Movie premiere, MBE and another scare

Paul got out of bed in the middle of the night. I thought maybe Michelle had cried and I hadn’t heard, but upon paying closer attention, I noticed she was sleeping soundly. Instead, I heard a few muffled piano chords and Paul humming.

- Good God, doesn’t this man’s brain ever SLEEP? – I said to myself, and went back to sleep.

The following morning, I was changing Michelle (as Paul had not yet emerged from the music room, where he had been since 3:00 am), when he finally walked up to me.

- Morning…- He smiled and turned to Michelle, making a funny face at her. -Morning, miss! - He bent over and toyed with her a little, and after a smooth kiss on her cheek, he stood back up.

After he cleared a spot on the bed, he sat down and rubbed his forehead, grimacing.

- Headache?

He nodded. –I just don’t understand…

- What?

He looked at me, and walked to the livingroom where he had a guitar all the time. He walked back upstairs. –‘Ere… Listen to this and tell me where you’ve ‘eard it before, will you?

He played around with a few chords and cleared his throat before finally plunging into a full song, with no lyrics in it. I was stunned. It was, by far, the most beautiful melody I had heard him come up with.

After he finished, he held a long stare at me. –Well? Ring a bell?

I held his stare. –Paul, that’s beautiful… - I know, I know! - he put the guitar down and ran a hand through his hair. –I know it’s luvely, I’m just not sure if I’ve ‘eard it before. I hope not, or the "Help!" album will come together with a big lawsuit for plagiarizing! … - He looked at me again. –‘Ave you?

I shook my head. He sighed and pressed his lips together. He then turned to Michelle, now a month old. –What do you think? – He picked his guitar up, and played it again. I finished changing her and heard as Paul played the song one more time.

Once he finished, he looked at the baby again. –So, then Triple? What do you think?

Paul had lovingly been calling her "Triple", mainly because of the three M’s in her name.

- I think it’s yours, Paul…- I smiled. –Or at least I’ve never heard it…

- Yeah…- he grinned and lay back on the bed while I dressed Michelle up. – I’ve ‘ad it in me ‘ead since I was living with Jane, you know… - He sat back up. –I’m still wondering whether or not I should’ ave added it to the movie soundtrack… I think I might, you know… The last track to be added.

- So you’ve had this song for a while now?

- Yeh… woke up one morning, ‘ad it in me ‘ead…Dreamt it, I think…- He fiddled with the guitar. –Do you want to ‘ear the whole thing? You know, with the lyrics and all?

I picked Michelle up and rocked her a little. –Sure! I’d love to!

Paul once again went on to locate the chords, and once he had he began to play, starting with the lyrics.

Yesterday… All my troubles seemed so far away…

Now it looks as though they’re here to stay.

Oh, I believe in yesterday…

Suddenly… I’m not half the man I used to be.

There’s a shadow hanging over me,

For yesterday came suddenly…

Why she had to go, I dunno,she wouldn’t say.

I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play…

dooh dooh dooh dooh dooh to hide away

Oh I believe in yesterday…

Dah… dah… dum, dum dum…

I listened carefully and paid close attention as Paul changed from one chord to the other. He sang in a harmonious voice, sounding just as nostalgic as the song itself.

Once he finished, he looked at me.

- Well?

I was speechless for a few seconds.

- Cat got yer tongue?

I smiled and shook my head. I looked at Michelle, and she was sound asleep. –It’s so… beautiful…- I whispered and signaled with my head to the baby. Paul stood up and looked at her with a smile.

- She looks like she’s fairly peaceful…

- She probably is. – I looked at him. –After hearing that song? It’s beautiful It’s the most beautiful one I’ve heard so far, Paul.

He kept staring at Michelle. –You think it’ll be a hit?

I leaned down and put Michelle back in the crib. As I stood up, I took a long look at Paul. He had gained a small and almost unnoticeable tad of weight. But standing there in shorts, unshaven and his hair a mess, I suddenly got into a cannibalistic mood.

