16th November 1965 9.16pm
"Do something, Ringo!" Pattie cried.
Ringo looked at John and Paul, wrestling and skidding around the polished wood floor, and then back at Pattie.
"Stop them!" she prompted.
Ringo bit his bottom lip and reached into the rabble of Beatles. He took hold of John under his arms and pulled him up and off of Paul with all his strength. John fought against him, but Ringo put all his weight behind it and forced John to stand, holding him back against the wall.
Paul remained on the floor, wiping blood from his mouth onto the back of his hand.
"Damn thug!" he spat, as Pattie knelt down beside him, handing him a handkerchief.
John lunged towards Paul again, but Ringo stood his ground, pushing him back. "You fucking liar, McCartney!" John bellowed. "You even had me believing you!"
"Leave him, John," Ringo said, still holding him back.
"I'll give you more than a thick lip!" John threatened, trying to lean past Ringo.
"I said stop it!" Ringo said, mustering all his strength and shoving John back into the wall so that the pictures rattled.
"Thanks, Ritch," Paul said.
Ringo turned away from John, fixing Paul with a cold stare. "Don't you thank me," he said slowly. "Don't you say anything to me ever again, Paul!"
Paul was speechless for a moment, but then he struggled to his feet. "Now hold on! This is not what it looks like..."
Ringo shook his head at him and pushed John towards the door. "C'mon, we're off."
"No, wait, I'll explain..." Paul said rushing to the doorway behind them.
"Should have let me punch him," John said, loud enough for Paul to hear as they walked away.
"Let them go," Pattie said, gently, closing the door.
"Shit," Paul said, then looking at Pattie, "Oh, sorry."
Pattie smiled thinly. "You see now why I wanted you to tell them? What if Jane came home now too? What would she think?"
"Oh don't," Paul said. The thought made him turn cold. He put the back of his hand to his mouth again. His lip had quickly stopped bleeding but it still throbbed. "I'd just got them convinced and then you walked in the door."
"Well, that was stupid of you," Pattie told him and taking his hand, led him to the kitchen. Paul frowned at her. "Why not just tell them the plan? They'd have to be blind, deaf and simple not to know what's going on." She ran a cloth under the cold tap and handed it to Paul. He pressed it against his lip, cautiously.
"I'll call them and explain," Paul said, not liking the prospect already. He sat down at the kitchen table.
Pattie joined him. "They're just angry," she said. "They'll listen to you once they've calmed down." Paul looked at her. "Well, Ringo, at least," she added. "Shall I... put the kettle on?"
Paul shook his head. "I'll do it. You tell me what you know."
A broad smile appeared on Pattie's face.
"Good news?" Paul asked, filling the kettle.
Pattie nodded, enthusiastically. "Well, sort of. I had a very interesting lunch today."
Paul smiled, but that made his lip ache, so he stopped, and put the kettle on the heat. "So?" he asked, sitting at the table again.
"You were right. Brian hasn't been to the offices for weeks. Months probably. Most of the staff have been replaced, and Annie, this girl I had lunch with, she's Michael Archer's receptionist now – she gave me the address."
"Really?" Paul said, brightening up.
"Yes, she was a bit worried about Archer finding out, but I said you'd make sure her job was safe."
Paul pouted. "I don't know if I can do that..." he said, dubiously.
"Yeah, well, she doesn't know that," Pattie smiled. Paul laughed as the kettle whistled.
"So, the address?" Paul said, looking for a tea towel to wrap around the kettle handle.
"Yes," Pattie took a small, folded piece of paper from her handbag and unfolded it, smoothing it on the tabletop.
Paul came over with the tea and looked over her shoulder. "Where on earth is that?" he said.
"In Wales, on the coast."
"Wales?" Paul said, putting the cups down. "As good a place to hide as any, I suppose."
Pattie folded the paper up again. "Annie said it was an exclusive, private..." her voice trailed off.
"What?" Paul asked.
"Hospice," Pattie said, looking up at him. "She said it was a hospice, not a hospital."
Paul frowned. "Looks like it's true then," he said solemnly. Pattie nodded. Paul sat. "Still, I can't believe if Brian were... y'know, that he wouldn"t have said anything to us about it."
"Annie also said George had been in the office this morning," Pattie said quietly.
Paul rubbed the back of his neck. "Really?"
"He wanted to see Brian too, apparently," Pattie replied flatly. "Had to make do with Archer."
"Well, that's hopeful," Paul said, trying to sound encouraging. "Don't worry, Pattie. George'll... be back to his old self in no time. You'll see."
Pattie nodded and put her head down. It took a moment for Paul to realise there were tears in her eyes. "Oh, hey," he said softly, leaning his arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's not you," Pattie sniffed. "It's..." She forced a smile, "You'd think I'd be over the crying at the drop of a hat stage by now."
Paul smiled. "It's alright." He stood and offered her the box of tissues from the top of the fridge.
"The last time I saw George, he was so... so nasty," she said, and although Pattie had told Paul this story at least twice before, he sat and listened patiently. "He's not like he used to be at all."
"No," Paul agreed. "But Pats, there will be all sorts of things running through his mind. He doesn't know what to think. He's just lashing out. He doesn't mean it."
"I hope you're right."
So do I, Paul thought but nodded firmly and said, "I'm sure. What we need to do is get hold of these letters I'm supposed to have written."
Pattie nodded. "George had them with him when we... split up. I wish I'd looked at them, but I didn't think."
"Tomorrow then," Paul said. "We'll drive up to this hospice and find Brian. I'm sure he can't know what's been going on. If he comes home with us, then perhaps he can sort this mess out."
"Paul, have you thought..."
"What?"
"What if Brian's too ill to come back to London? What if he really is dying?"
Paul shook his head with a conviction that he didn't truly feel. "Nah, I'm certain, if Brian really was that ill, he would have told us himself. He wouldn't leave it to some overgrown accountant. And in any case, whatever might have gone on, he wouldn't not tell his parents and brother. I think I took a couple of years off Queenie's life, when I rang her!"
Pattie smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right." She stood to leave. "I'd better go and get some beauty sleep if I'm going to be up early tomorrow."
Paul stood up and walked to the door with her. "Pattie," he said, as she stepped out. She turned back. "I can't promise anything, yet," he said, "But I have a very good feeling that Grace will be out of George's life very soon."
Pattie put her head on one side. "Why?"
"Just something that was said when I saw her last," Paul replied with a wink.
"Take care, Paul," Pattie said, and kissed his cheek.
"I'll see you in the morning," Paul said.
She nodded as she walked down the steps.