* * * * * * *
George Harrison didn’t feel like talking to anyone for about a month. He was forced to though, as he was part of the band after all and needed the money. One sunny July afternoon something very unexpected happened while George sat on the back porch and watched his mum take down the laundry off the line.
He heard the phone ringing in Gabrielle’s house through one of the windows left open in order to let some cool air in. Her Dad was at work today, driving he bus back and forth to Penny Lane like George’s own father.
The phone kept ringing though, and kept on incessantly for about five minutes.
Louise turned to look at her shaggy son. Staring at the house. Silly child. “George” she said giving him a motherly look. “Go answer it for them, will you? You look as if you’re in a daze”
George sighed, “I can’t just go in there and answer the phone”
It kept ringing “Oh I think you can” Louise chuckled, “They always leave the back door open anyway”
George grumbled and slouched towards the Gallagher back door “Why do you keep saying they” he muttered under his breath.
As John or Paul or especially Pete would tell you, George had been, frankly, an insufferable git the last few months. After the initial constant sulking he lapsed into a routine that really had people starting to worry about him.
It didn’t help that Gabrielle hadn’t called him yet.
Pushing the back door open, George slid into the house feeling decidedly like a foreigner in a land he’d been so many times he was almost a citizen.
Everything looked the same. Gabrielle was not a clean person and her father was not a clean person. Things were still scattered across the counter in a haphazard manner. Only this time it was the same things strewn across the counter. It looked as if no one had touched a thing in months. George paused to reflect on this and the remembered why he’d come. Phone.
Still ringing.
He strode over to it and lifted the receiver “Hello?”
“Ah, yes, er… I am terribly sorry. Is Ms. Gabrielle Gallagher there, please?”
“Erm, no” George said shortly “Sorry, she’s uh… moved” it came out in a choked sort of way.
“Moved?” The posh voice on the other end of the line asked “Oh that’s right. The young lady was headed for New York, wasn’t she?”
“Er… yeah” George nodded, aware that this person could not really hear him nodding. “She hasn’t left a forwarding phone number or anything but I’m expecting her to call so”
“Oh yes. Well, You see the reason I’m calling. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is Mr. Brian Epstein. I own the NEMS, you may have heard of it. Ms. Gallagher is friends with a wonderful new band called the Beatles. She was going to get me in contact with them.”
“Oh” George said, aware of the confusion in his voice. “Well actually… this is George Harrison. I play lead guitar for the Beatles.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone “Do you think perhaps your band mates would be interested in my representation of you?”
******
Gabrielle banged her head against the wall. Quite literally. Cyn and Ms. Nicholls found it very amusing and chuckled quietly at the disgruntled girl.
Ms. Nicholls was a very nice lady of about thirty-two. She wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world but she was incredibly nice and helpful in getting Gabrielle moved into her apartment. And oh, what an apartment it was.
Upon getting out of the taxi which pulled up to the Belnord on West 86th Street Gabrielle and Cyn and gaped a bit at the massive building and asked which window was Gabby’s.
Ms. Nicholls chuckled “Well, see that last window over their on the top floor.” She pointed at the window and Gabrielle and Cyn cooed in delight “Yes, about from that window to…” she swung her arm to the opposite window on the other side of the block long building. “That window”
Yes. It was true. Gabrielle now owned an eight room apartment that took up a city block. It would have been perfect except the phones never worked.
“I have to call my Dad. He’ll be wondering if I’ve been killed or kidnapped or sommat” Gabrielle whined. Even though she’s been living there for about two months, her scouse accent still held true. It caused many a person to turn and look at her in the street.
Ms. Nicholls clicked her tongue and poured tea out for them. “Now Gabrielle, they said they’d get you connected soon. Besides that nice man down stairs let me call Ms. Fraser.”
“Art?” asked Cyn “He’s really nice, I think he was picking up on you, Gabby”
“Euh” she shook her head “I don’t need another romance” she flopped down into one of the overstuffed leather chairs that donned this room. God. There were so many rooms. Furnishing them had been a nightmare. Especially since she still hadn’t bothered to find a roommate and didn’t know what they would want in it. Out of the eight separate rooms off the living room kitchen area four were now bedrooms, one was a dark room, two were empty, and one was an office of sorts.
“I need to find a housemate” Gabrielle sighed, tucking her legs under herself. It was nearly suffocating. Imagine. Three months ago she had been living in a council house and wearing winklepickers that were too small but she couldn’t afford new ones. Now she was sitting in a chair that cost more then her father made in a month, wearing clothes Cyn picked out for her at stores that she’d never heard of but apparently were very high and fru-fru-ish since a dress could cost four hundred dollars. ((note: multiply by ten to figure out how much in today’s terms)). Honestly, did she really need all this? Silken nightgowns from some French bird named Chanel? A bloke name Bill Blass seemed to be on a lot of her tags. And who was this Gucci fellow when he’s at home, she kept hearing his name. Her purse had his name on it.
The good thing was she was able to get a feeling of well being out of buying things for Cyn. Cyn had taken to staring longingly at something when they went shopping but keeping her mouth shut about it. Gabrielle would come stand next to her and look at the mannequin or whatever wearing the dress/skirt/slacks/hat that would so enthrall Cyn.
“That’s nice” she’d say nonchalantly
“Yeah” Cyn would nod “But it’s too expensive”
“Well I’m going to buy it” Gabrielle would say determinedly “But you know, I’ll never wear it. You have it”
So Cyn had accumulated a nice little pile of designer clothes as well.
Now wearing one of those oh so posh slinky nightgowns with her hair up in curlers Cyn sipped her tea demurely “What are we doing today? If you don’t have to go talk to some old bloke about your tuition again we could go look for a housemate”
Ms Nicholls pulled out her agenda “Well,” she flipped through it a bit “We have up until four this afternoon free. Then, Gabby, the phone person is coming to fix the wiring. At six the wardrobe for the guest bedroom is being delivered. And… at eight Mr. D’Lugoff is coming by with some friends”
“Friends?” Gabrielle asked “Art has friends?”
Art D’Lugoff was the eccentric twenty-eight year old who lived downstairs and ran the Village-Gate, a Greenwich newspaper.
“Art has friends” Cyn nodded “Why else would he have parties every Friday and always invite you- you always just say no”
“Well,” Gabrielle shrugged “I don’t need friends”
Cyn rolled her eyes “You can’t isolate yourself Gabby. You’re gonna be here for awhile. Besides, even if you don’t want friends people are obviously still gravitating towards you like usual”
“Yes, you seem to be able to capture the attention o the room” Ms Nicholls chuckled. She was referring of course, to the incident few nights ago when the three ladies went to a folk club called Gerde’s. Carolyn Hester was to play that night and as they entered the front door flashbulbs went off.
“Oh wait!” a man with a Jersey accent yelled “It’s not Hester! Just some other broad”
Gabrielle looked disturbed while Ms Nicholls and Cyn busted up laughing as they pushed her along to their table.
Gabrielle leaned her face in her hands “Let’s just go for a walk and see what we come across” she suggested wearily
* * * *
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last part. Like a feather i feel bad about giving Siobhan no lines. So Trixie is coming. And she's going to be a folkie and hang out with Bob Dylan and Gabby and Beatles. Yeah?
