"Eckhorn," Paul said. "There's competition and he promised us a higher pay raise if we bring in more people. Then he left the song suggestion sheet on the table and... I s'pose we'll see what happens tonight." His eyes dropped to his lap. I fingered my coffee handle. No one was looking at each other.
                          
The future. It lurked around every corner, popping up unexpectedly in bits of conversation and late night thoughts. For me, not only the future of the boys but my future as well. I bit my lip. My thoughts slid away from me as John leaned in close to the table. "Where are we going, lads?" I couldn't help but join in on the famous catchphrase: "To the toppermost of the poppermost!" The cheer was grounding, giving us a bit of resolve and a goal to fight for (even if poppermost was a bit vague). I could feel the energy rise. We all gave each other friendly jabs and got up from the table to grab our instruments. I grabbed a couple of plates to take with us and felt a hand on my shoulder.
                          
"Cora," Paul said.
                          
"You're welcome for the guitar lessons," I responded, balancing Stu's plate on my elbow.
                          
"No, it's not that, I mean, yes, thank you," he said impatiently, and then his voice got lower and more secretive. "How did you know the chant?"
                          
"What chant?" I said quizzically, but my heart was beating a little faster.
                          
"To the toppermost of the poppermost. When have we ever said that around you?"
                          
The world seemed to go underwater as I responded automatically in a nice little lie, "John told me about it when we were still in London. He missed you all, you know. A lot."
                          
Paul kept looking at me until I finally said, "Every minute you keep staring is ten pounds. I'm not a zoo, you know." I walked away with the plates and the world came crashing down again in a blur of color. I exhaled. It felt then like I was teetering on the edge of falling into darkness, into nothingness, but I got pulled away by some unknown force. I couldn't slip up like that again.
                          
It was times like these when I was forced to remember that I was forty, no, fifty years behind my present day self. Sometimes I would wake up at night and listen to the German outside the window and think to myself, Blimey I'm really here. Other times I wouldn't even realize it; I felt right at home taking the piss with the boys and being with John and doing the one thing I loved the most: music.
                          
"We ready to start, lads?" Paul asked, entering the room with me and slinging his guitar around his neck. I sat on a nearby couch, crossing my legs and waiting to hear their early renditions of the cover that would soon appear on Please Please Me. John took charge and counted off. "... two, three, four, one, you make me dizzy, miss Lizzy, the way you rock and roll!"
                          
Paul was doing remarkably well with the new songs. He caught on fast. His fingers moved so fast and barely missed any notes, all while keeping time with John's fast paced vocal. John, on the other hand, was botching several notes on the guitar, but he made up with it in loudness and excitement. His passion was contagious and I could feel it coursing through my body, causing my feet to tap and my head to nod. Pete's drums were a little off time, but it wasn't bad; just the occasional off beat. Stu was... er, well, he looked good. I stared longingly at his instrument, sure I could do better (and feeling bad about it afterwards.) And George was perfect—those long hours of practicing paid off in the end.
                          
I cheered when the song ended, and the it was time to go out. "Y'know McCartney," I remarked to him as we returns to their room for a short break before the concert, "You're not bad. Really carried the team. I'm right chuffed, I am."
                          
He gave me an unexpected wink and left the room, catching up to Pete to ask about something. I was left speechless. Maybe things were going my way after all.