In My Life

Chapter 50:

After a blistering hot day, the sun had finally set, the relief from the hot moisture air was palpable as the cooling breeze swept over Liverpool. The night sky stood an inky canopy of darkness freckled only by the fewest of stars, where just hours ago it had been a blue summer's day.

By the time John and Paul had reached the red brick home on Forthlin Road, there had only been an hour left of the day, both of them feeling lethargic and beat from their last performance at The Cavern.

The porch light was on and the familiar yellow glow made the house feel warm and inviting as their shoes slowly shuffled against the pavement. It had been an incredibly long day and for Paul, it was good to finally be home.

"Wanna come in for a cuppa?" Paul threw his cigarette to the ground, scraping it with the bottom of his shoe.

John's gaze stared at his feet and sighed, "Nah, I've been away from Liv too long," he softly laughed with the cigarette hanging from his mouth, "She's probably left me again after bein' a real arse."

"I'm sure you'd catch her if she has. Her pace isn't too fast these days," Paul couldn't help the smile and laugh that escaped his mouth.

His eyes glanced up at Paul, throwing his cigarette at him, laughing, "Well then, I best be off since she might have just arrived at the bus station," he made a face at Paul, "She's had enough puttin' up with me shite, she doesn't need yours, ya arse."

"Fair enough," Paul chuckled as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants, leaning against the front door, "Ya know, them birds like flowers as a peace offering."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "She doesn't need flowers," he kicked his shoe against the brick, "She needs me to own up for bein' a dick to her," he sighed, feeling more guilty with each passing minute.

Before Paul could reply, the front door quickly opened, causing him to stumble before falling backwards, with his rear meeting the floor with a hard thud.

Jim McCartney pulled the pipe he had been smoking from out of his mouth, eyes widened, confusingly gazing down at the floor at Paul, "What in the world?"

"Aye there, dad," Paul looked up at him, standing back up to his feet, "Could 'ave given a fair warnin'," he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, straightening it to his likes.

"Where've ya been?" He looked at the gold watch on his wrist, tapping the face to make sure he had the correct time.

Paul stepped inside his home, still facing John, "Went to George's for a bev after our gig," he couldn't help notice his father's concerning glare, "Somethin' the matter?"

Jim stepped forward, extending his hand out to John, "Liv and Mimi have been tryin' to ring ya," he placed a folded up piece of paper into John's hand, "Seems your little one is on the way, if not here already."

They both saw the shock register on his face before he could hide it. The guilt sat not on his chest but inside John's brain. His pride had taken the best of him, convincing himself he was better off doing his own thing with his friends than being at home with his wife, who had needed him.

"What time did she ring?" John's worried eyes looked down at the piece of paper, reading Sefton General Hospital, repeating it in his mind.

Jim turned his head, scratching the end of his chin, "Sometime after two o'clock?"

'Shit', he thought to himself. John had realised he had been away from her for quite some time, not bothering to even ring her up or anything the entire time he had been away. The guilt was eating and pestering him. A fire burned in his mouth and throat with remorse hitting him hard like a sledgehammer.