Dearest, You Said [McCartney]

Nine

May 23 1963 - Thursday

Paul was on tour currently, and I kept up a full planner of things to do to make time fly by. Planning was also being done for Tommy's birthday celebration next week. It was going to be mostly family invited. Tommy's few friends at least would be there, but he wasn't near the local stardom Ian had. I have had his autographed album sitting in wrapping paper since the time Paul brought it back.

Mum and Dad were at a loss of what to gift him this year, but I'm sure Mum would figure out something and sign Dad's name to it too. Ian's been concocting something lovely for him that he's pouring all of his thoughtfulness into. I know how much Ian looks up to his brother, even though they were not far apart in age.

At the moment, I was laid in the sun in the garden in a lounge chair and a cold glass of water. It was an unusually very sunny day, the first of unlikely many. I loved taking in the time to enjoy the fresh air. I closed my eyes to rest, comfortably in my own little world.

Until the scraping sound of a chair across the bricks scared me out of my serenity. I opened my eyes quickly, momentarily blinded by the light of the sun. Over me stood a silhouette of a curly-headed, freckled boy.

"Ma, I need your advice. Which wood do you think Tom likes the best?"

I shook my head in bewilderment. Out of all things I knew about Tommy, his wood of preference was not one. "I love a deep walnut or a warm oak" is not words I'd ever heard from his mouth.

"God only knows. I'm sure he'll like whichever you go with, Ian." I tried to be reassuring, but I know he sensed my hesitation. He blew a stray strand of curl out of his eyes in defeat, and he welcomed the moseying dog approaching him from across the garden. "What are you doing with wood?"

"I've decided to use my skills in woodworking to make him a pair of bookends. I want them to be special, handmade gifts and thoughtfulness are priceless." He sounded so profound and wise suddenly, I wondered where he learned to speak like that. "And I finally have a good reason to use the knowledge Uncle Jack's passing onto me. There's not much for carpentry for me here, I'd say."

I shrugged. I suppose that's true. Our uncle was great with wood, and that's what he was passionate to teach my brothers about. I didn't feel excluded being the only girl, but I was glad to pick up a thing or two when I eavesdropped. Measure twice, cut once. Check for any flaws in the wood. 'Ian, can you fetch a beer for your poor old uncle?'

"What are you doing today? Mum's out again, do you think Liam can come 'round?" He nattered on, not keen to the fact I was hoping to have peaceful silence again. "Not that we'll be in your way, I just don't want to be rude."

"I'd say it's fine, but be on your best behavior. Don't do anything you wouldn't want Father to hear about." I raised my eyebrows in a smug smile. Mum was definitely more of a barker than a biter, but Dad was not to be the dog you rattled the cage of.

Ian twisted his mouth awkwardly in a way to convey his understanding. I couldn't wait until he reached the maturity Tommy and I had. Perhaps do things our parents wouldn't approve of, but at least being discreet about it. I wonder if it was any indication who was more "discreet" about things.

Surprisingly, Tommy's had his few times of being rebellious to our programming. I remember the first and only party he was invited to by some boys at school, and he came staggering onto the lawn. Some boy accompanying him told me he had been sick on himself, and Tommy stunk of alcohol, sweaty and flushed. I washed him up and tucked him in bed, with a kiss to his temple. He swore off partying and anything of the sort, and he got away with feigning sick for the severe headache he woke up with.