The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 33

November 16th 1965, 10.00am. Euston Station, London

"Call me and I'll come and pick you up," Paul said, smoothing Jane's hair.

"Don't be silly," Jane replied. "The train gets in at half past six in the morning. I'll get a taxi home."

"No, I want to," Paul protested.

"Paul," Jane gave him a leveled look. If she were wearing glasses, she'd be peering over them at him now. "I know what you're like. You won't go to bed til two because you'll be working at the studios, or in some nightclub, or writing a new song all night." She smiled and kissed him gently. "Honestly, I'll be fine."

"Okay," Paul acquiesced. "I just... It feels like I haven't seen that much of you lately, and now you're going away again..."

"For less than a day!"

"Overnight, still."

Jane took his hand. "Yes, I know. We've both been preoccupied," she said gently. "When I come back we'll do something together, okay?"

"Okay," Paul said reluctantly.

"Don't look at me like that," Jane said.

Paul put his head to one side. "I'm sorry," he said. "Things have been hectic, Jane. But I'll get them sorted out."

Jane sighed. "No, I'm sorry, Paul. I know you've been going through it all lately." Paul looked away, out of the side window of the car and put his hands on the steering wheel. Jane leaned over to him again. "I'll have to go or I'll miss the train," she said, kissing his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Take care, love," Paul said, distracted as she got out and slammed the door behind her. Paul watched her until she disappeared into the station then started the car's engine. At first, he was going to go home. Perhaps back to bed for a bit. But then another idea occurred to him.

Jane had gone to a theatrical funds raiser in Brighton. She would only be gone for the night, but it felt like another nail in the coffin. It already felt as if they were living apart. She would be gone in the day, and some nights too. Paul would be in the studio or somewhere. He hardly saw her, and when he did, he was rarely in a good mood. All the tension and hostility between him and George, and yes, even him and the other Beatles was taking its toll, and Jane had already, unfairly, been the vent for Paul's frustration more than once. This has got to stop, he thought as he pulled out on to Euston Road without looking. A black cab sounded it's horn angrily.

Paul drove there almost without realising it, going over – rehearsing – what to say in his head. George, we need to straighten things out. It's driving me up the wall, so it must be you too...

Paul arrived at Kinfauns, and finding the gates unusually left open rolled his car slowly up the driveway to the house. He killed the engine and let it roll to a standstill near the garages. Paul got out and let his car door slam closed. Everything was silent except for the birds singing in the trees. It was still early and it suddenly occurred to Paul that George might not even be out of bed yet. That thought nearly gave him an excuse to get back into the Mini, but instead he took a deep breath and forced himself to march confidently up to the front door, ringing the bell twice, demanding to be seen.

He was answered two minutes later by Grace, wearing a dressing gown, her hair messily tied back. "What do you want?" she asked curtly, leaning on the door jamb.

Paul grimaced inwardly. He had hoped that by some chance Grace wouldn't have been there. He wanted – no, needed – to speak to George alone.

"I need to see George," he said.