The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 48

Ringo blinked awake, the bright sunshine momentarily blinding him.

"Hold it straight," John was saying. "I can't see it properly."

"I'll read the map, you watch the road!"

Ringo sat up, aching from the uncomfortable, impossibly small back seat of Pattie's Mini. "Oh no," he said, gruffly, poking John in the shoulder. "Who let you drive?"

John twisted round in the driver's seat to deliver him a black look. "I'm getting pretty fed up with your negative comments about my driving skills, Ringooo," he said, elongating the 'O' of Ringo.

Ringo cleared his throat. "So where are we?" he asked, looking out of the window. The last thing he remembered seeing were city streets, cars and lorries streaking past. They'd been replaced with hedges, fields, trees and sheep.

"Wales," John replied unhelpfully.

"I think we're nearly there," Pattie said from the front passenger seat. She studied Paul's dogeared road map. "The only problem is I think where we're heading is right in the crease of the book."

Ringo checked his watch. It was just after half one. They'd left Weybridge at about eleven, so they were making good time. He sat back in the seat and watched out of the window, letting the countryside flow past him until it made him dizzy. The destination – Ringo couldn't quite bring himself to use the word 'hospice' – was located just a bit past Cardiff, but before you got to Swansea. Ringo had slept most of the journey, the late night and stressful morning catching up with him. He was still exhausted now.

Ringo thought of George and wondered what was happening. Perhaps Paul had been able to see him and had fixed him up with a solicitor. Perhaps they'd seen that George couldn't possibly been involved in all this murder business and released him. And perhaps this would be a wasted journey. Brian wouldn't be waiting, fading away in some Welsh infirmary. He wouldn't be there at all. They'd come home empty handed, but it wouldn't matter anyway because George and Paul would greet them with big grins and stories of how everything was just one huge misunderstanding.

Sadly, Ringo didn't really feel that either of those scenarios would come true.

"Stop!" Pattie shouted suddenly. "You've gone past it!"

John stamped on the breaks heavily. The car skidded to a halt and everyone surged forward.

John shifted it into reverse and turned round. "Get down, Ring," he said, reversing at speed.

Ringo ducked down so John could see through the back window. A few seconds later John stamped heavily on the brakes and the car stopped with a judder. They were face to face with a large board. 'St David's Hospice, Porthcawl. Peace, Comfort and Dignity when it is needed the most' and then some more words in Welsh beneath it which Ringo didn't understand.

All three stared at it for a moment, before John moved the car off again, this time down a gravel drive towards a large white, modern looking building.

"Well," John said, more soberly. "At least we will know soon enough. One way or the other."

"Do you have an appointment?" the woman behind the desk asked with a vacant smile.

Ringo studied her eyes for a flicker of recognition. There seemed to be none. "Uh, no," he replied. "We were just sort of passing so we thought we would call in."

"Oh," the woman said, looking down at her registration book as if it might hold all the answers. "As you can appreciate, all our patients are very poorly. We don't really recommend people just 'drop in'."