A/N: Apologies for taking so long in posting! As usual, LIFE managed to get in the way! God, that's so annoying, don't you find? Anyway, this author sends her UTMOST gratitude to everyone who reviewed, favourite and even simply read the previous four chapters (plus prologue). Please continue to do the same for this one, and all its successors! Because this one is only short, the next chapter will be posted in next to no time at all – promise! Anyway, do enjoy the latest instalment of 'Girl' – a Beatles fanfiction tale. :D
Over the next half an hour, as she failed to get to sleep, she heard them, one after the other, walk to the bathroom, use the facilities on offer, then rejoin the group. In fact, she heard quite a lot, as she tossed and turned for the next couple of hours. None of it was distinct, but she heard giggles, whispers, singing and playful arguments.
Eventually, at two-thirty on Friday morning, she threw off her covers and wrapped herself in a blanket, carefully stepping over shoes, clothes, and other painful objects scattered throughout her rather messy room. She quietly walked to the kitchen, chuckling softly at the adorable pile of limbs known as The Beatles.
Starting off with two on the double mattress and one each on the single mattresses, they had now somehow all rolled onto the larger one, sleeping on each other like a litter of puppies. They were a tangle of boy, blanket and pillow, and she saw her guitar propped up safely on the lounge; she knew she'd heard them singing for quite a while after the lights had gone out.
Being careful not to wake them, she slipped into the dark kitchen, and tip-toed over to the fridge. She carefully pulled the heavy door open and took out a carton of milk. She poured herself a glass, and was moving to put it back, when she saw John Lennon hovering in the doorway, the refrigerator light casting his shadow across the floor and into the other room.
Waiting for her heart to slow back down to a normal pace, she picked up her glass of milk and walked over to him angrily. She poked him hard in the chest, and admonished him. "Don't scare me like that, you twit."
He smiled wearily, and caught her hand before it could poke him a second time. "Hey, it's your fault I'm awake."
"Oh," she said, feeling silly. "Sorry. I just couldn't sleep."
"Bed too empty?" he asked slyly, the corners of his lips twitching with mirth.
"Of course. In fact, it's why I'm about to join the sleeping moshpit over there – I can't sleep in an empty bed."
"A pretty girl like you mustn't have to deal with empty beds that often, surely?"
She gave a genuine laugh. "Is that what you think? How sweet."
He didn't say anything in return, just smiled a brilliantly cheeky smile.
She started to blush, and was grateful he couldn't see her pink cheeks in the darkened room. She realised he still was holding her hand. His skin was surprisingly soft, and very warm. She could feel the beginnings of calluses on the tips of his fingers from constantly playing the guitar, and a little dip on the side of one of the fingers from writing.
She cleared her throat, and pulled her hand out of his grasp. He didn't object, so she assumed he hadn't intended to hold onto her for as long as he had.
Deciding to ignore him, she took a sip of milk, and silently walked through the lounge room, stepping over legs and arms. She reached some floor-length curtains, and pulled them aside to reveal two glass sliding doors, leading to a small balcony. The light from the street lamps outside fell onto Paul, George and Ringo's peaceful, sleeping faces, and she resisted the urge to squeeze their cheeks.
She slowly slid the doors open, and stepped out onto the little balcony, pulling her blanket tighter as the brisk morning attacked her like ice-cold pinpricks. She was about to close the door behind her, when John caught it, and opened it again, joining her. He quietly slid the doors closed, and leant against the railings, looking out at the city.
Her apartment block was on the top of a hill, and so, while Garial Lane lay dormant, they could see over to busy London town, where lights, traffic and people were bustling about like it was just the beginning of the evening. They stood quietly for many minutes, observing the city, with the girl sipping her milk.
"I'm John Lennon," he said after fifteen minutes or so, turning to her with an honest look on his face. "I'm twenty-two, and in a band, from Liverpool. I'm fifty-three years away from home, and I'm very, very pleased to meet you." He smiled at her sweetly, and shook her spare, non-milk-holding hand. She smiled back at him, and wrapped both hands around her glass.
