If I Fell

~35~

The Beatles are at Heathrow so says the news anchor on the BBC.

Brian called as soon as he was off the plane, the lads were being interviewed- how many questions are there to answer, how many flashes of a camera to take the same picture can there be.

Hours pass and I have Jim back to bed after his supper, he will be asleep in minutes, the massages and stretching exercises take a toll on him and he is a mess of grumps and anger by dinner time.

I hear yelling in the front yard and suddenly there they are, four conquerors of the world, on the doorstep. The rain has dampened their hair in the short dash from the car.

I 'shush' them all and see the bags of Chinese takeaway in Georges outstretched hands proffering them to me.

He's hungry and I best get up quickly from my position on the sofa.

Paul's questioning eyes reach mine and I hug him welcome "He's just gone to bed. Creep up have a squiz see if he's still awake" A fleeting kiss on the cheek is my reward as he pushes past the mass of bodies now shaking a rain shower off jackets in the living room.

The kitchen door is shut to block the sounds and the hungry tired lads are spooning food straight from the containers before I can get all the crockery out, the kettle is simmering away and should be boiled soon, I have the copper coloured large teapot ready and waiting.

Barely a word is uttered as they gorge, I can see they are tired, bone weary, from the travel and the huge tour that they had completed. Finally a cheeky smirk is sent my way by George and I am finally offered a plate but I'm not hungry, I haven't been for weeks, tea being my lifeblood forever now.

"You look a bloody mess, you do" John talks around a mouthful of sweet and sour battered something or other.

"And so it begins. Hello John, nice flight?" I growl, he just gets to the point whether he hurts your feelings or not.

"He's right you know. Look like deaths door to be truthful luv, sit down 'ere and I'll make the tea" Richie offers his chair and I slump, now they are here I seem to be able to breath again.

"I, mmmthummmyou eatmoer" George coughed out his version of 'I think you need to eat more', John thumps George's back as he splutters through a mouthful of fried rice.

"I mmmmm think you mmmmm should have developed manners by now" I retort and stand again, Ringo can't find the sugar I had placed on the bench less than two inches from his right wrist. A guffaw and nod of thanks given, I return to the table for some more titillating remarks.

John has my chin now and I poke my tongue out which he misses catching yet again, studying me with unwavering eyes.

Mal ducks in and tosses me a wave, he is itching to talk, shifting from hoof to hoof.

"All ready? Bags?" Mal's presence in the kitchen is overwhelming. Where the boys just fill the kitchen he would have it overflowing with just himself in it. Richie shoves him aside to deliver my tea.

"Well we are eating as you can see, nothings been sorted yet" John's eyes never leave my face all the while he is chatting to Mal.

"Paul?" Mal keeps going, I cast my eyes to the upstairs and get a nod of understanding. "Well Brian says-"

"Brian should shove off and let us alone, I'm knackered and hungry" George smiles through some noodles being sucked up through his lips, slurping them into his mouth and licking the sauce away afterwards.

I go to pass him the napkin then change my mind and dab and swipe the leftover sauce from his left cheek and his ear. Don't ask....

"Thanks, mudda"