Days in the Life

Chapter Eleven

After a while, I actually did fall asleep during the drive I was so tired. I didn’t sleep for a very long time on the bus that night; I’d only gotten about an hour of rest before a deafening crash of thunder outside the bus woke me up, nearly making me jump about six feet out of my seat. I can usually sleep through thunderstorms like there’s nothing going on, but this time it startled me, probably since I was right next to a window. I slowly opened my eyes and saw tons and tons of rain cascading down the windows of the bus, along with a bright flash of lightning that hurt my eyes.

“Mmmph,” I murmured, sitting up from my slouched position. No one really noticed me wake up; everyone around me was either dead asleep or talking quietly with the person next to them, including Paul, who was leaning across the narrow aisle to talk to John and George in the seats across from us.

John looked up as I stretched my arms. “Well, Sleeping Cutie awakes,” he said, smiling. “That’s some weather out there, isn’t it?”

I looked out the window sleepily. The bus had come to a virtual standstill, barely crawling through the crowded traffic surrounding us. I sighed.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad, but, believe me, it could be worse,” I said, looking at John and George and not at all aiming my gaze towards Paul. “This is nothing compared to a storm that hit Pine Lake when I was twelve years old. My mother had run to the store and left me in charge of Claire, who was about five at the time. Well, we were watching TV in the living room when I noticed that the sky had become practically pitch-black with rainclouds, almost green, and it was getting super-windy out there as well. My mother had a whole lineful of clothes drying on the clothesline in the yard, so I ran out the back door with a laundry basket so I could take them in for her before the storm hit.”

George smiled. “Why do I have this feeling that you got stuck in the storm?”

“Hey!” I said, grinning. “Who’s telling this story, you or me?... Anyway, it was so terrible outside; it was just starting to rain when I pulled the last couple of socks off the line and threw them into the basket... and then I see Claire standing on the sun porch, waiting for me. ‘Are you done, Lawwie?’ she asked me, and I yelled, ‘Get back in the damn house, Claire--’”

“Aye, swearing even then, eh, Laur?” John laughed. “What a nice little lass you must have been!”

“So she turns to open the back door--and we find out that she locked us out of the house!” I continued. “Then this storm really gets going--wind blowing the rain straight through the screens on the sun porch, thunder, lightning--the whole ball of wax. Claire’s screaming her lungs out since she was terrified of storms... and then the tornado siren goes off! So I get all wound up and I panic, grabbing Claire by the hand and running her towards the front of the house, trying to get inside--there was no time left for us to even run next door to the neighbors’ house; the winds were so strong we could barely walk. I was halfway ready to go wait out the storm on the sun porch; there was no way we could get back in the house.”

“And let me guess: you and Claire are the only two people in history to live out a tornado by standing on a sun porch,” George remarked.

I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, George, I’m not that lucky... Anyway, just as we’re getting to the front porch, my mother’s car comes flying into the driveway; she jumped out of the car and grabbed our hands, running into the house without even shutting off the car or even asking us why we had our sorry asses out in the storm. We ran down the basement stairs and waited out the storm until the rain stopped hitting the windows in the basement. And when we went upstairs, we saw that the winds had blown the sun porch to pieces--the whole thing had collapsed in the storm!”

“So, you probably weren’t too happy with Claire,” said John. “Cor, I’m glad I didn’t have to grow up with any brothers or sisters like that.”

“And, naturally, I was the one that got into trouble that day,” I said. “My mother screamed at me for trying to bring in the laundry in such weather... and Claire was the one that got a big hug and didn’t get a word said to her... it’s a totally true story, honest.”

The bus had pulled over to stop because the driver couldn’t see a thing in the blinding rain hitting the windshield. The winds were so bad that the bus was swaying back and forth; I was really beginning to wonder if we were going to tip over and end up upside-down in the drainage ditch that ran alongside the road.

John groaned, slouching down in his chair. “Well, lads, we’re going to have to swim to the next show... get your swim trunks ready...”

