It had been a week since James and Susan had been at Annabelle’s cottage outside of the village of Little Dippington. Annabelle had just made her and Emily a pot of tea and poured each of them a cup, Annabelle using the new hummingbird teacup James and Susan had bought at Emily’s shop. She took her cup over to the piano and set it on top to cool, asking Emily if she’d like to hear a tune she’d been practicing before she had gone to King’s Head. Emily, who was sitting at the kitchen table, said she’d love to hear it. Annabelle shooed Buttons off the piano bench to retrieve a music book from inside the bench. There were three sheaves of what looked like drawing paper on top with handwriting on them. She picked up the first piece of paper and started to read the words.
“Oh, my...oh my!” she exclaimed, her face turning a rosy shade of pink. “What is it?” asked Emily.
“Oh, my...! Just look at this! I wonder if James wrote this for that American girl you said he had out here!”
“Wrote a song, you mean?”
“Yes...here, take a look at it.” Annabelle handed Emily the pieces of paper.
“Oh, my!” Emily exclaimed, her cheeks tingeing pink and remembering her conversation with Susan the night she had run away from James.
It was the words to the Jim McCrow/Beth Gill song that Susan had put in the bench, intending for her and James to sing together on their last night at the cottage before retiring to the bedroom. The name of the song was, “Making Love.”
“Making love...
All through the night...
Feeling you hold me tight...
Until the night is gone...
Making love...”
Annabelle and Emily looked at each other, and both began to laugh.
“Those are quite interesting lyrics, aren’t they?!” Emily exclaimed. “Maybe you could put a tune to it, Annabelle!”
“Oh yes! Let’s collaborate, shall we?”
“Yes, indeed, Annabelle!”
***
Mel found Susan’s letter in the refrigerator when he got back from picking up Annabelle in King’s Head and driving her back to her cottage.
“Now what’s this?” he said as he picked up the plate of cheeses. It looked like art paper, folded twice into a square. Inside was a small pile of money. It looked the same as what Susan had given him to pay for the dinner feast and that he’d given back to James. There were also two pictures of James, one drawn in pencil and the other in pastels. He spread all of the papers open on the kitchen table and looked at them. Then, he began to read.
Dearest Mel,
By the time you get this, I will be far, far away, both in time and place. I know you don’t understand what that means, but as I told you, I won’t be able to come back. Thank you for not pressuring me to tell you why; the reason is too incomprehensible. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?
I wish there had been the opportunity for me to give you one last kiss and hug. Even though I was only with you a few times, you came to mean a lot to me. James is lucky to have a dad as wonderful as you.
I really enjoyed playing the piano with you, working in the garden and talking, but most of all cooking our “feast” for James. I got in big, awful trouble over the beef roast, but that’s neither here nor there. I just enjoyed being with you so much.
I also want to thank you for your kindness to me, especially making me feel special and different from the girls James usually hangs out with, and for not judging me as a bad girl when James and I came back from your sister’s cottage. As I told you, I feel what happened there was as much my fault as his. I appreciate your understanding.
I’m sorry if my leaving has hurt James, but I don’t think it will be very long before he is swept away by the fame and fortune that he believes is his future. It really will be his future. Never mind how I know that; I just do.
Lastly, please know how much I came to love your son. My heart broke at having to leave; it’s too painful for me even to describe. Just know that, although I loved him, a life with him would have been full of too many fireworks, if you know what I mean. We’re too much alike. That, and his career would have taken him away from me anyway.
I love you, Mel! Susan
***
It was a Sunday night in February 1964, and Susan’s grandparents, mother, and brother were all in the living room in front of the television. The Ted Flannagan show was about to come on. Her grandparents and mother watched it every week.
The phone rang in the kitchen and Susan ran to answer it. It was Lynn.
“I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour!” Lynn said. “The stupid people on the party line were hogging it up.”
“Yeah, well, they do that a lot. You could have just walked to my house, you know.”
“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to make sure you’re going to watch the Ted Flannagan show. They’re going to be on! I’m so excited!!!”
“I know, I know. I’m going to watch it, but it just seems like a lot of fuss for four guys from England.”
“You saw their pictures in the magazine I brought over a couple of weeks ago. They’re all so cute. I think I like Ian best.”
“So who do you think I should like best?”
“Just go watch and pick one, but you can’t pick Ian; he’s mine. They’re about to come on any minute now. Then, I’ll come down to your house, and you can tell me what you think and who you picked to be your favorite.”
“I don’t think I’m going to have a favorite.”
“Just watch, okay? I want to know what you think of Ian. He’s so dreamy...”
“Dreamy? Geez! Okay, okay, I’ll go watch. See you later.”
Susan hung up the phone, went into the living room and sat on the floor, her elbow on the coffee table and a bored look on her face.
Ted Flannagan was talking about four “young gentlemen” from England. He flung his hand to the side, and the camera focused on the band. They were dressed in matching suits and had long hair that almost touched their collars.
Susan’s grandfather made a “hrumphhh” sound. “Beatniks!” her mother muttered.
Susan ignored them. She watched as three young men slipped guitar straps over their shoulders. Another went to the drums. The girls in the audience were screaming frantically, some of them crying as the camera panned over them.
The one with the guitar pointed to the left stepped up to the microphone.
“One, two, three, four, five!...
Close your eyes while I touch you…
You know how I love you…
Remember me while you’re away…
And then while you are gone…
I will try to go on…
And send all my kisses your way…”
Susan sat up straighter and scooted closer to the t.v. Her mother yelled at her to move back before she ruined her eyes. There was something interesting about the guy on the left, the one with his guitar pointed in what looked like the wrong direction.
Her eyes became glued to the t.v. Which one was he? As much as she hated to admit it, he was kinda cute. When the camera closed in on his face, she was suddenly captivated by his eyes and long engaging smile as he sang.
She fingered the ballerina slippers hanging on the silver necklace she’d just got for her twelfth birthday the month before. Then she thought, “Well, since I have to pick one, I think I’ll pick him... I think his name is James...”