Yesterday

Creative writing Class – Write a story linked to the Beatle’s song Yesterday

Yesterday
By Rob McConnell

Yesterday all our troubles seemed so far away.

I took her hand; we walked into the church and climbed 78 stone steps without stopping. We came out in bright sunlight on the flat roof of the Bell Tower.

Her name was Margaret; we were inseparable, besotted, an item, in love.

The view across the Norfolk flat countryside was stunning. The river was packed with cabin cruisers moored beside the pub bustling with afternoon drinkers. We could see our friends at one of the bench tables. Everything was bathed in the warm autumn sunshine.

She suggested we sit down.

“Good idea.”

The stone parapet was warm on our backs.

She wriggled and wriggled till every part of our bodies were touching. I liked the way she always snuggled in.

We were quiet for a while.

Then she lifted her head and said, “You know something? I love you.”

“I love you too.” I kissed her forehead.

We met six days ago. She, with three other girls from Newcastle, England, had hired a cabin cruiser for a week's holiday on the Norfolk Broads. I, and three blokes, had done the same. The first night both boats, along with three or four others, had moored in Great Yarmouth. Those on the biggest eight berth boat had heard us playing guitars and invited us to a party on board. They had done the same with the other boats so the party was packed with boys and girls rearing to get their holiday started. We were asked to play. I sang Buddy Holly’s Peggy Sue – Pretty pretty Peggy Sue - after which I collected a beer and went on deck. Suddenly she appeared and snuggled in beside me. We started to chat. That’s how it began.

It developed so fast it completely engulfed us. I had career exams. I didn’t need a permanent relationship, but now I had one and didn’t want it to end. She had the most fantastic smile. Her whole face would light up. It was a big infectious grin wrinkling back her cheeks and spilling up into two laughing blue eyes.

She was a few inches shorter than me, with short dark hair. Being a boating holiday, she wore jeans, T shirts and jumpers most of the time. That was until the night we all decided to go to a dance in a village hall. Margaret emerged from the cabin wearing a blue dress. I’m not good at describing women’s clothes but it went in and came out in all the right places.

“You look great, beautiful, a picture.”

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself. Put your eyes back in their sockets you’re embarrassing me.”

“Sorry, sorry it’s such a transformation.” I was looking at her cleavage. “Sorry, what can I say?”

“Forget it. It’s alright.” Then with a nervous laugh she whispered “You know they’re yours when you want them.”

“Come here you,” we laughed and hugged.

I recovered and gave a little bow. “May I have the pleasure of escorting Madame to the Ball.”

She curtsied, “Lead on McDuff.”

“Just remember who’s walking you home tonight.”

We laughed, bantered and hugged a lot. For the rest of the holiday we were together but always with the flotilla of boats as we moved on and moored at a different spot each evening. It was the last day of the holiday and we needed time away from the crowd. Just two people being themselves. That’s how we came to be at the church.

We both knew we must part but had yet to face the problem. Somehow we were drawn to the church. Maybe serious problems require serious places. It was a very old church, a bit musty with the sun’s rays streaming down through the stained glass windows casting multicoloured beams across the pews. A plaque beside a burnt looking screen explained it had been rescued from a fire when Henry VIII destroyed the monasteries.

Margaret looked up again, “Tell you what - I’ll write you every day.”

“Not every day, I’m no good at letter writing but I will write. Promise.”

The church clock stuck three – dong, dong, dong.

“The clock it stands at ten to three
And is there honey still for tea.
Why do I remember that from English literature?”

“What’s for tea? Our last tea before we go back to the grind.”

“Baked beans are all that’s left, plus some bread.”

“I’ll cook beans on burnt toast, our last supper.”

“That would be good.”

Another hug and we fell quiet again.

“I’m chairman of the students group. I’ve arranged the annual dance for 10th December. You could save up and come to Belfast. It’s always a great night.”

“That’s months away.”

“Not really, three months and ten days. It’ll fly in.”

“Not for me it won’t.”

The Church clock struck four. It seemed louder this time.

“Stop the clock I want to get off.”

“Margaret, I would if I could.”

More hugs and kisses.

“Look, if I’m lucky and qualify in June next year I should be able to get a job in Newcastle. No problem.”

“Would you? That would be great.”

“Only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll have to take a Lingaphone course in the Newcastle Geordie accent.
Dance for your Daddy, sing for your Mammy
You shall have a fishy on a little dishy
When the boat comes in.”

“You’re taking the Mickey.” She laughed and hit me a thump on the chest.

We snuggled closer, locked together.

Five very loud dongs, it was five o’clock.

“We’ll have to go; they’ll be locking up soon.”

“No stay, if we’re locked in we can’t be parted.”

“Yeah, tomorrow they’ll find us frozen to death locked in each other's arms. I’m too young to die.”

I stood up, turned, held out my hands and helped her up. I pulled her into my arms and just held my Margaret ever so tight.

I began to sing
"Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away..."
She joined in
"Now it seems as though they’re here to stay
Oh I believe in yesterday"