The worst of the storm was over after about five more minutes, and we pulled back into traffic, which was beginning to move at a decent pace again. I don’t even remember what time we got to Philadelphia that night; I didn’t bother to check my watch as we trudged sleepily out of the bus and headed up to our rooms on the eighth floor. The hotel rooms we were staying in seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as the tour continued, even though we were staying at hotels just as fancy as the Vanderbilt; the one I had that night had just a bed, a dressing table, a tiny bathroom, and a phone on the nightstand--absolutely no-frills accomodations that night. I suppose it was the most economical thing to do; after all, we were heading on to Canada right after the show in Philly. It suddenly dawned on me that I’d need to dig my passport out of the bottom of my purse for the flight the next day.

I fell into bed after washing my face and changing into my nightgown, praying that the storms were over for that night at least so I could get some rest. I was becoming genuinely exhausted--not just tired, but honestly exhausted. How in the world did the Beatles get through all this? I thought. They all seem as chipper as ever... well, as chipper as you can be in their situation...

I slept until about eleven the next morning, waking up to an overcast sky. I rolled my eyes as I flung myself tiredly out of bed; another rainy day... I was almost half-wishing that it was sunny again, even though it would be terribly humid out if the clouds went away. A quick shower didn’t help cool me off very much, either; it was still terribly uncomfortable weather to be dealing with.

As I packed up my nightgown and closed my vanity case up after applying my makeup, I got the bug to give Cheryl a call at home, realizing that it was already Tuesday and I hadn’t talked to her at all since last Monday. I dialed the phone, and luckily Cheryl picked up the phone after two rings. “Hello?”

“Cheryl, it’s Laurie,” I said, hoping she could hear me over the long-distance connection.

“Laurie!” I heard her shriek happily. “Oh my god; do you know that I could just kill you right now for not calling me days ago? How the hell have you been? How’s Paul? Was there any trouble with John’s Jesus comments at any of the shows? Where are you calling--”

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down!” I giggled. “I can’t talk that fast, Cher... especially when you’re threatening to kill me.”

“You know I didn’t mean that. I’m just so, so, so jealous of you! My god; touring with the Beatles! Do you know how lucky you are?”

I shrugged. “I suppose... do you know how tired I am, though? I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in about a week; I’m going to drop dead before the tour’s over.”

“The hell you will, with Paul and all for you to stare at... how is that cutie-pie of yours? Have you tried anything with him?”

“Well... no.”

“No? What do you mean ‘no’? Laurie, you must be exhausted if you can’t even get up the energy to hit on Paul.”

“It’s not that... he just really pissed me off the other night.”

“He did, now? Wow; it must have really been something if you’re that mad at him... what did he do?”

“God, Cheryl, do you have to know everything?”

“Hey, I’m only asking so I can tell Anna, too... so, what happened? He didn’t try to attack you or--”

“God, no!” I interrupted. “He wouldn’t do a thing like that... he, well, he kissed some other girl right in front of me at a party at the hotel the other night.”

Cheryl was actually silent for about five seconds. I smiled, thinking: Ladies and gentleman, we’re hearing history in the making--Cheryl Hawthorne speechless!

“That jerk!” she said. “I would’ve given him a bloody nose if he’d done that to me... after he found out you were mad at him, what was his excuse?”

“He told me it wasn’t his fault.”

“Oh, hmph; yeah, right,” she muttered. “That’s an original one... what a crock...”

“But, I mean, he did try apologizing again later; he wrote me a note. I don’t know... it sounded somewhat sincere,” I said, twirling the phone cord around my finger. “And he’s been really quiet since it happened, like he’s afraid to talk to me anymore.”

“Paul? Afraid to talk to someone? Jesus, he must be upset; he’s the biggest talker in the group.”

“I know; that’s why I’m starting to think that he really meant what he said,” I said thoughtfully. “So... I don’t know... what do you think I should do?”

