4. A guitar.

- Do you ever put that dear thing down? - I said to Paul as we sat in the garden at 20 Forthlin. He was playing his reliable old acoustic, pouting and bobbing his head to each strum.

- No… Not even in the loo, if you must know…- He giggled back, his eyes fixed on his strings as he plucked them relentlessly. He finally looked up at me. -…except maybe, when I’m holding you…-

I smiled and looked down. –You know, if your dad finds out we’re here, we’re both dead.-

- I would’ve thought at this point you’d become a professional truant…- He chuckled.

- Do I look like John Lennon to you?-

- No, you look better.-

- That’s for sure.-

- If you were John, I’d never do THIS!- He threw his guitar to the side and pounced on me, pinning me down on the grass. Smiling, we stared into each other’s eyes before a long makeout session. We were suddenly interrupted by the sound of drums coming from the Police Academy just on the other side of Paul’s fence.

- They’re out early…- He said as he stood and dusted the grass from his school pants.

- Will John be coming over?-

- He’d better…- He turned to me with a wicked grin. –You want to cum along with us?-

-Where to?-

- I’m buying a lekky guitar today!-

My jaw dropped to the floor. –And just where did you find the money for that?-

He grimaced slightly. –Have you noticed the hardened thighs on me lately?-

I laughed. –You’ve taken the bike to school and kept the allowance…-

- Yep.-

- So very much like you…-

- Thanks a million. So will you come or won’t you?-

I shrugged. –I’ll tag along.

Soon after, John showed up and after meeting with Maria on the corner of the Institute (our ties and Blazers safely removed), off we went to meet “a bloke” who was selling a Zenith Lucky 7 guitar for practically peanuts. No sooner did Paul have it in his hand, he began to badger the poor “bloke” for the amp that went along with it. What good was an electric guitar if you had no amp?, he insisted, and finally, the man came out with a small VOX amp he swiftly handed to Paul. It was a small, blue home buddy that looked somewhat like a radio with two entry plugs for guitars. That would do nicely, since John had also gotten his hands on a lovely white and brown Rickenbakker guitar but had nowhere to plug it. Now he did.

So many afternoons were spent with the newly acquired instrument and amplifier plugged into the wall. On one occasion, they got their hands on a tape recorder, a reel tape, and recorded themselves singing in the bathroom upstairs, in front of Paul’s room. It was quite a scene to see the four younglings jamming away in such a cramped up space, simply because they had agreed the acoustics in the bathroom were far better than anywhere else. It all ended up as a joke, with them making a faux pas rendition of “You’ll be mine” that sounded like Tarzan and Jimmy Durante on vocals. Girls usually waited outside and father Jim usually protested when it got too late and the neighbours began to complain. It was during one of these evenings that the bomb fell.

They had been keeping rather quiet about the band’s progress, so I was a bit out of it when they suddenly hired a drummer named Pete Best. Son of Mona best, a local club owner who had allowed the band to play a set or two at her club, Pete was a dashing but somewhat shy figure of a man, with a large pair of rather exotic green eyes and a huge dark Elvis-like quaff. I had no idea they had hired a drummer… and even less of an idea of why they had rushed into it.

I tapped on the door of Number 20 one evening. Jim opened the door, looking fretted but ever so composed. –Aw, Val, my luv!- He grinned and kissed my cheek. –Bit late for you to be circling around…-

- I was in the neighbourhood…

- Yes, you always are these days…

- Is Paul in?

- Ugh…- He shook his head and rubbed his brow with one hand. –Upstairs packing…

- P… packing? - I frowned, suddenly feeling something was not quite right.

Jim looked at me, almost as if he had realised he had just put his foot in his mouth. –Yes… for Hamburg. Please… tell me he told you…

- No…- I must have suddenly paled dangerously, for Jim took a step forward and grabbed me by the elbow.

- Oh, maybe you can talk him out of this foolishness…- He huffed. –He’s off to Germany tomorrow. Says the band will earn one hundred quid a week in a club. He’s promised he’ll go back to school afterward and all, but… I don’t know, there’s something in the whole plan that… - He looked up at me, trailed off and smiled. –He’s upstairs luv. I thought you’d cum to say goodbye, but, well, go on.

