Anna (Go To Him) ~The Beatles fan fiction~

~ Chapter Ten ~

"We have been hearing a lot about your friend recently, but no one really knows who she is. So, really, my question is, who is this woman?" the reporter, who's face I couldn't see as he was standing at the far end of the room, was shouting loudly across the crowd of journalists. I could hear mur-mur of agreement, echoing from the walls of the wide room as their recording devices were held highly in the air. Trying their best to receive a good quality material, which I doubt that they will get anyway due to the amount of noise that they were making. Bright flashes were blinding my eyes and I felt like a deer in the headlights, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide and that scared me.There was no escape, we all were seated on a small couch, my body was squished in-between Paul and John. Both of them didn't look phased by the attention they were receiving from the journalists. Suddenly, the thought of the interview, for the sake of clearing my name, flew out of the window and I desperately wanted to leave. To leave the crows of journalists who were anxiously waiting for me to speak.

I felt something, or rather someone, nudge my ribs but I was too consumed by my own thoughts, and the horrible stage fright, that I barely noticed the expectant faces of my four newly found friends. I guess, they realised that I wasn't really up for speaking, at that very moment, and I faintly heard Paul's voice replying to the question, feeding the greedy reporters with the answers they wanted to hear.

"Sorry, she's not used to the cameras." a light laughter was shared between the people in the crowd, but it sounded fake, like they didn't really care. Why would they? They are here just for business. "Our friend, here." Paul's pointy elbow sent another nudge to my ribs. If it was any other day I would have teased him about his pointy elbow, but right now my mind was wandering, somewhere far away from here, away from the expectant faces of my friends and strangers. They wanted to know me, to know who I was, but I was just plain Anna, nothing special. "Her name is Anna Ward and she is 21." Paul looked at me, a big smile was gracing my lips as I nodded dazedly in agreement.

My eyes swept over the crowd and my heart almost stopped when I was met with familiar blue eyes, eyes that I had looked into for so many years. How could I be so stupid? Why was I so surprised? Of course he would be here! He is working for the newspaper, after all! I couldn't turn my eyes away. He smiled, knowingly,and waved as if nothing had happened a few weeks ago, as if didn't break my heart the last time we saw each other. James was here.

With a wink, he raised his hand in the air, and when Paul nodded towards him, I sharply inhaled. Panic took over my mind, I had no idea what to expect.

"James Preston from the local newspaper." His voice carried through the room as a wide grin appeared on his face. "I would like to know, how long have you known Miss Ward and how did you meet?" In some way, I had wished that no one would ask this question. How DID we meet? I can barely remember the night when James cheated on me which turned out to be the night when I met Paul. Quite frankly, I didn't want to remember that night. In my head, I begged for Paul to answer the question. Before the interview, he promised that he will try to avoid the fact that we had met whilst I was drunk and emotionally unstable and, if anything, hell think of something to say to the press.

"I met Anna at a restaurant, a few weeks ago. She was sitting alone and I was finished with my meeting so I decided to talk to her. It turned out that we had a lot in common and we, kind of, became friends in that short time. After that I decided that she should meet the lads and here we are." John, George and Ringo nodded in agreement with wide grins on their faces. I felt my nerves slowly disappearing, my heart slowing down it's frantic beating within my chest. I was glad that they were here, they were my friends and they, probably, saved me from drowning my life in alcohol. All of them. Paul, George, John and Ringo.

James nodded, his smile still widely spread across his face. "One more question!" he shouted when John was raising his hand, about to gesture for the net person to speak. "Mister McCartney, your fans have witnessed you and Miss Ward sharing affectionate gestures towards each other, in the premises of your hotel. Are you and Miss Ward involved in a romantic relationship?" The room went silent and I felt my cheeks turn crimson. Romantic relationship? There is nothing going on between Paul and I. Yes, I am attracted to Paul but, then again, who isn't? He is a rock star, a well known artist. Girls are lining up just to touch him, just to experience that little friction of contact between the man they admire. "What about Miss Asher? What are her views on this matter?" Suddenly, the mood in the room changed, Paul's body went tense and his face turned stony cold. George, who was sitting in-between Ringo and John, coughed loudly as if to urge Paul to answer the question that was hanging in the air. Who is this woman? Could this be linked to what John said a few days ago? Her, whoever she is, not being here anymore?