From ÔThe Beatles: The YesterdaysÕ, ed. Duncan
Pressinger, 1995. pg. 175
15/08/65
The Beatles play to a crowd of 55,600 people at
Shea Stadium, breaking records for attendance and gross revenue from a pop
concert. Introduced by Ed Sullivan the show had a full billÉ In the audience
was also Linda Eastman, Paul McCartneyÕs future wife.
August 15th
1965
George lay back on the
green cushions watching the room. As usual, it was a sea of faces he didnÕt
recognise Ð his friends interspersed between journalists, business associates,
girls and hangers-on, all clambering for their attention. But tonight, George
was content to slouch on the sofa, drink in hand and just watch.
It had been a good day.
An even better night. The concert had been mind blowing Ð even being used to
tours and the screaming hoards, it had been something else. John had gone mad,
acting crazy. George had laughed so hard he could hardly play, never mind sing.
It felt good to laugh, George decided. He couldnÕt remember the last time he had
properly laughed.
Things were better now he
didnÕt have to put all his energy into hating Paul. It was depressing to do and
hard to keep up, George had to admit, smiling to himself. It was easier to just
not think about it. After all, George
thought. Things have moved on. IÕm with Grace and PattieÉ Pattie is long
forgotten. Maybe things are on the up now. At last.
Steven and Phillip, the
replacements for Mal and Neil came into view and GeorgeÕs smile faded.
ÒWeÕre going,Ó Phillip
said, an accent that smacked of public schooling.
George nodded,
disinterested.
ÒOut,Ó Phillip added,
ÒWonÕt be back til the morning.Ó
ÒFine,Ó George replied.
ÒIf you need anything
youÕllÉ have to get it yourself.Ó
George raised an eyebrow
but they had already gone, swallowed up by the party.
John sat down heavily
next to George. The sofa shunted backwards an inch.
ÒAlright?Ó John said.
George nodded.
ÒWhere are they going?Ó
George shrugged, ÒWho
cares?Ó
ÒCan you believe Brian?Ó
George sighed and propped
himself up on his elbows. ÒNo,Ó he said.
ÒSacked, thatÕs what
heÕll be,Ó John said in a low growl, not looking at George, putting his glass
to his lips.
ÒPerhaps he really is
ill,Ó George tried.
ÒYeah, right,Ó John
laughed, cruelly. ÒA coward thatÕs what he is. And soon to be an unemployed
one.Ó
George resisted pointing
out that Brian would still run NEMS, even if the Beatles did fire him. He
nodded.
George had been the last
to get up Ð he had been sleeping more recently Ð but the raised voices in the
next room had eventually piqued his curiosity.
ÒNervous exhaustion,Ó
Archer was saying and George half walked, half blindly staggered into the
lounge room of the hotel suite. ÒYou boys donÕt understand Brian. HeÕs not like
you are, heÕsÉ highly strung.Ó
Paul and Ringo were
sitting on the sofa. John was stood, hands on hips, in between them and Archer.
His face was angry and thin.
ÒWhatÕs goinÕ on?Ó George
asked, collapsing on to the leather armchair.
ÒHeÕs fucked off,Ó John
said, unhelpfully.
ÒWho has?Ó
ÒBrian,Ó Ringo said, more
calmly. ÒHeÕs left.Ó
ÒLeft? Left what?Ó
ÒHis bloody senses!Ó John
turned to the window.
ÒHeÕs gone back to
London,Ó Ringo explained.
ÒHeÕs ill. Apparently,Ó
Paul added.
ÒWhat? When? Is he cominÕ
back?Ó George rubbed his head, still not feeling fully awake. John turned
around again.
ÒNot for a while, if at
all,Ó Archer said. ÒBut donÕt worry boys, IÕm more than capableÉÓ
ÒYeah, IÕm sure you are,Ó
John stepped up to him, seeming to tower above the little man. Archer didnÕt
move. ÒI donÕt like you,Ó John said, breathing down his neck. ÒI donÕt like the
way youÕve weaselled your way in here. You might be able to wrap a poof like
Epstein round your little finger, but IÕm a different matterÉÓ
Paul stood up. He looked
at Ringo and George.
Archer took a small step
backwards, holding his nose. ÒMy,Ó he said. ÒYou reek of alcohol and
cigarettes.Ó
JohnÕs lip curled into a
snarl. Paul came up behind him and put his hands on JohnÕs shoulders.
