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The Evening of November 3rd 1965

 

George idly swirled the last drop of rum in the bottom of his glass and wondered what time it was. The inside of the bar was dark and without windows, so really it could be anytime at all. George had arrived at one; around the same time the other Beatles were forcing their way in to BrianÕs office, and had set about drinking so he would forget about the meeting he was missing, about Grace and whatever was happening with her, about Pattie. Or if he couldnÕt forget, at least he wouldnÕt care anymore.

 

Must be early evening, George concluded. The place was starting to fill up. There was a band setting up on the small stage at the opposite end of the room. George leaned against the bar, wishing for a stool. He swallowed the last of his drink and indicated to the barmaid to refill it. She gave him a considering look but then poured him another measure of rum and added more ice.

 

ÒTa,Ó George said. The girl left.

 

The bar was called ÔThe CrossroadsÕ. It was in Soho, not even all that far from the NEMS offices. George had been there a couple of times before, once with the other Beatles and once with Pattie. It was a blues club, but opened as a pub in the day.

 

ÒUh, hello?Ó said someone from the stage into the microphone. ÒUh, weÕre The Chain, thanks.Ó

 

People clapped and the singer began strumming his guitar, a standard twelve bar blues and a song about a lost lover. They werenÕt the best band in the world, but they were playing the right music to accompany GeorgeÕs mood. At the end of the tune he clapped loudly, and the rest of the audience joined him.

 

Then he saw her.

 

She could have been there for hours - perhaps all day, though George doubted it. She was sitting with her sister, her sisterÕs boyfriend and a man that George didnÕt recognise. He felt his blood rise and the adrenaline flowed through him, prompting him to do something, but what, George didnÕt know. He stood ambivalently, a hundred emotions and a hundred options presenting themselves to him simultaneously.

 

He wanted to go over there and Ð what? Act casual? Act jealous? Apologise and beg her forgiveness? Or should he just turn and run before she even saw him?

 

Instead, he did none of these. Instead, he swallowed all of the rum in one and turned back to the bar, pointing for the barmaid to refill it. To drink until he was numb was GeorgeÕs objective, and seemingly, he still had a distance to go to reach that.

 

ÒI think youÕve had enough,Ó the barmaid said, nervously.

 

ÒI think IÕll decide when IÕve had enough,Ó George snapped back at her, fixing her with stern eyes, rolled into the top of his head as if he was looking through his eyebrows.

 

ÒOne more, then,Ó she said feebly. ÒBut thatÕs the last.Ó

 

She refilled the glass and backed away from George. George thought he might have scared her a little and felt a twinge of regret.

 

ÒHello George,Ó she said in that soft, velveteen voice that had always sent shivers down his spine.

 

George reeled around. Perhaps the rum had taken more effect than he had thought, because for the briefest of moments, he had forgotten Pattie was just across the room.

 

ÒHi,Ó George said, trying to act relaxed and knowing he was failing.

 

ÒI thought I would say hello,Ó Pattie said, looking at her feet. ÒIt would be stupid of us to ignore each other, wouldnÕt it?Ó

 

George nodded. Come home.

 

ÒHow have you been?Ó

 

ÒAlright,Ó he said, forcing the word past the lump in his throat. ÒYou?Ó

 

ÒYeah, fine.Ó

 

An awkward pause.

 

ÒWell, IÕll see you around,Ó Pattie stepped away from him. She looked sad, sorry, perhaps.

 

ÒNo, wait,Ó George said. Please donÕt go.

 

Pattie looked at him expectantly.

 

ÒTalk to me for a bit,Ó he asked.

 

Pattie sighed and pursed her lips. ÒWho are you here with?Ó

 

ÒNo one.Ó

 

ÒWhereÕsÉ whereÕs Grace.Ó

 

IÕm sorry.

 

ÒI know youÕre living with her, George,Ó Pattie added.

 

ÒI donÕt know. At home, I guess.Ó  Redecorating our house. Wiping you out of it. Slitting her wrists.

 

ÒOh.Ó

 

ÒWho are you here with?Ó

 

ÒJennie and her boyfriend,Ó Pattie waved her hand towards them.

 

ÒAnd?Ó George knew he shouldnÕt have asked. What possible answer could she give him that wouldnÕt torture him?

 

ÒNo one you know. A friend of mine,Ó Pattie said offhand, in such a way George knew he was more than that. It was how Pattie had introduced George to her ex-fiancŽe, just before she had left him for George.

 

ÒIÉ I saw Help the other day,Ó Pattie was still avoiding his eyes. George took a step closer to her. Pattie stepped backwards.

 

ÒWhat did you think?Ó Come back to me.

 

ÒItÕs good. ItÕs funny. RingoÕs brilliant.Ó

 

ÒYeah, RingoÕs always brilliant.Ó

 

Pattie smiled. George looked away.

 

ÒI readÉ I read youÕve all been arguing. In the papers, theyÕre saying The Beatles are breakingÉÓ

 

ÒBreaking up?Ó George snapped, angrily. ÒWhat if we are?Ó

ÒOh no,Ó Pattie said, sincerely, gently. ÒI was hoping it wasÉ ItÕs a shame.Ó

 

ÒA fuckinÕ shame.Ó

 

ÒWhy? CanÕt youÉ Is it becauseÉÓ

 

ÒWhat? Over you? You and that bastard, McCartney?Ó

 

ÒI should be goingÉÓ Pattie turned. George caught her arm.

 

ÒYou think we would split up over some tart? YouÕve a pretty high fuckinÕ opinion of yourself, havenÕt you?Ó

 

ÒNoÉÓ

 

ÒI never liked you that much anyway,Ó George spat. ÒYou think I havenÕt had a hundred girls while we were together? And dÕyou think your little affair with Paul means that much to me?Ó

 

Tears sprang PattieÕs eyes. She wouldnÕt look at him. She prised his fingers from her forearm. ÒYouÕre hurting me,Ó she mumbled.

 

George hardly heard her, ÒI better off without you, you lying, scheming bitchÉÓ

 

ÒGeorge!Ó Pattie cried out, with such pain George instantly let go of her. Hot tears were running down her face now, mascara leaving black trails from her eyes.

 

ÒIÕm sorry,Ó George said. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

ÒYouÕre drunk.Ó

 

Jennie appeared by her side, cradling her under her arm. ÒDonÕt you think youÕve made her cry enough yet?Ó Jennie said. ÒLeave her alone, George, before I fetch someone.Ó

 

Pattie.

 

Jennie led Pattie away, disappearing into the crowd that had appeared from nowhere. The band finished itÕs song and everyone clapped. George looked down into his untouched glass in his hand. He turned back to the bar where the barmaid had been watching him. He put it down. ÒDonÕt want it,Ó he said to her and headed for the door.