“Make him beg,” she replied immediately with a giggle.

“Cheryl!” I cried. “God, you make it sound like I’m making him perform dog tricks or something.”

“No; honest to god, Laurie, take my word: if he really means it, he’ll do anything to get you back,” she said, lowering her voice a little; I guessed that her mother was in the room with her. “And I mean anything... you could probably manage to secure about a million dollars in diamonds from him if you wanted to; he’s pretty damn rich, you know.”

“I don’t want his money or anything like that. I just want things to go back to the way they were before we were fighting... he, uh, asked me to be his girlfriend the night before this whole mess happened.”

Yet another dead silence traveled over the phoneline for about ten seconds. “Cher? Are you still alive there?”

“He asked you to... oh, that’s it; I am going to kill you when you get home!” she said.

“Well, it’s not as if that’s a good thing at this point; I’m still not exactly happy with him, like I told you,” I reminded her. “It would be like me trying to go back out with Ed Miller or something...”

“Eeew... now, that’s just sickening,” she said, gagging. “Don’t make me vomit, Laurie.”

“So... you think I should make him beg?” I said, looking out the window. A pretty big group of fans had gathered around the front of the hotel, hoping for any little glimpse of the Fab Four.

“Absolutely. No doubt in my mind.”

“But what if he doesn’t? What if he tells me to fuck off and never talk to him again?”

“Well, then, Laur, there just wasn’t anything meant to be between you and him,” she said. “Isn’t it better that you know that right away rather than years down the line?”

Years down the line? Jesus, Cheryl, let me get through the end of the week first!

“Yeah,” I said, my reply sounding much more like a question than an answer. “Well, I’ll think it over... I’ll keep you posted on what happens.”

“Okay... well, to change the subject... how’s my darling?” I could tell she had a big grin on her face.

“Ringo? Oh, he’s fine,” I said. “Maybe just a little tired, but he’s just like he always is. Oh, and you can tell Anna that Georgie-porgie is doing fine, too.”

“Okay,” she laughed. “Hey, where the hell are you calling from, anyway?”

“Philadelphia,” I answered, watching as a few raindrops began hitting the windowpane. Sigh... more rain... “We’re going to Canada tomorrow.”

“Canada?” she repeated. “Well, now, there’s somewhere you don’t get to go every day... you did bring your passport, didn’t you?”

“Of course, Mother dearest, I did. I always bring it; it’s a good form of ID to have on me anyway.”

“Yeah, well... hey, where’s our letters you promised to write?”

“I mailed one to you guys before I left the hotel in Cleveland the other day,” I said. “How fast do you think it’s going to get to your house? By Pony Express?”

“Of course not; I was just asking to make sure you did write one,” she said. “Hey, I have to play mind games with people; I learned too much for my own good in my psychology class last semester.”

“Oh, dear; watch out, world! Cheryl Lynn Hawthorne has the power to mess with your mind!” I giggled.

Just then there was a knock on the door. “Just a minute!” I called, then went back to my conversation. “Cher, there’s someone knocking at the door. I gotta go answer it; I have to find out about breakfast anyway.”

“Okay; just don’t forget: that boy better do some serious groveling before you give him any bit of attention,” she said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay; bye-bye,” I said, hanging up the phone. I ran for the door and said, “Who is it?”

“It’s Ringo, luv.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, unlocking the door.

Ringo was all dressed and ready to go--where exactly to was beyond me; we couldn’t be leaving so early for the show. They didn’t bother rehearsing way before the shows anymore, just for a few minutes while waiting for their call to the stage.

“Well, you look wide awake,” I said. “Where are you off to?”

“We’re going to have lunch downstairs in the restaraunt,” he said, “instead of staying shut up in our room all day; things are pretty calm here. Want to join us?”

“Sure,” I said. “Just let me grab my purse and keys.”

I claimed my purse from the nightstand, then followed Ringo into the hallway and locked my door securely. “Just as long as I don’t have to sit next to Paul,” I said as we headed for the elevator.

