Within You, Without You | George Harrison ✅

8

"What is the meaning of this!?" Mr Rostas boomed as soon as we bundled through the doors of reception. We all looked confused for a moment. "And where is George Harrison!?" Ah, so he was referring to the many reporters and photographers outside... and the lack of a Beatle.

"She's won the competition!" Paul exclaimed, holding my arm up as if I had won a battle. "The one where -"

"I know what competition she's won!" Mr Rostas snapped. "But how...?" He paused, "the official results haven't been released yet -"

"Someone must have leaked 'em." John pointed out in a sarcastic tone of voice.

Paul dropped my arm. Mr Rostas walked closer to us and he began to circle me. Paul, much to my annoyance, took a few steps back.

"How did you win, Miss Harman?"

"I... I..." I bit my lip, "I guess I just know the lyrics."

"I've seen your entry." Mr Rostas replied. "Nobody got near that many - sixty six - I don't even think that these two," he jerked a thumb at John and Paul, "could get that many. Just how did you do it?" At the mention of how many I had recited, there was a collective gasp. I hadn't even known that I had entered that many. I remembered just scribbling lyrics down for hours in the little hall which had been appointed as the local test centre for the competition.

"Well it's like she said," Ringo answered for me in his scouse accent, "she just knows the lyrics -"

"I'm a big fan." I agreed, smiling at Mr Rostas and trying to win him over.

"Everybody in the world is a big fan." Mr Rostas snapped. "But nobody else got anywhere near as many as you did - how did you cheat?"

"Mr Harrison is on his way, Sir." Mr Rostas, John, Paul and Ringo and myself all turned our attention to the receptionist who had been sitting at receptionist on the day of my interview. Mr Rostas nodded and she flashed him a small before striding off gracefully in her high heels.

"This can't happen." Mr Rostas said.

"I completely agree."

"What?!" The three Beatles chorused, all staring at me with their jaws wide open.

"I work here." I told them. "I can't win this competition. People might say it was rigged and -"

"But you won." Paul pointed out. "You have to claim your prize -"

"A date with George Harrison?" I raised an eyebrow at the pretty Beatle. "Come on, Paul, he has a wife."

"He agreed to it." John said. "And so did she. In fact, Pattie was the one who suggested it -"

"Regardless of who suggested it," Mr Rostas exclaimed, "it will not be happening."

Ringo smirked. "Aye," he agreed, "well you go out there and tell the reporters then, because if you take away their story then they'll take away your balls."

I had to hold back a giggle at that. Ringo certainly was funny - though not eloquent at all.

Mr Rostas was fuming, obviously. His hands were clenched at his sides and he had gone a bright red all over his face. He had also broken out into a sweat - this was not a good day for him.

"Send Harrison to my office as soon as he arrives!" And he turned on the balls of his feet and strode off.

I turned to the band, "I can't have won."

"You did." Paul reminded me. "And what a coincidence - this way you and George can have a proper date, and Pattie's agreed to it."

"Paul, I don't think that is the end goal here."

John was peaking through the closed curtains of the room at the carnage outside. He clicked his tongue a few times. Eventually I grew tired of the noise.

"What is it, John!?" I snapped.

"Absolutely mental out here." John answered without turning his head to speak to me. "They're interviewing each other now, saying how they each found out."

Paul face palmed. "If Rostas recalls this then it won't be good for the studio." He had always had the business sense that the others lacked.

"Well it won't be good for anybody." Ringo retorted.

He had a point there.

"Maybe I should just go out there and speak with them?" I suggested, somewhat reluctantly. "That way, Mr Rostas can't recall me as the winner -"

"That's a point."

"And then your date with George is guaranteed." John mused quietly to himself, hoping that the others hadn't heard what he had said as a plan formed quickly in his mind.

He turned away from the window and strode back over to Ringo, Paul and I. "You should go out and speak to them."

"What if it means my job, though?" I asked anxiously.

"Then we'll make Eppy hire you!" Paul promised. "But he is right, y'know. You should seize the day before it seizes you." He punched the air triumphantly.

I smiled. "Don't you think we should talk to George before I do this?" I asked as the boys practically pushed me to the doors.

"He agreed to a date with the winner of the competition." Paul said in reply. "He'll be fine with this because it actually works in his favour."

"But I don't think -"

Ringo opened the door to the studio and immediately the reporters swarmed closer to the door, the cameras flashing faster than I had thought possible. I took a deep breath.

"We'll be right beside you, luv." Ringo promised as I took the first step out and the three Beatles followed after me. They stood around me in a semicircle shape. The reporters all thrust their little microphones towards me and I began to speak. I watched as some listened intently, and others scribbled my words into notebooks.

"My name is Amoreena Hartman." I paused. "I can correctly recite sixty six Beatles songs, and so I am the winner of the competition."

"If the prize is a date with George," one reporter called, "then where is he?"

I looked to Paul to help me with the answer, but he just nodded, encouraging me. I took a deep breath before I replied. "George will be here soon." I promised.

"Are you a friend of The Beatles?" Another reporter asked.

"I am their personal assistant."

"Is there anyway that this competition could have been rigged, then?"

I shook my head. "There is absolutely no way. I had entered the competition before I even applied for a job here."

"It's quite a coincidence, you have to admit." A reporter stated.

"I do."

John put a hand on my shoulder, obviously proud of my sarcastic comment. "And now, ladies and gentlemen - and reporters," he smirked, "we've got some work to do." And he led us all back inside, slamming the door on the outside world before any of us had a chance to reject.