McGirly

Chapter Fifteen

Ringo's POV

Weeks passed, and none of us spoke about John and Paul's secret rendezvous behind the building. We just went about life as we normally would. New singles were released. Concerts were played. Tour dates were being arranged. Brian even told us we might be doing a feature film! Everything was just like we wanted it.

Except for one thing.

Paul was acting differently - even more differently than usual. He would come to the studio half an hour late most days, and when he did show up he looked so tired and worn out that Brian didn't have the heart to yell at him for not being on time. He just let Paul off with a warning more often that ticking him off for lateness. I began to worry.

I told George how I was feeling, since it seemed like he was the only person I could talk to. "I know I'm probably just being silly, but I really am worried about Paul."

"Well, don't be," George said. "He's probably just not sleeping properly. He's told me enough times how hard it is to sleep with two massive watermelons sticking out in front of you."

I giggled feebly. "Still, maybe we should ask him if he's okay."

George sighed. "Would it make you feel better?"

"Maybe."

"If you're sure..." George glanced up at Paul. He was sitting cross-legged on a sofa in the recording booth, bass in his lap, looking frustrated. "Maybe now wouldn't be the best time, Rings," George said eventually. "He looks a bit moody today."

"Maybe he's moody because no one will talk to him?" I suggested.

"Still, do what you like, little buddy. You can talk to him, but I'm not going to."

"Why?"

"Why?" George paused for a moment. "I don't want to get too involved with Paul's problems. I've got enough commitments at home, what with this  talk about a tour and a movie and a new album... and my little girl..."

I patted George's arm sympathetically. He smiled wanly at me.

"I'll talk to him, Georgie, and tell you everything," I said. "That way you can be involved without getting too involved. How's that sound?"

"Just perfect," George said, then he walked away to discuss recording matters with George Martin, our producer.

Now it was my turn to take action. I sauntered up to Paul, hands behind my back and trying to look as casual as possible. Paul glanced up at me for a moment then went back to fiddling with his bass guitar. His forehead was puckered up in frustration.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Trying to get this bloody string back into its place," Paul grumbled, stabbing ineffectively at the problematic string.

"Maybe you could get George to help you?" I said. "He's good with this sort of thing."

"Oh, no. I'm fine. Really."

"But George could -"

"Look, Ringo," Paul said briskly, "I don't need any help, especially not from George. He and I aren't currently on speaking terms. I want nothing to do with him."

"Why's that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Because he was extremely rude to me a few weeks back," Paul replied, trying to straighten out his thickest bass string. "That's why."

"Oh." I stopped to think for a moment. "Why have you been looking all tired and worn out lately? Aren't you getting enough sleep?"

"It's none of your bally business. Just leave me alone."