In My Life - George Harrison/The Beatles

Epilogue: Do You Want To Know A Secret

December 1965

Connie hated waiting for George to come home.

It wasn't usually so bad when he was working in the studio, but it was practically agony when he was away on tour. He'd been gone for just over a month, and it had been the longest of her life, with work not distracting her nearly enough. Thankfully she still had the other Beatles' wives and girlfriends to keep her company, but when she was so used to being constantly around her boyfriend it was jarring to not be with him anymore. Being without George reminded her of all the lonely days she'd spent before the two of them began courting, and that was a time she never wanted to go back to.

She could've gone on the tour with them, she'd been on tour with them before after she put in for a few weeks leave at work, but she couldn't do that again, not with that particular tour being so close to the end of the year when the New Times was busy preparing for the Christmas and New Year editions, and she couldn't take long breaks from work anymore, not now she was the most respected writer there and they relied on her articles. So, she'd waved the boys off at the airport five weeks before, holding back tears in case John saw and tried to make fun of her for them, hugging and kissing George at any opportunity she had before they had to leave for their flight.

It was only meant to be a short UK tour, but it felt like the longest yet. Maybe that was down to the fact they were all so busy, too busy to even call sometimes. On previous tours she'd had phonecalls where the phone had been passed around the whole band, much to George's annoyance, but not this time, and so she had been quietly counting down the days for their return. She tried to keep herself busy with her writing, spending most of her evenings over at Kenwood with Cynthia and Julian, even though the house felt so empty with John away, but her mind never really left the subject of George.

Of course she knew she loved him before he'd left for the tour, but the pain she felt at his absence only seemed to heighten her understanding of her feelings. She'd loved him for as long as she could remember, the naive school girl sat on the bus with him in Liverpool, but the last two years had been a whirlwind, from the two of them finally making their feelings known to each other, moving in with each other in the flat with Ringo, to finally settling in Kinfauns, the bungalow the two of them had bought together last summer. Whilst George paid for the house, Connie put most of her wages towards the restoration of the house and the bills, determined to contribute despite him earning far more than her, and after moving in the two of them knew happiness that neither of them had experienced before. Now they had their own space the two of them became so much more serious in their relationship, and being alone in the house left Connie feeling as though a part of her was missing.

Waking up alone, cooking meals for one, sitting alone in front of the television at night, they were all far more tiring than she thought. Connie couldn't help but hate how dependent on George she had become, classing herself as a strong independent woman, but she loved George, and her life without him, even if it was only a few weeks, seemed so dull, so empty. He wasn't gone really, because he did ocassionally call, and his face was always on the front page with the rest of the band, and his presence was still felt as she was often followed to work by press, with fans sometimes surrounding the New Times' building. The Beatles were ever present in her life even when they were far away, but she'd much rather they all be back home where she could see them properly and not just on the news, especially George.

Connie was pacing around the kitchen of Kinfauns, glancing nervously at the clock. Their plane was due to land at six, and it had just gone seven. He would be home any minute, and the thought of George's return made Connie's chest tighten in nerves. She always worried whenever he went away without her, worried that he would return and no longer love her, or worried that the trip would have changed him into someone that wasn't the George she knew and loved. She knew that to worry about such things was stupid, and so she tried to distract herself, attempting to go back to her typewriter at the table and finish off another article for work, but she couldn't. There were far more important things to think about other than work, and so instead she made her way into the living room where her old record player was set up.