�Stay here,� he said over his broad shoulder, before carefully moving out into the hall, putting one hand on his service gun and at the same time reaching for his radio with his other hand.
�The hell we are,� Ringo countered and as smoke floated inside, he disappeared into the hall.
�Ringo! The officer said to-� but before Mal could finish his sentence, both John and George had already joined Ringo.
�Well, bugger it,� Mal muttered to himself, before following the boys into the hallway. He knew Brian would never forgive him if he�d let anything happen to them.
�Paul!� John, George and Ringo called frantically. A strong odour reached their nostrils.
It was difficult to make out anything in the thick smoke, but they could hear voices and coughing and the crackling of police radios. Someone bumped into Ringo and in a brief flash, he thought he could make out a police uniform, so he grabbed the man�s arm. �What�s happened? Have you seen Paul McCartney?�
The tall, burly policeman squinted at him, then looked over Ringo�s shoulder at the other three anxious faces. �You�re the Beatles, aren�t you?� the man asked.
�Yes!� John replied impatiently, �But we can�t find Paul, have you seen him?�
�Gentlemen, I think it�s best if you go back inside and get out of the way so we can do our job without having to worry about your safety,� the policeman said gruffly, holding out an arm to prevent them from going any further.
�Well, for God�s sake, man!� Mal sputtered at the way they were being talked down to.
�Paul!� George shouted, trying � with very little success - to push past the officer�s extended arm. This bloke�s even bigger than Mal! George thought fleetingly.
�Macca, where are ye?� John called, as the large policeman was slowly herding them back to the dressing room. �Fuckin� hell, say something!�
�Sir! It�s all right, I�ve got McCartney here,� the familiar voice of officer Connelly sounded through the dissipating smoke.
Ringo let out a relieved sigh, though he still couldn�t see Paul. �Thank God.�
�Right, gentlemen, you heard the man, everything�s all right and under control. Now, please return to your room, your companion will join you shortly,� the policeman implored.
The three Beatles and Mal finally relented and slowly returned to their dressing room, although they still weren�t convinced their band mate was all right.
A few minutes later, however, proof came in the form of Paul McCartney himself, being ushered inside by the ever-present Connelly.
Paul looked pale and a bit rattled, but otherwise unharmed.
�What the bloody hell happened?� John and Ringo asked simultaneously, followed by George�s: �Are you alright?�
�Yeah,� Paul replied, shakily making his way over to the sofa. �Some idiot set off a firecracker down the hall.�
John, Ringo and George joined him on the sofa as Mal went to find Brian.
�We thought you�d been shot!� Ringo said, the fear still clear in his blue eyes.
�Nah, it just gave me a good scare, is all,� Paul replied, scrubbing his face with his hands. And just about shattered my nerves�
The four of them sat in silence for a moment, trying to gather their wits.
�I need a ciggie,� John suddenly declared, standing up and retrieving his own pack of cigarettes from his room.
�Aye, I think we could all use one,� George said and John nodded, offering the others one of his cigarettes.
They were smoking silently, each lost in their own thoughts, when Brian and Neil came in.
�Are you boys all right?� Brian asked anxiously.
�Oh, yes, we�re fuckin� dandy,� John said, his nerves getting the better of him.
Neil pulled Brian aside. �Maybe we should cancel the concert,� he said quietly. �The boys might be a bit too high-strung to go up there.�
�Don�t be silly,� Brian replied. �The fans are already out there waiting for them, we can�t possibly cancel the show now. And anyway, I think it�s important they do this show, because they need to overcome their fears.�
Neil sighed. �All right.� He made his way over to Paul, who was smoking yet another cigarette.
�Here, lad,� Neil said, draping a light grey jacket over Paul�s shoulders. �Mal told me you ruined yours.�
�Thanks, Neil,� Paul said, too pre-occupied with his own thoughts to ask Neil where he�d got it.
*
An hour later, the four Beatles stood in the wings, waiting for them to be called on stage. Paul was so incredibly nervous that his legs were trembling underneath him and for a moment he thought they weren�t going to support his weight any longer. But thankfully, they did.
His chest felt incredibly tight and he really wished he�d gone to the loo before they left the dressing room, because he was having terrible cramps. His hands were once again shaking and sweaty and he was afraid that if they didn�t get this over with soon, he�d throw up all over the stage.
John looked at the paleness of Paul�s face and gently squeezed his shoulder. �Don�t worry, Paul, it�s only twenty minutes. You can do it.�
Before Paul could reply, the all too familiar roar of the crowd told him they were being called on, and there they went.
With an effort, Paul smiled and waved nervously at the frenzied crowd. He was suddenly grateful their first song was one of John�s, because his throat felt awkwardly restricted and he didn�t think he could keep his voice under control right then anyway.
As they launched into the first song, Paul was glad the crowd was making so much noise, because his fingers were stiff and refused to comply with what his brain was telling them to do.
He felt, more than saw, George and John glance at him repeatedly as his fingers struck the wrong cord for the umpteenth time. He knew they weren�t accusing him of anything, but that they were worried he wouldn�t be able to make it through the gig.
However, after the first five minutes, Paul felt himself slowly relax and when they were about halfway through their performance, he found himself starting to enjoy the experience again as the adrenaline pumped through his body.
When John and Paul sang the first few lines of �I�m A Loser�, the crowd went even wilder and John smiled and winked at Paul. Paul gave him a wide grin in return.
Watching his band mates from behind, Ringo smiled. All is well again.
Or so he thought�
