Squeak. Whoosh. Rattle. Thump.
For what seemed the hundredth time that day, George pushed off the wall and lurched across the room, clinging to the battered office chair for dear life.
Squeak. Whoosh. Rattle. Thump.
The chair slowed then bumped against the workbench, jolting to a standstill. George let out a long, drawn out sigh and spun aimlessly in the chair.
He was bored.
It didn't matter if he was in a room full of guitars, he was bored and that was that.
In the time he'd been left here, he'd played guitar, experimented with a drum kit, given up with the drums and switched to an electric keyboard, tinkered with the tools and scraps of wood and metal, dusted and examined every photo on the cork board, and got himself extraordinarily dizzy by whirling around on the office chair. The sandwich Devon left for him had almost come back up after that last event.
He was bored, he missed his mates and he wanted to go home.
George was about to push off across the room again, but was caught off guard and fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
He cocked his head and listened.
He could have sworn he heard the opening bars to one of their songs.
Is that Ticket To Ride? He wondered. If it was, it probably didn't mean anything. No doubt there were hundreds of people on the planet that knew how to play it by now.
Then he heard a steady, jagged, whack-and-jump drum pattern join in, with one slightly delayed beat. He smiled as he recalled Ringo's explanation, accompanied by a shrug. 'It's all in the swing o' the shoulder,' he would say to anyone who asked.
But then George froze as the unmistakable roll of the backwards fill echoed through the shop.
"There ain't nobody else alive who can drum like that!" He whispered. "Ringo."
Scrambling to his feet, he had to stop himself from bursting through the door into the shop. There was no telling who else might be there. Instead, he eased the door open a crack and pressed his face against the frame. He couldn't see anyone, but he could hear Jessie's clear voice ringing through the store.
I think I'm gonna be sad
I think it's today, yeah
The girl that's driving me mad
Is going away, yeah.
Grinning with relief, he slipped through the door and closed it quietly behind him.
Oh, she's got a ticket to ride
She's got a ticket to ride
She's got a ticket to ride
But she don't care.
Jessie was barely a metre away from him now, just on the other side of a tall shelf that was displaying various music accessories. She was playing what was easily recognisable as a slightly simplified version of George's lead guitar, not too far from the original, in fact. Ringo was further away with his back to him, dorky haircut visible under his cap as he tossed his head around. There was an old lady at the front counter watching them, clasping her hands together gleefully - Lucy, he remembered Devon saying.
George just stood there, listening, peering through a rack with capos hanging from it. As the song came to an end, he whispered loudly, "Givin' us a run for our money, eh?"
YOU ARE READING
Yesterday - A Beatles Fanfic
Fanfiction"Lucky seven's what they say. Seven will send your troubles away. It's just a number that doesn't count. My troubles are here to stay. Lucky seven's what they say. Seven will take your worries away. Seven adds to no amount. My worries are here to s...
