The Certainty Of Chance (Beatles Fan Fiction)

21

Outside it had begun to rain and George gathered May to him under one arm as he flagged down a black cab with the other. He opened the back door and ushered her in quickly, giving the driver directions. He climbed in after May and sat down heavily on the cold leather seat.

“That was a close one,” he said, with a wink, “She’s a nice girl, Doreen but after a while that voice doesn’t half start to get on yer nerves!” May smiled at him faintly. “Oh no,” he said, recognising her expression, “You’re thinking again, stop that!”

“No, no, I’m not,” she promised, “Well, I am, but not like that. I was thinking, I’m not going to go back to Wales, or Jack.”

“Really?” George said, brightly, “Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” she replied, solemnly, “I think so.”

“Well, that’s fantastic, May,” he said, shuffling closer to her and wrapping her up in another kiss. “You don’t seem very happy about it,” he said, breaking away.

“I’m not. I thought Jack and me would be together forever. I didn’t expect to end up leaving my husband and running away to London with a Beatle.”

The taxi driver glanced in the rear view mirror at them and meeting George’s steely eyes, quickly looked away again, whistling to himself and pretending he wasn’t listening.

“You won’t regret it, May. In a year you’ll think ‘what the hell was I doing with him?!’”

“Might think the same about you!” May replied teasingly.

“Don’t be daft,” George told her, “don’t you know I’m the best-looking man in the world?!”

“I only said probably!”

“Too late, the damage is done!”

The cab pulled up in front of the Green Street flat and they climbed out. As George turned back to pay the driver the man said, “Aren’t you that Beatle fella, mate?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” George said, giving him a handful of coins, “John Lennon.”

He slammed the door to the car as the driver gave him a baffled look and turned to followed May into the house.

She was sitting on the sofa in the silent living room, suddenly feeling quite nervous and self-conscious. George joined her on the sofa and kissed her again, but she pulled back.

“How about a bit of music?” George said patiently and got up to fiddle with the record player. “Buddy Holly? The Animals? Elvis? – Oh, that one’s Paul’s. What do you fancy?”

“Anything,” May said, suddenly reminded of her smashed record collection with a twinge of sadness.

“C’mon, what? What’s your favourite?”

“With the Beatles,” she replied meekly.

“Yeah, well, you’re already ‘with’ the Beatles,” George said, shaking his head, “Buddy it is, then.” He put the needle to the vinyl and watched the red and silver ‘Ace of Hearts’ logo spin around for a few seconds.

“That’ll be the day, when you say goodbye…” Buddy sang out in his distinctive style.

“Can’t beat Buddy,” George said turning back to May, “You could try, but he’d have yer!”

May smiled and George joined her again. He kissed her, harder than before and pushed her back against the sofa. She put her hand up and gently shoved him back a bit.

“A bit slower, eh?” she said, apologetically.

George nodded, “Do you want a cup of tea or somethin’?”

“No, thanks. Unless you do?”

George shook his head and sat back, releasing May. He took a deep breath. May smoothed down the front of her dress, feeling the redness in her cheeks glowing. She wasn’t used to things like this. Jack, at his best, thought foreplay was something to do with golf.

Gingerly, May placed her hand on George’s thigh and he looked down at her with his heart melting brown eyes. She took his hand and brought him closer to her again, this time she kissing him. George responded and put his arm across the back of the sofa to balance himself as May leant backwards.

George started kissing her neck as his other hand began to fiddle with the zip at the back of May’s dress. May looked up at the ceiling wondering where she should put her hands. She eventually opted for one on his back and with the other ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair.

“George…” she said, seeing the glint of gold.

“May…” he replied, not noticing her tone of voice.

“George, please…” she said resolutely. He opened his eyes and looked up at her, continuing to kiss her neck and moving downwards. May could only stare at the band of gold on her left hand. She moved it away from George’s head.

“George,” she said again.

“Don’t, May, please…” George mumbled and pulled down her dress zip as far as he could at the angle she was lying.

“No! George!” May said loudly and tried to push him back again, putting her palms against his chest. He took her hands and tenderly, but quite forcefully held them back against the sofa.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, as he moved his body against hers, kissing her mouth again.

“George, get off me! I can’t…” her voice trailed off.

George stopped and looked down at her. “You can’t keep doing this, you can’t keep leading me on and then pulling back!” he said angrily

“Don’t…” she pleaded, sounding as if she was about to cry.

George looked into her eyes, she seemed like a frightened animal. With a grunt, he finally let go of her hands and moved back. May sat up quickly and zipping up her dress again, jumped up and ran out of the room.

George slumped down on the sofa feeling hot and flustered. He ran a hand through his fringe, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. He’d go and find her in a minute, he told himself. Give her time to calm down then make everything alright again.

The front door slammed making George jump.

“Ringo?” he called, hopefully. There was no reply. “May?” he tried. Silence again.

George stood and rushed to the window, pulling it up. May was half-walking, half-running towards the corner. “May!” he shouted after her, but she kept going. “Bloody women,” he cursed to himself and left to go after her.

On the record player, Buddy sang, “That’ll be the da-hay-hay when I die!”