Lovely Rita

I left my bedroom with a smile on my face after my ordeal with Paul. Through the kitchen window the Saturday early evening sky was a pastel purple colour, slowly descending into darkness for the night. It looked so pretty through the net curtains, so I stayed there looking out of the window for a few minutes. The Liverpool skyline was something I had always loved since I moved there for University. I suddenly thought back to my old friends. I wondered if they were around in some different dimension, or if they weren’t even a twinkle in their parents’ eyes yet... It was astounding to
think about and for a moment I was nonplussed as I stood by that window.

I fiddled with my now dry hair. I styled it to perfection; big and curled, just as I liked it. I had touched up my make up again and dressed in a curve exposing outfit. It was a pair of pastel-pink polka dotted Capri’s, and a tight, white top – the straps of which tied at the shoulder in a pretty bow. The neckline was heart shaped, and I felt quite exposed in the chest area. I had bare feet, and my toenails were painted a nude pink shade to match my lips and fingernails. I’d plucked my eyebrows to a soft but precise arch, and shaded them a little with a light brown pencil. I’d gone all out tonight; I wanted to feel good. Plus I hadn’t seen the guys out of the studio for a while (well, except John... briefly) and I’m a people pleaser.

Paul was in his room – I assumed getting ready – so I set to work cooking up some veggie treats and making some sandwiches for everyone. I wasn’t particularly hungry; it was mainly manners and for the lads. I put to good use the recipes of Linda’s that I knew and created some cheese and onion pasties, with red onion and leeks (it was a good thing I was at her home – she always stocked up on veggies!). I also put together some cheese, egg mayonnaise and jam sandwiches (jam for me – nothing beat jam sarnies in my eyes).

After all of the cooking was done, I stacked everything onto plates and shoved them on the coffee table. I knew they’d be safe; Martha was a very good dog. I’d hardly heard from her since I’d been here! I found some beers in the fridge and made a little collection on the table next to the food, leaving no stone unturned. I filled a jug with water and ice, and put some old-style lemonade out too. Finally, I grabbed some glasses and filled a small bowl with peanuts, before putting a clean ash tray out, too. I stood back and put my hands on my hips, marvelling at the work I’d completed in such a short amount of time.
I heard doors opening and closing behind me down the hall, so I moved back into the kitchen and began washing the trays and bowls I’d used to make the food. Linda had a pair of pink washing up gloves, so I used those so as not to ruin the polish on my fingernails. Paul walked in from the hall and I heard him inhale loudly.

“God, she can cook too!” He said, walking over to the kitchen to stand next to me. I smiled jubilantly to myself. “That smells terrific, Julie!” Paul exclaimed again, almost in disbelief.

“Are you saying you’re surprised Mr McCartney?” I said, raising my eyebrows in a questioning manner to the (now) smart-casually dressed man next to me. He laughed quietly at me.

“No, just didn’t particularly peg you as a cook. But I knew you could cook, I would assume were good anyway.” He said in a desperate attempt to salvage. I laughed at him, slightly louder than I had intended.

“I was only messing, Paul. It’s only pasties and sandwiches. I can’t do anything major, just bits and bobs I used to do for my roommates at Uni.” I said, smiling at the nostalgia. He took the scrubbing brush from me and shuffled into my place.

“I’ll do that, you sit down. There’s a cigarette going down there if you want it.” He said, rolling up his sleeves and scrubbing the bowls that were left. I smiled as I watched him work away. It was 4.30 according to the clock, which gave us half an hour before the rest of the band and Yoko got here. I perched myself down on the edge of the couch and relit the cigarette Paul had left for me in the ash tray on the coffee table.

I didn’t smoke as a habit; it was more of a social thing. If I went to parties with my friends from University I would always have a crafty cigarette, so I was used to it. I took a drag and leaned back on the sofa, bringing one leg up and swinging one over the side. I put the cigarette yielding hand above my head and closed my eyes as I exhaled. I just wanted to sit in peacefulness for a while before it got a bit louder with the mixture of alcohol and four less-than-mature men. I smiled internally; they were mature in their lyric writing, sure, but all of them were so immature and always looking for a joke in things out of the studio.
I took longer than I expected to smoke the cigarette, and by the time it was down to the butt, I heard a knock at the door and stubbed it out in the ash tray.

“I’ll go get it, Pauly.” I said in a chilled, subdued way, feeling the effects of the narcotic I had just inhaled already.

I opened the door to be confronted by all four guests at once, and smiled charmingly at them all.

“Hi lads! And lady.” I said, nodding at Yoko in a friendly way, smiling brightly. She smiled her meek little smile back at me and held out her free hand (her other was around John). I shook it and looked intently and admiringly into her eyes, before remembering she didn’t know about the whole ‘future’ thing. It was still incredible to finally meet her though. Seeing her in person was so different to the pictures, and she looked so young considering she was a little older than the guys.
“Come on in, everyone. I’ve made some food and got some drinks out and all. Make yourselves at home.” I said, feeling like a proper little housewife.

“Pauly! She’s got you under the thumb, hasn’t she?” Ringo said, patting Paul on the back.

“Actually, I offered. Besides, Julie’s not the dominant one here, is she?” He said, winking at me.

“Excuse me? I think you’ll find I’m the one who’s in control around here while Linda’s away thank you very much!” I replied, leaning on a wall so as not to use up sofa space before anyone had sat down. As soon as I thought that, however, John and Yoko settled on the far end. Paul snorted sarcastic laughter at me.

“Alright, alright,” John started. How typically Scouse. “We don’t want a domestic already.” He said, chuckling. I stuck my tongue out at him. They were rubbing off on me with their stupid-face-making.

I could definitely tell tonight was going to be fun.