July 19^th 1965

 

George sat on the floor of the bedroom, in between the bed and the open wardrobe. In his hands he held the small, white shoebox that had caused him so much grief over the past few days. George hadn’t dared look inside since he had found it, picking it up and putting it back several times a day. He held the lid on tightly, as if it might fly off at any minute. It was Pandora’s box, about to unleash all of the sorrow in the world.

 

It had been exactly where Grace had said. Don’t believe me, George? Look for yourself.

 

George had hung up the phone and ran up the stair, nearly tripping in the dark. He had flung the doors to the wardrobe back, waking Pattie in the process, and there it was. A small white box in the back corner, hidden behind the coats and dresses and shoes.

 

“What on Earth are you doing?” Pattie had said.

 

George just stood there, holding the clothes back, staring at it.

 

“George?”

 

“Nothing,” he’d said, “I was… looking for something.”

 

Then he had closed the doors again and got back into bed with her. Pattie had curled up under his arm. George waited until she had fallen asleep again and then moved away from her.

 

But it was now or never. It was driving him mad. He had to know the truth, one way or another. George traced his fingers over the cardboard lid. Pattie had gone shopping; she’d probably be a couple of hours. He lifted it up from the corner cautiously, then pulled it off and put it on the floor next to him.

 

The box was full of papers and envelopes. George rested it on his lap and took out the top one. A cream piece of scrap paper folded in two. George unfolded it and smiled.

 

                        Love, George Harrison. …xxxxxxx

 

It was the autograph George had given Pattie and her sisters when he had first met her on the Hard Day’s Night set. He didn’t know she had kept it. George let himself breath again.

 

It wasn’t what Grace had said would in there. Far from it. Now he could confess to Pattie and everything would be alright again.

 

If she forgave him.

 

She would. She loved him, didn’t…

 

Under the autograph was a red envelope. George hadn’t seen it before, but he instantly recognised the handwriting.

 

“Oh no,” he said under his breath, as he picked it up. The postmark was dated a few weeks ago, from Rome. There was a single piece of pink paper inside. It wasn’t signed but it made no difference, George knew who had written it.

 

                        This is such a romantic city. I wish you were here with me to see it. You’d love it, Pattie. When everything’s done with, I’ll bring you here. I miss you so much. I wish I could call you…

 

George couldn’t finish reading. He screwed it up in his hand and threw it away from him. Getting to his knees he emptied the shoebox on to the floor. It was full of little red envelopes, dating back months. George ripped them open, reading fragments, paragraphs, lines; growing sicker by the minute.

 

A notelet…

 

                        To Pattie, my love…

 

A letter…

                        My darling, he doesn’t deserve you. How I wish I had met you first. When can we be together?

 

A letter from Europe…

                        This is so wrong, yet it feels so right? When I’m with you I’m complete.

George is like my brother, but you are my soul mate.

 

Another letter…

                        Sweetheart, we’re meant to be together. I can feel it in every inch of my soul and being. I would do anything for you, you know that. Do you keep these letters or throw them away? You should probably burn them. If George ever found…

 

Another…

                        Pattie, I want you so much right now. I can hardly stand it. I want to come and find you and…

 

That lasted five pages. George threw it away in disgust…

                        Don’t come to the party, love. You’re right. He would realise. I couldn’t contain myself. If I saw him with his hands all over you I would rip his throat out.

 

The final one was the earliest, dated February. George scanned it quickly. It was the only one that was signed, but the signature only confirmed what he already knew.

 

All my loving,

Forever,

Paul.

 

George dropped it. He felt like he’d been slapped. He didn’t know what to do, what to think.

 

The front door went.

 

George got to his feet. Pattie was taking her coat off in the hall, her back to him.

 

                        I love to run my fingers through your hair…

 

George grabbed her arm, twisting it and spinning her round to face him.  Pattie squealed.

 

“Ow, George!”

 

George, somehow, managed to stop himself from slapping her. His hand lifted, ready.

 

                        I could loose myself in your eyes…

 

She stared at him in shock. George let go of her, stepping away from her. Pattie took her arm back, rubbing where George had gripped her.