I put my arms around him and began to walk forward, pushing him. He paced back and when the back of his knees hit the bed, he lost balance and he fell on it, with me on top. –You can guarantee it’s a hit, Paul…- I spoke as I fiercely kissed his chest. Not that it bothered him too much. It had been a long time!

- Wait ‘ere! ‘Old, on, ‘old on! - He pushed me away, gasping. –You sure you can do this?

I looked into his eyes. I couldn’t help remembering the way he had looked at me that night in my studio apartment. That had been our second time, and the wildest one. I felt a surge of adrenaline take over me as I once again took my mouth to his ears and nibbled until his earlobes turned red. –God, yeah…

And I did. And it was good!

After that, Paul and I lay in bed. I leaned my head on his chest as he stared at the ceiling, gently scratching my scalp.

- You know what I said to you about a country ‘ouse once? – He spoke

- Uh-huh?

- Yeh… Jane put tha’ idea into me ‘ead once… I’ve been giving it a lot of thought…- He turned to me. –There’s this property being sold in Scotland… It’s luvely. Loads and loads of land, a farm… What do you think? You know, we could get away frum time to time…

I smiled. –It would be cool, yeah… When can we go see it?

Paul thought for a while. - Let’s see… If I want to ‘ave "Yesterday" on the album, it’ll be June 14… Then there’s the tour of Europe, cuming back on the 3rd of July…- He thought some more. –Then there’s the movie premiere on the 29th…- He smiled. –I think I’ve a few days off so we can go take a look at it, between July 4 and the 28th…- He looked at me. –Any plans?

I sighed. –No… Only on July 20th and 21st I have to see Theresa, you know, so I can get back to work…

Paul sighed right then. I rolled over until I was completely on top of him. –I thought you had no problem with me working….

He pouted. –No, not really… It’s just tha’…- He looked down at a golden chain I always wore. –I was sort of hoping you’d cum with me on the tour of Europe, you know…

I rolled back over. –Paul, what about Michelle?

- Can’t we take ‘er?

- She’s only a month old! – I sat up.

Paul leaned on his elbow. –Well, the tour starts on June the 20th! She’ll be almost three months old by then! Won’t she be big enough to travel?

I huffed and got out of bed.

- Come on…

- That’s always the thing, Paul! – I said to him as I slipped into a dressing gown. – I’m always having to see what it is you want. I just wish we could be together, you know! That’s all I want! I have to find a spot to be with my own husband between all this Beatle madness? Isn’t there at least a longer amount of time we could have? I’m fitting in between all your Beatle shit! It’s driving me mad!

Paul stared at me and nodded. –Aw so tha’s it, then! – He stood up and put his hands on his hips. –What is it you want? You want me to bloody give it all up? – He paced back and forth. – I’ve put sweat and blood into The Beatles! It’s what makes me money, and I bloody like me job! Are you asking me to quit it?

- I never said that! – I raised my voice at him.

- I thought you knew what the bloody hell you were getting into! - He screeched. – You wanted a Beatle? You got a Beatle! Hey? It’s what thousands of birds are dying to ‘ave and you think it’s not good enough? You knew what it meant, yet you took the plunge!

I stared at him. –You unmeasurable bastard…- I whispered as I shook my head. –Do you really think that’s it? You think that’s what I wanted? – I raised my voice again. –If I had wanted a Beatle, I would have gone for John, ok? God knows he would have taken me!

Paul froze suddenly. –What?

Oh, shit! Well done, Rita… WELL DONE!

- John would ‘ave what? - He walked to me. –‘As ‘e said it to you?

I took two steps back. Suddenly, he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. –‘AS ‘E MADE A MOVE? - He yelled.

