ON THE BUS
Someone tapped the back of my head. I turned around to see two brown eyes peeking at me from the gap between seat and headrest.
'Hello, I'm Paul,' said the man.
'Yes, I know,' I said testily. Was he taking the piss? Did he honestly think I wouldn't know who he was? After all, I had been chosen to be an extra in his film, Magical Mystery Tour. I wasn't a fool.
He looked wounded.
'No need to be like that, just trying to be friendly.'
He slid into the empty seat next to me. His hair was ruffled and he was wearing a white shirt and stripy sweater vest. He grinned at me.
'So who're you, then?'
'Audrey,' I said.
'Nice name. You enjoying the trip?'
'Yeah, I suppose. It's a bit uncomfortable on this bus, mind you.'
'We'll be stopping for lunch soon. You can sit at my table.'
His flirting was very obvious. I turned my attention back to the scenery flitting by the window. Paul started to whistle in an attempt to reignite our conversation.
'Could you please be quiet? I've got a bit of a headache,' I said.
'Oh. Sorry.'
He appeared to be peeved at my disinterest and sulked. I flipped open my book.
'What are you reading?,' he asked, grabbing at the cover. I snatched it away from him.
'Mind your own business!'
A man walking down the aisle leaned over us. It was George Harrison.
'Keep your voice down, love, Paul's just trying to get into your knickers.'
The two men laughed and I made a face.
'Could the two of you just go away and be repulsive somewhere else, please?,' I snapped.
'Oh, someone's in a bad mood,' said George.
'She's a feisty one,' agreed Paul, pinching my arm. I scowled at him.
'Don't patronise me. I'm just minding my own business.'
'Don't you want to talk to us? I mean, we're famous,' said Paul, flexing his arms.
'So?'
Now Paul was bewildered. Why was I being so hostile, he was no doubt wondering. George, too, seemed puzzled. I wasn't interested in being chatted up.
'You're a bit of a cow,' said Paul, returning to his own seat. That stung, I must admit. George took his seat.
'Don't worry about him, he gets angry when girls ignore him,' he said.
'I wasn't worrying about him,' I said, though I was hurt by Paul's words. What an arse. There was no need to call me a cow.
George, thankfully, allowed a comfortable silence to descend, and I gazed out the window once more. Not long later, we pulled into the car park of a restaurant. The bus conductor tapped on his microphone and everyone groaned as it squeaked loudly.
'Oh, sorry, ladies and gents. Right, we're going in here for a fancy meal, so everyone get off.'
I sat in a corner table once we were inside and opened the menu. To my displeasure, Paul sat across from me.
'Sorry I called you a cow, Audrey,' he said.
'Right, yeah,' I muttered, wondering whether to have potato or vegetable soup for starters.
'You don't say much,' he mused.
'Not to you, anyway,' I said.
John Lennon bounded over, wearing a ridiculous hat, and sat next to me.
'Hello, love, who are you?'
'I'm Audrey.'
'Paul's taken a shine to you, I see.'
He winked at me but I remained impassive. John feigned a yawn.
'Bit boring, aren't you, Audrey?'
'Thanks,' I said, deciding to skip the starter. I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.
The two men chatted to one another whilst I scanned the main courses. They were evidently tired of trying to befriend me.
I ate quickly when my smoked salmon arrived. Paul picked at his steak and mushrooms, agog at my pace.
'It's not a race,' he said.
'Yeah,' said John, gravy dribbling down his chin.
'I'd like to go soon,' I said through a mouthful of mashed potato.
'What about dessert?,' said Paul.
'Not hungry enough,' I said. Paul frowned. I sensed he was really losing patience with me, but didn't care.
As soon as the waiter came to take the dessert orders, I crept away from the table and ran outside, slumping onto a wall overlooking the beach. I sighed, my stomach sore from eating too fast. To my chagrin, Paul emerged from the restaurant and sat next to me.
'Is something wrong, Audrey?,' he asked. There was a bit of chocolate ice-cream on his chin. I pointed it out and he wiped the back of his hand across it.
'No,' I said.
'Why are you being so rude? I'm just trying to be nice.'
'Yeah, well, thanks, but I have enough friends.'
'Who said anything about friends?,' he breathed, resting a hand on my thigh. I sprang away, horrified.