 

“You…” George breathed.

 

“What the hell…”

 

“I found your letters,” George spat the words at her.

 

“What letters?”

 

                        You shouldn’t be with him. He’s not right for you.

 

Tears came to her eyes. George softened but stole himself. “How could you? You fuckin’… Why did it have to be him? Out of everyone?”

 

Pattie put her hand over her mouth, “Paul…”

 

                        All my loving…

 

George turned and went back into the bedroom. Pattie followed him, stopping in the doorway. George grabbed a bag.

 

“George, please listen to me,” she said, trying to make her voice calm and even, “Lets just sit down and I’ll explain…”

 

“You don’t have to fuckin’ explain. Its right there on the floor.”

 

“Georgie, don’t throw me out…” she said as he started stuffing clothes into the bag.

 

“I’m not. I’m going.”

 

“Going where? George, please don’t. Talk to me.”

 

“Talk to you? I can’t even stand to be near you Pattie. I can’t trust myself not to…” he stopped.

 

“I’m not having an affair with Paul…”

 

“You’re just fuckin’ him then?”

 

“I’m not sleeping with him. There’s nothing going on, George.”

 

“What are these then?” George scooped up a handful of the papers from the floor and thrust them at Pattie.

 

“I don’t know…” Pattie turned them over in her hands.

 

“Grace said you’d deny it.” He zipped the bag up, unsure what he had even packed.

 

“Grace?” Pattie stood in his way, “Is that where you’re going? To her?”

 

“Get out of my way, Pattie.”

 

She shook her head, “Do you think I don’t know what’s been going on? I know you’re…” he voice wavered.

 

George looked at the floor. Paul’s letters were scattered there.

 

“George, can’t you see? She’s been trying to poison you against me so she can have you.”

 

“This is nothing to do with Grace. I don’t care about her, I don’t give a fuck about her,” George said to the floor, “Pattie, I think I might have been able to forgive you anybody else but him.”

 

Pattie gripped George’s wrists, “You’ve got some gall, haven’t you?”

 

“What?”

 

“Forgive me? What about all the girls I’m expected to turn a blind eye to? Or are you telling me Grace is the first?”

 

“I’m leaving,” George lifted the bag on to his shoulder.

 

“For Christ’s sake, George, I’m not sleeping with Paul!”

 

“Look at me and say that.”

 

Pattie looked up at him, staring into his eyes intently, “George, I swear, I’m not.”

 

George hesitated, “You’re… you’re lying.”

 

He pushed past her, heading for the door. Pattie ran after him, grabbing hold of him. “George, ask Paul if you won’t believe me. Please, George, don’t go.”

 

George shook her off and left without looking back.

 

 

 

“Poor George, my poor George,” Grace soothed, stroking his hair as he rested his head on her chest, “Shh, everything will be alright now. It’s all over.”

 

George opened his eyes and sat up on the bed, pulling the cover back with him. He swung his legs over the side and sat with his back to Grace, rubbing his temples, “I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare.”

 

Grace sat up behind him, massaging his shoulders, “But you always wake up from bad dreams,” she said in his ear.

 

“That’s just it – I can’t,” he said, “It just gets worse and worse.”

 

“Poor George.”

 

“I can’t… I can’t believe Paul would…”

 

“Come here Georgie, lie down and let me make you feel better.”

 

George turned around to her, “Grace, it is… true, isn’t it?”

 

“Is what true?”

 

“Pattie and Paul. You’re not lying, are you? Because if you are, just say, I won’t be angry…”

 

Grace sat back against the headboard, “You’ve read the letters,” she said flatly.

 

George nodded.

 

“It was Paul’s handwriting?”

 

George nodded again and turned away again, looking out of the window.

 

“Perhaps you should leave.”

 

“Leave?” he looked back at her.

 

“If you think I’m lying. If you think I’m trying to trick you…”

 

“I don’t,” George said, pleadingly.

 

“George, I can’t be with a man who doesn’t trust me. Why don’t you run off, back to your precious little Pattie?”

