And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 89: Arrivals

"Okay, but don't you feel like things happen quickly? Like ridiculously quickly?" I asked George, trying to digest the news.

"I mean, she's been planning it for a while. It's only just now that she's told ye." George scratched the back of his head, his focus on Louise in the kitchen. The letter sat open in front of him and I could make out some xs and os in Anna's handwriting.

"But she's moving back in a week. She'll be here in a week or something like that."

"Blimey, Cora, do you not want her to be here?" Louise entered with a plate of eggs, passed over George, and placed them in front of me; I saw George's expression shift from hope to disappointment. I pushed them over to George in an effort to placate him. John and Paul were coming back today and George refused to acknowledge it. I understood his anger, as a younger one of a group, being left out and unknowing about plans. Pete too had been left in the dark and had called the Harrisons' in a state of confusion, and I heard Mona mutter something in the background—the two had just ignored their bookings for the handful of days that they were away. They all had a right to; it was stupid, really, to go off and not let anyone know. And now George and Pete were looking for other bands to play in.

But I wasn't worried. History would right itself.

John and Paul were 21 year old males, with 100 pounds in their pocket and the world at their feet. Such freedom tastes like heaven.

Anna was coming, moving to Liverpool, my brain reminded me. Of course, of course I was excited, but this wasn't in the timeline. I loved Anna dearly, certainly, but she wasn't supposed to be here. What could I do about it?

"Best be off," George reminded me grumpily as Louise came in with his breakfast. "You might be late for what remains of the Beatles."

"Thanks," I responded quietly, not wanting to disrupt George. He could get touchy when was upset. I finished my eggs and looked around for my purse. After a few minutes I located it—near the back door, which was odd—and made my way to the train station. The hitchhiking hadn't worked out near the end of the trip and the boys had had to catch a short train ride home.

On the bus, I could feel my feet tapping with excitement at seeing John again. My hand kept reaching up to undo the high half-crown I had put my hair into, and I kept having to snap back into consciousness and bring it down. I needed something to distract me. My purse—something in there. My hands reached in and brushed against a letter. I pulled it out—had I brought Anna's letter with me by accident?

I read the address: 12 Arnold Grove, Liverpool. My name was written above it. As I ripped open the envelope, I looked for a return address, but none could be found. I drew out a sheet of typed print.

Cora,

I know you're not going to like this. But you need to listen to me. Do you understand that you're tampering with history by being with John? I don't know what's going on over there, but if I know you, you've gotten attached. I know I've been irritating you in the last moments we've met but you have to listen to me this is bad for the course of human history. Really awful. If you don't leave him and come back in the book the whole course of human history will be rearranged

"Michael," I growled, my fist crushing the letter, obscuring the rest of the words. At the next stop, I marched off the bus and tossed the envelope in the nearest dustbin before hopping back on. I was so angry at him. He brought me here—never mind that I loved being here—and now he tells me to leave? And now he guilt-tripping me about the course of fucking human history?

A seat opened up and I sat, biting my cheek. I was all right. There was no reason that the book couldn't fix this.

All of a sudden, I heard the sounds of people approaching as the bus rolled into the station. Snapping back into the thought of seeing John again, I exited the bus and immediately saw a waiting Dot standing by a lamppost. "Cora!" she called out.