Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Elle's POV

My prayers were answered.  In the morning I felt loads better, even though I was still dizzy.  We were both so amazingly excited.  We were going to Paris!  I had always wanted to go there.  It seemed so beautiful, and luckily in my years of high school I learned some basic French.  

George was still asleep when I woke up.  I kissed his forehead.  "It's time to get up, love.  Bonjour, ma chérie."  I saw him smile in his sleep.  He stretched his arms and yawned before kissing my cheek.  

"You should speak French more often.  It suits you." After kissing me, he whispered, "What else do you know?"

"Vous êtes très beau," I giggled.  The truth was I could probably have said anything and he wouldn't have been the wiser, but I decided not to play tricks.  

"What does that mean?"

"You are very handsome-"

Then the door opened.  Brian walked into the room.  

"Well, I do beg your pardon.  I should have knocked." He said, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.  I could only imagine how red my face was.  "You must get ready, George.  We're leaving in two hours for the port."  And with that he left.  

George kissed my cheek and practically bolted out the door in a matter of seconds.  I didn't know if it was because of embarrassment or the fact that he wanted to get ready quickly.  Or maybe he was just incredibly hungry.  He hadn't eaten last night.  

I dressed rather nice, for I remembered that in the "olden days" you dressed up to go on a plane.  I was so excited I was nearly jumping with joy.  Paris with the Beatles?  My dream come true!  

If only Mom was here...

I bit my lip so I wouldn't start crying again.  Mom had been to Paris many times, and I knew that she had always wanted to take me.  She would be happy if I got to go.  I convinced myself that this would be good for me.  

"She's safe," I whispered to myself, "He's gone.  They're safe.  They know I'm safe."

"Who's safe?" A voice asked.  I turned around to see John leaning in the doorway, smoking a cigarette.  

"Put that out.  From now on my room is smoke-free." I commanded.  I was sick of the smell, and I figured I would be doing them all a favor, especially George, if smoke wasn't constantly circulating around them.  

John rolled his eyes dramatically, but flicked his lit cigarette in the ashtray.  I was surprised that he listened to me.  "So," he said, "what are your plans when we go to Paris?"  

"I plan to see the sights, to take it all in.  Je veux vivre une vie française." I mused, zipping up my bag.  I had packed everything except a book to read and a notebook to write in.  John smirked.  I wish to live a French life.

He brushed his hair back behind his cap.  I had to admit that he was quite handsome when he wasn't insulting you.  "The French life," he scoffed, "is nothing compared to the Liverpool one.  What do the French lads have that I don't?"

"Class." I teased.  "And they smell nicer."

John stood up straight, which made him easily a few inches taller.  Towering over me, he said, "I'll have you know that I am quite distinguished, Miss Sullivan.  Women who have class learn to hold their tongue."  For a moment I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, until I saw the smirk on his face.  

"If that is so, Mr. Lennon, let me be the most uncivilized girl you know." 

He smiled.  "And that is why I like you."  Offering me an arm, we walked out of the London hotel room.  We might has well have been entering another time, for what was coming in only a matter of weeks would change our worlds.