Lonely People

Help!

The first movie went over well. A Hard Day's Night was both a hit with the fans and The Beatles themselves. It was fun to film, it fit their personalities, and it provided a perfect snapshot into their daily lives. Overall, that movie was probably the best they ever made, at least, of the movies they were actually in.

Help! was a completely different story. The script was horrible. It involved Ringo being chased all over the world by some religious cult that wanted to sacrifice him all because he wore some special ring. The lads absolutely hated it, but that wasn't surprising. They had been on a downhill drive recently, what with all the touring and stress of a new movie they didn't want to film in the first place. The sickness had just begun to set in and this movie just added medicine that didn't work. 

I had to go on set a few hours before Molly and Linda. They got extra sleep while I sluggishly made my way around Twickenham Studios. Ellen pulled me into various rooms while telling Prudence what to write down. I never heard anything, and nearly fell asleep on my feet several times. When we finally made it into the dressing room, I fell onto the couch and groaned.

"I'm bloody knackered," I muttered.

Ellen sighed, "You wouldn't be if you actually slept at night."

"I tried, Elly, honest," I replied, "Insomnia's a bitch."

Prudence began to write that down before I glared at her. She turned a ripe shade of red and lowered her pen. Ellen glanced between us and uttered one of her world famous sighs.

"Prudence, remind me later to find a cure for insomnia," Ellen told her assistant.

Prudence dutifully wrote this down. I glared at her once again, but she chose to ignore me. Ellen moved to sit on the armchair next to the couch. She leaned forward to smile at me, "I'm proud of you, Amelia."

"For what? Not sleeping?"

"For doing this," Ellen replied, "I know you do not like being in movies, but you didn't argue, and I'm proud of you for that."

I looked up at her and smiled, "Thanks, Elly, I live for your approval."

The door opened and one of Richard Lester's stagehands poked his head in. He whispered something to Prudence before quickly vanishing. The young girl turned to us and smiled, "Amelia is needed on set."

"If he gives me that bloody magazine I'm gone," I said, standing up.

Ellen shook her head, "I reviewed the script, he won't. I made sure of it."

"Elly, you're a saint."

She simply smiled. Ellen led both Prudence and I onto the set. To get there, we had to exit the main studio building and wander down a block from the lot to a row of houses. Each house looked exactly the same, except for the four houses with brightly colored doors. Films crews went in and out of those doors, all mumbling to themselves and doing their best to carry the equipment.

The four houses were connected to seem like one. Even on the inside, the rooms had been extended by four to make one large room. Each section was a different color for a different lad. Right in the middle, in the section which I instantly identified as John's, was a couch, two chairs, and a group of lads I knew all too well.

"Mel, you look a state," John commented.

He sat in the armchair with his guitar across his lap. Ringo was in the bed, which was in a hole in the floor. He grinned up at me, shaking his tambourine. Paul was leaning against the bookshelf with his beloved Hofner while George sat with a woman I didn't know on the couch.