ÒThat will have to stop.
Its not becoming to have you rolling in drunk at all hours.Ó
ÒYouÉÓ
Paul pulled John back,
ÒDonÕt,Ó he said simply. Ringo was on his feet now too. George stood, feeling
he should do something but he didnÕt know what.
ÒGerroff me,Ó John said,
shrugging PaulÕs hands off and turning his back to Archer. ÒI want to speak to
Brian. I want to speak to him now. Get the phone,Ó he ordered to no one in
particular.
ÒDeary me,Ó Archer
tutted, heading towards the door. ÒYou really are stupider than you look, Mr Lennon.
HeÕll be on a plane. You will have to wait til he lands.Ó
John lurched back towards
him. Paul and Ringo blocked his way. Archer, ignoring the scene, opened the
door and stepped out. He turned back, ÒNow donÕt let me catch you Ð any of you
Ð in this state again,Ó he said, sounding like he was disciplining unruly
children. ÒBe ready in an hour.Ó
Archer closed the door.
John pushed Paul and Ringo back from him. ÒDid you hear that?Ó he spat. ÒDid you hear what he called me? Who does
the twat think he is?!Ó
George sat down again.
ÒSomethinÕs gotta be
done. We canÕt carry on like this,Ó John was rambling. George nodded, only half
listening, thinking about Brian. ÒStupid! Can you believe he called me that?Ó
John asked, turning his head to look at George.
ÒI thought you were over
that?Ó George asked. The bad mood had stayed with John for most of the day,
only being shaken off once they reached the stadium. But by the look of JohnÕs
black expression, it had returned. George tried a new approach. ÒPerhaps we
shouldnÕt jump to conclusions. Not til weÕve given Brian a chance to explainÉÓ
John snorted into his
scotch, ÒDonÕt give me that. HeÕs no bleedinÕ innocent. He knows just what heÕs
doing.Ó
ÒAnd whatÕs that?Ó
ÒMoney. ThatÕs all he
gives a fuck about. HeÕs farmed us out to that dickhead, so he can concentrate
on the rest. He thinks weÕve had it. WeÕre old hat, George. HeÕs looking for
the ÔnewÕ Beatles now.Ó
George frowned. John was
pissed, and probably high. ÒHow can we be?Ó he said. ÒWeÕve just played toÉÓ
ÒTellinÕ yer, George.
HeÕs gone, son. His days are numbered!Ó
George gave up and just
nodded some more as John continued to rant. A girl, a pretty blonde one,
standing by the buffet table waved at him.
ÒWhatÕs up with you,
anyway?Ó John said suddenly, half way through a sentence.
ÒWhat?Ó George said.
ÒYouÕve been alright
today, so donÕt you dare go back to being that arsey, mardy prick youÕve been
for the last week.Ó
George laughed, ÒGonna
sack me too, Johnny?Ó
ÒDonÕt doubt it.Ó
George grinned.
ÒStaying in this hotel
tonight, are you? Good enough for the refined tastes of the distinguished Mr
Harrison?Ó
ÒYeah. Just about.Ó
ÒGood. You fuck off
again, donÕt bother coming back.Ó John was smiling, but there was a serious
undertone.
ÒI wonÕt.Ó
ÒCoz youÕre already
sitting here, sulking like a prima donna wallflower.Ó
ÒIÕm not!Ó
ÒYes you are.Ó
ÒIÕm fine. Leave me
alone. I just wanna sit here and relax for a while.Ó
ÒYouÕre getting old.Ó
ÒYeah, over the hill.Ó
ÒThere was a time when
you knew what to do at a party.Ó
ÒPass the parcel? The
hokey cokey?Ó
John sat up, leaning in
close to George, ÒWell, for a start, that bird over thereÕs been eyeing you all
night, and youÕve not so much as looked at her.Ó
George smiled, ÒSo?Ó
ÒSo, come on! WhatÕs
wrong with you? WeÕre on tour here or have you forgotten?Ó
PaulÕs words from the
previous night came back to George, A holidayÉ have some fun.
George shook his head. ÒI
canÕt.Ó
ÒYou canÕt?!Ó
ÒGraceÉÓ
John lifted up a cushion
then looked behind the sofa, ÒOh? Is she here?Ó
ÒOkay, I donÕt want to
then.Ó
John paused in mock
horror, ÒItÕs not-? Is it?Ó
ÒWhat?Ó
ÒL-o-v-e.Ó
George laughed hollowly
and sat forward, finishing his drink.
