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Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night

Chapter Seven: It Feels So Right Now

~GEORGE~

George was bone tired. Six hours of steady practice with the band; they had a bunch of new songs and covers lined up. Nowadays he was pretty busy with all the Quarrymen gigs - four gigs in six days! Now that was what they wanted. Paul had even managed to bag them a show at the Cavern Club. The Cavern Club was the kind of place the big bands played at. It had a nice big stage, a proper sound system, and mic stands. That gig was tonight, and George couldn't wait for it.

George hadn't seen Leah for an entire week and she hadn't come to any more of their gigs, either. This wouldn't have come to his notice, if he hadn't been so utterly bewildered by what he had found in her apartment a week ago. He couldn't ask her without admitting he'd poked through her things, though. Maybe he could bring it up in a way she wouldn't notice ... he could ask her to come to the gig tonight, and maybe she'd mention something herself?

George left the apartment and went on up to Leah's apartment. He hesitated outside her door; why did he care, anyway? What if all girls had weird things like that stashed in their rooms? Books with words he didn't understand; things printed with pictures of people he'd never heard of? But Leah was most definitely unlike all other girls. George raised his hand decisively, but before he could knock, Leah's voice came from behind him. 'George? What are you doing?'

George whirled around. She was standing on the top of the steps behind him. 'Hey, I was just going to ask you if you wanted to come to our gig tonight? It's at the Cavern Club,' said George, grinning. Leah just looked at him blankly. 'Um. I don't know. I'll see.'

That was definitely strange, George had been expecting a more excited response from Leah; she was normally pretty interested in their music.

'Thanks for the tea last week, by the way. I didn't get to tell you.'

'Yeah, sure,' Leah deadpanned. George looked closer. Her eyes were red.

'Are you alright?' he asked hesitantly.

'Yeah, fine.' She walked past him, unlocked the door to her apartment. He'd never seen her like this; George had always thought of Leah as the kind of person who was too strong to cry. Or maybe it was just that she'd never shown any kind of sadness. Or any reason to be sad. George felt like he had to ask her what was wrong; hadn't she done the same, when he was upset about Meg?

'Leah, wait,' George said. She stopped but didn't turn around. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

Leah turned around. And just like that, she looked completely normal. She didn't look like she had been crying at all. It was as though she'd put in a mask in the few moments her back had been turned on him. She just gave him a quizzical look, the kind of reaction George would have expected from her normally, and laughed. 'I told you, I'm fine,' she said. 'Where did you say the gig tonight was?'

'Um, the Cavern Club,' said George, a little unnerved, but relieved nonetheless that he didn't have a crying girl on his hands. 'Wow, big break for the band, huh?' she said. George nodded, grinning. 'It is,' he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

'What time does it start?' asked Leah.

'Um. Sevenish, eightish?'

'Okay. I'll be there.' Leah flashed him a smile and closed the door.

~LEAH~

Leah leaned against the door and let the smile slide off her face, breathing heavily. She was so relieved that George hadn't glimpsed the inside of her apartment.

It looked like an explosion had taken place in the room.

Her things were strewn across the floor, articles of clothing, books, jewellery - and photographs. They layered the floor, hundreds of them, hundreds of paper memories slipped under the mattress and fluttered to corners of the room, even into the kitchen. As though a storm had ripped them from the neat envelopes in which Leah kept them normally.

She didn't know what had come over her; late last night, she'd been reading a book and listening to music, and quite suddenly she was overcome by a wave of nostalgia. So she sat with those envelopes, looking at photos, replacing each in its neat stack, and then she looked at all her things in which she had made a home over all those years, souvenirs from different places, memories of people and times. It was like a peaceful remembering, till she lost it. Then, like an unexpected summer storm, she left the apartment and its explosion of memories scattered across the floor and went away as far as she could, till it died.

And now she'd have to clean it all up. 'Stupid Leah,' muttered Leah, gathering a pile of photographs together and dumping them on her mattress. 'I didn't know you'd be a emo chick when I made you.'

Two full hours later, the apartmentsomewhat cleaner ... kind of ... But that didn't matter. It was time to get to the Quarrymen's gig.

