The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 7

From 'The Beatles: The Yesterdays', ed. Duncan Pressinger, 1995.

March 22nd 1965

The Beatles flew back to London having completed the location shooting in Austria for Help!

March 23rd 1965

George reluctantly allowed Pattie to pull him into an upright position on the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, still more asleep than awake.

"You'll miss the appointment," Pattie said, trying to hurry him.

"I don't wanna go," George whined, like a small child faced with the prospect of the first day back at school. "Can't you go with her?" he asked pleadingly.

"No. George, you agreed."

"I know, but that was before I was jet lagged."

"Hung-over," Pattie corrected.

"It's jetlag," he insisted, trying to lie down again.

Pattie stopped him, taking hold of his arm firmly. "You weren't jetlagged when you came home. You were rolling drunk!"

"So I had a few drinks on the plane. So shoot me."

"Don't tempt me," Pattie said. "Now, come on. Get dressed."

With a moan, George stood up. He pulled the top draw of the dresser open. "Y'know, it's not right, this," he said. "I've been away for..." he tried to figure out how long it had been but his mind wouldn't function. "...Ages, and you send me straight off to another woman."

"George, it was your fault. You said you'd pay for everything."

George snorted, crossing the room to the wardrobe. "And what's wrong with the NHS?"

"George," Pattie said warningly, and sat down on the bed.

"She was fine, anyway. You saw her." He took out the first shirt that came to hand.

"Well, you said she was unconscious. And then a few weeks later she's having pain in her back. George, I think you have a duty."

"Yeah, maybe," George agreed begrudgingly.

"It could be serious."

George pulled his jeans on and searched under the bed for his shoes. "So how come you're best friends all of a sudden?" he said to the fluff under there.

"She's nice," Pattie replied. "She came round a lot to keep me company while you were away. Besides, she doesn't really know a lot of people in London."

George pulled his head out from under the bed, holding one shoe and stood up in front of Pattie. He bent down and kissed her, surprising her. He put his hand up to the back of her head and leaned back from her. "Pattie..." he whispered breathily.

"George..."

"Do you know where my other shoe is?"

George leaned on his hand miserably. I could have stayed in bed another hour, he thought morosely.

He was in a small green waiting room, although 'small' was perhaps a little generous. Broom cupboard was more appropriate. Two dark green leather armchairs, a desk, a hat stand, a large rubber tree plant and a coffee table all crammed into a room that wasn't hardly the size of George's front porch back at Kinfauns. The waiting room belonged to a Harley Street doctor"s office that housed the spine and back specialist they had been waiting to see.

Grace sat opposite George wearing a yellow dress which was a little too low cut in the chest and short on the thigh for the cold March winds. She flicked idly through a copy of 'Queen'. She had her legs crossed and the skirt of her dress had ridden up her thigh a few inches. It hadn't escaped George's attention. He found himself staring when Grace looked up and caught him. She smiled knowingly. George cast his eyes away guiltily.