FicWad

Liam and I refused to speak to each other. Or actually, I refused to speak to him. The bastard. I was sick of him nagging on me and he should have been sick of me shouting at him. But he wasn’t.

On my last four days in London, things went wrong. The first thing was hanging around John’s place in the afternoon and watching with a sad heart the hurt and the pain surrounding John and Cynthia’s relationship. John stormed out, and Cynthia was left in tears.

“I’m sorry, Cyn,” I whispered. “I’ll go.”

Cynthia wiped her eyes quickly. “Oh, no, Alice. I’m sorry you had to see that. John’s moody these days.”

I smiled sympathetically. “Shall we go out, then? We can take Julian with us.”

She smiled at that. “I think that’s a good idea.”

We went shopping, of course. Julian got a bit sick of it after a while, so we let him pop into a toy shop and pick whatever he wanted. He got a large toy dinosaur and came home dead chuffed with himself.

Cynthia had the driver drop me off at the hotel. It was gone eight, by then. I had eaten with Cyn and Julian earlier.

Unable to sleep, I sat in my hotel room reading a book about art that I’d purchased today. There were certain styles that I wanted to integrate into the Indica.

At eleven, Liam stumbled into my room, stone cold drunk.

“Liam, how the hell did you get in here?” I snapped, pulling a dressing gown over my nightie.

“You left your room key at my hotel,” he slurred.

I remembered doing that. I also remembered being happy that I made a copy of it.

“Get out.”

Liam’s eyes were glazed over. “Nuh-uh. You...you don’t love me.”

“Not at this moment,” I growled.

"No! You never loved me,” Liam shouted.

I winced. “Go away, Liam. I can’t stand you drunk.”

Liam was coming closer to me, actually. He was getting angrier.

“You’re in love with your stupid Beetles. If I was a Beetle would you love me?”

I snorted. “You could never be a Beatle, Liam. You have no musical talent whatsoever.”

“HEY!” he slapped me across the face, sending me reeling.

I felt tears prickling in my eyes. “You’re right,” I sniffed. “I’m sick of you, Liam. You’re not the man I want to be with.”

I grabbed my bag and left him standing in my hotel room. The tears were flowing freely now. I escaped onto the dark streets of London and hurried towards a phone box.

My hand was shaking as I shoved the coins in.

“Hello?” his voice was strangely comforting.

“Paul,” I sobbed. “It’s Alice. I need you to pick me up.”

He sounded concerned already. “Why are you crying?” he demanded.

“Please,” I begged. “I’m in front of my hotel. I just need to get the hell out of here.”

Paul drove me to his house in silence. I had stopped the crying by the time he had come, and I too was quiet on the drive. I didn’t bother to feel the awkwardness.

He waited until I was inside and sipping tea to talk.

“So what happened?” he asked quietly.

I gulped down some more tea and told him everything. Everything about Liam and his oods, my so-called love for him, the moments where I felt no one in the world cared, and the days where I thought Liam was my only string tying me to people. I told him that Liam hit me.

“Never,” Paul gaped at me, his eyes lovely and sympathetic.

I nodded, sucking in a breath. “Yes, it was terrible.”

“What a bastard! I should set John on him. Liam wouldn’t come out alive!” Paul exclaimed enthusiastically.

I winced. “He was drunk, Paul.”

“What’s your point?”

“Well,” I stated fairly. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

Paul frowned. “Don’t make excuses for him, Alice.”

I sighed deeply, my eyes closing for longer periods of time. He just sat there, looking at me carefully. I watched with tired eyes as Paul morphed into Liam, who shifted into John. Paul was back, and he looked so sad.

“Paul...” I trailed off.

I remember hearing him say something.

And then I was asleep.
~
“What’s she doin’ here, Paul?” John’s annoyed voice was demanding.

“She and that bloke Liam she was with...they had a bit of a spat,” Paul’s voice was calm as he explained things to his friend.

John snorted. “Good. He was a fucking idiot. I don’t know what the hell she was doin’ with ‘im.”

“She’s really torn up, John.”