Leah liked to pretend that she wasn't fazed by the fact that she lived above the early Beatles. She'd loved the Beatles forever. But she knew better than to get too close to any of them. What with the fame, stardom, media and hordes of fangirls that would sweep them away in less than two years, not to mention the various girlfriends and wives they'd move through - and the acids and alcohol and tension in the studio - she wasn't planning to stay here that long, anyway. Liverpool was not terribly interesting, other than the young Beatles part.

Still, she couldn't lie about the fact that it was pretty cool to know that while you were out, George Harrison was having tea in your apartment.

~GEORGE~

George felt electric.

This crowd was far bigger than any they'd played in before. He couldn't see their faces much, but he could see the black shapes of hundreds of bodies moving and dancing to their music. He glanced at his bandmates; John was grinning even as he sang into the mic, Paul was beaming and bobbing his head; even Stu wasn't standing quite as stiffly as he normally did. George dived into a solo, riding his guitar up against his torso and doing a little dance with his feet. The crowd roared their appreciation.

In that moment, he felt so good.

To top it all, after the show, they were congratulated by the owner of their local record shop, Brian Epstein, who told them to meet him at the fish and chips place a block down so that he could introduce them to someone important. Curious, they all gathered their instruments and traipsed down to the restaurant, where Brian, a man with a jovial smile who managed theatre shows sometimes, was sitting in a booth with an older well-dressed man with paling hair. He introduced him as George Martin - something that the boys found extremely funny, since he shared a name with George. Once they had subsided, George Martin - the Other George, George decided - who seemed rather unsure of how to handle these laughing, loudmouthed Teddy boys in their leather jackets and tight pants - told them that he was willing to put them in a studio and offer them a recording deal, and was wondering if they were interested.

A short silence followed this statement.

'Bloody 'ell, of course we're interested!' exclaimed John. All of them were beaming at each other like little boys, high-fiving and whooping: this was it! The Other George pursed his lips but couldn't stop them from turning upwards at their ecstatic response. 'Provided,' he said loudly, and they all fell silent at once, 'you are willing to behave a little more ... professionally.'

The boys blinked at him. 'What do you mean?' grunted Stu roughly.

'For starters, better stage outfits,' said George Martin. 'None of those leather jackets. And you'll have to get rid of those hairstyles.'

'My duck's arse!' exclaimed Pete, putting his hands to his dark hair. 'I ain't getting rid of it!'

'Secondly,' said George Martin, fixing his eyes on Pete, 'no cussing on stage. It's not professional.'

Despite the damper the new rules put on them, the Quarrymen were elated. This was it. This was the big break they'd been waiting for. 'When do we start recording?' asked John eagerly.

'We're going to Hamburg in a month, but we'll be back in three weeks,' added Paul.

'Good. We'll start recording on Monday. Got a song prepared?'

They couldn't answer. They just nodded, open mouthed, and George Martin nodded goodnight to them and left them to their celebrations.

Half an hour later, George was standing alone next to the bar, back at the Cavern Club. Rory Storm and the Hurricanes were performing. Pete and John had both disappeared with girls, Stu was dancing with one, and Paul was talking to Brian Epstein somewhere in the crowd. George was just wondering whether that blonde girl in the black dress would agree to dance with him, when he spotted Leah dancing with another guy. He wanted to see the smile on her face when he told her the band had just been signed. He tapped her shoulder and said, 'Dance with me?' She grinned and nodded. 'Guess what!' said George as the song began.

'What?' asked Leah.

'Guess what,' said George, grinning. 'We juts got signed!'

'Oh my god!' shrieked Leah, by far the most enthusiastic response he'd gotten from her, and threw her arms around him. They continued dancing. 'That's so great!' she told him sincerely, beaming. 'Aren't you going to celebrate?'

'I think,' said George, 'that I would like to celebrate with some food.'

George just couldn't stop shoveling food into his mouth, he was starving. Three-fourths of the way through his plate, when he was debating whether to eat the fries before his second burger or after, he realized that Leah was trying hard not to laugh. She pressed one hand to her mouth, and the burst out laughing.

'What?' asked George, confused, but since his mouth was full of food, it just sounded like, 'Moff?'

Leah didn't answer, just continued laughing hysterically like she couldn't stop, and George just sat there, puzzled, and then he chuckled, shaking his head. 'Sorry,' gasped Leah, when she had subsided enough to speak. George grinned. 'S'okay,' he told her, stuffing fries into his mouth. He wondered how she was laughing so much right now; she'd looked pretty upset a few hours ago. Oh, well. He'd thought maybe she was PMSing, because Meg sure used to be cranky when she PMSed. Except she never made an effort to pretend not to be.

