August 16^th 1965

 

The slam of the door woke Paul with a jolt. He sat up, sucking in air through his nose and rubbing the ache in his neck caused by the arm of the sofa. John, the source of the noise, was standing over him.

 

“John, for fuck’s sake…” he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was ten to six. Paul rolled onto his side. “Go back to bed.”

 

“Chance would be a fuckin’ fine thing!” John said and yanked Paul’s feet off the sofa, making room for himself.

 

Paul reluctantly sat up, “Are you gonna start every morning like this?”

 

“Can’t you hear them?” John plonked himself down. “All fucking night! Walls are paper bloody thin… No wonder you’re out here!”

 

Paul raised an eyebrow. “George and that girl?”

 

“That girl?! That fuckin’ mad cow!”

 

“What?”

 

“Screaming – all bleedin’ night!”

 

“Screaming?!” Paul grinned.

 

John rolled his eyes, “Not fucking. Screaming – fighting. Ringo, he bloody well snores all the way through it, doesn’t he?”

 

“Fighting?” Paul repeated, confused.

 

“Yes, fighting. What are you? A bloody echo?”

 

“George and that student girl? What about?”

 

“Not her. She’s long gone. George and that crazy bitch he taken up with.”

 

“Who? What?”

 

“And Mal’s here? Did you know that?”

 

Paul smiled, “Really? Where is he?”

 

“Well, he’s not here now. He’s at some hotel down the street. Very fuckin’ wise.”

 

“How did Mal get here?”

 

“She brought him over, didn’t she?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Oh Paul, for fuck’s sake. That Grace girl. The redhead George is living with.”

 

Paul’s smile faded.

 

 

 

“No, no, please don’t. Don’t Grace,” George pleaded. It took all of his strength to stop himself from throwing his arms round her waist and holding her there. “Don’t leave, please.”

 

“Give me one good reason not to.”

 

“Because… because I don’t want you to… I want you to stay here…”

 

“What for? So I can watch you fuck any whore groupie that comes your way?”

 

“No…”

 

“You’ve only been gone a few days, you don’t waste time do you, George?”

 

George still had the thin bed cover wrapped around his waist, very aware of the feel of the cotton against his skin. His trousers were on the floor on the other side of the room, he hadn’t been able to edge his way over there yet.

 

Grace stood in the space between the two beds. She had been screaming at him for nearly two hours. George had been apologising, begging her to stay. Going round in circles with the accusations and arguments. Grace hadn’t even taken her coat off.

 

“You were so sad when you left. I found that lackey and brought him over here for you. I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Grace sat down on the edge of George’s bed. “It certainly was a surprise,” she sniffed.

 

“Grace, I’m sorry. I can’t say anymore.”

 

“Sorry for doing that, or sorry that I caught you?”

 

Both, George thought and fell back on to the bed.

 

“I see.” Grace stood up again and stepped towards the door.

 

“Where are you going?” George said quickly.

 

“Home. London. Where else?”

 

“You’ve only just arrived.”

 

“I’m sorry, George. I thought we had something special here. I was obviously wrong. Pattie was right about you.”

 

George sat up, scrambling to stand while keeping the cover around his waist. “What? What did Pattie say? Have you spoken to her?”

 

“She always used to say you were sleeping around on her,” Grace stood with her back to him. “I guess a leopard doesn’t change his spots.”

 

“No…” George came round her to face her. “I don’t sleep around...” Grace looked up at him. Her eyes were wet with tears. George’s heart ached. “Gracie… I didn’t want to hurt you…”

 

Grace laughed hollowly.

 

“It’s just what it’s like on tour. We… we all do it. It doesn’t mean anything… I can’t even remember her name.”

 

“They all do it so you have to? How old are you? Thirteen?! Well, I’m sorry George.”

 

“What?”

 

“I can’t be with you, if it has to be like that.”

 

Grace tried to step past him. George blocked her way. He thought of how Paul had done the same only two nights ago to stop George from leaving.