'I'm not interested, okay? So just leave me alone, you creep.'
Paul's mouth dropped open and he slunk away. To my surprise, I was shaking, disturbed by his lecherous behaviour. What kind of girl did he think I was?
Back on the bus, no one sat beside me, to my immense relief. I flicked through a magazine, trying not to think about Paul's disastrous seduction attempt. To be honest, there were reasons why I was being so cold. My life hadn't been going so well recently. My mother was disappointed about my aspirations to become an actress.
'Why can't you get a proper job?,' she'd said.
Meanwhile, my younger sister, Flora, had eloped with a much older man and none of us had seen her in months. She'd sent me a postcard from France, claiming to be 'over the moon' with 'darling Fred.' It was sickening.
That night, we stayed in a small hotel on the edge of a cliff. I'd be sharing a room with a girl called Valerie. At eighteen, she was two years younger than me, and very dim-witted.
'Ooh, d'you think any of the band will like my new pink dress?,' she asked me, twirling in front of the mirror in a haze of cheap hairspray and perfume. Paul, in a feeble attempt to make amends for assaulting me, had invited us to drinks in the lobby bar. I had had no choice but to accept, knowing he'd pester me until I did.
I sighed as I zipped up my own dark green dress.
'I'm sure they'll all love it, Valerie. Are you enjoying the trip so far?'
'Oh yes, George smiled at me today! He's so handsome, don't you think?'
I shrugged as I brushed out my hair.
Paul had gotten us a table by the window. He'd dressed up in black trousers and a floral shirt, and was sitting with George. He told me that John and Ringo were attempting to pull two sisters at the other end of the bar.
'Lucky girls,' giggled Valerie, earning a wink from George. Paul ordered us two glasses of white wine.
'You look very pretty, Audrey,' he said.
'Yeah.'
'Oh, lighten up, Audrey,' said Valerie, not taking her eyes of George. The two of them were absorbed in each other for the rest of the night. Paul and I, meanwhile, sat in stony silence. It was agonising and I longed to return to the sanctuary of my hotel room.
'Another drink?,' asked Paul, noting my empty glass.
'Yeah, thanks.'
When he got up, I went to the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, I twisted a lock of hair around my finger. A woman next to me reapplied her lipstick. I recognised her as another extra from the bus. She smiled at me.
'I see you and Paul McCartney are getting on well,' she said, squirting perfume on her neck.
'He made me meet up with him,' I said, rubbing soap into my hands. She chuckled.
'He wouldn't have to try too hard to persuade me, I can tell you! Why do you look so down, love?'
'It's just he keeps flirting with me, but I'm not interested.'
'Why not? He's gorgeous!'
'Yes, but...'
'Ah, so you agree!'
I blushed, to my embarrassment.
'Listen, love, we've only got another week with them. Why don't you relax and enjoy yourself? After all, I'm sure he's not looking for a wife or anything. You can sleep with him and then forget all about it.'
I was taken aback at her bluntness.
'But I'm not like that!'
She sighed.
'Darling, we all say that, but we have needs, just like men. Give the poor man a chance, he looks like he's trying really hard.'
She patted my arm and left. I thought about what she'd said. Should I give him a chance?
More hideous silence followed until George and Valerie left, hand in hand.
'Probably going for a shag,' said Paul, watching their retreating figures. I knew he was right, hoping they wouldn't go to my room. He winked at me and I looked intently at my wine glass.
'Audrey, you can loosen up, you know,' he said, gulping some beer.
'Yeah,' I said.
He took my hand in his.
'I'm not going to hurt you.'
I shook my hand loose and drained my wine.
'I have to go,' I said, ignoring his protestations and fleeing. I ran into the woman from the bathroom in the lobby. To my surprise, she was arm in arm with John, who recognised me.
'Hey, it's that uptight bitch Audrey,' he slurred, raging drunk. The woman scolded him and gave me a sympathetic look.
'Did things not work out with Paul, dear?'
I shook my head, tears burning my eyes at John's words. I know he was drunk, but still, it was painful.
She slapped John on the arm.
'See, you've made her cry, you brute!'
John leaned towards me, his breath reeking of beer.
'So sorry, Audrey. I didn't mean it. I love you,' he said.
'Yeah, thanks, John.'