Silent and rigid, I stood and began to pace upstairs. I could hear the radio blaring with a rock and roll singer that seemed indistinct through the haze of shock I was cruising. I was met with an undeniably excited Paul McCartney, his back to me and his guitar leaning against the wall while he shoved his precious little clothing (including a newly tailored blazer) into a rigid suitcase.

- You never told me…- I spoke. Startled, he turned, looked at me and his face fell.

- I was going to call you, but…

- But? This has obviously been brewing for a while, and I find out a night before you leave?

Paul swallowed and I could see he was desperately looking for one of his McCartney ways to get off the hook. I shook my head and turned around to walk out.

- No, Val, ‘ang on!

- I’m leaving…- I cried my way downstairs. –I’ll make it easier on you; you don’t have to make up a stupid lie….

- No, no, not a lie!!- He stopped me short of opening the front door. –Please… let me at least explain…

- Your father has explained it all crystal clear. You’re off to Germany to pay for a hundred quid a week. What amazes me is how well you kept it to yourself. Goodnight, Paul.- I moaned as I pushed past him and out the door.

- Wait!

I turned around and saw him standing by the front door. I huffed and a small cloud of steam left my mouth.

- What?

- Will you come tomorrow?

- Tomorrow?

- At the docks… to say goodbye. - He walked to me. –I’m so sorry, luv. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but… I ‘aven’t ‘ad the heart. I’ll only be gone for a month!

- Don’t you think I deserved to know, Paul? - I swallowed and looked down.

Paul sighed and nodded. –Yes, you did. I cocked up. But I was going to tell you, honest!

- Yeah, when? When you were there already? What did you plan, Paul, to send me a nice postcard?

- No no, I was going to tell you tonight. I was going to call you and drop over later on. Please, Val, you’ve got to believe me!

- Germany… of all places…

- You’re sounding like me dad now…- He huffed and took a step back. –Look, it’s a big break for the band!-

I could see his lips move but I was paralysed with fear. My feelings were quite possibly clouding what might have very well been the band’s biggest chance. Paul and I had howled into life under the sound of a siren when the Nazis levelled Liverpool. It hadn’t been long since the war had been won and God only knew what feelings the Germans still held against English folk.

- So… you were planning to tell me tonight when exactly? - I huffed. –It’s almost nine o’clock as it is!

- I could ‘ave climbed up yer pipe and tapped on yer window...- He crooned back. – Go on, Val…-

I took a deep breath and shook my head. –Is there no way I can talk you out of it?

- I don’t think so…

- Ok…- I nodded. – So at what time are you leaving tomorrow?

- In the morning. – He shoved his hands into his pockets and shivered. – Nine AM, John will be ‘ere and we’ll be off…

- Do you have a place to stay?

- Everything’s settled…

- Where are you going to play?

He smiled. –A Rock n’ Roll club called the Indra in a district called the Reeperbahn. Lots of clubs there, I’ve been told. We’ll be fine. Think of it as a vacation.

That much was enough. I nodded and looked down. I wasn’t about to cry then, not in front of Paul or anyone, but I fought extra hard to keep the tears at bay. The sudden memory of a moving truck wheezing before my eyes holding my precious Paul suddenly made it hard for me to swallow saliva. I had a feeling in my gut, a feeling that I’d be losing him a third time. I knew I could not tie him down, not at this point, if ever at all. He had always been a free spirit of sorts. What good would it do to beg and plead? I had a drop of dignity left in me, enough to know when to let go. Something must have shown on my face, because Paul slouched until his eyes were levelled with mine.

- Look, I know what yer thinking…- He cooed. – There won’t be any funny business with the Gerry girls, I promise…

- German girls? – My eyes widened. I had not at all been thinking about them, but now that he had mentioned it…

- Seriously, it’s you I want! - He pulled his hands out of his pockets and cold fingers brushed my hair to the sides. – If I didn’t know any better, I’d ask you to cum along, but I know yer mum would never let it happen… And neither would you, since you’d have to be… you know… sleeping with me…

The memory of the afternoon when I had told him “he wasn’t on” came back and hit me like a shovel on the face. “Why did you have to sound the virgin alarm??” my subconscious was shouting at me. I knew he was right. I also knew that his being right was costing me the love of my life.

- No, I would not...- I agreed with him. – Fine, then. Who else will be going to the docks?

- Cyn, probably. - He scratched the back of his head. –And Maria… you know she’s got hot kecks fer Stu…

- At what time?

