The Certainty Of Chance (Beatles Fan Fiction)

20

After filming that day they went for a meal in Soho with the film director and producers, a bit of an early informal celebration of the end of the train shooting. For the first time, May didn’t feel awkward and out of place as John brought his wife Cynthia; Paul brought his girlfriend, the actress Jane Asher, and Ringo had a pretty brunette girl on his arm. It appeared May was George’s guest, not that he had said as much, but she sat down opposite him in the same way as the other couples.

“Where do we film next?” May asked George, after the toasting to the end of the Paddington to Minehead express.

“Don’t you check the schedules?” George reprimanded.

“I don’t think I have one.”

“Yeah, well, I do, but I just don’t check the schedules.” George said, grinning, then shouted across the table, “Hey, Paul, where are we filming next week?”

“Last day on the trains, then, I dunno, stuff at Twickenham,” Paul replied.

“Will I still be there?” May asked quietly.

“Yeah, if you want to be,” George said. May smiled.

After they had rather outstayed their welcome at the restaurant, most of the party went home, but the Beatles were all keen to hit the clubs again.

“Is this a good idea?” May asked George as they walked towards Leicester Square.

“Is what?” George asked, although he suspected he knew what she was talking about. Neither of them had spoken about the kiss they had shared the other night. May was too embarrassed to bring it up and George, after seeing how upset it had made her had decided she didn’t want reminding of it. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, however.

May had too, of course. She had kissed George many times before, but always on the paper image she used to have stuck to the wall. The real thing had been a bit more complicated.

“Nothing,” May said after a pause. George took her hand.

“Its okay,” he whispered in her ear.

They went to a club just off Leicester Square. It was quieter and lesser known than the Bag O’ Nails, but as word of its eminent patronage managed to get out, the club soon filled up.

They sat on brown leather sofas around a small glass table, drinking, chatting and occasionally dancing. Despite the girlfriends and John’s wife being there, there was the usual amount of female attention, and a few of them soon joined them. May sat between George and Cynthia on one of the long sofas, slowly sipping the wine she had.

“Do you want to dance?” George asked her casually after a while.

“Erm, I’ve just got to go to the ladies.” May excused herself and disappeared.

“What I said,” John remarked from the other side of Cynthia.

“What did you say?” Cynthia asked him. “Don’t you go getting George into trouble, with your nonsense advice! She’s a nice girl, George.”

“Yeah, she is,” George said offhandedly and stood up.

When May returned George was standing at the bar talking to a tall blonde girl in the highest heels May had ever seen. She stood an easy four inches above George. May sat back down on the sofa, trying not to jump to conclusions, but she could feel her heart beating faster. Don’t be ridiculous she told herself, you’re married for God’s sakes. But she couldn’t manage to tear her eyes away from George and the girl he now had his arm around.

George glanced back at where she was sitting and raised a hand in a wave before turning his attentions back to the woman. May waved back, unsure what to do. Since she had met George, May had enjoyed having, pretty much, his undivided attention. Sure, there had been girls and female fans around all the time, but they hadn’t bothered her as George hadn’t appear all that interested in them, offering autographs but then making a hasty exit. As she watched him with one he was obviously distinctly interested in, the green-eyed monster began to rise up inside her.

At the bar George moved closer to the girl.

Ringo sat down next to May. “Where’s George got to then?” he asked, cheerily but then noticed what May was looking at, “Uh-oh,” he said.

May turned to him, “I think I might go home, Ring, I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“You alright?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” she said in an overly jovial tone. “I’ll see you later.”

As she was speaking on the other side of the room George leaned into the girl and kissed her, as he had kissed May a few nights earlier. May felt a sharp stab go through her like a knife. She swallowed and stood up, stepping past Ringo and heading in the direction of George.

“May?” Ringo said behind her, but she ignored him and carried on towards George and his new girlfriend.

When she was a yard or so away from him, George stopped kissing the girl and looked up as May drew level with them. May stopped. She had intended to slap him or shout at him, but up close, she realised the absurdness of the situation.

“I thought I might go home,” she said eventually, in a small voice.

“Okay,” George replied stoically, then added, “Oh, May, this is Doreen.”

“Hello,” Doreen said in a squawky Essex accent, “May, that’s a pretty name, Doreen’s so horrible!” She laughed loudly and nasally, and George raised an eyebrow at May. “I’m just going to powder my nose, Georgie, love,” Doreen said, turning back to him and kissing his cheek, running her hand across his chest as she moved past him. George didn’t react, keeping his eyes on May. May shuffled her feet and looked down, feeling quite insignificant and unattractive next to the tall, model-like woman, who was obviously more suited to a luminary pop star like George.

“I’ll see you later then,” she said, still looking at her feet.

“Okay,” George repeated.

“Who is she?” May asked, after a pause.

“Just a girl I know,” George said flippantly, “Why? What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. Why would it be?” she said, trying not to show him how much it did actually bother her.

George gave in, rested his chin on his hand and leaned on the bar top. “No one, she’s nobody. Just some Friday night girl, that’s all.”

“Oh,” May said, unsure if that was a good or bad answer.

George looked at her, “It was a last ditch effort to make you jealous, obviously didn’t work though.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” The words were out of her mouth before she realised it.

“Really?” he said, looking at her sideways with a smile.

“Er…” she blushed.

“It’s alright, May,” he said softly, “I know you’ve only got eyes for that Jack fella you’re married to, and me, well, I guess I have to accept the fact not every girl’s gonna fall down at me feet, Beatle or not.” He grinned self-deprecatingly.

“No, that’s not true,” May said, forgetting herself, “Look at you! You’re George Harrison! You’re probably the best-looking man who ever lived!”

“I wouldn’t go that far…” George laughed modestly.

“If it wasn’t for Jack I’d… but if it hadn’t been for him, I would never have been in that house, and never met you anyway… but George, I’ve had your picture on my wall for so long…and when you sing, or when I see you play your guitar… your voice, and your… your…”

“Yeah, yeah, that’ll do,” George said coyly, and putting his arms around her gathered her closer to him and kissed her mouth gently, holding back slightly. May kissed him back, and this time nothing was on her mind except for George.

A moment later George paused. He leant back still holding May. Over his shoulder May could see Doreen returning, striding unsteadily in her heels. George looked round, following her eye line. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, quickly and taking her hand led her towards the exit, just as Doreen arrived.

“Georgie?!” she squawked after him, “where are you going?”

“How inconsiderate,” Ringo said, sliding onto a barstool next to Doreen.

She turned and looked down at him, “Yeah, not like you, Ringo. You’re always so thoughtful!” She sidled up next to him.