 

George climbed across the bed to her, “Grace, I do trust you…”

 

“No, just… just go…” she pushed him back and turned her head away.

 

George took her hand and held it in both of his, “No, Grace, don’t send me away. Not now, I need you.”

 

“You need me?” she looked up at him, her hair falling across her face.

 

“Yes, more than ever,” George brushed her hair back for her, stroking her cheek, “I’m… I’m alone now, Grace. I’ve only got you left,” he kissed her softly.

 

“What about the others?”

 

“Who?”

 

“John and Ringo?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Will you tell them? About Paul?”

 

“I guess they’ll find out soon enough.”

 

“What about Paul? What are you going to say to him?”

 

“I don’t know! Jesus, Grace, stop asking me questions,” George went back to the side of the bed. He put his head in his hands, “Fucking hell, what am I going to do? The American tour’s in a couple of weeks.”

 

“Don’t go,” Grace said simply.

 

“I have to go. It’s booked. It can’t be cancelled.”

 

“George, do you think you’re going to be able to stand on the same stage as him, night after night? Share a microphone? Share a hotel room?”

 

George shook his head.

 

“Oh love,” Grace reached out to him again, rubbing his back, “What a mess.”

 

“I don’t want to…”

 

“Then don’t. No one can force you. Stay here, with me.”

 

“No, I don’t mean that. I don’t want to… face Paul.”

 

“Well, of course you don’t.” She knelt behind him again, rubbing the back of his neck, moving his hair out of the way and kissing him gently.

 

“I’ve known Paul since I was… I can’t even remember, twelve? Thirteen? Before I knew John or anyone. How could he?” Grace pulled him back to lie on the bed. She moved round, kissing further down his neck, across his collarbone. “What am I going to do when I see him? He’s either gonna deny it or say it’s true, and I don’t know which is worse.”

 

“What do you think he’ll say?” Grace said, kissing his chest.

 

“God knows,” George took her hand and placed it where he wanted her to touch him.

 

“He’ll deny it too,” she said, looking up at him, resting her chin on George’s chest.

 

“You think so?”

 

“He won’t leave Jane.”

 

“Jane. Shit. I hadn’t even thought of her.”

 

Grace sat up, taking her hand away from him. “George, there’s one more letter you should perhaps know about.”

 

George covered his eyes with his hand, “Don’t give me any more love letters from Paul,” he said.

 

“When Pattie told me it was Paul she was cheating on you with - when you were away, she had written a letter that she wanted me to give to you when you came back.”

 

George uncovered his eyes.

 

“She and Paul were going to leave you and Jane. At least that’s what she told me. She would be gone by the time you came back. Paul would meet her and… well, you don’t need to know that.”

 

George sat up. Grace leaned over to the bedside table and took a folded piece of paper from the top drawer. “Only then Paul… I don’t know, changed his mind, got cold feet. He called it off anyway. So, she said I should throw the letter away.”

 

“Paul left her?”

 

Grace shrugged, “I think he just wasn’t ready to tell Jane. Pattie thought she would live off of you a while longer.” Grace passed him the letter.

 

 

                        Dear George,

 

                  By the time you read this, I will be gone. I’m sorry to leave you like this but I couldn’t tell you to your face. I have left with Paul. We have been lovers for several months.

 

                  I don’t love you anymore. Perhaps I never really did. It was nothing like I feel for Paul. I’m sorry, but that’s just how I feel.

 

                  I hope you won’t be too angry. I hope you find as much happiness as I have with Paul.

 

                             Pattie.

 

George blinked. He crumpled it up in his hand.

 

“You can see it’s from her? It’s her handwriting?”

 

He nodded.

,

“Oh, George, are you crying?”

 

“No,” George said and wiped his eye with the knuckle of his hand.

 

“Don’t waste your tears over that slut,” Grace told him, wrapping her hands around his neck and drawing him into her.

 

“I’m not,” he denied again, “It’s just she was… the first girl I was ever really serious about, y’know?”

 

“You’ve got me now.”

 

George smiled weakly.

 

“You don’t need anybody else. Don’t worry, Georgie, I’ll look after you.”