The Certainty Of Chance (Beatles Fan Fiction)

15

They rode home without saying a single word to each other. George paid the taxi then walked to the front door, leaving May behind. She followed slowly. You’ve really done it now, she thought.

George paused by the door and waited for her. “Okay?” he asked.

May nodded. George opened the door.

May went straight to the bed in John’s old room. She lay wide-awake in the dark wearing the t-shirt George had lent her. Confused tears sprang in her eyes.

She listened to George banging about in the flat for a while, and then he meekly pushed the bedroom door open. May shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep already. George silently stood by the door, indecisively. He felt angry with himself. He had known where the boundaries were, May had practicallyspelt it out. He liked the girl and now he feared he had ruined it. She would probably run off back to her violent husband the next day, and he had as good as drove her there. May had given him no indication that she wanted him to do anything like that, but if truth be told, George wasn’t all that used to being turned down. Sure, he knew she must like him a bit; he was her favourite Beatle after all. But that was exactly it. May liked Beatle George, she liked his image, much as all the other girls, not the real him, she barely even knew him. She loved her husband, wasn’t that was all she had told him from the start? He turned to leave, when May let out an involuntary sob. George stopped.

Through the darkness he said softly, “Don’t cry, May.”

May didn’t move for a moment.

“Don’t cry,” he repeated, “Please?”

She turned to him, sitting up and snapping angrily, “What do you want George?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t want to make you cry,”

“It’s not you, it’s me,” she said, all the anger gone out of her voice. George came and sat on the edge of the bed. “How am I going to face Jack now?” she continued, her voice breaking.

George cleared his throat. “Why don’t we just pretend it never happened, eh? We’d had a bit to drink, no one saw us, so, no harm done, eh?”

He took her small hand in his. By the light coming through the window, she was just a shape in the dark. May sniffed. “Oh, George,” she sighed, “I’m so confused. Being here with you, and the other Beatles, it’s a world away from Aberystwyth and Jack. Maybe I should go home?”

“Go home?” George repeated surprised at how much he suddenly didn’t want her to leave. “Don’t do that May.”

“I can’t sort my marriage out being hundreds of miles from my husband.”

“What about…” George stopped himself, “What about the film?”

“What about it?”

“Richard Lester gave you a job, you can’t just run out on it.”

“Oh…”

“Why don’t you just call Jack or something?” he compromised.

“I could…” If he would even talk to me.

George swallowed his pride, “You could ask him to come and see you.”

“Would you mind?” If Jack would come to London then there was hope, at least.

“I’d rather have you meet him here, where I know you’d be… okay.”

“Oh George! That would be perfect!” May threw her arms around his neck and hugged him to her, almost pulling him over.

She really does love him, George thought sadly, and gently pulled away from her. “Get some sleep then,’ he told her. May kissed his cheek and lay down again. George slipped out of the room.