John’s anger went down a few shades. “Ah. Well, she loved ‘im didn’t she?”

“He hit her. Look at her cheek, it’s purple.”

There were footsteps and then more swearing. “The fucking bastard! I’ll kill ‘im!”

I felt a rush of affection for John at that moment. There were fingers barely touching my cheeks and I winced and opened my eyes.

“What’re you looking at? I’m not dead,” I snapped weakly, pulling the covers over me.

John laughed at me. “Well, half of your face is getting pretty close, love.”

I peeked out from under the covers. “What are you even doing here, Lennon?”

“Paulie phoned me because he doesn’t remember what to do with a bird he hasn’t slept with yet,” John teased.

Paul made a face. “Are you hungry, Alice?”

I thought about it. “I could go for some toast.”

“Right. Two slices of toast, coming up!” Paul said cheerfully, walking towards the door.

“Put some marmalade on it and cut it into triangles!” I added quickly.

John sat on the bed and I sat up. He suddenly looked very serious.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
I smiled weakly. “I'm fine, John.”

John gave me a long hug and a kiss on the forehead. Then he too went downstairs to make me some tea.

I sat back and basked in the idea that two Beatles were waiting on me hand and foot.
It was certainly a satisfying feeling.

John went home later that day. He wanted to spend time with Julian before the tour. Spring was rapidly ending, as were my days left in England.

Paul and I grew closer than ever, but I resisted any romantic feelings because I knew neither of us was ready for that. And, I was technically still engaged.

“Did you like my Christmas gift, Paul?” I asked curiously one day as we sat around the house, doing nothing in particular.

“The journal, right? You read my mind; I was going to buy one in a few days,” Paul smiled gratefully.

I grinned. “Your brain is so muddled I thought it might come in handy.”

“You need to stop talking to John so much. The two of you are too similar,” Paul grumbled teasingly.

I giggled softly. I only had a couple days left here, and I didn’t really want to get back to the hustle and bustle of New York City.

“I have to go back to the hotel eventually,” I said thoughtfully.

Paul looked worried. “Just stay here, love. It’s only a couple of days.”

“But all of my things are at the hotel,” I protested.

He shook his head. “We’ll go get them, then. I’m coming with you.”

I smiled at him gratefully. “You don’t have to Paul. Besides, you may get trampled.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised.
~

“I’ve got the last few, Paul. You go. I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?” I was gathering the last of my things rather tiredly.

“Yeah, okay. Are you sure?” He looked concerned, and that made his features look nice.

“Yes. Go on, then.”

Paul left and I surveyed the hotel room carefully. My big suitcases were gone. All I had left was my small bag of personal things and a book bag filled with...well, books.

I heard the door open again and I groaned.

“Paul, I’m fine. Go back to the car.” I turned around. “Oh,” I muttered, “you’re not Paul.”

Liam shook his head rather sadly. “No, I’m not.”

I twisted my ring nervously. It had become a habit. “What did you want, Liam?”

“Are you leaving?” he asked curiously, eyeing the room.

I nodded brusquely. “My flight’s tomorrow,” I lied.

Liam shook his head. “I leave in five days. I’ve got some work to do here anyway.”

“Great. Thanks for telling me.”

Liam looked sad, I noticed. Sad and small. “Alice?” his voice cracked.

“Yes?”

“We’ll talk when we’re back at home, won’t we?” Liam asked pathetically.

I nodded before I could stop myself. “Yes we will.”

Liam turned to go. “You know I love you.”

I sighed. “And I love you. But sometimes I wonder if that’s enough, Liam.”

I turned away and I heard him leave rather noisily. I quickly picked up the remaining bags and took the stairs so as to avoid Liam at all costs.

Paul was waiting anxiously by the car. When he saw me, he let out a sigh of relief. “I was just about to send a search party!”

I smiled wryly. “Sorry. I got held up.”

“By what?”

Astutely, I waited until we were both in the taxi and the driver was inching forward to answer Paul’s query.

“Oh, you know. People, the stairs...Liam,” I said the last bit quietly, but Paul had good ears.

“What?” his face grew redder by the second.