'I better get him to his room,' said the woman. John squeezed her waist.
'Alright.'
'Look after yourself, Audrey, won't you?'
Back in my bedroom, I slammed the door and dove under the covers, sobbing. What was I going to do? As I expected, Valerie didn't return that night.
The next morning, I headed downstairs for breakfast. Spying Paul and Ringo reading the papers, I darted in the opposite direction to get tea from the table. I saw Valerie enter the dining room alone, looking thunderstruck. She spotted me and sat down.
'Oh Audrey, I fucking hate men,' she spat, fiddling with a napkin.
'What happened?'
'George told me this morning that he's not looking for a serious relationship,' she said, pouting.
'I'm sorry, Valerie. They're all pigs, aren't they?'
'I thought he was different.'
'He's famous. He thinks that gives him the right to treat people like dirt.'
We ordered full English breakfasts, and Valerie wolfed hers down.
'He hasn't affected your appetite, I see,' I said.
'No, I'm bloody starving,' she said, buttering a slice of toast.
In my peripheral vision, I could see Paul stealing glances in my direction. I hastily stuffed the last piece of scrambled egg into my mouth and left the dining room, dashing up the stairs and into my room. Not long later, a knock came at the door.
'Who is it?'
'It's Paul. Can I come in?'
What could I do? I opened the door and he walked in and sat on a stool beside my bed.
'Sorry about last night, Audrey. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable,' I said.
'That's alright. It was rude of me to leave like that. Thanks for the wine.'
'No problem. It wasn't rude. I was being far too pushy and I'm sorry.'
He looked so forlorn that I had to smile.
'You are sweet,' I said.
'I thought you'd never say that.'
He hugged me and left, not knowing that I was pulsating all over.
Things changed drastically in the subsequent days. Paul stopped paying me any attention. I knew it was because I hadn't shown any interest and he wanted to respect me. All well and good, but now I pined after him like a lovesick schoolgirl. Every time I tried to sit next to him on the bus, someone else got there before me. I'd watch him from another seat, my stomach tightening, not able to concentrate on whatever Valerie was saying.
'Audrey, you had her chance,' she snapped eventually, when I wouldn't stop staring at him laughing with some blonde tart.
'I know. I'm such a fool. Why was I such a cow?'
Valerie wasn't interested. Having been thoroughly dumped by George, she had lost all interest in the tour and longed to get home. I had to shoulder this burden alone.
That night, I squeezed my way through the crowded hotel bar and tugged at Paul's elbow. He'd been talking to George and was perturbed by my interruption.
'What do you want, Audrey?'
'Er...,' I mumbled, upset by the impatience in his tone.
'I was in the middle of a conversation with George just there.'
George shot me a kind look, evidently also surprised by Paul's brusqueness.
'I just wanted to say hello.'
'Well, hello. Now, could you leave me alone?'
Hovering perilously close to tears, I pushed past a rotund man behind me and bolted outside, swallowing the salty sea air. I'd messed everything up in a terrible way, and now he hated me. It was awful. I wondered why I'd ever agreed to come on this stupid trip. I kicked a pebble and walked around to the back of the hotel, where John smoked alone.
'Alright, Audrey? Want a ciggie?'
'No, thanks.'
He noticed my gloomy demeanour.
'What's wrong?'
'It's Paul. He hates me.'
'I thought it was the other way around.'
'It was, but now, he hates me, and I really like him.'
'I'm sure he doesn't hate you, Audrey. Have you told him how you feel?'
'No. He might say no.'
'So? It's worth the risk. We're going home in three days, you know.'
'You're right.'
I thanked him and returned to the crowded bar. I found Paul still with George and tapped him on the shoulder. Now, he looked furious.
'Bloody hell, Audrey, can't you leave me alone?'
I shrank away and fled from the bar. I could hear someone running behind me up the stairs to my room.
'Audrey, wait!'
I spun round.
'I'm sorry,' said Paul.
I shook his outstretched hand.
'Friends?,' he said.
'Friends,' I said.
So I returned from the tour on good terms with Paul. I decided against becoming an actress after all, and became a writer. I've just published my third book. I never had children. I've travelled the world a lot since then. I suppose you could say that first trip gave me a thirst for adventure which has never fully been quenched.