After George had finished eating, they walked back home. It was kind of chilly, so George offered Leah his jacket. He thought she'd be pleased, but she just gave him a weird look and told him thank you, she would have worn her own if she was feeling cold. Which was strange again. Meg was always so happy when he gave her his jacket. Oh, well. Hadn't he decided a long time ago that this chick was weird?

And right now, weird seemed pretty alright to him.

~LEAH~

Since the George Harrison was trying to be all gentlemanly and sweet, Leah let him walk her up to her apartment. And then because she didn't feel like saying goodbye, she invited him in for a cup of tea.

Extremely relieved that she'd taken the care to clean up her apartment before leaving, she followed him into the kitchen: he already knew where everything was, and shot her a grin when she raised an eyebrow. When the tea was made, she picked up her cup and cocked her head towards the door, indicating that he follow her out of the door and up the stairs, two flights up, to the terrace. Its normal offering was of a bleak view of Liverpool, suburban houses and some tall buildings interspersed with straight grey roads and a flat grey sky, but at night the velvet darkness was scattered with a shower of lights, and for once the cloudless sky offered them some stars. The moon was barely visible; just a glimpse of a sliver of its pale face through a halo of silver-washed clouds, like a light through a fish net. Leah sat on the edge of the roof, dangling her feet over it and cradling her cup of tea in one hand.

'You'll fall!' exclaimed George when he saw her. 'Get back from there.'

Leah just giggled. 'I won't,' she promised, and patted the space beside her. Cautiously, George scooted across the roof and then folded his lanky legs, sitting cross-legged.

A snatch of a radio song drifted through one of the open windows from the building across. George started to sing along with it - he had a nice voice, Leah thought - but then the sound was cut off and he chuckled and shook his head ruefully, running a hand through his hair. 'Sing,' he told Leah. She frowned, fingering the edge of the sleeve of her leather jacket; she didn't sing for people often, only for herself. 'Please,' added George softly, and she giggled, unable to say no to that. 'What do you want me to sing?' she asked finally, setting her cup next to her.

George tilted his head. 'A song that's ... you, if you know what I mean.'

Leah's eyes lit up, she knew exactly what that mean. 'Like a soul song?' she asked. George turned over this new phrase in his head, 'Yeah.' So she sang, 'Said I remember, when we used to sit, in the government yard in Trench Town ... oba-observing the hypocrites, as they mingle with the good people we meet. Good friends we have, oh good friends we've lost, along the way. In this bright future, you can't forget your past, so dry your tears I say ... and, no woman no cry ... No woman no cry.'

Leah couldn't believe she'd been so incredibly stupid; Bob Marley wasn't known yet, and here she was singing his song to George. She hadn't really thought about it. No Woman, No Cry was one of her favourite songs and it had felt so right in the moment. She glanced at George; his dark eyes were fixed on her so intently that she felt uncomfortable, almost. 'That was beautiful,' he said softly. Leah felt her face break into a little smile. 'Sing it again,' he said. Leah shook her head. Best not to sing the same song twice; maybe he would forget the tune by the time Bob Marley actually wrote the song. 'Please,' begged George, 'You have the sweetest voice ever.'

'I never sing the same song twice,' to you, said Leah, somewhat truthfully. George sighed, looking down. Leah hesitated, then started humming the tune of Something. She didn't say the words; just hummed the tune, and George looked up at her, a strange look on his face. 'What's that?' asked George, when she paused. 'What are the words?'

Leah really had to stop following her heart. Her brain was really so much smarter. She shouldn't just do things just because it felt right ... 'I ... I can't tell you,' Leah mumbled.

To make George forget the tune, she leaned in and kissed him.

~GEORGE~

George's senses went wild.

Leah's lips gently pressed against his, and before he knew it he was kissing her back, running his fingers through her hair, angling her face with his hands so that their mouths fit better. When she didn't stop him, braver, George broke apart and stood, pulling her up with him. Not letting his eyes leave hers, a long look passed between them and then he led her back down, to her apartment, onto her mattress.

The tea lay forgotten on the rooftop and filled up to the spilling with the pouring rain.

This is not the interesting bit. Wait for the next chapter to see what George finds out :D Thanks for reading! -Jen.