I laughed in my head. “Don’t worry. I think he was trying to apologize.”

“I don’t care if the bloody git got down on his knees and cried,” Paul growled.

I smiled at his protectiveness; it was sweet. I patted his shoulder awkwardly.
“He won’t be bothering me or you. He thinks I’m going home tomorrow.”

He relaxed at the sound of that. “That’s good,” he admitted.

“Yes it is,” I insisted. “So you need to calm down. Can we just go?”

Paul looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry I-”

“Let me guess,” I offered, “you don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

He turned away guiltily. I knew it. I ignored Paul for the rest of the drive, and once we got back to his place, he shut himself up in his room. I had had it with him.
~

“Aw, give ‘im a bit of a break,” John offered. “The poor lad’s had his fair share of girl problems.”

I snorted. “I am not causing a girl problem for him, Lennon.”

“Oh yes you are! I know about the kiss!’ John waggled his finger at me.

“Peck,” I protested weakly.

He laughed and linked his arm with mine. We were walking around London during midday, rather inconspicuously of course, so as not to get any fans’ attention.

“So are you still with Mr. Fancy Pants from Down Under?” John asked casually.

I smiled. “Yeah, I am. I still love him."

He turned to look at me seriously. “And you’re happy, yeah?”

My smile faded ever so slightly. “Yes. I’m happy.”

John shook his head knowingly. “Be careful, love. There are too many people who care about you.”

I didn’t question his reasoning, and we kept walking. His strides were long and purposeful. My tiny steps seemed juvenile, and I practically had to jog to keep up.

“I’m going to miss this place,” I sighed remorsefully.

John glanced around the busy town. “I dunno. New York is so much nicer.”

“Yeah, once you get past the smell,” I joked.

He laughed again. “Why don’t we all get together again tonight? A nice go away party.”

“I don’t leave until the day after tomorrow.”

“Exactly. It’ll give you time to recover from the hangover.”

I giggled. “Oh, alright then. Tonight it is.”
~

The party was at George’s place this time. And I was very late. The place smelled like alcohol and weed even as I stood on the threshold. There were tons of people inside: pretty girls, pretty boys, of course.

“Helloooo,” a starry-eyed stranger met me at the door.

“Do I uh...know you?” I asked tentatively.

The girl laughed uproariously. “We’re going to be friends, silly. I’m Jane.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Do I know you?” I repeated.

“Ringo nose me!” She burst into giggles again.

With my superior knowledge, I gathered she was drunk. Sighing audibly, I let her follow me around. After I got a couple of drinks in myself, I loosened up.

“Are you here with your boyfriend?” I asked conversationally.

She smiled lopsidedly. “Yessir!”

“Oh, how lovely!”

Jane’s smile faded. “I suppose. Only he spent the entire evening waiting for another girl to show up to this stupid party.”

I frowned. “Ditch ‘im. That’s what I say.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t.” She had sobered up now. “I never could.”

I cracked a smile. “Why?”

“Because I love him, that’s why.” Jane’s eyes filled with tears all of a sudden. I felt silly just staring at her.

“Well that’s good then,” I coughed awkwardly.

She laughed, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes. “Yes. I suppose. What’s your name, anyhow?”

“Alice.”

Jane nodded blankly. “In Wonderland?”

I rolled my eyes inadvertently. Must everyone make that stupid joke?

“So, why are you at this party anyway?” I asked curiously, slumping onto one of George’s couches with Jane.

“My boyfriend wanted me to.”

I nodded. “I see. Well, I want to say hello to everyone, so I’ll see you later, Jane.”

“Tarra, then!”
~

I felt like a detective, scouring the room for any of the four boys that I was dying to see. I spotted John first, clowning around by the fireplace. I left him alone. George was surrounded by admirers and friends, but he broke free to say hello to me.

“What took you so long?” He asked cheerfully, sticking a ciggie into his mouth.

I shrugged. “I met this girl and she needed a friend.”

“Who was she?”

“Her name was Jane,” I replied.

George’s brown eyes widened. “You don’t think it was Jane Asher?”

