It was an unusual group that came walking into the restaurant (a nice restaurant, but not the same one the Beatles had taken their unfortunate first girlfriends to) a couple of hours later: the four girls, still smelling of blood and looking like they’d just won a fight; the four Beatles, rumpled and in need of a change of clothes and perhaps a shave, though still as gorgeous as ever; and one very large dog, who stuck close to Jenna but would periodically pad over to Ringo and lick his hand.
“We don’t allow mbwa in...” the waiter started to say, but then stopped when he saw the Beatles.
“He’s with us,” Ringo assured him smoothly.
Jenna grinned. “I’m sorry about Butch and before,” she alisema when the waiter had taken their orders and left – though she still wore a big smile that suggested maybe she wasn’t completely sorry. “I wouldn’t like wewe to be scared of him.”
Ringo just laughed. “No, I like big dogs,” he told her. “Just not when they’re set on me.”
“Really?” Jenna’s eyes shone. “You do?”
Ringo nodded. “Love them. I wouldn’t mind having one meself one day.”
Jenna sighed happily, gazing at Ringo with upendo in her eyes. That was the best thing he could possibly have alisema to her....
Susan had returned to staring into Paul’s eyes and trying to figure out the colour. “I don’t know,” she alisema at last. “They’re all brown and green and blue and grey and – wonderful.”
Paul smiled a little. “I call them hazel,” he offered.
The couples chatted, sometimes as a group and sometimes one-on-one, until the chakula arrived, and then there was a pause as the hungry Beatles tucked into their long-anticipated lunches. In the meantime Susan took a napkin and drew a picture of Paul, just a simple one since she was only drawing with a pen on a napkin, but still with all the essential details that showed it was Paul.
Paul looked over, having eaten enough to pause for a moment. “Is that me?” He examined the drawing, looking impressed. “That’s good.”
Susan blushed. “I like to draw.”
“So do we,” Paul told her, indicating his mates. “Here.” He took the pen and napkin from Susan, and drew a picture of her inayofuata to her drawing of him.
Susan’s moyo beat faster. “It’s wonderful!” Taking back the pen, she added to their arms so it looked like they were holding hands, then finished the drawing kwa encircling them both in a heart.
There came a sudden peal of laughter from Emma, who was listening to John telling jokes, re-enacting ways in which he had aliyopewa waiters his restaurant order before.
“And I’ll have an tembo on the side, along with some freed tomorrows....”
“Try asking them not to give wewe the things wewe order,” Emma offered between giggles. “See if they still think they should bring it to you....”
“I can try it on them press as well,” John mused, eyes twinkling with mischief. “They’ll never know if I mean what I’m saying au not.”
“They’ll never understand you!” Emma giggled. “I can’t wait.”
Karen was telling George stories about the makeup store she worked in, the various customers she’d encountered and all the people she had helped feel beautiful with her expert advice. George listened, not saying too much, but he found himself thinking how glad he was that Karen had never once alisema “I told wewe so”. She hadn’t even brought up their first meeting where he had refused to tarehe her and alisema he was going to tarehe a non-fan instead. And the longer he sat there with her, the zaidi he wondered why he had ever decided that. Karen had always loved him, she had always been honest with him, and he had already learned zaidi about Karen in three hours than he had learned about Morag in seven days.
“Tell me about the music,” she alisema after a time, and George did, Karen listening with rapt attention to the descriptions of Beatle life.
“And then our records were selling out everywhere,” George said. “We didn’t expect it – but we were happy about it,” he added with a small, sharp-toothed smile.
“They’ll keep selling out,” Karen alisema positively. “I know your music. And I know your fans,” she added with a smile. “I should. I am one.”
“I know wewe are.” George reached out and took Karen’s hand under the table, then gave her a small kiss on her cheek. “Don’t ever change.”
“We don’t allow mbwa in...” the waiter started to say, but then stopped when he saw the Beatles.
“He’s with us,” Ringo assured him smoothly.
Jenna grinned. “I’m sorry about Butch and before,” she alisema when the waiter had taken their orders and left – though she still wore a big smile that suggested maybe she wasn’t completely sorry. “I wouldn’t like wewe to be scared of him.”
Ringo just laughed. “No, I like big dogs,” he told her. “Just not when they’re set on me.”
“Really?” Jenna’s eyes shone. “You do?”
Ringo nodded. “Love them. I wouldn’t mind having one meself one day.”
Jenna sighed happily, gazing at Ringo with upendo in her eyes. That was the best thing he could possibly have alisema to her....
Susan had returned to staring into Paul’s eyes and trying to figure out the colour. “I don’t know,” she alisema at last. “They’re all brown and green and blue and grey and – wonderful.”
Paul smiled a little. “I call them hazel,” he offered.
The couples chatted, sometimes as a group and sometimes one-on-one, until the chakula arrived, and then there was a pause as the hungry Beatles tucked into their long-anticipated lunches. In the meantime Susan took a napkin and drew a picture of Paul, just a simple one since she was only drawing with a pen on a napkin, but still with all the essential details that showed it was Paul.
Paul looked over, having eaten enough to pause for a moment. “Is that me?” He examined the drawing, looking impressed. “That’s good.”
Susan blushed. “I like to draw.”
“So do we,” Paul told her, indicating his mates. “Here.” He took the pen and napkin from Susan, and drew a picture of her inayofuata to her drawing of him.
Susan’s moyo beat faster. “It’s wonderful!” Taking back the pen, she added to their arms so it looked like they were holding hands, then finished the drawing kwa encircling them both in a heart.
There came a sudden peal of laughter from Emma, who was listening to John telling jokes, re-enacting ways in which he had aliyopewa waiters his restaurant order before.
“And I’ll have an tembo on the side, along with some freed tomorrows....”
“Try asking them not to give wewe the things wewe order,” Emma offered between giggles. “See if they still think they should bring it to you....”
“I can try it on them press as well,” John mused, eyes twinkling with mischief. “They’ll never know if I mean what I’m saying au not.”
“They’ll never understand you!” Emma giggled. “I can’t wait.”
Karen was telling George stories about the makeup store she worked in, the various customers she’d encountered and all the people she had helped feel beautiful with her expert advice. George listened, not saying too much, but he found himself thinking how glad he was that Karen had never once alisema “I told wewe so”. She hadn’t even brought up their first meeting where he had refused to tarehe her and alisema he was going to tarehe a non-fan instead. And the longer he sat there with her, the zaidi he wondered why he had ever decided that. Karen had always loved him, she had always been honest with him, and he had already learned zaidi about Karen in three hours than he had learned about Morag in seven days.
“Tell me about the music,” she alisema after a time, and George did, Karen listening with rapt attention to the descriptions of Beatle life.
“And then our records were selling out everywhere,” George said. “We didn’t expect it – but we were happy about it,” he added with a small, sharp-toothed smile.
“They’ll keep selling out,” Karen alisema positively. “I know your music. And I know your fans,” she added with a smile. “I should. I am one.”
“I know wewe are.” George reached out and took Karen’s hand under the table, then gave her a small kiss on her cheek. “Don’t ever change.”