by Kal Smagh
I half shouted, "I can’t get out the door. There’s a guard. I need you to distract him so that I can run."
Whap! Whap!
There was a loud rap at the door.
The security guard. Was he coming in? I was probably too loud.
Archie rolled his eyes, "There is no way I will get into the hotel and certainly no sentry is going to be distracted by the likes of me."
He was right.
Whap! Whap!
There was another loud rap on the door.
I climbed up into the windowsill, not looking very lady-like as I hoisted a leg, "Catch me."
His eyes flashed, "You’re crazy!"
With that for the second time on the same day I jumped down, ten feet this time, and instead of landing on garbage I landed on top of Archie.
Whumpf!
Only he didn't crumple. Far from it. His muscled arms and shoulders were less soft than my earlier flight.
But he held me steady and safe.
Looking up at his freckled face I urged, "Come with me."
He set my feet down, "Where are we going?"
"To see the Beatles."
With that he looked over his shoulder and the other redcoats were looking back at him, probably wondering how dumb he was to even consider running off with me.
To my surprise, and everyone looking on, he raised one hand with his five fingers splayed out, and several of them laughed and looked towards their supervisor who was involved in something else.
And then several of them waved back at him to go with me.
I started to tell him that if he was sacked, he didn’t need permission.
Instead, I grabbed his hand, not needing any further permission myself.
Chapter 19: Ms. Mapleton
We entered the service elevator, me in my maid outfit of light green along with my clunky black shoes. Archie in his red coat looking semi-official.
Between us we looked like elopers from our menial labor jobs.
The elevator opened on the sixth floor and we stepped out. There in the hallway was epically-sized Mal Evans and nervous Neil Aspinall who walked off to attend to details.
Mal, a great big, bespectacled, gentle giant, said softly, "Hello Helen. I understand you’re in a spot of trouble."
"Yes."
He sized up Archie, "And who is this? King’s guard?"
"This is Archie. He is helping me."
"Helping you do what?"
"To clear up all this trouble. Can I go in and see the boys?"
He let out a sigh, the air escaping slowly from his lungs, "I’m afraid Brian is in an awful mood. He’s trying to make things better."
He glanced down the long hotel hall, "But it’s a big blow, being dropped from a Royal Command Performance. The boys have been looking forward to this for weeks."
"I know. Please let me in to see them. Please."
He shrugged. What did he have to lose?
I stepped forward and Mal knocked twice on the door and then opened it poking his head in.
I heard him say, "The girl is here, Helen. She wants to speak with you all. Okay to send her in?"
Paul spoke for the group, "Only if she can get us back on the playbill, she got us dropped off of."
I cringed hearing that.
"And if she’s showered," added George.
I had not showered, and right now I didn’t care. I was what I was: a semi-dirty, scuffed up, hell-bent woman.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and pressed forward, Archie right behind me, as Mal pushed the door open.
The intoxicating aroma of warm chocolate chip cookies hit me, wafting over me as I entered their suite, eager Archie in tow at my hip.
#
They were playing cards, seated around a table on four elegant yellow velvet chairs.
The suite was enormous with a living area and what looked to be four different bedrooms and even a kitchenette. The furniture was all first class, very fine, upper crust.
Posh.
Two oversized white china plates of cookies and fresh fruit were on a buffet table, untouched. A gift from either adoring fans or the hotel.
John was sipping from a beer bottle.
In between them on a coffee table were a collection of pound notes in a pile, along with coins, both tarnished and shiny.
George smirked, "You’re probably surprised that Scousers like us would get to be in a room as nice as this. It’s likely costing a pretty penny."
John, looking at his cards, referring to Paul, "Speaking of pretty pennies, it’s your turn before I take everyone’s money."
Paul was surveying his hand, not looking up. He laid down a card and then said, "George."
John observed, "Nice green dress. Miss Mapleton now, I presume? Who is the red coat with you?"
I felt Archie stand up a little higher, basking in John’s attention, "Archie Taylor."
Ringo observed the uniform, "Palace man, eh?"
"Until recently."
Ringo looked at me, "Recently? What’s that all about?"
"Helen’s gotten me been sacked."
"Really?"
"This afternoon."
Ringo said, "Gotten all of us in trouble. Including herself. Right now, Brian is trying to fix things up."
He looked me up and down, then smiled. "You'll bounce back. And green suits you. Do you already have yourself another job?"
George laid down a card, snapping it on the table, "Take that, lads."
The others looked on at George's card, weighing their next move.
Paul teased, "She’s small like a leprechaun. What are they paying you? Whatever it is we’ll pay you half."
My face felt warm. I asked, "Where is Brian?"
George said, "Off in his own room working the phone. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack."
George opened a cellophane bag of crisps and began eating them. He was chomping loudly.
Paul rolled his eyes and he and Ringo both looked at one another, seeing through George's bid to distract their card game with his crunching.
Paul barked, "Don’t start with all the crackling again. It’s annoying."
