Lonely People

Martha My Dear

"Since when did you want a dog?" I asked.

Paul shrugged, "The flat gets lonely when Jane isn't there, thought a dog might fix that."

In Paul's life, he only had one dog before Martha. It was a tiny corgi Mum had found on the side of the road. She took it in and that was our family dog for six years before she died. That was the only dog either of us had ever had, and I never wanted another. Paul didn't either until one day he suddenly changed his mind.

"Ivan said his Grandfather's English sheepdog just had a litter," Paul explained.

"On a farm?" I asked, "In the middle of the English countryside?"

"Right on the nose."

I rolled my eyes. We had already been driving for an hour. Paul insisted we were almost there, but all I saw were trees and fields. We seemed to be in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of somewhere.

Vera was fast asleep in the backseat. As soon as Paul had started the car, she was out and had yet to wake up. She was sleeping more soundly than she ever did at home. I suspected the vibrations of the car had lulled her into the deepest sleep I'd ever seen her in. I mentally noted that for the next time she had a sleepless night. 

The radio was on, acting as a background noise to us. Paul was just like me, he couldn't stand silence. The music stood to fill in the blanks of our conversation. That day, neither of us had much to talk about. 

I was still tired from him waking me up at six in the morning to go get a dog. Why he felt like I needed to come with him, I don't know. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Molly was off visiting Reginald and Jane was off at a play. Both of us were lonely, and what better remedy for loneliness than going to pick up a dog? The song switched from The Rolling Stones to an all too familiar hit.

"Ey, that's you birds, isn't it?" Paul gestured to the radio.

I turned the volume up. My own voice flowed out from the radio. I grinned, "Right you are, Paulie."

"One of my favorite songs," Paul grinned, "Reminds me of Long Tall Sally."

Long Tall Sally had been a favorite of ours. I had that in mind whenever I wrote Liverpool Bop. That and a few other influences helped craft the song that had become such a hit. To this day, Liverpool Bop is my favorite song we have ever written, and it's my favorite to perform. 

To nobody's surprise, Revolution was closely followed by a Beatles song. John's voice filled the car as Nowhere Man found his way through the radio.

"And this is one of my favorites," I commented.

Paul feigned hurt, "Lia, you wound me. I thought I was your favorite Beatle."

"Sorry, Paulie, that's Ringo."

Paul pouted as I laughed. He fell into laughter as well. A wooden sign marked with red paint came into view, pointing us in the direction of the farm.

The farm itself was nothing spectacular. Several fields surrounded the rickety red building, and trees lined the dirt road. Paul pulled in front of the barn, the gravel crackling underneath the tires. Nearby, a pig pen sent putrid odors our way. The cows were not too terribly far away and a horse was tied to the side of the barn. It was exactly what you would expect a farm to look like.

"Here we are," Paul muttered, turning off the car.

I smiled, "It's a miracle we didn't get lost."

"Bugger off, that's John, you know."

"You're not much better."

Paul rolled his eyes as I grinned cheekily. He stepped out of the car and approached the nearby farmhouse. It was slightly hidden by the massive barn, only one corner was visible. As Paul went to talk to the farmer, I woke up Vera.