Lovely Rita

I had ended up in bed with Paul again. I couldn't tell you why - well, of course there's a 'why'; I loved him. But he loved Linda and I was just acting as a muse while she was away so I gathered. Unless he was just very, very confused and frustrated.

We lay next to eachother, Paul holding onto me tightly. I felt like a large security blanket - making the muse idea stronger. It almost felt like he had trouble being alone.

"Paul, this can't happen again." I said finally, as I propped my head up on my hand. He let me go and looked over at me, his eyes full of a mixture of emotions.

They settled on confusion as he looked up at the ceiling.

"I know." He said, before sighing in a disheartened way. I was gutted too, of course, but it was just pick of the universe where I had ended up I guess.

"I'm sorry Pauly. I just don't think the guilt... I couldn't handle it. I already feel shitty." I said, turning to get out of bed and dress myself.

*****

The rest of the day hadn't been tense at all, to my surprise. We'd sat around chatting about any old thing. I told Paul about what modern universities were like - something I'd never really spoken to him about before - and my friends and what we used to do when we hung out as opposed to what I did now. I told him all about the internet, and he was amazed at what could happen in the space of a few decades. I told him how I worshipped him as a kid. The Beatles had inspired me to learn music and try and make a name for myself, so I thought it relevant.

It got to one in the afternoon, and we'd had some lunch and a smoke.

"Sing for me again. I want to hear your voice. You sound like an old movie singer." He said, leaning back onto the sofa with a little smile playing about his lips. I furrowed my eyebrows in a 'really?!' expression. I couldn't be bothered.

"Yes! Do it!" He said, motioning to the guitar in the corner of the room. I rolled my eyes, and in an overexaggerated manner shoved myself from the sofa.

"What song?" I said monotonously. I wanted to get this over with to be honest. I just wanted to chill and chat. I sat on the floor in front of the coffee table awaiting a response.

"Um..." Paul started, purposely ignoring my mood. I could tell from his expression. Bastard.
"Do 'That Old Black Magic' by Marilyn Monroe in Bus Stop." That surprised me. He chuckled as I looked taken aback. I began plucking the strings gently on the guitar.

As I sang 'that old black magic has me in it's spell,' I realised how relevant the song was to my situation, and wondered if Paul felt the same having chosen it. It was a random song to pick. Bus Stop wasn't one of Marilyn's most famous movies, and I knew Paul and the band liked her (Sgt. Pepper cover - I'd studied it like a creep) but I didn't know they enjoyed her musical talents too. I was under Paul's spell beyond my comprehension. He was intoxicating to me, and I wondered if I was to him...

"So we just pretend this never happened, yeah?" I said as we made our way to the car to pick up Linda and Heather. Paul smirked as he pulled his keys from his jacket pocket.

"Will you be able to keep your hands off me now though?" He winked. I laughed once loudly.

"Pfft! Well, I'm really not sure, Mr. Big Head!" I said smoothly, as Megan Fox would've, but sarcastically.

We arrived at the station and Linda and Heather were stood under the shelter, avoiding the wind. They waved us over, Heather looking excited at seeing her Daddy Paul again. I smiled as I thought of Paul being all 'dad-like'. I mean, I'd seen the photos, and of course the wedding video of he and Linda with Heather, but in real life it was adorable.
As soon as I saw them though, I couldn't help but get a pang of guilt in the pit of my stomach, and I felt like a rope was tightening around my heart. The butterflies felt like they were going to fly out of my gullet and let loose all of the secrets I had to keep. I stepped out of the front of the car as Paul did, and slipped on the sunglasses that John had left the other night. I'd taken a fancy to them. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Leaning against the car, I tried not to make eye contact with Linda as she said 'hi!'. I smiled at her but kept to myself behind those glasses.
"Hi!" I replied, but mainly to Heather, as I picked her up and spun her around after she'd hugged Paul. I had missed her and Linda, in all honesty. I'm not usually a kid person, but Heather was lovely.
'Like her mother' I thought; which made me feel yet more guilt.

I tried to ignore the fact that Paul and Linda were engaging in a reuniting embrace. I knew a kiss would follow, so I chatted to Heather about what she'd done in Scotland. She was certainly enthusiastic enough to tell me.
Apparently 'Mummy found a really nice house with fields and lots of places to play in Mull." I already knew the answer would be something like that (Oh, Mull of Kintyre...) but I wanted to make conversation.

Once in the car, I sat in the back with Heather and started talking, just so I seemed like my normal self. I didn't want to retreat too far into a shell. Linda settled in the passenger seat and clicked her belt as Paul started the car.

"Linda, Heather tells me you found a aplace in Mull?" I said politely. She turned slightly so I knew she was directing her speech at me.

"Yes! It's beautiful... Oh Paul you'll love it!" She said, touching his leg as he drove. I longed to touch his leg, then felt guilty for even thinking it.
"It has acres and acres of grass land, and the house is made of old brick and is so homely and wonderful. A far cry from that stuffy apartment." She finished.

"Hey! Don't knock the apartment. That's been on me hands for years! Actually, it dates back to before I even met Ri-Julie here!" Paul said, making my heart almost skip a beat when he almost said Rita. Linda laughed at his defensive quip.

"Bless your love for that old place." Linda smiled warmly.

I leaned against the window, thinking this might not be so hard. I listened to Heather chippering to Paul, and his answers with child directed language. Bless him, he was so wonderful with kids. I smiled to myself, imagining things I shouldn't about myself and a soon to get married man.

I felt guilty that only this morning I had been in bed with that same man who was now with his soon to be wife, talkign about their future plans for Mull. I wondered if he did too, but I thought back to the days when he was with Jane Asher and Dot Rhone, plus all of those prostitutes in Hamburg. I guess I was born to be the other woman. Belonging to noone, but belonging to everyone. Charming them all, charmed by one. I sighed to myself.

With this guilt, it was just a matter of my ability to hold out until I got a job.