Chomp, chomp, chomp
George, pushed back, "I’m hungry. And I need salt. These last two shows I’ve been sweating like a dog."
Chomp, chomp, chomp
Ringo sighed, "Just hurry up and finish the whole bag, will you?"
There was a smirk on John’s face, and then he laid down his cards, slapping the tabletop with his palm, "Gin!"
"What?"
"Already?"
They stared at his cards, while John clasped hands behind his head, the king.
I asked, "Which direction is Brian’s room?"
Paul, frowning at this loss and flipping his worthless hand of cards onto the table face up, muttered, "Mal can show you."
I went back out into the hallway following Mal. At the far end of the hall, emerging from a room, was Mr. Jenkins.
I was glad he was far enough away I couldn't smell him.
Mal turned to me, advising in a low voice, "Run."
"What?"
"Run. Now."
Archie and I took off in the opposite direction, got on the service elevator and rode it down to the first floor.
Entering the lobby, I looked in the gift shop and Marjorie Guilford was in there.
I turned to go in, too good an opportunity to pass up.
Archie grabbed me by the arm, "Where are you going? You're in trouble. Need to hide."
"I’m going to talk to the lady who is spoiling the party."
Chapter 20: Lady Guilford
I pulled a gold silk scarf from a rack and tied it around my neck, covering the Mapleton Hotel logo on my chest.
It dressed my ensemble up just enough.
Archie was watching me through the gift shop window, disbelief at my audacity registering in his eyes, his mouth agape.
With more confidence than I felt I walked up to Lady Guilford a
nd put on my bravest face, "Can I help you?"
She glanced at me, "I’m looking for a gift for my special friend."
"You came to the right place. What did you have in mind?" And then I added, "Special occasion?"
"Very special," her lips parting into a beaming smile. "I’ll be singing in the Royal Variety Show tomorrow. And I owe it all to my friend."
Behind the counter, out of her sight, my fists balled up in anger.
"Well, that sounds wonderful." I tried to keep from gritting my teeth. "What did the special friend do for you?"
"Actually," she looked around out into the lobby and then turned back to me, speaking in a half whisper, "He got me in the show. And at the last minute. Can you imagine?"
I didn't have to imagine.
"We're thinking of running away together. After I figure out how to divorce my cad of a husband."
Feigning being impressed, and instead of calling her out as an opportunist, I said, "You are beautiful."
"Thank you. It’s been many years since I’ve been up on stage. I have been practicing and missing the lights and thrill so much."
"Is your husband the producer?" I knew who her husband was, at least sort of, and that the producer of the show was her ally. Her special friend.
She laughed, "Oh no. My husband is an important man. Too important to spend any time thinking about me."
"That’s unfortunate."
She continued, perhaps enjoying the anonymity of speaking with a stranger, "He’s mixed up in his politics all the time. He pays no attention to me at all. So, I’ve decided to go back into show business. And anything I can do to jumpstart my career I will do it."
Really. I hadn’t noticed from her prolonged hug in the theatre. Of course I hadn't.
She pointed at a display case, "Show me these cufflinks."
The case was locked, and I realized I was stuck.
A clerk needed a key to open the jewelry display case. As I was an imposter this was not possible.
Another clerk came over and looked at me strangely, her eyes gazing at my maid's dress, while she was dressed in dark blue with jet black hair. More suited for working with customers.
I needed to fake like I belonged, or be thrown out for the third time in two days.
I pointed, "Please help Lady Guilford. Be a darling and take out those cufflinks."
Uh oh.
At my mentioning her name Lady Guilford stood a little straighter, relishing the attention. Then a wave of curiosity washed across her face.
I knew she was thinking what I was thinking.
We hadn’t been introduced, how did I know her name?
The clerk lady’s mouth fell open, but upon hearing the name and title together she produced her key and opened up the display case pulling out the cuff links. She set them on the counter.
I said, "Thank you. That’ll be all right now."
She took a few steps back and then huffed off into a back room.
Lady Guilford put the cufflinks in her palm and held them up to get them in the overhead light. They gleamed, black onyx and gold.
"They’re wonderful."
I needed to move on from the subject she undoubtedly wanted to ask, "Should we have those delivered to your room?"
"No, I think I will take them from here and deliver them. Personally."
"Ah, you’re staying with us in the hotel."
"My friend is. And that’s where I plan to go next." She looked at me quizzically, "How do you know my name? Have we met?"
I gulped, stammering out, "I...uh."
"Did you serve me breakfast or clean up the room?"
"I don’t think so...as Mapleton staff we like to get to know all of our guests."
She smiled, "The Mapleton is the best."
I worked quickly to get out of there, "Very well. Congratulations on your purchase. Let me get the girl to ring it up."
With that I stepped over to where the clerk had disappeared into the back, saying, "Please come ring up Lady Guilford. I’m going to go on my break."
I walked calmly out the front of the gift shop, heart pounding in my chest, where Archie was standing in the lobby. We disappeared around a corner, away from sight from the gift shop.
