The Certainty Of Chance (Beatles Fan Fiction)

13

May stayed in the pokey British Rail toilet cubical for over twenty minutes. When she finally did emerge the Beatles and Brian had gone back to the set. She sat down at a table at the back and tried her best to hide there. She felt like crying, but tears wouldn’t come. Above all she felt slightly dazed. The Beatles, in the flesh, large as life, weren’t exactly what she had been expecting. But what were you expecting? she thought. Well, falling flat on my face at John Lennon’s feet wasn’t exactly the way I had always fantasised about meeting them.

After a short while they returned for lunch, but May felt far too embarrassed still to face them. As quietly as she could she slipped into the very rear carriage of the train to wait until they had left again. She had been there for about fifteen minutes when the door opened again and George came in, closing it behind him.

“You alright?” he asked, sounding concerned. May nodded. “Ringo’s got a mouth like the Mersey Tunnel,” George said, half jokingly, half apologetically. “Anyway, I’ve squared it with Brian.” May managed a smile. “Oh, cheer up,” said George softly and stepped towards her, “It’ll be okay. So they know. So what?”

“It’s not that,” May said, “well, not just that.”

“Tell yer what,” George said, “how about tomorrow night, I’ll take you out and show you the town?”

“I’ve already seen the town, I used to live here, remember?” she said, smiling.

“Oh well, if you’ve got something better to do?” George teased.

“No, I guess not. You’ll do, I suppose.”

“Oh, thanks,” George laughed, “Why don’t you come and watch us filming?”

“I’d be in the way…” she replied, hesitantly.

“It might keep you from scuppering the whole thing again,” he teased.

May set herself up in a corner of the carriage they were filming in. The carriage was a bit more open plan than the previous one but there still wasn’t room to swing a cat. George rejoined the other Beatles, occasionally glancing over at May and waving. She waved back half-heartedly, wishing he would stop attracting attention to her. After a couple of takes, the hefty film camera had to be reset in a new position, so there was an unscheduled break called while the camera crew moved it. George came over where May was sitting watching the cameraman, Derek, struggling with the camera. Richard Lester and his cinematographer, Gilbert Taylor, stood to one side comparing notes. May put her head on one side as she studied the scene.

“Bored yet?” George asked her, sitting down.

May shook her head, “George, the previous shot was over there wasn’t it?” She pointed.

“Yeah. What about it?”

A moment later George took her hand firmly and led her over to Richard Lester.

“Mr. Lester?” George said confidently, and the director and cinematographer turned to look at him, “Go on,” George said to May, “tell him what you just told me.”

May looked at them both bearing down on her and forced herself to speak, “The, er, camera,” she began quietly, “It can’t go there.”

“What? Why not?” snapped Mr. Taylor, defensively.

“You’ll break the line,” May said, simply.

“Gil?” asked the director.

The cinematographer looked at him, then paced up the carriage, contemplating what May had said. ‘The Line’ was the 180’ axis that a camera had to be set on in order to make consecutive shots logically linked. If the camera was in the wrong place it would confuse the audience and make the person in the film look like they were facing in the wrong direction. More importantly, it was likely the whole sequence would have had to be reshot. The man stopped.

“She’s right, Dick,” he said, “It was here, looking… there. So it has to be here,” he said substituting his body for the camera. The director sighed and waved to Derek. He sighed heavily and started taking the camera down again.

George smiled at May

“How did you know that?” Mr. Lester asked May.

“I was doing a degree in broadcast journalism,” she told him, shyly, “I worked at ATV as a studio assistant for a few months.”

“Really?” Mr. Lester said, thinking, “We could do with another assistant round here, or at least someone to notice when Gil’s messing up,” he added, eyeing the cinematographer. Gil shrugged back at him. “How about it? Money’s no good I’m afraid, but you wouldn’t get bored…”

May looked at George.

“Nothing to do with me,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said to Mr. Lester.