My heart jumped. “No, it couldn’t have been.”

George shrugged. “It’s possible, you know. Paul’s around here somewhere.”

I laughed. “She was stone cold drunk.”

George’s face stretched into a smile. “Then it couldn’t have been Jane Asher. She never gets drunk.”

I didn’t spend much time with any of the Beatles for the rest of the night. In fact, there must have been nearly a hundred people in that house and I knew five people. I slipped into one of George’s cleaner guest bedrooms and locked the door. I collapsed onto the bed and fell sound asleep.
~

“Where the fuck is she, George?”

“I don’t know, do I?” the guitarist sounded tired and irritable.

“Well she was at your place, matey, so you had better get looking!” The Beatles’ bassist was hysterical with anger and worry.

“Paul. Listen to me and calm down. Alice is a grown woman; she’s not your daughter-”

“Oh I know that-”

George sighed impatiently. “She’ll show up, mate. I promise.”

I paused outside the door to the kitchen. George hung up the phone and sighed a deep sigh that came from a dreadful hangover and worry for his friend.

Cautiously, yet casually, I stepped into George’s kitchen.

“Have you got any bread, George?” I asked, heading for the fridge.

George looked as if he had just been struck by a lightning bolt.

“Alice! Paul is about to lose his ‘ead in worry! What the hell are you doing here?”

“You had a party here last night.”

George rolled his eyes. “I know, love. I was there.”

“Well, I just crashed in one of your guest rooms,” I explained indifferently.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “With who?”

“No one!” I shouted quickly. “I was on my own.”

George still looked wary, but he shrugged it off.

“You’d better get to Paul’s place, my dear, because I daresay he may actually go barmy this time.”

I frowned. “But I’m hungry!”

“Right. Fine. After brekkie, then. Fancy some bacon?”
~
Tiptoe, tiptoe, I stop...look around. Tiptoe again. Stop again...it went on until I managed to get into Paul’s front garden and then into the gloom of his doorway. It was raining, so there weren’t any girls hanging around his gate today. I swore at myself, because I didn’t have a key of my own. I looked under the mat, but even Paul wasn’t that stupid.

There was a small pot with a single rose in it, just by the mat. I was entranced by its singular beauty and just the seemingly innocent picture it painted. I reached inside the pot and felt the muddy dirt on my fingertips. Then there was the cold feeling of metal. Paul had hidden his key in here.

I shoved the key into the lock and hurriedly went inside. I frowned, realizing I had to go home tomorrow, and this may be the last time I ever walk in that door.

“Paul? Are you here?” I called irritably.

His Majesty popped his head out from the living room and his eyes lit up.

“Alice! My god, I was so worried!”

I let him hug me because I was so cold from the rain. Not because I wanted to hug him.

“You’re all wet,” Paul squealed, jumping away from me.

I laughed. “It’s raining.”

Paul laughed along and sent me upstairs to have a bath. I spent a good thirty minutes mulling over things in the water. It was my last day here, and I was wallowing in the sadness of it all.

By the time I was dressed and downstairs, Paul was talking to someone. A girl, I believe.

“Jane, she’s leaving tomorrow. I just want to make sure she has a nice time...”

“I understand, Paul. Really, I do. But you honestly...I didn’t see you all last night, and now I come and find you fighting in the middle of the road! I...I don’t know what’s wrong with-”

I hurried into the kitchen. My eyes went first to Paul, whose knuckles were bleeding and had a large bruise on his cheek.

“What have you done to your face?” I snapped, sitting down on a chair and twirling a spoon idly between my fingers.

“He’s been fighting, like I said,” the woman I assumed to be Jane replied.

My gaze floated over to her and I gaped. “Jane!”

'She looked confused. “Yes?”

I was flustered now. “But...we met last night! At George’s place for the party.”

Now Jane looked bamboozled. “I wasn’t at a party last night.”

“But I saw you! You were wasted!” I blurted out.

She laughed, her red ringlets shining. “Do I look hung-over to you?”

I looked at Jane Asher properly. She looked positively radiant, her eyes were bright, and her hair was perfect.