“Oh... I reckon you’re still pretty upset with him, then?”

I nodded. Okay, Cheryl; I’ll give your idea a try, I thought. I don’t have any other solutions of my own right now...

“Quite!” I said, trying to put a stormy look on my face. “He’ll be lucky if I ever speak to him again.”

Ringo’s eyes widened. “Well...” he said, never really finishing his sentence. “Laurie, I think he’s really sorry for what he did, honest, luv.”

“Well... he’d better tell me that himself rather than have his friends tell me that for him... no offense towards you, of course,” I said.

We zoomed down to the first floor in the elevator, then walked down the huge arch-ceilinged hallway to the hotel restaraunt. The restaraunt was pretty nice; it was spacious, with linen tablecloths and napkins, and it even had a patio dining area just beyond a row of glass doors--though no one was out there because of the rain, of course.

The members of our luncheon party--John, Paul, George, and Neil--had seated themselves at a round table way in the corner of the room where they wouldn’t be easily noticed through the windows or from the hallway. Paul had taken the seat between Neil and John, so there was no chance that I’d be sitting next to him; I ended up with Ringo on my left and John on my right.

Just as I was about to say hello to everyone, a group of about six waiters, each carrying a huge potted fern, arrived at our table and set the plants around our table, almost completely concealing us from the rest of the restaraunt. “Thank you very much,” Neil said to them, handing each one a five-spot for their efforts.

I laughed once the waiters left. “It’s like having lunch in the jungle,” I said, smiling as I opened my menu. “Do you always do this when you go out to eat?”

George shook his head. “No, but it’s just more of a safety measure,” he said. He looked a little worried, like a sniper was going to run into the restaraunt and pick all of us off with a shotgun.

I frowned. “Why all the worry?”

Neil shrugged. “More bad news,” he said. “It seems like the entire town of Memphis doesn’t want us to do the show there. Brian received word that the city council wants us to cancel the show for Friday... and there’s more talk of another Klan rally.”

“Oh no...” I muttered, closing my menu for a moment. “Not again... I thought everything was okay after the show in DC.”

“I guess not,” Neil said. “Not exactly what you wanted to hear, eh?”

I shook my head. “Not at all... god, why can’t those idiots relax and give everyone a break? John said he was sorry... why can’t they just let it go already?”

“I don’t know... but I’m getting pretty bloody sick of it,” John said, frowning. “It’s fuckin’ miserable with how bad things have gotten on these tours. I’m telling you, I don’t ever want to go on the road again after this.”

I took his comment with a grain of salt. So they’d hit a couple of road blocks during this tour; they’d do it again next year! Beatle concerts were still fun; they hadn’t lost their voices or their minds completely while on this tour so far--they’d stick it out.

I ordered some fancy chicken and rice dish along with a salad for lunch, along with a Coke and scotch like the others did. The whole meal I couldn’t help but glance over at Paul every few minutes; my god, did he look out of it! I almost wanted to go over there and tell him that everything was okay, that I wasn’t mad at him anymore... but I knew that if I did that, there would have been no point at all in me arguing with him and holding out this long. I might just as well have fallen at his feet the other night and taken his apology if I was going to give in now!

As soon as I finished eating, I thanked Neil for lunch and headed straight for my room. As I was heading down the hall to the elevators, I heard someone running behind me. I turned around after pressing the up button and saw Paul approaching me. Oh dear god... come on, elevator, come on! I thought, folding my arms and drumming my fingers against my elbows.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on my side this time; the elevator was still way up on the third floor by the time Paul got to me. “Laurie, I think we need to talk,” he said.

“Oh, do we?” I said, turning away from him. Second floor... here comes the elevator...

The doors opened, and I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for floor eight, hoping that he wouldn’t follow, but he did. The doors closed, and we zoomed upwards towards our destination.

“Dammit, Laurie, stop giving me the cold shoulder,” he said, standing right in front of me. “It isn’t fair... luv, please, don’t shut me out like this.”

