Romance

214

Until It’s Time is nothing short of an account of wishful thinking about a time and a place and a Beatle that inspired Sharon to pursue writing professionally in the first place.

Marie couldn't wait.  Friends had urged her since 1999, the last time she went to England that she had to go during Beatles Week in Liverpool.  Now it was August of 2004 and at last she was on her way.  Getting off the train at Lime Street Station she marveled at how much had changed but still it was the same.  Liverpool was definitely honoring their favorite sons, reflecting the spirit of the Beatles time.  On the street and at the old Adelphi Hotel right down to the rotary dial phones!

Excerpt
Until It's Time, Pages 14-18

Now I was fully awake and totally excited but I certainly didn’t want to appear like a nutty fan amidst the others on the train, so I just calmly stretched after that rude awakening. Wow! I’d stretch a mile if I didn’t have to walk back. I couldn’t have been out too long anyway…
Apparently, my CD player had stopped abruptly from a lack of battery power, yet I hadn’t heard it stop. Oh well, I’ll replace those when I get to the Adelphi Hotel.
Oh yes! I’d made my reservations at the hotel the boys stayed at when they came home in 1964 after their triumphs abroad. Oh what a deliciously exhilarating period for them. Those four lads had reason to be jealous of no one. They were the kings! There was also something about the way John looked then, especially confident and attractive. Though I couldn’t disagree with his earlier self or later for that matter. Just in '64- that leather cap, loosened black tie, the velvet blazer- oh yeah- I could spend hours stroking that fabric! Erm- ha- well of course Paul, George and Ringo mattered a great deal as well to the week’s activities that lie ahead but my heart of hearts was always saved for John.
Collecting my one large bag and the camera case, I slung my briefcase and camera case over one shoulder and proceeded to disembark the train with my non-rolling suitcase. The train conductor spotted me having difficulty and helped me off, as he had assisted most all the female passengers off the train. He’d fetched me a trolley and happily put my luggage on. Thank goodness! All the stuff together was quite heavy. I gave him a pound tip. He gestured his hand to the brim of his cap then turned to help another disembarking traveler.
I recalled the hotel was only a short cab ride away and the cabstand an even shorter walk from this platform. Hmmm… fairly light crowd, good instinct of mine to come in early. The lull before the storm as they say. Fine by me, the fewer the fans the better and more for me to enjoy! Official events were at least four days away.
I made my way to the cabs lining the exit and entry of the train station. The first thing I noticed was how charming all the cabs were. Just like last time- that old sort of 40’s style looking car. Chrysler had come out with that similar style a few years back called the PT Cruiser. The cab driver loaded my large suitcase into the trunk and I held onto my two cases. The ride to the hotel wasn’t too long and I couldn’t wait to get there. I planned to settle in briefly then dart out to meet the girls at our prearranged meeting spot, the Hard Day’s Night Hotel. Ann had read on the Internet it was scheduled to open soon. We figured it was an unusual enough place to meet and we were hoping to catch a glimpse of anything going on, construction or whatever. Then we’d be off to Mathew Street and scope out scenes of organizers, vendors, and/or bands setting up, perhaps even rehearsing.
As the cab pulled up to the hotel it seemed just a bit different than it was in 1999. Somehow it was newer looking and yet…older feeling. No doubt a memory lapse on my part. Things change after five years and of course my entire last visit was a first impression. The Adelphi Hotel built originally in 1826 was rebuilt in 1912, Edwardian period, I think. Of course, my interest in the place was focused in 1964.
Before I could swing my cab door open, an efficient hotel doorman opened it and offered his hand in assistance.
“Miss”
He tipped his hat as I stood by the cab. He then proceeded to the rear of the car.
Was he here in ’99?
He took my one very large suitcase from the cab’s trunk. Bag in hand he offered his other gloved hand to take the two shoulder bags I held. I didn’t resist. Why on earth should I? I’ll take this service any day over some of the total “do-it-yourself” places back home. I climbed the stairs up to the main lobby doors and found myself almost in a jog to keep up with this large framed, energetic doorman. Another doorman passed by us going down the stairs equally efficient in his gait to meet the newly arrived cab where mine had just been. My doorman quite adeptly navigated the revolving doors. I hesitated outside them for just for a moment as my head was spinning just a touch from all this exerted activity of arrival. I met with the doorman who had placed my bags neatly next to the front desk. I quickly thrust a five-pound note into his open hand. He pocketed the tip without looking at it and nodded to me.
“Thank you, miss.” He proceeded back outside to wait for the next guest.
I stood for just a brief minute and quickly surveyed the lobby area. WOW! Were they doing it up right or what? All remnants of the 21st century were concealed. Not so much as a push button telephone, cell phone or computer in sight. Everyone was dressed in 60’s period clothes. No one with belt packs or ear buds attached to MP3s, or CD players. I’m gonna love this! I’d surmised they were geared up into the spirit of the 60’s for the benefit of the arriving revelers but none of my friends had ever mentioned it was like this. Details that likely slipped their minds, perhaps?
I approached the desk to check-in. The clerk was on the phone. I checked my watch and reset it to GST taking the time from the large clock behind the front desk. Hmmm -nearly eleven… I knew I needed to get in touch with the others at the Premier Inn. Their decision was motivated by the fact they’d stayed at the Adelphi during previous Beatles’ Weeks and money. Admittedly the Adelphi was more on the pricey side but I was going all out this time. I was still overly charmed by the place, my own memories and...
“Good Morning, how may I ‘elp you miss?”
Obviously off the phone the desk clerk’s greeting drew me from my thoughts. I leaned on the counter and noted his accent. Oh that charming Liverpool accent! I always hoped in some tiny way I’d genuinely pick up just a touch of that scouse in my speech.
“Good Morning- uhm, yes- reservation for Hammond, Mrs?”

