Ned nodded, continuing to fix his gaze on the window.

‘Yes,’ he said, somewhat absently. ‘In the beginning she could only name a handful of their songs. When we first met.’

Penny perked up, listening intently. ‘Really? I never knew that.’ She assumed that everyone growing up in the sixties was a rabid Beatles fan.

Ned looked down at his hands. ‘But she got to like their music after a while, started to understand its poetry. I think that’s what made me fall in love with her in the first place. Anna listened. Really listened.’

Swallowing hard, Penny willed her father to keep speaking.

‘Did she have a favourite song?’ she asked, almost forgetting that another person was in the room with them.

‘Oh, she liked many. But she particularly loved Love You To . The mis-spelling tickled her.’ He laughed lightly and Joe nodded in agreement, though Penny wasn’t sure what he was referring to. Some kind of Beatles in-joke she supposed.

‘And of course she loved Anna, her own song,’ Ned said, once again looking out the window as if his wife herself might be standing on the other side, looking in. Penny felt tears prick at the back of her eyes.

‘When did you lose her, your wife?’ Joe asked kindly.

Ned looked at the other man; his face was blank, as if he couldn’t recall how many days it had been without her.

‘Nearly three weeks,’ Penny offered in her father’s stead.

She heard Ned sigh heavily. ‘Feels like three decades.’

Penny wanted at once to throw her arms around her father and embrace him. She had never seen this side of him, the emotional side that she craved.

‘It’s a hard thing, isn’t it?’ Joe asked. ‘Maggie, my own wife, is three years gone this November. We were married for forty-two years. That woman was the love of my life, make no mistake.’ The two men looked at each other and Ned gave a feeble nod. ‘They make you whole, don’t they?’ Joe continued. ‘The ones who just seem to fit – there were a few others in the early days, but never anyone like Maggie. I knew it too. She was once in a lifetime.’ Joe had a wistful expression on his face, until he sobered and considered the other man in the room with him. ‘I have memories of my Maggie that are just like yours. The little things I will remember until there isn’t life in me, but when that happens, I’ll be with her again. But until then, that’s all I have. The memories. Things like that, I could never sell, never bear to part with anything that I associated with her, her life, our time together. But do you know something? Those memories don’t have anything to do with that album. And apparently yours do – the songs especially. So if you still want Revolver, consider it yours.’

Chapter 30