PAUL

"Anyone home?"

I shut the door and took off my jacket, placing it in the closet. I looked round the room, into the adjacent hallway. It was empty. Light shone through the wide windows, brightening the space.

I turned to go to the kitchen when I heard a voice yell, "I'm up here, Paul!"

I smiled, and began to walk up the stairs. The click-clack of my shoes echoed through the house.

As I reached the second floor, she walked out of the bedroom, wearing a nice blue sweater I had bought her, and a pair of long bellbottom jeans, with sandals under. Her hair was down, framing her angelic face.

"Heather, Daddy's home!" She shouted down the hallway. Afterwards, she turned to me.

"Hello," she said, a smile on her face.

"Linda," I said warmly. I reached out to her and we hugged. It felt nice, having someone hug you like that.

As she pulled away, Linda began to talk. "You seem in a good mood," she said, turning to go downstairs.

"Today was alright," I replied, following her down. "Not as much bickering as usual."

Linda flashed a sympathetic look before walking off to the living room.

"Well, that's a nice change," she said. "You're probably hungry, right? Well," she continued, leaving no room for an answer; I nodded my head anyway, "there's some food in the refrigerator, you can just heat it up-"

"Wait," I stopped her, grabbing her hand. She turned to me quizzically.

I looked down at her other hand. In it, she was holding her camera.

I let go, and sighed. "Where are you off to now?" I said softly, looking down.

Linda paused, and reached for my hand. I let her take it.

"There's some exhibit I have to photograph," she explained. "It shouldn't take too long."

I turned away, and sagged onto a couch, rubbing my forehead in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Paul," Linda said, standing in front of me. "But you have your job, and I have mine." She planted a kiss on my forehead, and I smiled into my hand.

I looked up. Linda was putting on her coat. I heard footsteps skipping down the stairs.

"Take care of Heather," Linda said. "She has homework to do." She waved and left, closing the door behind her.

Just as soon, Heather ran towards me with a big grin. I smiled as well, and opened my arms. Heather ran into them, and hugged me tight.

"Guess what?" she said excitedly once we pulled apart.

"What?" I asked, happiness bubbling up inside me.

"I drew a picture, it's in my room." Heather grabbed my arm and pulled me upstairs. "You have to see it."

"Alright," I said, chuckling, as we went up the stairs together.

I loved my family. Even with everything crashing down around me, I couldn't stay upset for long under my own roof.

RINGO

"Honey, come and eat," Maureen said from the kitchen.

I sat on the couch, the telly on in front of me. Some politicians were talking about something or other, I didn't care much. I was fiddling with my rings absentmindedly, pulling each one off the finger one by one, then putting them back on.

Zak ran into the room, followed by a toddling Jason.

"'Ello, boys!" I said, sitting up. "What's cooking?"

"Mashed potatoes, Daddy," Zak replied, trying to clamber onto my leg. I hoisted him onto my lap with a hearty laugh, and picked up Jason, a mop of hair messily strewn about his head, soon afterwards.

"Mummy made potatyes," Jason said, reaching for my long hair with his chubby hands.

WIth both my hands full, I had no protection. He took my hair and yanked hard.

"Youch!" I shouted dramatically, and Jason let go, giggling uncontrollably. Zak started laughing, too. A smile flowered on my face.

"Boys!" Mo shouted, her voice slightly irritated.

"Well, ye've 'ad yer fun, now it's a-time to eat!" I said to the kids with a thickened accent, putting them down on the ground. The two hopped on to the kitchen, and I clicked off the telly. Rubbing my hands against my thighs, I stood up, and walked to where my family was.

Zak and Jason sat next to each other, a heaping plate of mashed potatoes and a cup of orange juice at their seats. Maureen walked over to the table with two more plates, and placed them at our settings.

"Mmm. It looks so good, Mo," I said, planting a kiss on her cheek. She smiled, and asked, "Anything to drink?"

"A beer would be nice, thanks," I said, coming over to my seat.