He put one hand softly on my right shoulder. “You haven’t even given me a chance to explain myself... I’m so sorry that this had to happen. I really didn’t know what I was doing, from the smoke and the drink and all, Laurie. Those girls... they threw themselves at me. I didn’t want them for one second.”

“Hmph,” I muttered, turning around and facing the back of the elevator.

“Do you really think I’m that soft or something? Do you really think I’d ask you to be me girlfriend one day one day and then treat you like that the next?”

“I don’t know... you tell me,” I said. “I know I wouldn’t do that to you if the situation was reversed.”

“Listen, I don’t want to stop seeing you because of something stupid happening--”

“Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve broken up with someone over unreasonable circumstances. Remember how Ed broke up with me because he couldn’t take my word that I wasn’t seeing someone else on the side?”

Paul stared almost disbelievingly at me for a moment, as if what I’d just mentioned had never happened at all. “Well, I seem to remember that it all came about because you told your friends that he was over at your house one night, and then he found out that you made it up, and he couldn’t take your word that it was totally out of your control... a bit of a trust thing, you know. I wish you’d trust my word that I’m sorry, really I am, and that... I love you very much, Laurie... thank you for at least letting me have my say... and if you still want to go home to Chicago, I’ll understand.”

The elevator doors opened on the eighth floor just then. Paul turned away from me and sniffled a bit, trudging into the hallway. I didn’t even have to look at his face; I could tell he had tears in his eyes. Oh god, I thought as I stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked behind him as I went towards my room. Please, please don’t let him be faking it, please, please...

He wiped the back of his hand across his cheek as he searched for his room key in his pocket. It certainly wasn’t for show; in fact, he looked quite embarrassed that he was so upset in front of other people that were walking through the hallway--that age-old “any guy who cries is a pansy” mentality.

And he had to go and bring up the Ed thing, which I’d buried far, far in the past right after the whole event had happened! I remembered how I felt when Ed couldn’t trust my word that day; it really hurt me for about ten minutes. Then I’d realized that I wouldn’t want to stay with someone who didn’t trust my word; that was no way to spend one’s life.

So, maybe... just maybe, I could take Paul’s word, just this once. I made myself a solemn promise that if it ever happened again, that would be it; he’d be out of my life faster than a roadrunner could run. Okay, I thought, taking a deep breath as I neared him; I had to pass him by to get to my room.

He turned to me with reddened eyes as I got closer to him. “Laurie, good god, I’ll do anything to make this up to you,” he said. “Just name it; what in the world can I do for you to show you that I’m not lying?”

I shook my head, and he said, “I’m serious, Laurie. Anything you want, you got. You want a million dollars, I’ll go to the bank right now.”

“I just don’t know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I don’t see how this’ll keep all that from happening again...”

“Come on, luv; the most I can offer is my heart and soul,” he said. “What do you want, me down on my hands and knees? ‘Cause I’ll do it.”

I laughed. “Well, that’s a start,” I giggled

“I don’t think you realize how serious I am, luv. Do you think I’d do this for one of those tarts at the party?” he said.

Unlocking the door to my room, I said, “I think you’d do a lot more if they asked you to.”

He followed me into my room, getting down on hands and knees and crawling after me. I stared laughing as he sat up, kneeling on the floor and looking up at me with a wide, innocent-eyed gaze. “For the love of God, Laurie, look at me here,” he laughed. “Would Ed or anyone else beg like this for you to forgive them?”

He batted those long dark eyelashes of his, and I broke into giggles. Leave it to Paul to make me laugh at a time like this!

“Oh, Paul,” I grinned.

“Does this at least put us back on speaking terms?” he asked.

“I suppose.”

He stood back up and dusted off the knees of his trousers. “Anything else?”

“Hmm,” I said, pretending to “think” about it for a moment. Scarlett O’Hara, meet your match! “Maybe...”

