And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 82: They Say It's Your Birthday...

 "Wake up, wake up, wake up." A sing-songy sort of voice.

"John." I blinked and turned my head; a dark curtain of hair blocked my view of him before I sat up. "What time is it? Are we late?"

"No." Stretching out the word a little, he grinned leisurely at me and leaned against me from the back, his voice enveloping into my neck as he nuzzled my hair, a little muffled. "We're never late. Everyone else will always be too early." His fingers, touching the skin of my waist gently. "Cora."

"John." I attempted to relax, putting a hand on his, but practicality got the better of me after half a minute and I twisted out of his grasp to reach for my wristwatch on the side table. "John. It's six. The party starts at seven. Good god! We need to—"

"Shhhh. All right. All right, princess, I'll get up." He let go of my with reluctance and threw the duvet covers off not before locating his clothes at the foot of the bed. "Come on."

"How far away is George's?" I asked, reaching for my large purse where I had stashed my clothing. "We might need to catch a cab." John and I had taken a detour from the lunchtime special we played, telling the others we'd be back in time for my birthday party that night. One thing had turned into another and pretty soon, we were taking advantage of John's friend Geoff Mohammed's flat, who John insisted was all right with it. I didn't much like him knowing, but with none of us having our own flats, we didn't have much other option.

"I got it," came John's muffled voice as I went into the other room and slipped on my dress for tonight. I had thrown my outfit  for the birthday celebration together this morning and had popped some makeup into a small handbag all of which I had taken to the Cavern, because who knew what might happen. John, on the other hand, had taken nothing, but would show up wearing his usual khaki pants and leather jacket. The day had come so fast. 

After I had slipped the purple dress over my head—cinching the waist tight with the white belt—and put my shoes back on, I started rummaging through the makeup case to see what I had thrown into the bag. Eyeliner, and a very red lipstick. I frowned at the lipstick; it seemed to clash heavily with the dress, but I dotted a little on and walked out of the bathroom to see John doing up the bed.

"Hi, love, help me get rid of some of this red." I leaned up to peck him.

"McCartney will have a fit, dear, bad memories," he muttered as he avoided the kiss; my lips brushed against the side of his face as I missed my target and he bundled up the bedsheets.

"What?" I said blankly.

"Do you recognize that shade?"

I thought for a while, the plain white walls of Geoff's room blurring to become a chilly night in Germany, the Beatles meeting in front of a lamppost, the threat of deportation, running along the river after Paul, John storming off. Oh. Germany! Our first kiss in a millennia, almost getting caught by Koschmider, John saying, "You don't want to get caught, Cora, do you? You'll do anything do get out of here, right?" The feel of his lips on mine, electricity, guilt, electricity—

"Ready?"

I was still standing there, facing the afternoon sun in the window and Liverpool below. He had exited the room and had come back.

"Yes. I'm ready." I wiped the back of my hand with my mouth and picked up my handbag with the lipstick and my clothing, John giving me a long look before taking my hand as we both exited the room.

***

"...happy birthday to you!"

Cheering, applause, catching faces whose mouths were curved into grins, all there surrounding the cake that George's mother had baked. Harold and Louise, Harry, Mike McCartney and Jim, Mona Best, Martin, George, Paul, Pete, Ringo, and John, along with some other regulars we ran into at the Cavern. I wished Anna could make it, but of course with past events that wasn't possible, and Stu and Astrid could in no way join us, being happily married in Germany.