I stuck my arms between his and pushed him away, rougher than I had ever been before. –Don’t touch me! Yes he has, ok? - I screamed back at him. His face fell. I was losing it, but at that precise moment I didn’t really care much. – The day I went into the hospital, he told me everything, ok? He has a HUGE crush on me, but got out of the way to let YOU have me! And he KISSED ME, All right? Your little song, that one I hugged him for… Who do you think that was for? Huh? ASK HIM! Yet, I chose YOU, didn’t I? I chose Paul the ashole, not Paul, the Beatle! All right? YOU PRICK!

I ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I was mad, but I no longer knew if I was mad at him for even thinking I didn’t love him for being just a man, or if I was mad at myself for having opened my big fat mouth.

From the inside of the bathroom I heard Michelle screaming at the top of her lungs. I was also clearly able to distinguish Paul’s mellow voice as he rocked her to sleep.

After about ten minutes, I opened the door and went out. Paul was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at Michelle as she once again slept, although not as peacefully as a few minutes earlier.

I stood silently next to him. I knew he had seen me, but he didn’t even look up. After a long and bothersome silence, he finally spoke. –You luv ‘im, then?

I sighed and sat next to him. –Yes, I do… But nowhere near the way I love you. Can’t you see that? - I touched his shoulder and he turned to look at me as I spoke. – I didn’t marry a Beatle… I couldn’t give a damn if you are a Beatle or not. I…- I looked down as I looked for proper words. –I know what came with the package of being with you, Paul… I’m sorry, I just went mental here… It’s just that, well… I’ve missed you. All the time you were not here, I’ve missed you so, but so much.

He looked at me, his eyes visibly containing real emotions. There he was, Paul McCartney, not showing his real feelings until it was unavoidable. –And what about ‘im, then? You let ‘im kiss you, didn’t you?

I looked down. –Yes, but it meant nothing, I swear. He has Cyn, and…

- You think ‘e gives a crap? - He stood up violently again.

- Paul, please…

- Ferget it…

- Paul…

- NO! - He shouted at me, and I flinched. He then put a sweater and a pair of pants on, and grabbing his loafers, he stormed out of the room. – Don’t wait up. I’ve got a score to settle with Lennon.

I chased him down the stairs. –Paul no! Wait!

I grabbed his arm just before he got into the car, but he pulled away violently. I lost balance and hit the floor. As I looked up at him, he rolled down the window of the car. –I just ‘ope you ‘aven’t tried to shove a possible Lennon baby into me, or I’ll bloody jump into the fuckin’ river…. - And screeching wheels, he drove away.

How could he even begin to think that! Michelle was his and his alone! I had had sexual contact with one person alone, and it had been him all along. I was hurt, furious and saddened.

I stormed into the house, and took Michelle, hushing her to sleep another time. I made a small bag of clothes and left the huge house on Cavendish. Much as I adored Paul, I couldn’t bear to even look at his face. Not that day, not for a long while… However, I should have left at least a note.

I called a taxi and I was taken to my old apartment studio on Marylebone. I stayed there for the entire day, but I figured it would be obvious to Paul where I was at, so I just left at sun set and booked at hotel room. Once in there, I cried and I cried. I HAD missed him, I HADN’T married him for being a Beatle and I HAD had his baby.

I fell asleep, and when I awoke, it was a brand new day. Michelle was bawling out, so I fed her, dressed her up and got my bag ready. I had to talk to Paul. But first I had to go back to the studio apartment, where I had left Michelle’s diaper bag.

As I got off the taxi and went up the stairs, I heard one of the neighbors crying out something about the "horrible violence" in apartment 303. As I got closer, I saw she was talking to a PC. – That’s ‘er! - She pointed at me- She’s the one!

The PC walked up to me. –Morning, mam.

- Yeah? – I sneered. –What is it?

- We would like to have a word with you regarding your home… You live here?

I looked at my door. –Yeah… Well, no, not exactly, but it is my place, yes…

The PC sighed. –Where you here last night, mam?

- For a couple hours…- I held Michelle up. –I spent the night in a hotel, but I left my daughter’s diapers here…- I looked around. –Why? What’s the matter?

