The Certainty Of Chance (Beatles Fan Fiction)

26

The problem with most of North Wales is that it’s either bleak, flat and plain, without even a tree to break up the landscape, or its treacherous hills and mountains covered with rocks threatening to crumble at any second. Liverpool is quite close to the Welsh border so George was in Wales in no time at all, but getting to Aberystwyth was a different story.

He drove south towards Bangor, getting confused at Welsh road signs, pointing to towns like Caernarfon and Pontarfynach, until he remembered Ceredigion was the same place as Cardigan.

It was only when he reached Machynlleth, just outside of Aberystwyth, that he realised he had no idea whereabouts May actually lived. He cursed himself for not asking May’s parents when he had the chance, and eased his foot off the accelerator. For some reason he had assumed that May would be at the old cottage again, but of course she wouldn’t be, she’d be back at home, with him. May hadn’t told George where she lived, she had hardly talked about her life in Wales at all, Jack a fair bit, but not much about anything else.

He reached the town by about lunchtime and parked up on the sea front. It still wasn’t tourist season yet so it was more or less deserted. Aberystwyth has a pebble beach and a stunted pier, since half of it collapsed into the sea decades ago. It is surrounded by two steep hills, Constitution Hill and Pen Dinas, which was known locally as Monument Hill, isolating the town. The pebble beach lies between these two monstrosities. George leaned on the car watching the sea pounding the stones, the surf making an odd crackling noise as it rolled back into the ocean. He had come this far, he reasoned, it would be foolish to just give up without even attempting to try and find her. And who knew when he would get a break long enough to come again? Problem was, although Aberystwyth was a small town, May could be in any one of the houses.

George’s stomach rumbled. His mother had given him a huge breakfast before he left, but the drive had worked up his appetite.

There was a small hotel opposite the pier and next door to the Old College, which belonged to the small Aberystwyth University. The hotel had a sign advertising Sunday Lunches and George decided he might as well eat while he thought.

The inside of the hotel bar was entirely decked out in oak. George ordered his food from a gruff Welshman who appeared to not speak English very well, drifting in and out of Welsh as he took George’s order. George sat by the window as he waited and watched the sea rage outside. He rested his head on his hand and wondered how on Earth he was going to find May. Ask around? Have you seen this girl?Perhaps I should just walk the streets shouting her name?

Behind him he heard an all too familiar squeal.

“George!”

George cringed as he instantly recognised the voice. He remained with his gaze fixed on the sea, hoping she might leave him alone. However, he should know by now, no hardened Beatle fan gives up that easily.

“George! I can’t believe you’re here!” The little Welsh girl came into his eye line and plonked herself down at the table. “What are you doing here? In my town?” she asked excitedly.

“Hello, Cathy,” George said, less than thrilled.

“Are the others here? Are you going to play a concert in Aberystwyth?” she babbled on, not pausing for breath, “Ooh! You remembered my name!”

“How could I forget?” George replied, “Your Dad’s not here, is he?” he added, sitting up and looking round warily.

“No,” Cathy said, “My dad’s at work. This is my uncle’s hotel. I’m supposed to be at school today but I said I got a poorly tummy so I’m here, but I haven’t got a poorly tummy. Oh, George, I just knew something like this would happen! That’s why I thought I shouldn’t got to school…”

“Yeah, must be fate,” George said, sardonically.

“It is George!” Cathy said, her eyes growing wider. “Maybe we’re meant to be together..!”

God, I hope not, George thought.

“I love you, George,” Cathy told him, her face the picture of sincerity.

George smiled. “I could give you that autograph now,” he offered, “Make up for last time?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, shyly, “I told Daddy off for hitting you.”

“Good,” George said, solemnly.

George signed the autograph for her and the barman brought George his food.

“Cathy, stop bothering the man,” he said to the girl as he set the plate down.

“But Uncle Daffydd, this is George Harrison!” she said expressively.

Uncle Daffydd was none the wiser. “Just belt her round the ear if she annoys you. Dioch,” he told George and wandered off, back towards the bar.

Don’t tempt me, George thought unkindly. Cathy sat watching him eat, and smiling ear to ear. George offered her a chip and she took a handful. Despite himself, George laughed.

“Cathy, do you know a lot of people in this town?” he asked her.

“Yes, I know everyone,” she boasted.

“Do you know May Brown?”

Her face fell.

“She’s married to a man called Jack Brown,” he added.

“What do you want her for?” Cathy asked, sulkily. George sat up.

“She’s a friend of mine. Where does she live?”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Cathy demanded, her forehead furrowing.

“No,” George replied, “She’s married to Jack, isn’t she?” Cathy wasn’t convinced. “Besides,” George added, deviously, “You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Cathy beamed. “She lives at Yr Hen Orsaf.”

“Where?”

“It’s a pub near the railway station,” she told him.

“Cathy,” George said, leaning over the table, “you’re a lifesaver!” He planted a kiss on Cathy’s cheek. Cathy nearly passed out with happiness.