Meet The Parents

Untitled part

"It isn't much here."

"What isn't?"

"Well," Pattie waved a hand in the general direction of the street. "You know."

George spared her a glance as he manoeuvred the Jag down the street between two rows of parked cars. "No," he said. "I don't. Which one are you?"

"Further along. Near the end. I mean, it's not very special. Not posh."

"Posh." George's voice seemed to drip derision even through his concentration. "Seems nice to me. What number?"

"Wha...? Oh – 59. That side."

The car crept forward house by house, and Pattie became aware that the palms of her hands were clammy as she clasped them together between her knees. George seemed unaware of her nerves. "Oh yeah. There. There's a space." And he slowed even more as he edged forward, and then reversed into the space. "Ok," he exclaimed. "Made it!" He turned to her with a smile. "Ok?" he said again, this time as a question. She looked at him with huge eyes. He frowned slightly. "Whatsup?"

Pattie sighed, and swallowed. "Well, you know."

"Pattie, no I don't!" He smiled, a smile which became a grin as her eyes seemed to grow even larger. "What is it?" He reached across and took her hand and squeezed it gently.

"Just..." She paused again and then pressed on, unsure herself why she was feeling so anxious. "Meeting them all, you know."

George turned off the engine, and turned in his seat to face her, still clasping her hand. "Why, what's wrong with them?"

"Oh, well, nothing. I..."

"Ok, what's wrong with me then?"

This one was easy. "Nothing!" she exclaimed fervently and shook her head vigorously. "They'll love you!"

George briefly squeezed her hand more tightly and reached with his other hand to the door handle. "I'm the one supposed to be scared. Meeting the parents and all that. Don't be soft. Come on." So saying, he opened the door and eased himself out of the low sports car and walked round to her side.

"Are you scared?" she asked as he opened the door for her. He held out his arm for her to lean on as she clambered out of the car. He shook his head as vigorously as she had and his brown locks swirled.

"Nah. Like you said, they'll love me! C'mon." George opened the car boot to retrieve the flowers which driver Alf had strongly suggested he take to meet the mother - Alf had even gone out and bought the flowers – and then reclaimed Pattie's hand as the two walked together through the open gate and up to the front door. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Her mouth was dry as a bone.

The door opened.

George moved his eyes downwards from where he'd expected to meet and greet an adult, and instead looked down at a small boy who stared up at him from just inside the door. "Mummy's in the kitchen," he said. "She said she's stuck. Are you George Harrison?"

George nodded solemnly. "I am," he said.

Before the visitors had the chance, or space, to move into the hall, the boy was joined by another boy who seemed much the same age, and a teenage girl, blonde and already clearly practising being flirtatious, and the three continued to block the doorway as they took a good look at the newcomers. "It's nice to meet you, George," said the girl, with a smile which was presumably designed to be inviting.

"Boo! Paula, can you get out of the way now!" The youthful reception committee had had the effect of banishing Pattie's nerves completely, and now she just felt irritated. "What do you mean, Mummy's stuck?"