The End (Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 32

PRUDENCE

"But I'm fine, really, there's no need-"

"Just go haume, Pru-dence. I'd ra-zer you miss a day zen waste it here in such a poor counten-ans. Maybe to-maur-ow will be better."

I lowered my head as Mr. Allemande turned and walked down the hallway. The click-clack of his boots got distant, but his presence, his annoyance, was still deeply felt.

Once again, I had let my thoughts get the better of me, and once again I was sent home early. If I kept this up I was sure to be let go. I reached for my coat and left the building.

Last time I had been sent home, I had seen the boys on the balcony. That was an utter surprise, and being distraught was completely justified.

But this time?

I knew that I would see them. I went to their studio. I expected all of it. I had no reason to be so shaken.

That wasn't true.

All day I was aware of the closeness between me and them. I was working across the street from where they were recording. The tension swirled like a tornado in the road between us.

I  walked quickly to my apartment building, plaguing my mind with curses for my poor work ethic. At least self-chastisement kept any thoughts about yesterday out of my head.

As I entered my flat, a wave of weariness came over me, and I dropped my bag, shrugged off my coat, and plopped onto the bed.

Car horns screeched outside the window. Wheels skidded on the road. Hammers gonged at a construction sight. A drum beat slowly filled the air.

Get back, get back, get back to where you once belonged...

The phone was screaming. I awoke and looked around. The clock said half past five. Had four hours passed already?

I sat up and ran my hands through my hair. "One second," I muttered, but the phone was impatient. I got off the bed and walked to the phone, slightly dizzy from such a rude awakening. I picked up the receiver and leaned against the wall. I took in a deep breath, trying to make my voice sound as fresh and well-rested as possible.

"Hello?"

"Prudence, it's George. Can we talk?"

That woke me right up. I clutched the receiver tighter. His voice sounded distant, broken. "George...Are you... What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing," he quickly brushed off the question, trying and failing not to worry me, "I just wanted to talk. But, erm, if you're busy, then nevermind-"

"I'm not busy."

"Okay." He sucked in a shaky breath. Then silence.

"George? Are you there?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Silence.

"Pru?"

"Yes?"

"I think I'm going insane."

PAUL

I stared at Ringo, who was staring at Yoko, who was staring at John, who was staring at his food. The rest of the crew had drawn back, unwilling to be in the midst of whatever was about to unfold.