- The ferry leaves at ten… We’ll be off by eight…- He side-shrugged. –Perhaps you could be there nine o’clock?

This meant bunking class again. I knew I’d have to call Maria as soon as I got home.

- Ok…

- Mum coming to pick you up, then?

- No…

- Shall I take you?

- Don’t you have to pack?

- Tis early, it can wait…- He swallowed. – Just let me get me coat and we’ll be off.

He hopped off into the house and came out not a minute later. Putting his arm around my shoulders, we walked off to the bus stop. We were both stone silent. In spite of the fact that he was excited about his trip, there was little even he could do to hide his emotions; He wanted me to come.

- What would you do…- I spoke, breaking the silence. -… if I went to Germany later on?-

- What? - His face lit up. –You would?

- I might…

- I’d be the happiest bloke alive!

- I’ll see what I can do.

I wasn’t lying, either. I knew I’d be losing him if he went just like that. And something told me he knew it too. I knew then I’d do anything to keep him mine. And that included defying my mother and the laws of prudishness that reigned during the post-war era.

- Val, can’t you just… cum along tomorrow? - He stepped forward and grabbed my hand. –I mean, your idea is fine and all, but we won’t be there too long so… Might as well be there from the get go, eh? Go on!

- I can’t, Paul. - I shook my head. –Going there later is the best I can offer.-

He swallowed, nodded and stepped back. –Yeh… yer right. It’ll be better. Just let me know when yer coming so we can fix you a spot, eh?

The buss pulled over as I nodded. Paul reached into his pocket looking for two-pence for the bus, but he had none. He looked at me apologetically.

- It’s all right. - I grinned sadly. –I’ll be there at the dock tomorrow nine.

- Promise?

- Yes… have I ever lied to you?

- No, you ‘aven’t.

- Tarrah, then. – I skipped onboard and looked on as Paul stood by, shoving his hands back into his pockets and staring at me as the bus left, just before turning tail back into Forthlin Road.

I didn’t even cry myself to sleep. I simply didn’t sleep at all. The following Morning, Maria came to pick me up as she usually did for the two of us to go to school; only this time we were off to the docks. It was nine sharp when we arrived. Stu and Pete were there, and George was arriving when we did. But no sight of Paul and John. We stood by chatting around when John and Cyn arrived. Still no Paul. Roughly twenty minutes later he bounced in…

- Sorry, ‘ad to take Scampy for a walk first!

- Scampy?

- Me auntie’s dog…

I grinned. –I sort of feared you’d be coming ‘ere with Jim.

- Almost- He chuckled, putting suitcase and Lucky 7 guitar and amp on the floor. –Talked ‘im out of it, you know… “No, dad, you ‘ave to go to work”, blah, blah…

- And he believed your bullshit?

- He always does!- He laughed as he held me to him. –God, I’m going to miss you!

- No you won’t. –I sighed. – You’ll be over there so busy and happy, you’ll forget all about us!

For a few seconds there, he looked legitimately hurt.

- Forget about you?? I’ve remembered you me whole life! How can you bloody go on and say sumthing like tha’?

- I dunno…

- Val…- He took my chin between his index and thumb and perked my face up to meet his stare. –I’m doing all of this fer us. Our island… Remember?

I swallowed hard. Perhaps he had a point, but there was still that horrible something in the pit of my stomach that simply wouldn’t go away.

As time went by, Allan Williams showed up, followed by a black man he called Lord Woodbine and his wife. They had brought along a brown tattered old van which was promptly lifted into the ferry together with the boys’ luggage, amps and instruments. For some reason, my gut instinct became even more aggressive the moment I saw Allan. Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t know then what it was.

Minutes became seconds and before I knew it, it was time for them to board the ferry. Paul Sighed and held me tight. -Now, don’t you worry, ok? We’ll be back in one piece before you know it… Or we’ll see each other sooner, if you do cum to Hamburg!

- Please write!

- Will do… Every day.

- Don’t you dare forget me!

- Never…- He kissed me and held me again. –Never, Val.

After holding onto me for what seemed the shortest hug in the history of hugs he finally let go and rushed into the ferry without even looking back. As I saw him disappear into the ship, I knew I’d be losing him yet again. In spite of his promise, his determination to make it big seemed to fuel a side of him that I just didn’t seem to have any control over. I stood there at the dock, lips pressed tight and holding tears back with unnecessary dignity. I must have looked like I wa about to pass out when Cyn and Maria came to my aid. Cyn placed a hand on my shoulder.