“Come on... haven’t I done enough already?”

I nodded, smiling at him as I hugged him. “Just please don’t let it happen again,” I whispered, burying my face in his shoulder.

“I swear on me mum’s grave,” he said seriously. “Thank you for trusting my word.”

“No problem,” I said, smiling. “I just want things to be the way they were before...”

“I think we can manage that,” he said, leaning close to kiss me. Oh, that first kiss after a fight is so often one of the sweetest! This one was no exception!

And, believe it or not, things did get back to normal after that. Our lunch had been so pleasant and peaceful that we all decided to go back down to the restaraunt for dinner in the “jungle” before heading to the evening show. Paul and I sat next to each other and kept bumping each other’s hand because he’s a lefty and I’m a righty.

Paul seemed to be in much better spirits by the time we headed downstairs in the elevator for the show; he and John were cracking jokes galore for about ten minutes straight, sometimes falling into hysterics they were laughing so hard. And just watching them was enough to get anyone else laughing as well; my sides hurt by the time we calmed down and stepped into the limousine waiting for us by the kitchen door in the back of the hotel.

The limo drive to the stadium took place in more humid rain. “God, is this rain going to ever end?” I complained. “I’m seriously starting to miss the sunshine and heat.”

“Aye, well, we’ll be in sunny California before long,” George said. “I can’t wait; five days there...”

“I wish we were there right now,” I said, watching lightning flash in the distance.

By the time we arrived at the stadium, it was absolutely pouring outside. We almost ended up with a second shower as we dashed inside the place.

As we walked down the corridor, Ringo said, “Hey, if it’s raining this hard, I don’t think we’re going to do the show.”

John’s face brightened. “Eh, you’ve got something there, Ring.”

We sat in the dressing room waiting for Brian to go find out what was going on for about twenty minutes before Ringo and I were at our wit’s end; we were going to start a game of Speed when Brian came back in.

“The show’s still on,” he said. “The rain’s let up for a while; they think we can make it on before it starts again.”

Ringo rolled his eyes. “Maybe we’ll have better luck next time,” he said.

“Yeah; perhaps there’ll be a flood and it’ll wash all of Memphis away,” John said, taking his guitar out of its case. He was in a pretty cranky mood that evening, worse than usual--if anyone tried to ask him anything, he gave a pretty snotty answer, even if the question only required a simple yes or no answer. I didn’t dare get near him while we waited for the stage call; he still frightened me a little bit when he got that way.

Soon after, the whole group of us were heading back down yet another long, low-ceilinged corridor towards the baseball field. I brought my bottle of Coke with me to drink during the show; my throat was starting to feel a little scratchy.

When we got to the doorway where the Beatles would dash out to the stage, we all stopped to wait for their introduction. Then I heard John say, “Bloody hell! Look at all that fuckin’ lightning out there!”

I stood on my tiptoes and managed to peer over George’s shoulders towards the outside. Sure enough, even though the rain had ceased for the moment, there was an almost constant presence of lightning in the sky; some of the flashes were so bright they lit up the sky like daylight. I gulped; there was nothing sheltering the lads out there on the stage--they’d be the prime targets if a bolt of lightning hit the field.

“Oh, wonderful,” Paul muttered, tossing his cigarette to the floor and grinding it out with his toe. “Well, this could be the end of us this time--it’s been nice knowing you all...”

The screams from the audience--which only filled up about a third of the stadium’s seating area that night--sounded like a jet engine as the Beatles took the stage; the sound echoed through the corridor where Neil and I were watching the show from. I was really starting to get a headache as the show went on; they just seemed to go on and on forever, a constant, dull roar that hurt my ears. Every minute or so I had to down another mouthful of Coke to keep my throat from hurting so bad; this definitely felt like the beginnings of a head cold.

Neil looked over at me after a while; he frowned, noticing how out of it I looked, then said, “Laurie, are you all right? You look a fright.”

