#feuerlein

Ah, Feuerlein...one day I'll finish it...The Beatles in Hamburg meet a mysterious androgynous person who cuts a deal with them in exchange for their hearts desires.

"Frau Kirchherr makes lunch Sunday," Klaus explains. "Schnitzel or roast. She's an excellent cook. You come? She also can wash your…" he plucks at his shirt. "...your cloths."

Paul exhales in pleasure. It's like his prayers have been answered. All the lads are noisily grateful, beaming and clapping Astrid's shoulder. Only Pete begs off sheepishly. 

"He's got plans with Bettina. Private performance," George explains, waggling his eyebrows.

"How do you...you know...converse with her?" John asks with a leer.

"Our Peter studied O-Level German!" Paul says conspiratorially, though they all know it, Pete never lets them forget it.

"Oh, did he?" John asks.

"Yes!" Paul assures him, speaking in a high pitched posh voice like a gossipy housewife.

"Studied it in school, did he?" John asks. He sounds exactly like Aunt Mimi. 

"Jawohl!"

"What about what's her name back home? Crying in her pillow," John asks Pete, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

"Kathy," Paul supplies.

"Ah, Kathy, waiting for you like a good little girl, is she?" John asks.

Paul isn't sure he'd use those words to describe Pete's girl. She seems to be the sort who tolerates no nonsense. He feels a sudden prickle of irritation. John never knows when to stop. He's sick of John joking with him in public and his refusing to look at him properly when they're alone. Not that they're ever alone these days.

"Like Cyn is waiting for you and Dot is waiting for me," Paul snaps.

Pete's cheeks are very red he looks down at the bit of paper he's got clutched in his hands. He's just folding it over and over until it's about the size of a postage stamp. He looks up and catches Paul's eye like he has something to add but thinks better of it.

John pulls himself up and walks to the bar, he buys three scotch and cokes and lines them up in front of him.