The PC sighed and pushed the door open. He had to hold me when I felt my knees go weak. The apartment had been completely trashed, and on the walls were spray paints.

- Oh, my God…- I gasped. –My God…

- You sure you left here before this happened? – He spoke again. –We could file a robbery, you know…

I shook my head. –I wasn’t here…

The PC pulled me to a corner. –We got the report from an alleged Mr. Bernard Webb. He said he’d had a fight with his wife, and that she had probably come to this flat, here with his daughter… But apparently, he was stunned to find this… He’s filed a missing persons report… Are you Mrs. Webb?

I nodded, remembering Paul’s favorite alias. I couldn’t imagine what he must have felt seeing all the mess the place was in. The worst of things must have crossed his mind.

I stepped in and looked around. I felt near panic when one of the walls had another photo of Jesse, slightly older, nailed to it. Underneath was a gratified line. "Where’s my other little girl and her baby?"

Oh, my God. He was in England, and he somehow knew where I lived. And what was worse, he knew about Michelle.

I gasped and asked the police officer to take me home to Cavendish Avenue.

After the police officer opened the gate with my key, the car drove inside. As the car pulled over at the curb of the driveway, the door opened and John and Brian Epstein popped their heads out. Seeing me step out of the car, Brian’s eyes widened. He called to the inside of the house. –Paul! It’s her! She and the baby are here!

Paul rushed out and ran to me. – RITA!!??! MICHELLE!!

He threw his arms around us, crying like a wounded animal. He kissed me and kissed Michelle. –God, I thought ‘ed ‘ad you…- He held on to me. –I thought ‘ed taken you both…. - He took my face between his hands. I had seen Paul cry a couple of times. John probably had as well. But this went beyond anything I had ever expected to see. His eyes were bloodshot from crying probably through the night, and as he stared at me his face was contorted into an expression of both relief and extreme pain at the sheer thought of probably having lost us both. He looked at me, pressing his hands on my face. –I’m so, so, so sorry, luv! I’m so sorry! I was a bastard!!!- He looked at Michelle. –Is she all right?

I let myself hold on to Paul with my other arm. –We’re fine…- I cried with him. –We’re ok, Paul…

- Tha’s it, tha’ settles this…- He gasped. – The both of you are cuming on tour with us.

While Brian spoke to the PC, Paul led me into the house. Once inside, he sat me on the couch and asked John and Cyn to excuse us. He was literally on his knees, kissing my hands and hugging me. –Thank God you’re both fine… God, I was so bloody scared…

I caressed his head. –It’s ok, I’m here…

- Did you see what was on the wall? Did you? - He looked into my eyes.

I nodded. –He’s here, he’s in London. He probably knows I’m here with you right now… - I covered my eyes. –Oh, God, Paul… Michelle…

Paul sat next to me. –As long as I’m ‘ere, if ‘e comes a yard from the ‘ouse, I’ll shoot the bleeder…

We were silent for a few minutes. Finally he looked at me. –What I said yesterday was way out of line. –He bit his lower lip. –I ‘ad a good talk with Lennon, and---

- You didn’t thump him or anything, did you?

Paul chuckled. –No, there was no need…- He looked at me. –When I got there, I started shouting for him to cum out. ‘E did, but even if he could see I was ready for a fight, ‘e just stood there. ‘E said sumthing tha’ made me stop. – He turned to look at me. –‘E said, "Go on, Macca. Give it yer best shot, I won’t hit back." I just stopped, and we took a long walk around ‘is garden, just talking… He called me a stupid, arrogant prick fer ‘aving said all that stuff about Michelle… He told me you loved me too much to… you know…- He took her in his arms and cuddled her. –God, I’m such a bloody twat…- He looked at her. –I’ve always known she’s mine. I was just being a mean old fucker. – He held her up to his face and rubbed her nose with his.