- You ok, luv?

- Not really…- I replied, staring at the door that had swallowed my man.

- They will be back.

- I’m not too sure…

Cyn gave me a strange look, almost questioning whether or not I had a point. Sure, they’d be back… It just would not be them any more. The five boys that left for Germany that day would return as completely different people, and only god knew when that would be.

The ferry honked a loud steam pipe and began to make its journey. Inch by inch and foot by foot, it moved slowly away from the dock. Just as I managed to raise my face, my eyes met Paul’s. He stood at the bow, looking down on us and waving a sad goodbye. The ferry lurched forward and the speechless face locked into mine began to run to the back of the ship, following my eyes. Last thing I heard was his voice as he sang to me.

- We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when… But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…

That undid me. The tears that had so stubbornly clung on to my pride finally relented and slid down my cheeks as I fell to my knees. I desperately wanted to believe what I was hearing, but that little something in my heart told me I’d sooner prepare myself for a big loss.

When I finally looked up again, the boat was gone down the Mersey and had taken my young love with it. Cyn and Maria helped me stand as they both did their best to talk me into going over to The Grapes for a quick cup of tea and to spend the night over at Cyn’s new flat, a flat she shared with some mousy hairdresser student called Dorothy Rhone. Unaware of how close my fears were to home, I accepted. Dot struck me as some sort of forest pixie, small, bubbly and mousy. She didn’t seem too keen of talking and something gave me the impression that my presence had something to do with it. She hardly muttered a word; Later on I learned that she had been Paul’s neighbour and had a serious crush on him, to the point of making friends with his friends to stay around. At that moment, I didn’t make much of it, with Paul in Hamburg. There was no way he could… naa.

After three of the longest weeks of my life, the post finally brought Paul back home to me, or at least his words. He wrote a letter five pages long telling me of all the things he was seeing in Hamburg. The opening part seemed to be thanking the heavens for not having gone with him, since their sleeping quarters were not even a tenth of what they had been promised. He went on to describe his own little space on a bunk atop John’s bed in a room that was so dark and swank and tiny, he could “swing a cat in it, providing the cat has no tail”. The Indra club was apparently a strip club and they were playing sleazy blues music for strippers, only to have a ten minute rock n’ roll set later on. To all of this, they were forced to play some eight hours every night. Naturally, they were always exhausted by the end of the rehearsal. Their employer, Bruno, seemed to Paul like an ex-Gestapo officer with a gimpy leg and a bad eye, whose English was just as bad as their German. His way of telling them they were on was to shout a nasty “Mak Schaw” (make show) at them. They were knackered most of the time. And god bless the English seaman’s mission for their free corn flakes, otherwise they’d starve. But otherwise, he spoke of how incredible the Reeperbahn was and all the clubs and places one could visit… and the people who often came to see them. Amongst them was a chap called Klaus Voorman who was an art student and had for obvious reasons formed a close knit with Stu. He took photographs of the band and bought them a drink every night. I wasn’t at all relieved when he told me that German girls were not much to look at; I knew Paul well enough. And truth be told, he was quite a good looking guy even then; chances were, girls would swoon over him like flies over honey. The though of going over like I said I would suddenly became an imperative; I HAD to go. The idea of some blonde fraulein running her catty fingernails through Paul’s silky black tresses almost made me want to throw up. Why did I suspect he could be lying? I remembered the day we had been walking on Lime Street and he turned to look at a girl, how he had earned himself a solid punch in the stomach. What could I expect? Charming, gentlemanly and gorgeous, to boot!

When I received the second letter, I almost lost my hinges. He spoke of some German beauty of a woman they had met called Astrid. Astrid? He claimed she was the coolest female on that side of the globe, was an artsy fartsy, bohemian sort of photographer who happened to be Klaus’s girlfriend. But the way Paul spoke to her made my stomach turn. She was supposedly blonde, tall, pouty lipped, with short cropped hair combed forward matching Klaus’s and huge, liquid blue eyes. The final straw was when he wrote the line “if it weren’t for you, I’d steal her from him!” When I read it, I instantly burst into tears and damn near threw my old music box out the window. I stopped myself seconds before completing the deed when Brenda stepped inside to borrow my hair curlers.

