Devil In Her Heart

Little Child

Chapter 8: 

I sat in an empty train chart. The uneven track shaking my seat and the train itself. I felt for the paper in my pocket and checked the time. Now would be reasonable time to call, I told myself as I got up from my chair and went to the pay phone. I held it close to my ear as it rang once, and it couldn't tell whether I was shaking or the train, second ring, I'm sure it's just the train. Third ring, and I finally heard his voice break through

"Hello?" 

"Hi, you sound sick." 

"Oh! 'Ello love. Not sick, I just winged it, I didn't want to be gone when you called." 

"That's an awful lot of trouble for just me." 

"Well... I wanted to do it." 

"Look, about yesterday I c-" 

"Yes love?" 

"I don't think that we could start... Anything. I just finally got over John. An-and yer in America. Maybe we could try again. Later? When it's better for the both of us." 

"Of course love. I understand." 

"Do you? I don't want to hurt you George, you've always been special to me." 

"And you to me Eloise. Look, I've got to be going. Stay in contact, alri'? You got our flat numbers from Jim, yeah?" 

"Yes George." 

"Then I'll except a letter. Bye Eloise." 

"Goodbye George."

I quickly jump out of bed. I hated that reoccurring dream and the fact that it wasn't just a dream, because it actually happened. It's late 1964, almost Christmas and I'm still living in London. Right after I got my flat, I received news of my father being sick. I spent four months with him, all the while keeping in touch with Paul and George. In early July he passed away, leaving me to go on with my life and get back to my flat in London.

Our letter soon began to thin from twice every week, to once every two weeks, to once every month, to completely nonexistent. George met a girl named Pattie who he soon started dating. Pattie was in the movie that they had filmed 'A Hard Day's Night'. George always promised he'd take me and always sent all their new Vinyl’s. 

As soon as I started my art back up, I became big in London. I have about ten pieces in three different shops. A lot of my abstract pieces were about John, I've noticed and it's crazy how much people like those pieces. I ran my hand over the box filled to the brim with letters from the boys that I keep always at my bed side table. 

I stretched and looked outside of my window, the Liverpool snow had came earlier and it made my bones shiver. I quickly threw on layers of clothes and headed out of my flat, down the street, take a left, a right, keep going straight and another right to the big art shop. My flat is great; it's in the center of town and has everything I need around it. Barely anyone was in the shop, but then again not many people know about it.