I shrugged. “My head and throat hurt,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “And I feel pretty tired all of a sudden.”

“Well, they still have a bit of the show left; do you want to go wait it out in the bus?”

“No, no,” I said, leaning against the wall. “I’ll-I’ll stick it out...”

“Really, it’s no trouble if you want to go out there and rest for a while,” he said. “We’ll join you on the bus in a little while. I really think you should get to the bus now while it isn’t raining so you don’t get soaked through later on.”

I bit my lip and thought about it for a minute. He did have a point; there was no reason for me to be running around in the rain, especially if I already felt sick. And I was sure that the Beatles wouldn’t be upset with me if I went to the bus to sit down and missed the end of just one show--I’d be missing much more if I forced myself to stay at this one!

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go to the bus.”

“All right, then,” he said. “Brian, I’m taking Laurie to the bus; she’s feeling under the weather.”

Brian nodded, paying attention to his charges performing on the stage as we headed the opposite way down the hallway and out the side entrance where the bus was waiting to take everyone to the airport after the show was over. A few people from the supporting acts had already taken their seats near the front of the bus, and I made a beeline for the corner seat all the way in back. Neil followed me back there.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay out here, luv?” he asked, folding his arms.

I nodded, closing my eyes. “Yeah; I’ll be fine,” I said, getting a bit drowsy. “Actually, I could use an aspirin, if someone has some.”

Neil nodded. “I’ll go and fetch some,” he said, walking back down the aisle and exiting the bus.

I nodded off, for I don’t remember anything after that until I heard sheets of rain hitting the bus window just as the Beatles dashed inside the bus; they all looked like drowned rats from their run from the stadium.

“Talk about luck!” Ringo said, sitting down in one of the seats ahead of me. “Ten minutes, lads, ten minutes more and we would’ve been rained on!”

Paul grinned, then he turned to me, getting a worried look on his face. “Laurie! What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

I nodded. “I think I’ve got a cold,” I said as he sat next to me. “My throat is miserably sore.”

“Oh no; Neil told me you didn’t feel well, but I didn’t think you were this miserable,” he said, patting my hand. “You’d better get some rest on the plane so you don’t get worse.”

The ride to the airport was blissfully brief, as was our wait in the terminal before boarding our plane for Canada. I weakly dug out my passport for the customs officer to look at and stamp before we got on the plane--yet another stamp on that well-worn passport! Stuffing it back in my purse, I stared out the window at the rain falling outside; I was going to have to walk through all that in order to get to the plane... oh dear--I was going to be sick by the time we got to Canada!

We made a mad run for the plane amidst the screams of a few thousand fans that had come to the airport in the pouring rain to see their lads off. In the end, I spent about three minutes in the pouring rain, waiting for everyone else to board the plane; that was long enough to get my hair sopping wet and soak through my clothes. The moment I sat down, I had all four of the Beatles quite concerned for my well-being; all of them went running about trying to find things that would make me feel better.

Ringo said, “I’m going to get you a cup of tea, Laurie,” and went into the main part of the plane to find a stewardess. George loaned me his jacket so I could stay somewhat warm and stop the severe shivering that was shaking my body, and John got a blanket from another stewardess for me in the meantime. Paul was sitting next to me, brushing the strands of wet hair away from my face. “You poor thing,” he said. “I’m so sorry this had to happen...”

“No; it’s okay,” I said, managing a smile. “It’s no one’s fault... maybe if I’d gone to sleep at a decent hour instead of stayed up goofing around at night, I wouldn’t have gotten worn out like this and gotten sick.”

Ringo came back carrying a steaming cup of tea for me, which I finished about half of before I started warming up again. After that, I felt so worn out that I fell asleep again, probably the best thing for me to do to get rid of the cold. I didn’t open my eyes again until I felt the plane screech down on the runway in Toronto later that night, the next stop on the tour. They would play two shows there the next day, both of which I doubted I’d see if I was still dying with this cold by then!

Continue to Chapter Twelve...