Camelia Season.
You carry so much love in your heart. Give some to yourself.
Unknown.
June 22, ReykjavΓk, Iceland.
It had been a few weeks since he had talked with Helene and he only knew that after their last call it was better to take things slow with her, even more, if she was working so much. He knew from experience that her patience as endless as it was, could be cut short if she wasn't handled with care. And that was the last thing he wanted.
Realizing that he couldn't be daydreaming over her without knowing much of what her life is, he had put his mind to know as much as he could but when asking Anne, what he had found wasn't of any help.
Working too hard, resting poorly, rarely speaking and always alone. All of that he knew but what had happened to her to end like that? And the truth was worst than anything he ever imagined.
The first months of 1965 had found her dressed in mourning from head to toe, too pale and thin, the dark circles under her eyes coming to stay.
The pain she had been through was unmeasurable, the death of her grandmother had changed her world for the worst. Truth be told, she had done the best to keep her alive but even with her best intentions, it was too late and unfortunately the worst had happened. Nobody had been there for her and she, who had always been so confident, felt for the first time in her life, utterly and completely alone.
Depression had taken over her and she had lost count of the nights she spent in bed crying. In those lonely and dark moments, a small thought had come and gone, if only John would be here... John with his sweet nothings and tender hands, the one who could understand her pain without a single word, who could hold her to his chest while she cried her heart out and make promises that everything will be fine until she fell asleep with his lips on her hair. John, the same she pictured sitting in the dark of her lonely bedroom, always watching with tender eyes and on some nights with pain and hate, but always there haunting her, making her think, wonder and hope but she knew all that... all was in vain. She wanted to run back to his arms, explain everything and be his again, of course. And night after night she had made her mind to go back to him just to find at dawn that she was alone in her room except for her loneliness and the resolve to stay away from him.
It was too late for them, she was too broken and it wouldn't be fair for him to carry on with her even when he maybe just maybe still liked her.
Too stubborn to back down, she had to learn to live with the sadness, the emptiness and that sharp pain in her heart, she had to. The resolve to make her bones and soul stronger increased even more when she realized that money had run short and she needed a job.
After that, she had been just the silhouette of what she had been. The loneliness of the house when she came and found everything black as routine or the emptiness of family love and affection as a usual companion didn't hurt as much as the first days and with the months it became bearable and even comfortable.
She was hardened beyond repair, the death of her grandmother had marked an end taking with it the sweetness and carelessness of her youth and the people in her memories. She had stopped thinking and remembering, it wasn't of any use, her tired bones and the machine of life trying to break her were more important and dangerous, always breathing on her neck, reminding her that the world had beautiful and happy families whom rested peacefully on their beds at night and shared full meals. Families full of love and kindness, families like she once had but didn't want to remember...
Because that wasn't her world, she was left alone in the dark.
July 18, London.
What she will do if they sacked her too? was everything Helene could think at the moment, that and John's upcoming call. It was true he had told Anne the day and the hour but waiting for him make her nervous and the knot on her stomach didn't help at all.
Sitting on the small chair beside the telephone in Anne's darkening green living room while she played with the hem of her blue dress and a little white handkerchief that she clenched with trembling fingers.
Her support to Cristine was a mistake and she had realized that at the moment but the way they had shouted at her just for messing up the embroidery of a dress was unfair.
But what she will do if they sacked her? Was the main task at the moment. God knows that finding a decent job wasn't her forte and if she lost this, she will have to go and clean floors with Mrs Henderson, her unbearable neighbour. Heaven forbid! she would like to go deaf just in a few months then having to listen to her ramblings.
Maybe she should go and find a job at one of those luxurious shops on Carnaby Street even just to clean the windows but... No! she will do the embroidery and the hems... and the neck and... it was too much, and she knew she could handle it but a few hours was too little time to solve it and in a decent way because one of the most exclusive customers wanted for a big party and...
The phone was ringing marking that John was there, waiting for her. Be calm, be calm, she whispered but her trembling hand picking the phone told her otherwise.
Frankfurt, West Germany.
What she didn't know was that on the other side John was as nervous as she. Helene... How have you been? He asked and just by hearing her voice knew that something was wrong. Fine, I'm fine. How do you do?
Lying she was lying to him and she couldn't hide it. He knows her too well to tell how her voice had changed just a little revealing that she was hiding something. She had always had the bad habit to hide things from him, even when he could help her just for the mere mantra that she doesn't want to worry him.
What is it? He hardened his voice because honey-sweet talking wouldn't help him if he wanted at least, to know a little. A small moan was heard, always the same he thought and knew she was ready to fight him out. John, please don't. She answered stubbornly as she always had been but he knew best and trying to be calm insisted on knowing. Please NenΓ©... John, I'm just tired, that's all...
