An Adventure In Ireland

Sunday 28th March 1964, mid morning

George reached out towards the cup of tea, but Pattie shook her head and put it down on the night table beside the bed. "It's hot," she said, and scampered round to her side of the bed with her own cup in her hand, which she carefully put down before clambering into bed herself. Once comfortably in, she retrieved the cup and took a sip. "Mmmm."

"Ta," said George.

"S'alright."

George pushed himself back in the bed so that he was supported by the headboard and pillows and then he too picked up his tea. The couple sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking, waking up.

After a while, Pattie became aware that the silence was becoming less comfortable. She sipped her tea and tried to work out whether or not it was her imagination, but concluded that it was not. She then, once she'd definitely concluded that there was something not quite right, began to feel worried. She knew she had to ask him about it, to ask if there was anything wrong; but she also wondered whether she actually wanted to know.

If there had been a test which had to be passed during those extraordinary couple of days – had she passed it? Had she failed it? Had she fitted into that uniquely close-knit group, or was she outside? Not right. Not wanted.

Was he...?

"Pattie." George's tone was abrupt, almost harsh.

That's it then. This was it. They'd tried it out, he'd invited her along, but it hadn't worked out, and John and Cyn had spoken to him and...

"Pattie!"

She turned to him. Feeling slightly sick with anxiety but knowing she had to be adult about it, brave...

"Pattie!! Why aren't you talking to me?"

She went to take a deep breath to speak, but found that she was already holding her breath and would have been asphyxiated. "I..." she began. She swallowed. "I am talking to you." She dared look up into his eyes, and was astonished at the expression she found there. Anxious, longing – every bit as worried as she herself felt. "George, what is it?"

He was chewing his lip.

"George!" It was her turn to sound abrupt, and almost harsh.

George looked down at the bedclothes over his lap, and then straight back at her and visibly gathered himself to speak. Pattie braced herself for the blackness, the grief...

"Did it put you off?" he barked at her.

Pattie's eyes widened in surprise, and she frowned, unable to process what he'd asked. "Did it...?" She trailed off.

"Did all that," George almost spat out the last word, "put you off? Put you off being with me. Going out with me." By now he had turned to her, his brown eyes searching hers. Pleading. And, as she gradually began to absorb what was going on here, a massive weight of fear rolled off her and evaporated away. She felt the corner of her mouth begin to twitch into a smile, and the smile broadened into a beam of relief.

"No!" she exclaimed. She twisted around to face him and found that her hands had made their way to cup his face, gently, tenderly. "No! Of course it didn't!"

"It's not of course," he countered gruffly but quite reasonably. "You nearly got killed cos of it."

Pattie found herself laughing; the memory was still awful but the relief that she wasn't being unceremoniously dumped overruled it. "No I didn't."

"You did."

"Well, okay, never mind, I don't care, it hasn't put me off, nothing would. Please don't..." She stopped, not even sure what she was going to say. But George picked it up.

"Don't what?"

Another deep breath, this time it was possible, and she knew she had to be honest. "I was worried you wouldn't think it worked out. The weekend. All of you."

"Eh?" It was George's turn to frown in confusion. "What...? What didn't work?"

"I thought maybe you and the others wouldn't think I fitted in. To the group." She paused, and searched his face again for response. She didn't have to wait very long. At last, that wonderful toothy grin made its appearance.

"It was great!" he proclaimed, and he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Pattie lay squashed against him as he squeezed her tightly and she felt his chuckle against her cheek. "You were great. You were perfect. And John and Cyn loved you!"

"Did they?" came her muffled plea for extra reassurance.

"Yeah, they did! And Brian said we could have another holiday in May cos we've got time off and they want you to come too. But I didn't know if you'd want to, I didn't know if you were put off with all the press, and the hiding - and the fucking laundry baskets."

Pattie wriggled out of his almost frantic clasp and pushed herself upright so that she could properly face him. "George," she declared. "I don't care how many laundry baskets I have to travel in, I want to be with you." She leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. "Always," she concluded.

George reached for her again, and kissed her lovingly and deeply and endlessly. And at the end they snuggled down together into the bed clothes and wrapped their arms and legs around each other. "Where are we going on holiday?" she asked, dreamily.

"China."

"China?? Are you sure that's safe?"

George nuzzled his face against her hair. "They've got some good laundries there," he said.

"You bastard...!!" But he silenced her with another kiss, and not much more was said between them for some time.

END