Chapter 22

 

The next day, Charlotte, accompanied by Mick, arrived at the Wormwood Scrubs jail to bail out Brian. Brian emerged from the doors of where the cells were, looking the worst Charlotte had ever seen him. His hair was a mess, he hadn’t bathed since the day before, and had spent the night in a dirty jail cell. He had massive bags under his eyes, and his face was dead pale. He immediately put his arms around Charlotte, and buried his head into her shoulders. He then bent down, and kissed her ever-growing stomach. He was handed a bag with his belongings, taken from him when he was booked, and the first thing he did was reach inside the bag, take out his platinum wedding band, and slip it back onto his wedding finger.

 

            “Lets go home.” Charlotte said, as she slipped her hand into his. Once outside, they were met with a mob of crying fans, many shouting obscenities at Charlotte for having tamed the most eligible Stone, press, and reporters. Brian took his usual stance, one arm around Charlotte, the other around her stomach, an unconscious attempt at protecting the two most important things in his life; his wife and his unborn child. He hurried her into the car, as he did not like the fans or press being close to her, not only because of her condition, but because he had been that way ever since the Ed Sullivan show incident.

 

She and Brian recuperated for the next few days, and on the 19^th, she flew off to Germany. As she got into the limo waiting outside their flat, she saw Brian, standing at the front door, looking infinitely saddened. She knew he wouldn’t be able to handle her being gone when he was in such a vulnerable state, but she had to go, and Brian never stood in her way.

 

June was pretty slow, touring wise, so the band worked on their next album. This gave Charlotte time to spend with Brian, who was self-destructing at a fast rate. He had gained weight, and wasn’t sleeping. Although he denied this, Charlotte knew he was taking large amounts of drugs, including LSD, amphetamines, cocaine, and drinking lots of alcohol. Nonetheless, on the 25, she attended the taping of the Beatles “All You Need is Love” with Brian, Mick and Keith. She met Moonie there, who was of course goofing off with Ringo. She wore a long white peasant dress, looking radiant, with a substantial bump, even though she was only four months along. She enjoyed the short time of happiness while spending time with the people she loved and whom she knew loved her back.

 

 

On July 6, Charlotte was at the BBC studios, where Cream would mime two songs for Ready Steady Go!. They finished up around five, and Charlotte was about to leave when a stagehand walked up to her.

 

            “Mrs. Jones, there is a phone call for you.” She followed him to the phone. It was St. Mary’s psychiatric hospital. Brian had been brought in for exhaustion, strain, and overdosing on pills.

 

Eric drove her over, and she walked swiftly through the hall to his room. She walked in to find him in bed, looking dazed.

 

            “Brian, what is going on exactly?”

 

            “Charlotte, my baby.”

 

            “Don’t ‘baby’ me. Why are you in the loony bin?”

 

            “I’ve been through a lot you know, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

 

            “Take what? So you got arrested, big deal, so did Mick and Keith, and you don’t see them drowning themselves in a sea of acid and booze.”

 

            “I’m not strong like them.”

 

            “Bullshit. You are not the man I fell in love with. Ever since you discovered drugs, you are a different person. You can’t handle them like the others can, and I’m sick of it.”

 

            “But..”

 

            “No, let me speak. I’m sick of this. You need to grow up, Brian. You are married, and you have a child coming into this world in four months, and look at the state of you. You’re acting like a helpless child. You are a millionaire, have a successful career, a wife who loves you and you take it all for granted. Well, you need to choose what you want, booze, drugs, a random woman in your bed every night, or you’re career, and your family. I’m leaving you, I’m going back to my flat in Notting Hill, and I’ll return when you’ve made up your mind.” She felt betrayed by him, for only thinking of himself, and for abusing his body and mind. He was becoming more and more dependent on Charlotte, and with their child due in a few months, that was the last thing she needed.

 

And with that, Charlotte slammed the door, and left. She packed up her things and drove back to her flat. Cream only had a few dates in London in July, and by the 14^th, she was on leave until after the new year. She settled in to life at her flat. She had kept it, just out of the sentimentality of the place, the first place she had lived on her own. She thought about Brian constantly, and took to her bed. It was obvious she was very depressed, as she hardly answered the phone, and never left the flat, as she had her necessities delivered.  The doorbell rang, and of course, she didn’t answer. It was raining buckets and she wasn’t interested in getting out of her bed. She suddenly heard screaming from outside her bedroom balcony.

 

            “Chaaaarrrrlooootttteeeee” the first person screamed.

 

            “Dear Maiden!!! Buzz us through the gate!!!!!!” the second person screamed even louder. She got up, wearing a nightgown, and went out on the balcony. She looked down, and it was George and John.

 

            “What are you doing here?”

 

            “We eard’ you were down.” George said

 

            “Okay, come on up, but I’m warning you, I look horrible.”

 

            “Ah, yer daft.” John smiled. Charlotte buzzed the large wrought iron gate that separated the outside world from her flat. She had it installed when she and Brian were found out by the press, as Stones groupies would routinely gather outside of it. She returned to her bed, and in walked John and George, soaking wet.

 

            “Well now, we can’t ave’ this.” John said as he said down on the bed, his arms full of large shopping bags.

 

            “What do you have?” Charlotte sat up

 

            “Stoof for ya. Ere’, from Cyn, some pregnancy books, and a maternity top she got at a boutique. And I brought you sum stoof for you as well.”

 

            “And some chocolate covered biscuits for ya, from Paul.” George placed them on the bed. He remembered. He remembered how Charlotte ate the same biscuits on their first date, and said they were the best she’d ever had.

 

            “So as I was sayin’, you can’t be doin’ this Char.” John looked concerned.

 

            “My marriage is falling apart.”

 

            “No, yer husband’s fallin’ apart.” John sneered.

 

            “Exactly” Charlotte’s eyes began to fill up with tears.

 

            “Look at me, Charlotte, ee's out of the ‘ospital, you know. And as much as Paul would like to see you divorce Brian, you two luv each other, that’s not hard to see.”

 

            “How do you know about Paul?”

 

            “Ee’s me brother, of course I know. That’s not the point. The point is, you need to go see yer ‘usband. Ee’s in therapy  now, ee’s off the drugs, the booze, everything. Go, now, ee’s in the studio with the Stones.” John held Charlotte’s hand.

 

            “Yea, go get in the shower, we’ll pick out yer outfit, you sexy mummy you.” George smiled, and helped Charlotte out of bed. She showered, and got dressed in a pretty black peasant mini dress the boys had picked out, with flat sandals. They gave her a ride to the studio, and John helped her walk from the car to the studio, as there were groupies, who routinely hung outside of each Stones’ house, and the studio, just like Apple scruffs, trying to get a piece of Char.

 

She walked into the studio, and John waited quietly in the hallway. Charlotte, looking as beautiful and radiant as ever, walked to where they were recording. Mick and the boys chatted, but when they saw Charlotte, they all stopped. Brian stood up, and walked towards Charlotte.