- What the bloody ‘ell is wrong with you? - She stared, wide-eyed, wondering indeed what I was up to.

- He’s going to cheat on me, the dirty bugger!

- What, Paul??

- No, stupid, the Pope! Yes, Paul! Who else?

- Val…- She side-grinned and took my music box to place it back on its little bedside table. –Where are you coming up with this from? Has he actually met someone else?

- Her name is Astrid. - I said as I handed her the letter. –She’s a fuckin’ kraut!

Brenda read in silence, furrowing her brow, and suddenly stopped with a bout of laughter that almost made me punch her quiet.

- You daft cow! - She giggled. –She’s someone else’s judy!

- But ‘e said ‘e…

- IF you didn’t exist, ‘e’d do it! Do you think if he were about to cheat on you he’d mail you and let you know? What’s the matter with you?

Good question. What was the matter with me?

- Ok, ok…- I said, wiping tears from my cheeks. –Maybe I overreacted…

- And then some…

- But I guess I won’t know until I see fer meself.

Brenda turned her huge brown eyes and her jaw damn near touching the floor.

- Are you out of yer bloody mind? Mum will ‘ave yer liver if you even as much as SUGGEST you want to go to bloody Hamburg!

- I can always say I’m going with Maria…

- Some good that will do! - She turned and closed my bedroom door before turning back to me. –Listen to me, you silly little girl; If you as much as breathe a word of this to mum, she’ll pass out on the floor. She’ll never let you go, you hear? You’ll get yerself in trouble.

I looked at my sister and smiled the best “Paul” smile I had in my collection. I had seen this work when Paul tried to talk his father into something; Recruit the sibling. Mike had told me he had been very supportive of Paul going to Hamburg after his big bro had had a little pep talk with him. Maybe, if I played my cards right, I could do the same with Brenda.

- You could ‘elp us, you know…

- You wha’?

Brenda sneered at me while I continued to talk.

- You could cum with us! Or I could get Maria to cum along! Either way, I’d be chaperoned. Besides, it would only be fer one week! It’s all I can afford, anyway.

- Yer daft, you are…- she shook her head and began to walk out of the room.

- Bren, please, listen! - I stopped her by her arm. –Think about it! One week’s ‘oliday! Away from England! Think of the things we’ll see! I get to see Paul, you get to see the lads play and then we can all go ‘ome happy!

- Yer off yer ‘ead, girl.- She laughed. I noticed, however, that the idea was slowly sinking in. –Besides, what about yer school? And I have to see about Glenn’s offer.

- Offer?

- Aye, offer. – She blushed. –Ok, I’ll tell you first, but promise not to tell mum till it’s all a certainty, ok?

- Ok…

She took a deep breath and bit her lip before speaking. –Glenn has asked us to marry ‘im…

- WHAT??- I laughed and smiled. –That’s bloody great!

- So you can imagine what ‘ell say if I tell ‘im I’ll be off galavanting in Hamburg with me baby sister, can’t you?

- Just say you’ll be me chaperone… He’ll make do. - I grabbed her hands. –Please, Bren! Paul is the world to me, I ‘ave to see things fer me bloody self… please?

Brenda stared at me for a long silent while before speaking again. –And have you contemplated just where we’d be spending the nights, genious?

- I’m sure Paul knows places! If not, we’ll strike it up with this Astrid woman and she’ll let us stay with ‘er!

- I thought you wanted ‘er dead and under the water…- She giggled.

- Oh, sure… right after we sleep in ‘er ‘ome.

Brenda laughed aloud and shook her head from side to side. –You’ll never learn.

- Not unless I see fer meself, Brenny… please???

She gave me a devious little look. She knew I’d never call her Brenny unless I REALLY wanted something that meant the sky, the stars and the universe.

- All right. - She huffed. –I’ll ‘elp you talk mum into it. But if she says no after three tries, then it’s all over. You give it up. Are we clear on that?

- Oh, crystal clear!!- I jumped and hugged my sister’s neck. –I love you, Brenny!

- The plan was schemed in the space of one week. Paul had been gone for nearly a month and a half by now. Brenda had suggested for me to write to him and let him know we were going over so he could figure out some places for us to stay. I lied when I said I had done it; I wanted to surprise him, see if maybe he was indeed being honest with me.

