The Certainty Of Chance (Beatles Fan Fiction)

27

George climbed the uncarpeted stairs to the second floor of the pub, his shoes echoing loudly around the old stairwell. He found the third door as directed by the surly landlord downstairs and stood there for a moment, wondering how he was going to go about this. He had come here so fast he hadn’t paused to figure out what he was actually going to do, or indeed, what he even wanted to do. He raised his fist to knock, but hesitated again. What if Jack’s in there? he thought, not sure if he was ready to meet her infamous husband. Come on, he told himself, you’ve come this far.

He knocked and waited. Nothing stirred. He listened. There wasn’t a sound. No one’s here? he thought, I’ve come all this way and she’s not even here.

Perhaps he had been wrong. He’d convinced himself May would be in Manchester. Then he thought she’d definitely be back here. But she wasn’t. He turned to go, disappointed.

“George!” May stood at the top of the stairs holding two bags of shopping.

George looked up, “Hi,” he said awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, I was just passin’…” he joked, feeling nervous all of a sudden.

May stared at him, “How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t that hard…”

An uncomfortable silence ensued. George reached forward and took the shopping from her. “Let me…” he said.

“You’d better come in.” May opened the door.

George followed her into the bed-sit. “Two of you live here?” George said, thinking how the terrace at Arnold Grove, where he had been born, seemed like a mansion in comparison.

“Yes,” May answered, not looking at him.

George put the bags on the kitchen sideboard.

“What do you want, George?” May asked bluntly.

“Well…” he hesitated, “Aren’t you gonna offer me a cup of tea or somat?”

May filled the kettle in silence and put it on the hob. George sat down on the bed, wondering if he had made a mistake. May was making it quite obvious that she wasn’t happy to see him. The kettle whistled as it boiled.

“I’m sorry, May,” George said, as she passed him a cup.

“You can’t stay long, Jack will be home soon, and if he catches you here…” her voice trailed off.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming back here?” George said.

“That was before,” she replied shortly.

“May, I shouldn’t have… Don’t make me say it, I’m sorry, alright? What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing, nothing at all, George.”

“May…”

“George, I think you should just drink your tea and go.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me, back to London.”

“And do what? Live with you and Ringo?”

“Yes, if you like, and do your job on the film.”

“And after that?”

George opened his mouth but stopped.

“And after that,” May continued, “you’ll be touring, or making a new record or something.”

“Well, yes, but so what? That won’t change anything…”

“It will,” she interrupted, “You’ll be away, or you’ll get bored of me, or… or…”

George shook his head. “May…” he started.

“Then where will I be? I’m much better off here with my husband.”

“Are you?” he said ominously. “He doesn’t love you.”

“Oh, and you do?” she challenged.

“I’m not saying that,” George said carefully.

“I think you should go.”

“May, for God’s sakes,” he said, getting angry, “I’ve been everywhere looking for you. I went to Manchester…”

“Manchester? Oh, George, you…”

“I didn’t tell ‘em anything,” George said defensively.

May sighed, “I think you even turning up would be enough.”

“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t.”

“Look, George,” she said softly, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and you’ve been very kind but I belong here, with Jack.”

“How can you?” George burst out angrily, “He hit you, May, and threw you out, or have you forgotten about that?”

“It doesn’t matter…” May said, but George hadn’t finished.

“What about the other night? What you said in the club and in the taxi? Didn’t that mean anything?”

“No,” she said quietly, and that answer caught George off guard.

“No?” he repeated, sounding hurt.

“I’m married to Jack, I should never have done anything with you,”

“I wasn’t aware you did,” George said, cattily.

“I’m sorry George, that’s just how it is.”

“Oh well, don’t worry about it.” George put his hardly touched tea on the floor and stood up, “I was stupid to have ever bothered with you, I can’t believe I’ve come all this way. But never mind, eh? Girls like you are ten a penny. Thanks for the tea,” he added sarcastically and walked out, slamming the door and stamping all the way down the stairs.