Golden Lockets

Cry, Baby, Cry

Morning.

The Beatles were busy in the studio, rehearsing peacefully as they did every Monday. Out of all the perks that came with being famous, just relaxing in the recording booth with their instruments gave them the most pleasure. Paul and John were hunched over the piano, debating over whether their new riff sounded right or not.

"No, listen, John!" Paul said crossly. He played a pretty melody, very upbeat and fast.

"No, you listen, Paul." John replied. He played an equally pretty melody, but it was slow and sad.

Paul sighed and rolled his eyes emphatically. He then proceeded to explain to John why his tune was better. This quickly turned into an argument with both musicians shouting and plonking on the piano to express their point. Ringo, who was sitting nearby at his drum kit, shook his head fondly at John and Paul. This was normal behaviour for a Monday recording session. Ringo then whipped a Jiffy cloth out of his pocket and began thoroughly polishing his crash cymbal (which was his favourite out of all of his cymbals).

George, however, didn't join in the argument nor did he offer to help Ringo clean the drum kit. He was sitting by himself in a corner, his beloved Rickenbacker guitar clutched to his chest. He didn't often contribute to the band's decisions anymore. He mostly kept to himself and only spoke when spoken too. None of the other Beatles seemed to mind George's cagey behaviour. Maybe they thought he was taking his role as "the Quiet Beatle" really seriously? No one noticed the secret George had been concealing for the last eight months...

George had recently been in a relationship. It had been a very short romance, but a truly passionate one. George and his mistress had only been together a few weeks, doing all the usual things young lovers did, but she soon disappeared without a trace. George had no idea where she'd gone or why she even went, and it broke his heart when he discovered she had left. He slipped into minor depression at the trauma of his lost love, but after a few months he realised something that may have caused his girlfriend to leave him so suddenly.

George sighed and set his guitar down on its stand. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching then turned to face the wall. He cautiously lifted his shirt. His secret was still there, plain as day. His eyes filled with tears at the thought of what would soon happen to him.

"Hey Georgie!" John called from the piano, "Come 'ere and give us a hand!"

Sighing heavily and cursing under his breath, George heaved himself out of the chair and trudged over to his band mates. John and Paul were still scrapping over which piano riff to use and they wanted some input. John smiled up at George and patted the spot on the bench beside him. George seated himself gingerly and gave a wan smile. Paul flashed him a quick grin, then proceeded to explain why his melody was superior to John's. Paul said a love song needs a pretty, memorable tune so his riff was the ideal one to use. John denied this and said the song was about lost love so it needed a slow, melancholy riff.

George couldn't get interested. He had other things to worry about, yet he put up with the squabble until the recording session. Paul looked ready to snatch his bass up and thwack John over the head with it. John seemed to be thinking about doing the same thing to Paul. They glared at each other for a moment, then collapsed into peals of laughter.

"Sorry, John," Paul chuckled, "It's all right. We can use your melody."

John wiped a tear from his eye, "No, that's not necessary. We'll use yours, no worries."

George let out a sigh of relief then politely excused himself, then he edged towards the exit. He was almost out the door when he felt a big, strong hand grab his shoulder. George spun around quickly and saw John smiling broadly at him.

"Hey Geo!" he said cheerfully, "Don't forget I'm walking you home today."

George wanted to walk home by himself and try to clear his head - having a loud, eccentric person like John along would not help at all. But being the polite person he was, George smiled mirthlessly.

"Great! Let's go," he said, sounding false. He paused as a thought had just occurred to him. "Why are you even walking me home? We all live in the same house!"

"Paul and Ringo have social lives apparently," John said, rolling his eyes, "They're going out for the afternoon and won't be back til six at the earliest, so it's just you and me today, wack!"

"Oh boy..." George muttered. He felt his bulging stomach gingerly, praying that nothing would happen on the way home. Nothing drastic, anyway.