Shelter In Your Love (Beatles Fan Fiction)

50. It's All Too Much

'Bring somethin' better than fuckin' coffee,' Ronnie shouts behind us as Ricky grips my hand and leads me out of the living room and through the kitchen.

'What are they doing?' I ask as Ricky opens the door to the backyard. He ignores me. Still holding my hand, he pulls me outside and round the corner of the house. 'Why are they... We need to call the police!'

'Shut the fuck up,' Ricky snaps. He lets go of me and glances back into the house through the kitchen window before turning back to me. 'Go to Minnie's,' he tells me in a low voice. 'Stay there until I come and get you. Until I come for you. Not Bobby. Not Joey. Me, okay?'

I nod, my eyes tearing up. I cover my mouth with my hands.

There's a loud commotion from the house, banging and shouting and a horrible, long wailing noise.

Ricky steps back to see what it is and I grab his arm, wrapping both my hands around his wrist, pulling him back. 'No, Ricky-' I cry desperately.

The front door slams, reverberating through the house. Ricky looks round at me and takes his arm away, putting his hand up to me, telling me to stay where I am. They're all coming through into the kitchen, Frank Heath's washing his hands at the sink. I shrink back to the other side of the kitchen window. Reggie steps out into the yard, Bobby and Ronnie behind him. They're talking loudly, laughing, like it's all been one huge joke.

Ricky moves in between me and them, putting on a smile.

'We threw him to the pigs,' Ronnie informs us jovially. 'He'll distract them while we nip down the back alley.'

'Bobby tells me an apology is in order,' Reggie says, stepping around Ricky, towards me. I draw back instinctively. The wall of the house comes up behind me. 'For crashin' in here unannounced, spoilin' your lovely home, Hannah.'

I glance sideways at Bobby, but he's looking down at the ground, the same blank, hard expression on his face.

'It's... okay,' I reply, hesitantly.

'No, no, it's not. I'm very sorry, my dear. It was an emergency, you see,' Reggie smiles sweetly, gently even, as if he is apologising to me for spilling something, or breaking a glass.

'Rick, is there a key for the gate padlock?' Ronnie says from the end of the yard.

'On the side, under the plantpot,' Ricky replies as Frank Heath joins us outside too. Ronnie fumbles, looking under the wrong pot, and Ricky goes to retrieve the key for him.

'I really do enjoy your singing, Hannah,' Reggie continues. He puts his hand on my side, smooths it down to my hip and I stiffen. 'Are you singing tonight?' he asks. He knows I am. We sing every Saturday night.

'Yes,' I reply, quietly.

'C'mon, Reg. Do you want them all in here after you?' Bobby says, giving Reggie a shove towards the back gate, making him remove his hand from my waist.

'Sing a song for me, won't you?' Reggie says, ignoring Bobby, refusing to be moved.

'Of course,' I say, forcing my voice to sound light, breezy. 'What would you like?'

'Oh anything, dear. You know me, I'm easy.'

'They've gone, Reg,' Bobby says, jerking his head towards the now open gate, the cobbled alleyway beyond it. Reggie glances over and huffing, tramps across the yard and through the gate.

Bobby hangs back. 'You alright, girl?' he asks, keeping his eyes trained on the open gate.

'No,' I reply, quietly.