I blinked. “Well...that’s strange, but I swear!”

Paul laughed. “Perhaps you had one drink too many, Alice.”

I nodded absently. “Yeah, maybe.”

Paul looked uninterested again and he left to go to the studio for about an hour or so, after promising that today would be the best ever.

I turned on Jane. “You really do look like the girl from last night.”

Her smile faded. “Oh don’t be daft. Of course that was me.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Well you had me fooled. Not to mention Paul.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m an actress, Alice. I’m supposed to be able to fool you.”

I was suddenly in shock of this creature in front of me. She was beautiful, talented, and smart? How could someone ever compete with that?

“But why not just tell him that we met at the party last night? And why tell me you were there?” I asked curiously.

Jane appraised me with a critical glance. “There’s something about you, Alice. You’re very trustworthy.”

I smiled proudly. “Thank you.”

She sat down again and I joined her. “Yesterday I had a day off from filming the movie,” Jane explained, “and I wanted to spend time with Paul. He claimed he was too busy to do anything.
I suspected he was lying so I went to George’s place and watched him enjoy himself. Then I got wasted.” She added.

I grinned despite myself. “You could have just surprised him.”

Jane shook her head. “He spent the whole time waiting for you, you know!”

I laughed. “We’re just good friends, Jane, and I leave tomorrow morning. I’m no threat to you, I promise.”

“I love him,” she sighed rather angrily.

I nodded. “That’s nothing to be upset about.”

“Loving Paul seems like a curse more than a gift,” Jane said darkly.

I felt immensely sympathetic for this glamourous actress.

“For one thing,” I remarked. “You don’t look hung over at all!”

Jane snorted in a rather unladylike manner. “It’s make-up, darling.”

I felt childish and stupid as she glared at me. I tried desperately to lighten the mood.

“What sort of acting are you into, then?”

This sparked something in Jane and she talked and talked about her acting. I nodded and commented at the right parts, but my body was sleeping. I perked up when she started talking about this afternoon- how she had finished a rehearsal and then spotted Paul having a go at a man in the middle of London.

“What did you do?” I asked in awe.

Jane was very animated in her story-telling. “Well, I ran over and dragged him away, of course. His opponent was a lot more battered than I would have expected. I suppose Paul learned how to fight back in Hamburg!”

“Do you know who he was fighting?” I inquired earnestly.

“No, I don’t, actually.” Jane furrowed her brow. “He was blonde, though. And he had a marvellous Aussie accent.”
I grew pale. “I think I’m going to stop by at John’s place, okay?”

Jane looked confused at my sudden change in mood. “Yes, alright. I’ll see you later.”
Naturally, I took a cab to Abbey Road instead. I was fidgety on the ride there, my blood boiling with anger and an emotion that I couldn’t identify at first.

The secretary greeted me with a haphazard wave of the hand. I stalked off to where I knew the boys would be putting the finishing touches on Help!

“Paul,” I seethed once I saw them. “Can I have a word?”

“Mee-oww!’ John teased, entertaining his fellow band mates.

Paul smothered his smile and followed me into the hall wordlessly, looking guilty already.

“I know who you were fighting with,” I accused simply.

Paul paled slightly. “You-you do?”

“Yup. Do you want to explain yourself?” I folded my arms across my chest.

He pulled his hands down his cheeks, stretching out his features. “I don’t think...well, you may not...take it so well.”

“Try me.”

Paul was choosing his words carefully. “I saw Liam...with another girl.”

I froze. “I don’t believe you.”

He sighed tiredly. “I knew you wouldn’t. But I gave him a couple swings to tell him what I thought of him. He’s a good fighter; you should be proud,” he snapped bitterly.

“How am I supposed to know you’re not lying to me? You hated Liam the minute you saw him,” I challenged.

Paul frowned. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Alice.”

I breathed in deeply. “Well, thanks for...defending my honour, then.”

Paul glanced up and flashed me a smile. I felt a desperate need to touch him, so I enveloped him in a hug. He was surprised, but he hugged me back. That’s one thing I liked about Paul: he was there for you; no questions asked.