It Started With The Crazy Lady

Later on the same day

And so they waited. They could hear comings and goings, the elevator dinging every few moments, voices, doors opening and closing, even at one point the barking of a dog. John opened their own door to try to see what was going on but he was called back by the others; nothing good ever came of a Beatle showing his face in a crowd of people. Instead, they made tea. They raided the mini bar. They turned on the television and tried to find something interesting and diverting, but they failed completely on that score. They paced the room, looking for mischief. They snapped and sniped at each other out of inactivity and tension. By unspoken agreement, they left George alone. They skirted around him, they watched him carefully but didn't try to draw him into conversation or silliness. In the midst of all their frustrated movement, he sat alone, silent and very still.

It felt to all of them as though he wasn't properly there.

When he did get to his feet the other three almost leapt to attention, but he was only walking over to the window. The view gave onto gardens and lawns. He leaned against the wall and then leaned his cheek against the window pane, looking out, or seeming to. They left him alone again.

There came a peremptory knock at the door and Ringo, who was nearest, rushed to open it, but it was only Brian Epstein, striding in and demanding, not unreasonably, to know exactly what was going on and what was wrong with their suite. George ignored him as though he wasn't there; the other three exchanged glances. "Eppy," John ventured. "We'll tell you later. When we know what's happened."

"What do you mean, when you know what's happened? What could have happened? What on earth are you talking about? Neil!" Brian rounded on the road manager, who took the opportunity to inform the manager in succinct and colourful terms that he had no more idea than Brian himself, because the Beatles had refused to tell him anything. Brian would have to put up, shut up and wait with them, and, extraordinarily, he acceded to this unconditionally. Their manager could therefore do no more than join the pacing, sniping and drinking and they all waited helplessly, hiding away in the wrong hotel room.

Another knock at the door, far more diffident than Brian's had been, brought them all to a halt and everyone, except George, stared wide-eyed at the door. It was Brian himself who opened it, and ushered in the hotel manager who was accompanied by two men who were clearly by the aggressive look of their uniforms either police or security or both. There was a dead silence, as everyone waited for the manager to speak.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice noticeably more subdued and deferential than it had sounded when he last spoke to them. "I...uh..." he paused, cleared his throat and then continued more vigorously," I am sorry to have to report that there was indeed a device found in your suite."

"What does that mean, a device?" broke in Brian, but he was waved abruptly into silence by Paul and the manager continued.

"It was a small explosive device." There came a sharp gasp from Neil. "It had been hidden in one of the wardrobes. It was apparently amateurishly made," here the manager paused as he deferred to one of the uniformed heavies, who nodded agreement for him to carry on, "but it would have caused considerable damage had it exploded."

"How considerable?" John broke in, and the manager turned to look at him.

"Most of this corridor would have been destroyed," he replied quietly.

There followed a wide and varied collection of reactions to this statement. Paul fell into a nearby chair, his eyes wide with shock. There was an eruption of obscenities from three of the Beatles. Brian, utterly ignorant of the background to the manager's disclosure, began to bluster about disgraceful security and complaints to the owner until John instructed him in his own inimitable manner to shut up. Neil and Mal talked and shouted over each other as they both rounded on Paul and Ringo and demanded, loudly and hysterically, how the fuck they had known, and then Neil spun round to George. "You, you were the one! How did you know?"

"Leave him alone," Ringo commanded.

George, on hearing the hotel manager's statement, had sunk quietly onto the nearest chair and buried his face in his folded arms. His eyes were tightly shut. He might, he realised when he looked back at the moment, have lost consciousness for a moment to two. He had no idea what anyone else was doing or saying, he had no idea what his own reaction actually was to the fact that he had probably saved his own and everyone else's lives; he could only sit, wrapped in his own arms and his own shock, until he raised his head and spoke for the first time since they all piled into the room.

"They've gone," he said. His voice was small and husky. "They've all gone."

Everyone, Beatles, police, managers, everyone, turned to stare at him, but only the other three Beatles approached him, Paul pushing himself up from his armchair to cross the room to him and Ringo kneeling next to him.

"So it's okay?" Paul's question was almost whispered and his eyes searched George's face. George nodded.

"Sure?"

Another nod and then, almost, a smile. Paul turned back to the manager. "Are you sure there's nothing left in there?"

The manager nodded again and again, in case the point was missed with the first nod; he then referred once more to the security man who declared in an officious tone which jarred abrasively in the fraught room, "We're sure, sir. We've searched every inch, with the dogs. It's clear."

There fell another brief silence, until Brian said, "Well, I see no reason for us not to go back then. So, if everyone would like to..." He trailed off, and found himself looking anxiously at John in case he was again speaking out of turn. But this time it was apparently alright, and one by one they all began to move towards the door. "So, will you tell me what...?"

"In a while, Eppy," Ringo assured him wearily. "We'll tell you everything in a while. Let's all go and have a drink." By the end of this speech he had reached the door, but there he turned back and his gaze sought out George, who'd made no move to join the others but was still seated in the room, just staring ahead of him. Ringo returned to his friend, leaned down and tugged him to his feet. "Come on Geo," he said. And then he wrapped his arms around him, and gave him a hug to end all hugs.

.......

There were many things which had to be sorted once the whole party was settled in their correct suit. As desperate as Brian was to know what on earth had just happened, his first task was to confront the hotel manager and the chief of security and to demand, on pain of very bad things being said about the hotel and the local security system, that not one word of any of this was to be leaked out; not to the public, not to their wives, not to the family dog. The search for the culprit, a search which could probably be accurately compared to a search for a needle in a haystack, must not be permitted to let this secret out.The hotel manager and the chief of security immediately and hastily agreed. There was something about the English accent that made it all sound more than convincing.

Then, finally, Brian was free to step into the Beatles' suite and hopefully find out the full story. Whilst he'd been out frightening the hotel manager and the chief of security the Beatles had yet again formulated a plan, which they put into action as soon as their own manager returned. They sat Brian, Neil and Mal down in a neat row, (John was reminded of carpet time in his first class in primary school, even though they were seated on chairs and not on the carpet) and told them not to interrupt, and then Paul, with George next to him to confirm, deny or generally fill in details, began to tell the story. George still felt too shaken up and bewildered to tell the story himself. He also felt, unconsciously, that to have someone other than himself telling the story was to lend it a credibility which he wasn't at all convinced of while the story remained his alone.

He still couldn't quite believe that it had all happened. He still needed reassurance that no, he had not gone completely mad.

Paul completed the story, right up to the discovery of the device, and then there fell a heavy silence.

"But..." began Neil, but then he simply raised both hands and let them fall in his lap.

"How...?" But Mal got no further. When Brian then opened his mouth to speak, whatever he was going to say shrivelled and died in the face of three identical glares and one open but mournful plea to just let it go.

Brian met George's gaze, and then did just that.