ÒCoz, even if it is,Ó
John sat forward too. ÒThis is just sex, George.Ó
The girl from beside the
buffet table appeared in front of then. John stood up. ÒSee yer later,Ó he said
with a wink and disappeared.
George looked up at the
girl. She wore a denim mini skirt and a low cut top. Her blonde hair was in
bunches making her look younger than George supposed she was. ÒHi,Ó she said in
a Southern American drawl. ÒYouÕre George, arenÕt you?Ó
George nodded.
ÒI thought you would like
this.Ó The girl produced two glasses from behind her back.
George took one with a
smile, ÒWhat is it?Ó he asked, sniffing it. It smelt sweet.
ÒJust some punch,Ó the
girl perched on the sofa next to him.
ÒTa,Ó George took a sip.
ÒYou like?Ó
ÒYes, its uhÉ strong
though.Ó
The girl giggled and
drank some from her own.
ÒWho are you then?Ó
George asked, turning to look at her. Closer up he could see she had faint
freckles across the top of her cheeks and nose. Her eyes were blue and big,
making him think of Pattie.
ÒEmily,Ó said the girl.
She sat back, crossing her legs. George couldnÕt help but look down. ÒI go to
school just round the corner from here.Ó
George nodded. ÒWell, its
nice to meet you Emily.Ó He stood up, looking round the room, searching for the
others. He felt Emily take his hand and pull him. George looked down.
ÒYouÕre not leaving me
already, Georgie?Ó she asked.
ÒI uh, would you like to
meet Paul? Or Ringo?Ó
She shook her head, her
hair brushing the top of her shoulders. ÒI only want to meet you,Ó she said.
ÒI, erÉ wellÉÓ
ÒI bought you a drink,
didnÕt I? It would be rude not to drink it with me?Ó she asked.
George smiled, ÒOkay
then,Ó he said and sat down again. ÒOne drink, then I should be getting off to
bed.Ó
ÒYouÕre forward, arenÕt you?Ó
ÒNo, no, I didnÕt meanÉÓ
George said, flustered.
Emily laughed again, ÒIÕm
just joking,Ó she said, patting GeorgeÕs knee.
George took her hand and
gave it back to her, ÒYouÕre very nice,Ó he said. ÒBut I have a girlfriend.Ó
ÒWhere is she?Ó
ÒSheÕs called GraceÉÓ
ÒI said where, not who.Ó
ÒSheÕs at home. Back in
England.Ó
Emily smiled. ÒShe wonÕt
mind us just talking then, will she?Ó
ÒNo,Ó George replied. ÒI
guess she wonÕt.Ó
Emily moved her knee and
nearly caught George. He put his hand down and stopped her, just in time.
ÒOpps,Ó she said in a
whisper.
George smiled, ÒThat was
nearly an early bath,Ó he said. ÒWhy donÕtÉ why donÕt you go on top?Ó
They shuffled around
carefully, George pulling the girl on top of him. Damn single beds, he thought. Hardly big enough for one, never
mindÉ He was distracted by her kiss,
closing his eyes and loosing himself in the sensation for a moment. She knelt
over him now, a knee either side of his waist. Her breasts grazed against his
chest. George moved his hands from her hips, up, sweeping her top off in one
gesture. She paused to let him look at her, although in the darkened bedroom he
could see little more than a silhouette.
Emily resumed kissing
him, moving down to his neck, making George breath in sharply.
Suddenly light broke from
the corner of the room. Emily stopped, sliding down to GeorgeÕs side in an
effort to hide. George pulled the blankets over them, cursing in whispers.
The door didnÕt close.
The bright light invading through the bed covers.
ÒNot now, Paul,Ó George
said loudly, wondering why he was still standing there.
There was no reply.
George lowered the cover a little, just enough to see over. He blinked,
squinting. The shape in the doorway way was much larger than Paul - or anyone
else for that matter. That figure was unmistakable.
ÒMal?Ó George asked,
faintly and flinched as EmilyÕs hand found a sensitive spot.
ÒUh, hullo George,Ó Mal
replied, unsure.
ÒWhatÉ what are you doing
here?Ó
ÒI thought you might be
missing him, darling, but I see youÕve managed to find someÉ comfort.Ó She
stepped out from behind Mal.
George turned cold as she stepped out from behind MalÕs mammoth body. ÒGraceÉÓ George spluttered.