 

“Then it won’t be,” he said, holding out his arms to her. “Please, just give me one more chance.”

 

“I… I don’t know.” George tried to move into her, to hold her and wrap his arms around her. Unexpectedly, Grace drew back her hand and slapped him, hard, with a crack that echoed around the room. She returned to George’s bed and sat on the end of it, holding her arms around her sides, hugging herself.

 

George stood, shocked for a moment. He put his hand to his hot cheek and was surprised to find blood. Grace was wearing a ring that had gouged a cut.  As soon as he had found it, it began to hurt. Not much, but still a sharp like a nettle sting.

 

He glanced at himself in the mirror, and that sight was more shocking than the slap. The red of the blood was a stark contrast to his pale white skin. He wiped the blood onto the back of his hand and turned to Grace.

 

“I feel ill,” she said.

 

George was starting to feel ill as well. The alcohol he had drunk had worn off leaving him with a headache, nausea and dead tired. He came and sat on the bed, desperate to be near her, but wary. “You’re tired. Stay here Grace. We can talk in the morning…”

 

“It is morning.”

 

George looked to the window, the early light flooding in through the cracks in the heavy curtains. It had been four when Grace had arrived. It was nearly half past six now. He sighed. “Well, I need to sleep,” he said. “You can have Paul’s bed… if you want.”

 

“Paul’s bed?”

 

George pointed to the neatly made bed opposite his own ruined one.

 

“You’re sharing a room with Paul?”

 

George nodded.

 

“After… after what he did?!” Grace’s voice started to get louder and shriller again. George’s head throbbed.

 

“Yes,” he said simply. “It’s a long story…”

 

“I can’t believe you. Obviously you’re not the man I thought you were.”

 

George looked at her.

 

“The way you carried on, all heartbroken when you found out your best friend was shagging your girlfriend. Was it all an act, George?”

 

George shook his head. “We need to work together, Grace. We called a truce.”

 

“And where is he now?”

 

“Paul? I don’t know.”

 

“In someone else’s bed, I’ll be bound.”

 

“It…”

 

“See? That’s all you mean to him. That he would break you up, just for a quick affair and then he’s on to the next one. I’ve a good mind to talk to his girlfriend…”

 

“Oh no Grace, don’t do that,” George put his hand on her arm. It wasn’t an empty threat coming from Grace. She usually carried out her word as George had learnt.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because… because that’s between Paul and Jane. Not us.”

 

“Do you love me, George?”

 

George blinked. He took his hand back. “What?”

 

“It’s a simple question. Yes or no.”

 

“Grace, I…”

 

“Well, that’s obviously my answer then.” Grace stood up, drawing her coat around her. “I don’t think I will see you again, George.”

 

“Yes,” George said suddenly, surprising himself. “Yes, I do. Grace…”

 

She looked back at him. “You do?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Say it then.”

 

George pursed his lips, Pattie’s face appearing in his mind. He pushed her away.

 

“Goodbye, George,” Grace turned away from him again.

 

“I love you,” George said, meaning it.

 

Grace stopped. She turned around to face him and just looked at his face for a moment. George bit his lip. Grace stepped towards him and bent down into his arm. George folded her in gratefully, burying his face into her hair. She pushed him back on to the bed and climbed on with him. George kissed her head, lifting her chin up. She stopped just before their lips met. “Are you mine, George?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Because if you are, there will be no other girls.”

 

“No.”

 

“Ever.”

 

George nodded.

 

“I’m not happy, George.”

 

George’s heart sank. He readied himself for the next round of screaming and crying.

 

“What can I do?” he asked helplessly. “If I could go back and change…”

“I don’t want to talk of that. I don’t ever want to talk about that again.”

 

“Okay,” George agreed with some relief.

 

“Things will have to change, George.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I want more commitment from you.” Finally she allowed him to kiss her. George did so with urgency, eager to get back to an equilibrium between them. He put his hands on her chest, pushing her coat off her shoulders.

 

Grace broke away from the kiss and leant back from him. “I want the house.”