He then turned and looked at me. –John really, really does fancy you. In fact, I think ‘es in luv with you…

I sighed. –Look, Paul, I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have---

- No, luv, you were right. – He sighed. –I don’t want to end up like ‘im…

- Like who?

Like John…- He bit his lip. –I don’t want to lose you… -Paul…

-No, let me…- He began to weep. –I’m scared. I’m bloody scared. I don’t want to wake up longing fer you like John does… I don’t want to go through life without you. I luv you, Rita… I luv you both so much, you can’t begin to imagine… If sumthing ‘appens to you… If I lose you for any reason, I’ll die, so ‘elp me, I’ll bloody die…

Paul was weeping profusely like he had never done before.

I smiled and held on to him. –I’ll go with you, Paul… We’ll tour with you. I don’t want to be alone here with Michelle and that nutcase around. Please…

He nodded and held us both close. After a silence, he cleaned the tear tracks from his cheeks and spoke again. –When I came back ‘ere, and I saw you were gone, I thought you’d gone to the flat… But when I got there and saw tha’…- He closed his eyes. –God, I thought ‘e had found you and taken you both away. I swear, I felt weak in the knees, and I ‘ad to ‘old on to the wall…

- And then you called the police…

- He nodded. –I think they’ll put more effort into it now… Hopefully they won’t just shove our case into the bloody drawer…- He looked me in the eye. –Rita… please don’t do this again, you almost killed me…

I held his stare. –Don’t be such a dick again, then…

He laughed and hugged me. –Ok, we ‘ave a deal then… I’m sorry…

The following week, Sharon arrived to visit me and meet Michelle. Naturally she was charmed by her. She made constant remarks about how much she looked like Paul, especially the nose. Michelle was the kind of baby who loved to be held by anybody, and was always happy to go around from one person to the other. She was a very friendly and open little girl. I was just a bit shocked to see that she had just popped in suddenly. No calls, no previous letters. She was just there. Not that she wasn’t welcome. Lin had told her the address, so it was easy for her to come by and surprise me. I was really pleased to see her there.

On June 10th, Paul called me from some TV station, all giddy. I thought maybe he had had some pot, but when I took the phone from Sharon, I noticed it was more than that.

- You’ll never believe this, luv…- He spoke with a shaky voice. –You’ll never believe where yer husband is going to be at in a couple of days…

I naturally thought of something enormous like "The Guinness Book Of Records" but I held my breath.

- No clue…- I sat down, staring at Sharon, as she played peek-a-boo with Michelle.

- Buckingham bloody Palace!

I went silent for a while, trying to place my thoughts in their correct dimensions. –The Royal Palace? That’s the home of the Queen, isn’t it?

- Too right! – He laughed. –Brian just told us, we’ve been given these… I dunno, medals or sumthing of the sort…

I smiled. –But… What for?

- Fer making a crapload of dosh fer the country! - He laughed. –Member of The British Empire! Like we were really that bloody much. I don’t get it, it’s just daft…

- The MBE? – I grinned. –The lowest condecoration in British nobility…

Paul laughed heartily. –Yeh, I know!! And I wanted to be Sir Paul!!!

I laughed back. –In your dreams, buddy! Anyway, when are you going to get your things?

- I think on the 12th…

- I can just imagine what the fans are gonna be like…

- Yeh, surrounding the Palace gates…- he chuckled. –I’ll bet the Queen will enjoy a bit of the mania…

I was a bit silent for a while. I finally asked when he was coming home, but he said it would still be a while, as Brian was taking them out to celebrate. He told me John was nowhere near happy about the whole MBE thing, and that the moment he saw the telegram, he had tossed it on top of a pile of fan mail and stormed out of the room. Nonetheless, he was going to do the usual stint and pretend he was really pleased with it.

