The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 17

July 9th 1965

George sat on the floor of the bedroom, in between the bed and the open wardrobe doors. 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. He'd picked it up and put 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 the trouble in the world.

It had been exactly where Grace had said it would be. Don't believe me, George? Look for yourself.

All the way back to England it had preyed on George's mind, until he could think of nothing else. They'd arrived back home late, in the early hours of the morning, but George had to know if it was there. He dropped his bags as he came through the door and ran towards the bedroom, nearly tripping in the dark. He had flung the doors to the wardrobe back, waking Pattie up in the process, and there it was. A small white box in the back corner, hidden behind the coats and dresses and shoes.

"George? 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."

"What? What's so urgent?" Pattie had asked, but George didn't reply.

Then he had closed the doors again and got 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, eventually falling asleep himself sometime later.

But it was now or never. It was driving him insane. He had to know the truth.

George traced his fingers over the cardboard lid. Pattie had gone shopping. She'd probably be a couple of hours at least. 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, cards and envelopes. George rested it on his lap and took out the top one. A cream scrap of paper folded in two. George unfolded it and smiled.

To Pattie, Love, George Harrison. ...xxxxxxx

It was the autograph George had given Pattie when he had first met her on the Hard Day's Night film set. He didn't realise she had kept it. George allowed himself to breath again. This wasn't what Grace had said would be in the shoebox. Far from it. Now he could confess it all to Pattie and everything would be alright again.

If she forgave him, that was.

She would. She loved him, didn't...

Then, 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 would love it, Pattie. When everything's done with, I'll bring you here. I miss you so much...

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 and growing sicker by the minute.

A notelet...

To Pattie, my love...

A letter...