 

“What house?”

 

“Your house. Kinfauns.” Grace took her coat off, letting it fall to the floor.

 

“Wha… what for?”

 

“What do you think, George? My flat is far too small for two of us.”

 

“Kinfaun’s isn’t much bigger.”

 

“But it’s nicer. It has a garden.”

 

“Can we talk about this later?” George linked his hands behind the small of Grace’s back and pulled her towards him.

 

Grace resisted, pouting, “Is that all you think about?”

 

“Only when I’m near you,” George said coyly. Grace sighed and got off the bed. Not quite forgiven then, George thought and rolled on to his side, pulling the covers up. “Gracie, come back,” he said, watching her.

 

“No.”

 

“I want to go to sleep.”

“Go to sleep then.”

 

“I want to go to sleep with you.” When Grace didn’t reply he added, “You must be tired too?” Grace picked her coat up from the floor, brushing it off. “Okay,” George gave in. “If you want the bungalow, you can have it.”

 

Grace smiled and slipped under the blanket with George. George received her gratefully, holding her tightly and kissing her. She put her head on to his shoulder and closed her eyes.

 

“Except…” George said tentively

 

Grace opened her eyes, “What?” she said bluntly.

 

“Well, Pattie’s living there…”

 

“And?”

 

“I can’t just turn up and claim it back.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Grace, I’m not throwing her out!”

 

“Jesus George, you are weak.”

 

George ignored the comment.

 

“You let everyone walk all over you. You’ve rolled over for Paul, now you’re gonna give him and Pattie a lovely little Esher cottage to make their love nest in.”

 

George swallowed, trying not to react. The cut on his cheek was stinging.

 

Grace softened, changing the tone of her voice, “I’m just trying to look out for you George.”

 

“I know,” he replied, quietly.

 

“They treat you like dirt and you let them.”

 

“I don’t…”

 

“Like when that John came in here, shouting and brawling. Never mind that you and I would be trying to sort things out,” she shook her head. “I don’t like him. “

 

Oh God, don’t start on John now. “John’s alright,” George said cagily.

 

Grace glanced up at him and smiled sweetly, “They take you for granted, honey.”

 

George half shrugged, “I take them for granted.”

 

“I… I just worry about you, George.”

 

George kissed her forehead and closed his eyes.

 

 

 

“Just go in there, Paul,” John said. “It’s your room.”

 

“No,” Paul said, still sitting on the sofa in the same clothes from the night before. “No, I’ll wait til they come out.” Ringo handed him a cup of coffee. Paul nodded a thank you.

 

“It’s been quiet for a while,” Ringo said. “Perhaps they’re asleep. You could sneak in and out…”

 

“D’yer think?” Paul considered.

 

“Asleep, or doin’ other things,” John said with a glint, taking his cup from Ringo.

 

“Oh. Oh, yeah,” Paul said.

 

John rolled his eyes at him, “Have a bit of backbone, lad. Just go an get yer clothes.”

 

“No,” Paul scratched the back of his neck. “No, I’d better not.”

 

“Lord, she’s got you too,” John laughed. “Watch out, Ring, you could be next!”

 

Ringo grinned, “Or you.”

 

“Nah, not me. I would never have a woman as controlling as that cow is. She’s got her claws into George, well and truly.”

 

“What makes you say that?” Paul said, sitting up.

 

John looked at him from the leather chair. “He didn’t want that girl last night. Not at first anyway. Coz of her, he said. And that little scene, just then. Jesus.”

 

“Because I think that too…” Paul started.

 

“What scene?” Ringo asked, joining Paul on the sofa.

 

“Oh, you were asleep,” John replied. “How you could bloody sleep through that, God knows.”

 

“Sleep through an earthquake, me,” Ringo smiled.

 

“She was screaming the house down.”

 

“Hotel,” Ringo corrected.

 

“Are you gonna let me tell yer or not?”

 

Ringo nodded.

