Liverpool Saint Hospital, 1963

The sun shown down on the hospital bed, now freshly remade after a long labour. The room was very nice and large, only the best for Mrs Lennon. Little baby Julian, only the most beautiful thing in the world at that very moment, laid, cradled in your arms. John couldn’t make the birth, despite his best attempts. Touring was getting hectic. As Julian babbled on happily, a man walked in with a long trench coat, top hat and moustache. It was John, in the silliest disguise you had ever seen. He had made it, thank god! In that very moment, you can’t help but remember the time in art school where he played for you “Aint she sweet.” Soon dating after of course. You can’t help but laugh. “God, I didn’t recognise you at first.”

“Cautions, Madam.” He said in a funny voice, throwing the scarf over his shoulder. “Nobody is to know my true identity.”

You smile ear to ear as he comes over, embracing you gently in your bed, pecking your cheek, just below your lip. “God, it’s good to see you.” He says softly, dropping the accent. He slips a gift into your hands as he pulls away.

“Oh- thank you.” You nod, appreciatively.

John smiles, glancing towards Julian in his crib. “So, who does he look like?”

“I think his father.” You say softly.

“Did you name him yet?” He interjects.

“Julian.”

“Julian?” He repeats, tilting his head.

“After your mother.”

“Oh.. right.” He pauses for a moment, taken back by the mention of her. “Oh, well let’s have a look at the bugger,” He smiles, picking the baby up. “He’s bloody marvellous..”