Not Fade Away - Ringo Starr Fan Fiction - Beatles Fan Fiction

Chapter Twelve - Elegy

"Let's raise our glasses to Stuart Sutcliffe," Victor stated with false cheerfulness. "How about a word or two in remembrance of him?" He looked around the table at the sad faces.

It was his idea to have bevvies at Ye Cracke in honor of Stuart's memory, and now he regretted proposing it.

Joan gripped Henry's hand, recalling the moment Stuart's casket was lowered into the ground. The sounds of Millie cries, putting her son to rest, causing Joan's eyes to well up with tears again. Ever since learning of her friend's untimely passing, she'd cried on and off for the past week. She looked over at Astrid, thinking Stuart's girlfriend looked inappropriately stoic.

She didn't understand how the young woman could sit there and appear unaffected by his death. 

Joan looked down at her pint. You weren't supposed to die at twenty-one. This gathering of Stuart's peers was proof of that for her. They were young and had their entire lives ahead of them.

"Joan." Victor softly stated. "I'm sure you have more than a few stories about Stu. It'd be nice to hear one from you." He gently coaxed.

"I can't." Joan didn't want to share. She preferred to hoard her memories of Stuart and keep them to herself.

Astrid spoke up. "Stuart's love for you was of great importance to him. He fondly spoke of your time with one another."

Her well-meaning words caused Joan to burst into tears. Standing up from her chair abruptly, she rushed out of the pub.

(————)

"She's seven months gone." The lad remarked, taking the bag of flour Ringo handed to him and hoisted it onto his shoulder. He walked over to the pallet and placed the bag with the rest.

"She's seven months gone." Ringo blandly repeated, having no interest in his co-worker Jimmy's personal life or this conversation.

He continued, unaware of his co-worker's lack of interest. "Been working as much as possible ever since she told me."

"Starkey!" An older man shouted, striding over to the two young men unloading the van.

Ringo handed the last bag of flour to Jimmy. He grabbed his baker's cap and smock. He hopped out the back of the van and wiped his sweaty forehead with his hand.

"You want to pick up a couple of extra shifts this week?" He offered.

More hours meant a better paycheck, but he didn't want them. Ringo didn't like working at the bakery. He'd been there a little over a month and was already thinking about chucking it in. The wage was decent and the physical demands of the job bearable, but he was miserable. He put on his white baker's smock and matching cap. "Should ask, Jimmy. He's the one with a baby on the way."

He turned to the other young man. "Can you come in for the rest of the week? Same time as you did this morning?"

Jimmy nodded. "Sure, Mr. Walker." He enthusiastically responded.

"Get this pallet inside, unload it, and you boys can go on your lunch break." He instructed them, before heading back inside.

"Thanks, Ritchie." He smiled, patting the lad's shoulder.

"It wasn't anything," Ringo stated.

Jimmy grabbed a nearby pallet jack, slipping it underneath the wooden structure the bags of flour were set upon. "Lunch on me."

"Save it for the baby, yeah." He watched the pallet rise on the jack. Ringo considered going back to playing drums. It was better than unloading bags of flour. Going back to the Hurricanes was out of the question. His former bandmates had picked up a drummer to replace him. He didn't mind. Ringo didn't have any desire to rejoin them. The once-popular Merseyside group was on the slide, and other groups like The Beatles had gained traction.