Later that day, when I was watching TV, I saw in the news that some people who had the medal returned it to the Queen in protest. How was it possible that The Mop Haired rockers, The Beatles, were being given such an honor when they hadn’t really gone to fight a war or even made any real effort to represent Britain in any form. Boy, were they wrong. But some minds were truly boggled, including John’s. He was with those who returned their medals. What had he done to go from having his badass rock and roll band of his dreams to this, The Beatles, the lovable Fab Four, MBE? As far as John was concerned, it was a sellout. The only thing that made him look upon it all with a smile was the fact that he was now able to work with his own stuff, and soon enough would count with enough freedom to do as he pleased with his band. Paul, on the other hand, was indulging in the Beatles’ success, happy to be known as a top-class act. Paul had gone from teenage rocker to young teddy boy and then to first class trend-setter and musician, sadly enough, in that order. But Paul loved every minute of it. He loved The Beatles and what they represented. George was fast getting tired of all the hype, however, and Ringo was always happy to go along with anything the three other Fabs chose.

The day the boys went to collect their MBE’s, Paul was not able to leave the bathroom for an hour. It was early, but he had not been able to sleep all night.

I tapped on the bathroom door. –Are you ok, baby?

- I can’t go there… I can’t do this…- Came a mumble from the inside. –I look bad, I feel like crap…

I smiled. –Come on, let ME be the judge of that, huh?

He opened the door and went back to the mirror, combing his hair forward. –God, ‘ad to be today I ‘ave a bad ‘air day, didn’t it?

I laughed out loud and pulled him by the collar of his shirt to fix his tie a little.

– Knock it off, you look gorgeous. – I kissed his cheek. I reached out and took his aftershave. –Use a bit more of this…- I rubbed some on my hands and across his face. –There…- I took him by the shoulders and looked at him from head to toes. –Flawless… You look wonderful. Now get! - I pushed him out of the bathroom. –You’ll be late.

Only a minute later, John’s Rolls Royce was outside the gate, waiting for him. We opened the door and let the car in. Once inside, John stepped out of the car with Brian. I walked Paul over to the vehicle, and smiled at them. – Ok, just take one minute to let me see the Fab Four, will ya?

John was in a visible bad mood, but after one look at me, he turned his head in to call the others out.

- Cum on out, lads… Mrs. Mac wants to look at us.

All four Fabs stood together. Yeah, they looked like a four-headed monster. What made me giggle was to see how they were all just as jittery as Paul was. I thought he would be the worst, but George kept tapping his foot on the floor, John kept pulling his hands in and out of his pockets. Ringo, on the other hand, was very obviously stoned and not giving a damn, but otherwise aware and pretending to be jittery. Brian kept scratching his neck, and I was able to see his famous rash, a rash he developed only in extreme stress situations.

Sharon stepped out to the cobblestone courtyard and took pictures. The only reason they allowed her was because she was a friend. John, not having Cyn around, even winked at her once or twice. Paul and I simply frowned and ignored the flirting.

After wishing him all the luck in the world and reassuring him he would do fine, Paul got into the car with the others and they all left for the Palace, escorted by two other cars filled with gorillas and three motorbike police officers.

Sharon and I ran as fast as we could to the TV set, and watched the live BBC transmission of their arrival. Unfortunately, the condecoration was not to be shown on TV, but I was almost in tears when I saw The Beatles come out of the palace and pose for photographs holding their medals with proud smiles. I felt a bit sorry for John. It seemed like his entire life was a big, loud pretense. I was one of the few people to know him better than what he would show, and he was steadfast growing very unhappy. Riddi, pagliaccio!

Nonetheless, I was invited to go to the celebration afterwards. There was a lot of champagne, and for once I didn’t mind seeing Paul get a bit tipsy. (Actually, he was head-on drunk, but happy). Once at home, I had to help him up the stairs, get him undressed and get him into bed. He was giggling and speaking incomprehensibly, but I couldn’t avoid smiling. Mr. Paul McCartney, MBE!

I checked on Michelle, paid the babysitter and went to bed.

