but he's ignored.
When he's finished unpacking the shopping, Howard goes through to the sitting room to find Vince lying on the sofa as instructed, looking considerably more subdued.
"What's wrong?" He asks, sitting down next to the smaller man.
"I hate being ill. I didn't used to get ill. I'm getting old."
"You're not getting old."
"I am! When I was younger, so much younger than today, I never needed anybody's help in any way. But now, these days are gone and I'm not so self-assured. I didn't need anyone, I was sure. But now I find I've changed my mind, I've opened up the doors. Help me, Howard. Help me if you can, I'm feeling down. I do appreciate you being round." Howard scoffs. "I do! Help me get my feet back on the ground. Won't you, please, please help me?"
"Of course I'll help. Not that you need it. I've always helped you."
"Yeah, but that was when we were kids. That was ages ago. And now my life has changed in, oh, so many ways. My independence seems to vanish in the haze. I used to be so sure, I knew what was happening. But every now and then I feel so insecure. I know that I just need you like I've never done before."
"I'll always be here for you, Vince." Vince gazes up at him, looking innocent.
"You promise?" He asks, like a child in need of assurance.
"I promise, Vince."