Shaking his head, "You are amazing. You are also crazy."
"I’m finding that is a strength."
"Where are we going now?"
"We’re eventually headed to Mr. Andrews' room."
"The producer? He’s staying in the hotel?"
"According to Lady Guilford. So, here’s what I need you to do. I need you to follow Lady Guilford to wherever she goes in the building. And then I will find you."
"Where are you going?"
"Back upstairs to find Brian."
With that I kissed Archie on the cheek and proceeded to the service elevator.
I needed to catch a break. God knows I needed one, especially since I still caught a whiff of garbage smell on me. Why couldn't I have landed in an array of yellow lemons?
George was right.
I should have showered.
Chapter 21: Mr. Foley
Back on the sixth floor I waved to big Mal.
He cautioned, "Careful."
I should have listened to him.
I went down to the end of the hallway and found Brian’s room at the far side. The door was cracked open and I knocked once and then poked my head in.
There was Brian talking with Mr. Jenkins and another older man in a suit. I didn't know him. All three of them turned their heads in unison to look at me.
"Sorry."
I ducked back out.
Mr. Jenkins rushed over to yank the door open from my grip.
Grasping me hard by my upper arm he pulled me inside, eyes black with hate. His breath was awful, worse than garbage.
He hissed, "I’m going to have to keep you in my personal custody."
A look of shock on his face, Brian raised his voice, "Take your hands off her."
"She’s a threat. I’ll call the police upstairs and she will be arrested. You can work it out with the judge."
The other man, older, with close cropped black hair graying at the temples stated calmly, "Release the girl, Jenkins."
Mr. Jenkins reluctantly let loose of my arm and I stood before the three of them.
The man spoke to me, "Young lady, my name is Randall Foley. I am in charge of security for the police across England and the liaison to the private secretary to the Sovereign. Mr. Jenkins is my assistant."
Mr. Jenkins said, "The boss of the Home Office. The Sovereign is the Queen."
I mumbled, "I know that."
Thanks to my mother and father I definitely knew the weightiness of the people in this room.
Mr. Foley continued, "I understand you have made some terrible statements directed at the physical harm of the royal family. We can’t stand for that."
My mouth fell open, "I never said anything of the sort."
Mr. Foley continued, "Because of that, I am sacking The Beatles from the playbill. It is my decision." He turned to Brian, "I will need you to leave the hotel in the morning."
Brian’s face fell, and he struggled to get words out to protest against the authority of the Home Secretary for Security. "There must be some mistake."
Mr. Jenkins spat, "There is no mistake. I found her lurking around in the seating area. Overhearing our security discussions."
I protested, "I was looking at television placements."
"Plausible, not true."
"You saw where I was. That proves it to you."
Mr. Jenkins, with cold eyes, stated, "You can talk about it after you’re arrested. The Beatles are off the playbill. Mr. Epstein please collect your belongings and leave the hotel first thing in the morning."
Then Mr. Jenkins turned to me, "And you will be arrested now."
#
"Wait!" I shouted.
Jenkins spat, "I’ve heard enough."
"I will prove it to you right now."
Brian looked at me, his jaw falling open.
Mr. Jenkins continued, "Do you deny it?"
"No."
"You’ve had your credentials revoked, and you stole another person's credentials. Therefore, you were lying about your identity. Do you deny that?"
"No."
"And you did run from me today all the way across Trafalgar Square and escaped on a boat on the Thames. A garbage boat filled with rubbish. Isn’t that true?"
I paused. My shoulders suddenly felt like I was carrying a heavy load; it was looking bad. Really bad. I murmured, "Yes."
We stood in silence. I was guilty on all counts, and soundly defeated.
Brian intervened, saying softly, "I’ll need her to say goodbye to the Beatles before you take her."
Mr. Jenkins looked hard at Brian then shrugged his shoulders, "I’ll be down in a minute."
With that and Brian's quick head nod towards the door I followed my boss out into the hallway, convicted.
Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Foley followed along. As Brian stepped quickly towards the Beatles room I turned and saw that they were both watching us closely.
Brian rapped on their door and Mal opened up, seeing us both he let us inside. Before the door closed, I saw a Bobbie emerging from the elevator, doubtlessly there to arrest me and take me away to jail.
Mal shut the door with a click.
The Beatles were still playing cards, and looked up as we entered the room.
I guess it was the look on Brian's face, or it could have been my face, but they each quickly read the situation was serious.
They each set their cards face down on the table, glancing warily at one another to make sure there was no cheating, and directed their attention to Brian.
Brian started, "Some bad news. Actually, disastrous news. I am confirming that per the security director from the Home Office we have been removed from the playbill due to concerns for the safety of the royal family."
"Bloody hell."
A growing look of shock registered on their faces.
"Helen will be arrested in a moment and taken to jail for communicating threats against the royal family. I don’t believe it’s true," he looked at me, "however we will have to let a judge determine that outcome."