The next morning, I woke and found Paul had woken early. I peeked out the window and found him in the garden, talking to Sharon who was still wearing her rollers. Sharon had Michelle in her arms, and Paul was somewhat very much paying attention at what Sharon was doing. It seemed odd to me, as Paul was not really possessive of her. I opened the window and called out their names. Paul turned. It was blatantly plain to see he had a hangover from hell, and that he had every intention of not bathing, shaving, combing his hair or going out.

I went down into the garden and hugged Paul from the back.

- And how’s Sir Paul this morning?

- Feeling like total shit…- He mumbled a she finally managed to take Michelle away from Sharon. He was wearing the suede jacket I had given him, and he gently placed the baby underneath his jacket. –Tomorrow I ‘ave to go to the studio and get tha’ bloody song done, so I’m taking the day off to do the usual macho crap.

Sharon and I giggled, even if he didn’t. –This means, -I looked at her. –You and I will be coming and going from the kitchen all day while he and John sit there smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, yelling at the TV for Liverpool to score a goal against Man United…

Paul sneered at me. –There’s no game today…

- Just an example…

He smiled. –I will, however, enjoy it if you do cum and go frum the kitchen, fetching beers fer me while I bum miserably around the ‘ouse…

I slapped his butt. –Get lost, Macca. I have to meet Jane today.

Paul sighed and grinned as he turned his face to Michelle. –And how’s she doing?

- She’s great! – I smiled. –I’m not sure if she really means it when she says she has no feelings for you anymore, but…- I cuddled him. –God who could blame her if she does!

With a smart grin, he looked at Sharon. – Eah, get ‘er off me, She’s gonna squash the little one…

I smacked his butt another time, and he turned with a grin to kiss me gently as he paced into the house, talking to Michelle about getting themselves a cup of tea. –I’m ‘aving a cuppa, luv… You want to cum with me while I get it ready? Yeh, you do!

Sharon and I stared at him as he went in through the kitchen door.

- He’s quite the proud daddy, isn’t he? – She smiled. –I mean, look at him. He wasn’t even at peace seeing he wasn’t in control of the girl…

- Yeah, I think he’s happy. – I grinned, and looked at her. –But that’s really odd. Paul has never had a problem with letting people hold Michelle.

- So what do you suppose triggered him to be like this?

I hesitated, but then told her the story about the letters, our huge fight and the wrecked condo. Sharon paid attention to every word I said, almost with a look that would have pierced lead.

- Have you gone to see the police? – She said to me. –Not just the cops, you know, I mean the FEDS, or whatever it is you have here in England…

- Scotland Yard, yes…- I huffed. – They have us filed somewhere.

Sharon looked serious. – So you’re saying he could very well be watching us now… Right?

I nodded and she spoke again. – Are you scared?

I nodded again. –Yeah, but life goes on… We have an electric wire fence all around the house, gorillas here and there, you know… It can’t all be too dangerous. I think he may be a bit paranoid…- I pointed to the direction Paul had left. – Not that I blame him, you know… If something happens to Michelle, I’d probably die myself…

Sharon nodded in silence.

Sharon stayed until June 19, so as to celebrate Paul’s 23rd birthday a day before (June 18th), and on the 20th I was in airplane with the boys, Michelle seated on a baby chair beside me, flying out to France. I was able to see Paul’s Beatle side, the fun loving Mop top, the pot smoking Fab and the musician for the first time. The problem with France (and I had been warned about this) was that most of the audience was made of men. There were a few girls, but instead of the usual high pitched, ear shattering squeaks, they were greeted with a roar that made it scary to venture stage. Same unusual event took place in Lyons the following day. By the time we got to Italy, I chose to stay in the hotel. Michelle had come down with an unusual fever and flu, so it was best to have her safely inside. Fortunately, it didn’t last long enough to stop us from travelling back to France for another show in Nice and then to Madrid, where they played two shows at the infamous Plaza De Toros. It had been a very short tour, as the following day was spent shopping in the streets of Madrid, and then flying home on the July the fifth.

