The Certainty Of Chance (Beatles Fan Fiction)

22

When George reached the street May was nowhere to be seen. He hurried to the corner where he had seen her headed and looked up and down the road. She had disappeared into the night completely. George sighed and wrapped his arms around his chest against the cold incessant rain. Reluctantly he turned and headed back towards the flat.

In the shadows of the narrow passage way between two houses across the road, almost directly opposite him, May watched George leave, wiping a tear from her cheek. When he had gone she stepped from her hiding place and started walking briskly through the rain. She had left George’s with even fewer things than she had left her home in Wales, just her thin coat and as she found in the pocket of it, the old sellotaped photo of George she had spent so many hours talking to. She had put it in her pocket over a week ago when she had left the white Edwardian cottage for London, and uncharacteristically hadn’t so much as glanced at it since. I guess I don’t need pictures with the real thing walking about, she thought sadly.

She walked for a while without much direction before it occurred to her where she should go. Finding a taxi with a degree of difficulty at the late hour, she took it across London to a familiar, run down house in Camden Town. She looked up at it as the car drew up next to the front door. She hadn’t been here in over a year but it hadn’t changed, and it filled her with a feeling of security that she hadn’t felt in quite a time.

She got out and hopped over to the doorbell, praying silently that Holly was home. This had been the house she and another student, Holly, had shared before May had married. The lights inside the house flashed on and Holly flung the door open. “May!” she cried, grabbing hold of her and hugging her tightly.

“I’m sorry to just turn up like this,” May said apologetically when Holly finally released her.

“That’s alright. I know what it’s about.” Holly said confidentially.

“You do?” May asked confused.

“Yeah, he rang me. I thought you’d arrive here sooner or later.”

May couldn’t remember even mentioning Holly to George, never mind giving him enough information to be able to phone her.

“The taxi’s waiting, you couldn’t lend me some money could you?” May asked apologetically.

“No problem,” Holly said, digging into her jeans pockets for some coins. “Come in out of the rain.”

Holly paid the taxi as May waited for her, standing just inside the door.

“He’s here,” Holly said, quietly as she closed the door on the street.

“What?” May said. How could George have beaten her here?

“You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, he told me about it but I don’t think it was the full story.”

“No, it’s okay,” May said, bracing herself, “I might as well get it over with.”

Holly nodded, “He’s waiting in the ‘parlour’,” she said with a smile.

The ‘parlour’ was what they had jokingly called the dingy, tiny kitchen at the back of the house. There was barely room to turn around in, let lone cook a meal. May pushed the door open with Holly behind her.

Jack stood up when he saw her. He had about two day’s growth of beard and his eyes were dark and bloodshot, as they so often were these days. May gasped involuntarily, surprised at coming face to face with her estranged husband for the first time. She hadn’t thought for a moment he would actually follow her to London. He was not the man she had been expecting but nonetheless, she was surprised when she realised she was glad to see him.