You-are-impossible, you know? He said and the memory of a rainy summer afternoon when he had said the same words when she refused to go into a bar with him just because her hair was wet and her shoes with mud put a smile on his face until he heard her choke on her tears.
What a mistake she had made.
NenΓ©... You can tell me anything... Everything and more... And I'll be glad to help. He added but she stayed silent. Could she tell him all her troubles? No, it was impossible and really, she didn't want to. She knew him and was sure he will be worried and distracted, the last thing she wanted.
But John could be very insistent and she had to be very cautious because, in the end, she will have to tell him everything as if crying wasn't enough to have him worried, she admonished herself.
A bad day, that's all... Work's too hard this season. I'll never marry of that I'm sure. She said with a brave voice and his heart was crushed at hearing that. If she only knew he was married and with children what she would think?
What he didn't know was that she was silently crying on the other side, unable to stop just because the thought that he could be married had come, despite her efforts, as soon as her words left her mouth and wondering if he wasn't in fact, married. All those brides she dressed so beautifully in white satin or brocade, those delicate veils she had to sew for their big days, wasn't one of them his bride? It always had been a fear she carried, one that reminded her of what she let go of.
Is that all? He said after a few minutes passed without a word. Yes... She said and he knew she was crying but couldn't find a way to break her walls, what about the band? Are you in England?
She added sounding desperate to distract him as if something worried her but he couldn't place what it could be, after all, it wouldn't be related to him, who only had met her twice and hadn't done something wrong to her.
No, we are in Germany... That's great she interrupted him and silence crept to the point that made him uncomfortable. It must be strange to be far away from home... He heard but before he tried to reply a loud sob made him go silent. She couldn't talk to him without being ashamed of herself, a poor dressmaker hoping not to be sacked because she didn't know how to survive and a man, who she suspected was more than comfortable and obviously would pity her. That was the last thing she wanted in this world, his pity and there she was, sobbing on the telephone without being able to stop. What a shame she was.
That same shame was evident to him, who was assured something was really wrong when she hurriedly spoke a poor excuse, I must go, John, I'm exhausted. I don't want to be mean but... I really must go.
And after that, not a single minute passed until the line went dead.
He was left speechless, worried and confused, the telephone on his ear and only one thing for sure: she was in trouble, he knew and felt it, and he have to find a way to help her.
End of July.
They had sacked her after all, but for a whole different reason. She was ill. She had been all the time but had thought it was best just to pass over the symptoms until one night she couldn't breathe and her suspicions were confirmed when the doctor told her that it wasn't a cold but something else, a lack of red corpuscles, tiredness, fever and... after all pneumonia.
He had wanted her to be admitted as soon as possible but she didn't come back the next day, as she promises him with the excuse of calling her family and after a week she thought she would be fine, just to faint at work as a consequence of a two-day series of high temperature and had to go straight to the hospital.
A week or two at least.
It was too much and she had to work to eat but her pleas weren't heard and when Anne knew what was going on forbade her of any attempt of trying to get out without the doctor's agreement.
So the first week passed and since she was too young and the hospital too full, the doctor said that only full bed rest, meals and home care will be good enough to have her back to normal. But after two days of Anne's watchful eyes, on a rainy day, she went to work only to be sacked with the payment of a few days that a thief stole her on her way back home.
I'm going to get up early and go searching for something new... She told Anne while sitting in her friend's salmon-pink bathroom, her friend only smiled and put some ice on her swollen red eye. I'm not sure darling, I don't think is the right moment, maybe I should speak to a friend of mine and ask him if he doesn't have something at the pub for you... But first, we need to get your eye back to normal and that cough over and well... That arm doesn't look good, You are the only woman who can fight a thief...
Anne, what I had to do? I don't have any money, but at least I tried... It had been quite risky to fight the thief and she knew it wasn't her best idea but she was so desperate that at the moment she had fought so hard that at least he must have some bruises too.
But she couldn't say that to Anne so, instead, she started to ramble about her reasons only to be cut short by her friend, Bobby and I will help you... Bobby was an Irish factory worker Anne had met last summer and the two were head over heels in love, the only problem was Bobby's conservative catholic family and Anne's free-spirited way of life. She suspected he wanted to propose but, Anne had been on needles and pins since she found she had to learn about his way of life and religion, even when in fact, he didn't mind at all if she followed them or not.
Anne... He's going to propose and I don't want to delay something because of my health, believe me, I'll be alright. But Anne wasn't fooled and turning to face her wanted to say something until someone knocked on the door. Go away... Go...
