The Certainty Of Chance (Beatles Fan Fiction)

14

The next day went past much more quickly. With an actual job to do and something to occupy her mind May found the time shot past. And being on set meant she got to see what she really wanted: The Beatles. She hadn’t really had opportunity to meet them properly or talk to them since their impromptu introduction, and she got the feeling they might be acting a little cagey towards her. She imagined that by now they had been filled in with the sordid details of the past few days and she got the impression they weren’t too certain what the correct reaction should be. She had also been met with disapproval from Brian who was distinctly cold and formal with her.

Brian introduced her to a couple of the NEMS staff and abruptly excused himself. He thinks I’m sleeping with George, May realised, and he thinks it’s wrong. Double standards, it seemed. It hardly took a stretch of the imagination to think of what perks of the job The Beatles might get to enjoy. I haven’t done a thing wrong, and yet I’m made to feel guilty as sin! But she pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on the job. Like George had said, let them think what they like.

The job was little more than a go-fer thing, but May found the filming fascinating. She had been in several TV studios before, but never on a film set. Things were done differently and on a much grander scale. There were pieces of equipment lying around she had never even seen before, much less knew what to do with.

They filmed quite late, eventually only being forced to quit by the fading light and arriving back at Acton, May helped one of the Costume designers, Julie, pack some of the props and wardrobe things into the storage cases. A short while after six, George found her there, and tutted, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Where have you been?” he said, “Come on, beer’s not gonna drink itself you know.”

“I thought you were going to show me the town?” she replied, very aware of the jealous eyes of the eavesdropping costume mistress.

“Yeah, I thought we might start with the inside of The Coach and Horses,” he said with a sly smile.

George led her out of the station and round the corner to a pub that doubled as a bed and breakfast. The news hadn’t gotten out about the Beatles filming in the area so pleasantly there weren’t screaming hoards waiting for them, only members of the crew, and right at the back in a dark corner, George’s co-stars.

They stood at the bar and George bought himself a pint and May a coke. May did drink but she thought she had better not add alcohol to her reputation of loose morality. George paid the barman and moved towards where the other Beatles were sitting. May hung back.

“I might go and sit over there,” she said, indicating to a table where Julie and the hair stylist, Betty were sitting.

“What for?” George asked.

Because it’s awkward, May thought, it seemed apparent the other Beatles weren’t as keen to make her acquaintance as George was. She didn’t reply.

“Don’t be daft,” George said and walked off. She followed reluctantly and took the chair George offered. As she sat down the others around the table clammed up. George briskly introduced her to Neil and Mal who sat between her and John Lennon. “The real Shake and Norm,” Mal told her warmly, shaking her hand.

“You’re from Manchester then?” Paul asked after a pause.

“Yes,” May replied, “But I live in Wales now.”

“I’ve always fancied a house in Wales,” Ringo said absently.

“Do you like it?” Paul continued, then hastily added, “Wales, I mean. Aberystwyth, isn’t it?”