Later on that week we went to Scotland as we had planned, and saw the Farm he had intended to buy. I pictured Michelle, slightly older, chasing a dog or a lamb around the green heather. It was a bit cold and breezy, but it was green all over. There was a lot of peace, as it had taken us one hour through a muddy drive to get to it. It was perfect.

Upon our return, a magazine offered Paul a fortune of money to cover an exclusive report of his family life, something John had rejected. At first, he wasn’t too happy, but after a while he figured it wouldn’t do much harm. The interviewers came in, took pictures of Michelle, and they became the first official photographs of the McCartneys. Naturally, the fan club wanted a copy of them for their monthly issue, and Paul had to agree to another shoot, a smaller one. The mail we received over the thrill of seeing Paul’s daughter and her proud dad playing with her before the cameras was astounding.

For three days, Paul stayed at home and played house-hubby for the first time while I went to meet Theresa. For three days in a row, I worked, modeling again for Vogue, although this time it wasn’t on the cover. I also did a couple of stints for a brassiere company (which didn’t make Paul too happy) as well as a TV add for some makeup brand which now slips my mind. I knew Jane was advertising Breck Shampoo and we were both very excited about being seen on TV. Naturally, the last time I had modeled in Vogue had been on the August, 1964 issue, and now exactly a year later, the August 1965 issue had me all over it as well.

The movie "Help!" premiered on July 29th. I feared leaving Michelle alone with a sitter, so I took her with us to the Pavilion. She was a very well behaved baby most of the time. She dozed off and woke up consistently through the movie, and all I had to do was be sure she was clean and quiet. I’m happy to say I didn’t miss a single part of the film.

I can’t deny that I laughed like crazy for the entire duration of the film. The whole thing was so ludicrous and silly it was hilarious. I especially loved a part where Paul was shrunk to the size of Thumbellina after a needle-full of a shrinking medicine lands on his lap. It seemed so Paul-like when he returned to his normal size to hear him say – Eugh; I’m all sticky! - And pointing at Ringo. –You’re all red!

I loved watching them all stumble about on skis. I loved watching them run around on Salisbury Plain. I thought the concept of their supposed homes was hilarious. Although I knew that Paul’s all white house was far from his real taste in furniture. But if any part had me giggling more than any other, it had to be the fight they have with the eastern sect when they break into their homes. The lines were as witty as their performance. Not professional, just very funny. As for some other lines in the movie, they were so good, I even memorized them on the spot.

George: Your feet! Your feet! You’re on Paul!


John: Get me the home office! ‘Es wrecking my home!


George: Hey, there might be sum insurance

John: I wouldn’t think of such a thing! (Whispering) Find out, hey?


Paul: (seeing Ringo’s about to be injected) You’re sure it’s not mainlining or habit forming?

George: (Stuffing a bar of chewing gum into his mouth) Naa! As long as you don’t swallow it.


George: Hey, it’s a thingie! A fiendish thingie!!


Ringo: They ‘ave to paint me in red before they chop me. It’s a different religion from ours…. I think.


Paul: (Close to chopping Ringo’s finger off) Well, you didn’t miss yer tonsils, did ya?

Ringo: How do you know? No, ‘ow do you know?

Paul: Well…

John: Aw, why don’t you chop it off, Ringo?

Ringo: Look, John, I’ve ‘ad sum great times with this finger. (To Paul) and how would you know I wouldn’t miss it?

Paul: You’re a rat underneath, aren’t ya?

Some lines of the movie went beyond silly, but they seemed hilarious to me, nonetheless.

After the premiere and as we walked out to get into the car, the screaming began, and the paparazzi focused mainly on the McCartneys. Paul held Michelle in one arm and me under the other, while the cameras flashed away. Even the fans seemed to smile when they saw Paul’s face gleaming with pride and joy as he held the little baby girl.

And life went on in the big city of London as Michelle grew bigger each day…

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