The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 31

Evening, 3rd November, 1965

George idly swirled the last drop of whiskey 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 lunchtime – just around the same time the other Beatles were forcing their way in to Brian's office on Argyle Street, only a short distance away. The bar was in a basement room in Frith Street, a back street of Soho. George had been there a couple of times before, once with the other Beatles and once with Pattie. It was a Blues music club, but opened as a bar during the day. It was decorated in red and black with huge round tables and sofa seats. They served a variety of cocktails in novelty teapots and tea cups, but it had the been the beer that held George's attention, followed by the whiskey shots, after the ale started making him feel bloated.

Must be past tea time 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 disapproving look but then poured him another measure of whiskey and added more ice.

"Ta," George said with a hint of sarcasm. The girl left.

"Uh, hello?" said someone from the stage into the microphone. The background music died down and a four piece band, crammed onto a tiny corner stage started up. People clapped and the singer began strumming his guitar, a standard twelve bar blues and a song about a lost lover. They weren't the best band in the world, but they were playing the right kind of music to accompany George's mood. At the end of the first couple of tunes he clapped loudly, and the rest of the audience joined him.

Then he saw her.

She could have been sitting there for hours. George couldn't believe he didn't notice her come in as there was only one entrance door and George was nearly opposite it. She was sitting with her sister, her sister's boyfriend and a man that George didn't recognise. He felt his blood rise and adrenaline flowed through him, prompting him to do something – except what exactly, George didn't know. He stood ambivalently as a hundred emotions and a hundred options presenting themselves to him simultaneously.

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

Instead, he took none of these options. Instead, he swallowed all of the whiskey in one and turned back to the bar, pointing for the barmaid to refill it. To drink until he was numb was George's objective, and according to the way his heart was thumping, he still had a distance to go to reach that.

"I think you've had enough," the barmaid said, nervously.

"I think I'll decide when I've had enough," 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.

"One more, then," she said timidly. "But then that's the last."

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

"Hello George," she said quietly in that soft, velveteen voice that had always sent shivers down his spine.

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

"Hi," George said, trying to act cool and knowing he was failing.

"I thought I would come over and say hello," Pattie said, looking at her feet. "It would be stupid of us to ignore each other, wouldn't it?"