The desk clerk, who was my contemporary in age, scanned a book in front of him. Briefly I wondered why at least he couldn’t have a computer but I honestly couldn’t remember if they had them last time. It did add that charm of the past to the scene here; just as his thin black tie, white shirt, short burgundy jacket with narrow gold trimmed lapels and black horn-rimmed glasses did. The glasses looked like the ones John wore in some of the early 60’s photos. Oh! Oh, how devastatingly adorable John looked in those photos. I recalled a Dezo Hoffmann shot in the studio where he was holding his 58’ Rickenbacker studying a chord progression. He appeared to be in a creative moment. Ah, but I do digress… Though it didn’t seem to matter. The clerk was searching a bit as he moved to sift through some papers tucked in the front of the same book. After some moments of silence and soft mumbling he looked to me and inquired, “You made your reservation for this week, madam?”
“Yes I did- for Beatles week!”
He glanced me a curious look. “Well, we don’t seem to have it on hand here…I do apologize, madam. How long did ya say? A complete week?”
I nodded.
“Well, what was yer rate?”
I started to answer.
“Never mind, Mrs. Hammond was likely our mess up. Let me give ya our special rate of 15 pounds a night, hope that helps. What’s yer first name then?”
“Marie.”
Wow! What a fantastic rate and all because he assumed they screwed up! I hope I find more screw-ups like that in my stay here.
“Please sign here. Me name is William if you need any further assistance Mrs. Hammond. Enjoy yer stay in Liverpool.”
He handed me a pen to sign the paper, which I dutifully completed for his records.
DING, DING
He rang a bell on the desk and a young man appeared and took my bags. Well what should I expect but more service! Was it this way last time too? Must’ve been, but without the period clothes I’m sure. They weren’t missing a trick for the festival here. The Adelphi had more of that old style charm than I had recalled. Everyone was so into the theme of the week to come and yet blissfully unaware of the appreciation I had for it. Well, guess they’ve done it a few times!
William handed the key (a traditional metal key mind you) to the bellboy. I remember that last time they were actual keys too, not the keycards so many modern hotels have today, like the Premier, I’ll wager. The young man addressed me, “Here miss let me take that an’ the two cases as well. I’m Charlie and I’ll show ya to yer room.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”

Copyright 2008, Sharon L. Richards