Mo looked at me, her face contorted in worry.

"You drank the last one when you came home, dear," she said, fiddling with her apron.

"Oh," I said, and sat down, looking about the kitchen.

"I...I'm sorry," Maureen said, looking a little nervous. "I would go out and buy more, but the stores are closed, and your fans might attack me or something-"

"Honey, it's alright," I said, silencing her. Her eyes flitted to the ground. I stood up and gave her a hug. "Don't be so upset about it. It's nothing." I kissed her softly on the forehead, and she relaxed.

"Yeah. I know," she answered softly. We let go of each other, and I smiled, despite the sick feeling bubbling in my stomach.

"You know what?" I said, looking at my kids. "I think I'll have a bit of orange juice! How 'bout it, boys!"

Zak and Jason smiled, and Maureen and I sat down. I poured myself some juice, and we tried to ignore the tension that lurked around the table.

"I'll call Mal tomorrow," I said, after taking a spoonful of potatoes. "He'll do some shopping for us."

Mo looked at me, a bit uneasy, and nodded.

I spent the rest of dinner making small talk, and watching the two boys chatter in between their bites, while the sick feeling kept growing inside me.

GEORGE

"It's true, isn't it?" I yelled, storming after her into our bedroom.

"As if it matters to you!" She shouted back.

"Of course it matters!" I walked into the room and stood on the side of the bed. Pattie stood across from me, seething.

"Well?" I said, my voice lowering for a second. "Is it?"

Pattie glared at me. "I can't believe you would accuse me of such a thing."

"The proof's right there, isn't it?" I said, pointing to the letter that lied between us, on the sheets.

"I didn't write that letter, did I!" Pattie exclaimed, grabbing her head with her hands.

"But it's addressed to you!" I picked up the letter, shouting again. "Don't think I don't know what's going on!"

"You don't know what's going on!" She turned around and sat on the bed, her back facing me. Her long, blonde hair fell in waves around her.

I walked around to her side, and shoved the letter in her face. "Then what is going on?" I looked at the letter, then back to Pattie. "Did Clapton not write a love letter to my wife? Did he not dedicate a song to you?"

Pattie looked up at me, glowering. "Yes, he did all that-"

"Then I do know what's going on!" I threw the letter to the ground. "You've been seeing him! My wife and my best friend have been together behind my back!"

Pattie stood up, enraged, and walked away, throwing her hands up. "George, you just don't listen to me!"

"Fine, then! I'm listening!" I sat on the bed, folding my arms. "Do tell!"

Pattie turned to me, her eyes flashing red. "Yes, he did write that letter!" She shouted. "He said he loved me! But I never said it back!" She brushed her hand through her hair. "I love you, George," she said, her voice quieter. "I love you."

I sat, silent. Pattie leaned against the wall.

"You've never been this angry before." She closed her eyes.

I stood up, and walked over to her. "I'm sorry. It's just with everything going on.... there's the band, and recording, and now this letter...." I faded away, and Pattie opened her eyes. They seemed a deeper shade of blue.

I hugged her, and she let me. Tears brimmed in my eyes, but I wiped them away before she could see.

".......How about we just go to bed?" Pattie suggested calmly, and I nodded, letting go of her. The two of us put on our sleeping clothes in silence.

As Pattie lied down, I picked up the letter, which was crumpled up on the ground.

"I'll go throw this away," I said softly, and she nodded.

As I walked down the hall, I reread the letter.

Dear, darling Pattie,

I know it isn't to be. It isn't written in the stars, as they say.

But I don't think so.

God, it kills me to love you. To fall for you. My FRIEND'S wife. My friend's WIFE.

I wish it weren't true.

But it is. It's true. And somewhere in the stars, I see it.

PATTIE AND ERIC.

Us. It is meant to be. It will be, someday.

Listen to Layla. You'll know what I mean.

-E.C.

I ripped the letter into shreds and threw it into the wastebasket.