This isn't the final... She admonished but running as she was the words only sounded empty and trivial. Minutes passed and the ice in her hand started to melt and she took it off. After all, it was a horrible swollen black eye and some ice couldn't do miracles.
Look at this preciousness! Aren't they the most beautifully arranged? In her hands, a delicate bouquet of blue, pink and yellow flowers made her smile shine brighter than any star in the sky with such a humble devotion to the man she knew had sent them that she was warmed too at seeing her friend so happy.
Freesia Viridis is such a beautiful variety... They're so pretty Anne. She admired it closely and finding them fresh she went for a vase to put them before they started to suffer. Botanic had been a secret passion of hers since she was a child and her grandmother used to gift her books for her to learn something new. You know they mean unconditional love... she almost shouted from the kitchen believing that Anne was doing God knew what, but to her amazement back in the living room she found that Anne was standing frozen on her spot looking at her. What's the matter? She asked and her friend only hide for a minute to keep her tears at bay, before she turned and held her hands strong enough to have her attention.
You have such a beautiful soul Helene and I... I wish you could be as happy as you can.
I am. I really am, Anne. You don't have to worry about that. She said, confused and touched by her friend's words only hugged her and suggested they have a cup of tea.
September, 1964.
What's the matter, baby? He asked her a million times only to have her looking silently at the streets. Something inside her was different but he couldn't place what it was. She had been restrained to the point that she prefered her loneliness instead him and that had him worried.
He often had seen her in her back garden covered in mud, apron on and hair over her face, working restless day after day after work. She's getting everything ready for winter, her grandmother had told him while she assured him not to worry but the look in her eyes deleted her own worries. Helene withdrew from every single thing and person, moving through her daily schedule like an automat, without thinking or realizing how worried everyone was because, even when she appeared as normal as she could be, beautifully dressed and always polite, the emptiness in her eyes was haunting. And on top of it all, he was the most damaged because of all the people who crossed her path if there was someone who got the worst part was him. She often tried to pass him by with a cold shoulder even when he didn't do anything to her.
Two weeks of that. Two long weeks when she barely spoke to him until he caught her after leaving work and asked her time after time what was wrong with no answers.
You'll tell me or I will find someone new, that will do the trick he thought, her silence getting into his nerves, but what he didn't expect was her uncontrollable crying. That's.... That's.... True? She asked between sobs, her head buried into his chest. No darling, but tell me what have you like this?
I'm not enough for you... I know, and... You will leave me, won't you? Her sadness was too deep that even if he talked, her sobs so deep and ragged, wouldn't allow her to listen. Her hands were clutching his suit jacket with such force that they were leaving wrinkles.
Promise, promise me that you won't be ashamed of me... Promise you will love me forever... She begged him with desperation. He had been so hurt that hadn't realized that maybe she was suffering too and just didn't want to say anything to him. He was ashamed of himself for only thinking about him and that feeling only grew by that look. The look of pure heartbreak she gave him when she was brave enough to see him in the eyes, the one that haunted him for years.
He remembered thinking that it had been so strange of her to act like that. Those crying jags, shaking hands and swollen eyes while she asked time after time about his love were so out of character and even more how much had taken him to put her worries at rest because she always had trusted him without a doubt. At the very end and after taking her home, he only was able to have her asleep in his arms while her doll face showed the strain of her tears.
Years later he realized that it had been the beginning of the end, and he hadn't seen it.
August 1970.
August had come with the sad news of his father's death and he remembered quite poorly everything but one day after the funeral.
I'm so sorry my love... Mo had whispered while holding him close to her heart. His father had died quite suddenly and it had shaken him to his very core.
He admired him and was proud to be his son. He had been such a good father, the one he wished he could be for the girls. The girls... had lost their grandfather and the thought that they will never know him enough to realize what a great musician he was and how much they could learn of him made him miserable.
If not for Mo, what could have been of him? She had supported him and had been by his side since the news was told to him. Always loving Mo, he knew she was suffering at seeing him like that but her words of love and hope gave him at least, some kind of peace.
Thank you... He said and was led to bed by her. His frail body moved almost unconscious, his mind too troubled to react to the fact that he had left him and his mother alone. And now, realizing what it felt to lose a loved one.
That night the boys had called him, first Robert just to be followed closely by Bonzo and lastly, Jimmy. Peter had come on the following days, to give his respects to him and tell him not to worry about the band. All of them had been so nice that it had warmed his heart to know that they liked him that much.
But a hole had been made and he couldn't place what was needed to put the pain at rest.
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