 

“So I go in there. Y’know, keep it down, tryna sleep, and that… She just turned on me like a wild animal!”

 

Ringo glanced at Paul, trying to hide a smile. Paul couldn’t quite manage to see the funny side however.

 

“She’s screaming, ‘get out’ and what have yer, so I tell her what for and she threw a spoon at me!” John continued.

 

“A spoon?” Ringo burst out laughing.

 

“Yeah, it’s not bloody funny, Ritch! It’s lucky George had soup for lunch yesterday, what if he had had steak? Bloody steak knife at me head!”

 

“She didn’t even hit you,” Paul said.

 

“No, only coz she’s a fuckin’ girl and can’t throw for toffee!”

 

“What did George do?” Ringo asked, recovering from the laughter.

 

“Nothing,” John said. “He just sat there and watched her and didn’t say a bleedin’ word. Looking like he was gonna cry.”

 

“Cry?” Ringo asked.

 

John nodded.

 

“I don’t like her,” Paul said sincerely.

 

John snorted, “Me neither.”

 

“George has changed since he’s been with her,” Paul continued. “Can you see it?”

 

“Well, he’s been a right mardarse recently,” John said.

 

“And that’s over that girl?” Ringo asked.

 

Paul nodded, “She’s… she’s poisoning him against us.”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s why he stayed in that other hotel the other night,” Paul said earnestly; keen to get John and Ringo on his side. Alone, he and George only went around in circles, but with all three of them he would have to listen. He would have to believe Paul then.

 

Ringo and John exchanged looks. John shook his head, “Nah, Paul, that was because he didn’t want to share a room with you.”

 

“Yeah,” Paul nodded. “And why?”

 

“Neil and Mal,” Ringo said.

 

“What?”

 

“Well, we thought it was because he was pissed off at you over Neil and Mal,” Ringo said. “…Or somat,” he added.

 

“And I haven’t forgotten that,” John said, warningly.

 

Paul shook his head at him. “No,” he said. “It’s coz of her. She’s filled his head with all this bollocks and George believes her.”

 

“What bollocks?” John asked.

 

“I… I can’t really tell you.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“George wouldn’t want me to…” Paul said, knowing it was really him who didn’t want to. “It’s complicated.”

 

“What is it, Paul?” Ringo asked.

 

“Stories… that’s all. Lies.”

 

“About you?”

 

“Yeah, me an’…”

 

“How? How do you get dragged in to stuff with George and crazy bitch?” John asked.

 

“Me and Pattie,” Paul said quietly.

“Pattie? What’s Pattie got to do with it?” Ringo said innocently.

 

“Grace told George that me and Pattie were having some sort of affair and George…”

 

“Affair?” John said dubiously. “You were shaggin’ her?”

 

Paul nodded.

 

“You were shaggin’ Pattie?!” Ringo exclaimed.

 

“No!” Paul said firmly. “Of course not! That’s what Grace said…”

 

John and Ringo exchanged looks again.

 

“No!” Paul said indignantly. “You think I would?!”

 

John laughed, “Yes.”

 

“John!”

 

“Well, Paul, it’s just you and… well, you have a lot,” Ringo tried more tactfully.

 

“Not Pattie though. I wouldn’t. She was George’s. Do you think I’d sleep with Maureen, Ring? Or Cyn?”

 

“Better not,” John said threateningly.

 

“No,” Ringo said. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t,” Paul confirmed. “But George thinks I would. I have. That’s why… why he left Pattie.”

 

“Oh,” Ringo said. “Oh no.”

 

Paul nodded.

 

“So he hates you?” Ringo said.

 

The words were an unintentional blow. Paul hadn’t thought about it in such terms – that George, his oldest friend – more than a friend – like a kid brother – would now hate him. And yet he did. So completely and uncompromisingly. “We’ve called a truce,” he said, looking at the floor, unable to admit it aloud.

 

Ringo patted his shoulder. Paul smiled at him.

 

John leaned back in his chair and clapped his hands together. “This is gonna be a fun tour!”