"I'm Hayley Evans. I'm twenty, and about to graduate from Oxford University. I'm a few continents away from home, and I'm absolutely honoured to meet you."
"A few continents, ay? Where's home, then?" He leant against the rails and crossed his arms, allowing her to see the faint hint of his biceps through the fabric of his shirt.
"Sydney, Australia."
He looked at her in confusion. She didn't sound Australian. "Down under?"
She chuckled briefly. "Yeah, that's it. Why – surprised?
"Just a tad." He looked at her closely. "You don't sound Aussie, and you're not tanned, and you went to Oxford. Forgive me for having difficulty believing you."
She rolled her eyes, and sighed. She was used to this by now. "Firstly, I don't tan – I burn. Secondly, I have a slightly Aussie, more international accent, rather than something more like Crocodile Dundee's harsh vowels."
"Crocodile Whatsit?"
"Don't worry. Thirdly, I won a Rhodes Scholarship to Oxford. Best thing that's ever happened to me."
He scoffed. "Never really saw the point of university myself. I went to art school, but couldn't imagine doing anything more serious. What did you study?"
"English, with some history and music. I had to convince them that it was a logical workload, and eventually they let me." She turned back to the view, and leant against the cool metal railing. She had had to work extremely hard for three years, but now it was all over, and she was graduating. Life was very, very sweet.
"What did your family think of you moving halfway across the world?" He stood next to her, genuinely interested in her story. She was puzzled by his interest, and so was he. He never usually gave a shit about what pretty girls had to say. As long as it wasn't, 'Sorry, I've got a boyfriend'.
"Ah, well, they were very understanding. I was only seventeen when I graduated from high school, so I needed their permission. I think my parents were grateful, though – they have their hands full enough as it is." He looked at her quizzically. "I have four brothers, one older than me, and the other three younger. They're all insane." She grinned affectionately, imagining them driving her parents up the wall.
"Four brothers?" He cast a glance towards the sleeping band members, imagining the brunette becoming part of their tight-knit little family. It wasn't a horrible vision. She was already starting to forge her own place among them.
"What about you, Lennon?" she asked, knowing how he would answer. She knew all about him, she did.
He cleared his throat loudly, and rubbed a hand across his face. "Don't have one, really. Just me Aunt Mimi."
She respected his privacy, and was going to change subject, when he continued. "Me mum and dad didn't really want me, so she raised me. I love her, I really do."
She hesitantly placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure they regretted it every day for the rest of their lives."
He rolled his eyes, ignoring the pleasant warmth of her hand through his shirt. "I met me mum when I was fifteen, after years of thinking she was basically dead." He rested his head against the rails, and squeezed his eyes shut. "She lived just around the corner from Mimi's. And I'd never known."
Hayley didn't know what to say. She wished Paul was here. He'd know what to do. He and John were practically twins.
"If she was your mother, she must have been incredible. I bet you loved her."
"I hated her at first, for leaving me. Then I loved her, so much. Then she left me again, and I hated her." He didn't know why he was telling her so much; he decided it was due to the fact that it was nearly three a.m., he'd travelled in time, and his exhausted brain couldn't find a reason not to tell her.
"And now?"
"Now. . ." he trailed off, trying to work out what he felt. "Now, I just wish I'd had more time with her. I do love her, because she'll always be a part of me. But she wasn't really my mother – Mimi was. Mimi still is." It was then that the reality dawned on him that Mimi was probably long-dead in Hayley's world. If they didn't work out a way to get home, he would never be able to talk to her again. He started to get choked up, and was silent for a minute as he tried to get his emotions under control. He didn't want anyone, let alone a relative stranger, to see him so vulnerable.
Hayley didn't bother him. She left her hand where it was, and the two of them stood there until the sky lightened, contemplating the twists and turns their futures held in store.