Instead of one week we took two before we finally had a method to approach mum. I was some kind of straight A student so I had nothing to lose. We told her of our plan one evening during tea time. She went white and, as expected, her initial reaction was a blatant no. We continued telling her it was only for one week, we’d be staying with one of Paul’s acquaintances and we’d phone her as soon as we were settled. Again, no. It was one final try that did her in. We told her Brenda’s wedding proposal and that Glenn had agreed to start planning the wedding as soon as we returned from Germany. Big fat lie, we knew it, but all the same, it worked wonders. Mum burst into tears of joy as soon as the word ‘marriage’ was uttered. Brenda had secured a job as a beautician and had arranged the set week off beforehand, overconfident that we’d set off in only a few days. After that, I made a solemn promise I’d be back in school as soon as I got back from Hamburg, no delays. After a long, hesitant silence, she finally caved in. Brenda and I kissed her simultaneously and set off to pack. We were bound to leave two days later and we wanted to be ready.

It was the longest wait ever. And to make it a tad more interesting, I received mail from Paul the morning we were leaving. Brenda had hoped it would include information on how to get to their club and on our lodging facilities, but since I had never really written to him, she almost went black when she noticed he mentioned nothing of the sort. She knew then her sister was a crazed impulsive maniac and that she had agreed to go on a wild goose chase. All I knew were the words Reeperbahn and Indra club. I had no clue what German people did or even less of a clue of the language itself. I just figured that as soon as we reached the port of Hamburg we’d flash down a cab and simply head off to the Reeperbahn. Brenda could not back off now, but as soon as we set foot on the ferry, she tore me to verbal shreds. I remained silent, knowing I had all but fooled my sister, and finally spoke to tell her it would be all right and that she had nothing to worry about. Paul would be surprised and happy to see us and would figure out a plan to set us up somewhere. He had never let me down, ever.

During the ferry ride, Brenda threw up three times, feeling sea sick and tired. I felt a queasy stomach, but little else. To this day I believe it was due in large part to the anxiety of seeing Paul and the possibility of some German bird sitting on his lap, rather than seasickness. The ferry took 14 hours to reach Dover, where we switched ferries and went over to Calais, France. Then there was the train ride from hell. The train hit a cow halfway through and we had to stop for another three hours while they dislodged the poor, broken animal from between the engine and the first wagon. It wasn’t until a day and a half later that we finally reached Hamburg, dirty, tired and in desperate need for clean rooms with a bed and a bath. Nonetheless, we knew that the best we could do to reach our goal was to first find the boys, then see what to do about our lodging. It was simple math: No Beatles, no hostel, period.

It was roughly nine at night when we left the lavatories in the train station after brushing our teeth and trying our best to look a tad presentable. Little did we know what we were about to get into.

We took a taxi from the station. All I could muster was “Reeperbahn, bitte.”

The cabby nodded and turned to us. – English, ja?- He smiled.

I sighed with relief. –You speak English?

- Of course! - He smiled and started the car as he spoke with his thick German accent. – Most people do. Now, where in the Reeperbahn are you going?

- We… we are looking for the Indra club…

He turned to us again with a conspicuous look. – The Indra? Why would you…? Well, it’s none of my business, but I’m not too sure you want to be there…

The thought of Paul gave me drive I had never felt before. –Indra please..

He sighed and turned. -Ich verstehe nicht. -Fine. I will take you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…

The ominous warning made my stomach even queasier more than before. I had had very little sleep and now I felt a bad case of anxiety. And as soon as we reached the infamous Reeperbahn, I knew why. Clubs and more clubs as far as the eye could see. The Reeperbahn was a long strip saturated with all and none of the things parents try their best to warn their children against. I had never before seen a prostitute, now I saw them standing there in all their glory. Drunken sailors and strippers taking their night break inundated the carnivalesque street. During a stop at a red light Brenda and I witnessed in horror as a man brandished a gun and began to fire tear gas into a nightclub, where a fight had apparently been taking place. If I had ever thought of Liverpool as hell on earth, it now paled in comparison. I was terrified. Eighteen years old and naïve to the gill, this was more than my eyes and brain could fathom. And as we went down the road, there were less and less nightclubs and more and more whores and transvestites adorning the streets. Finally, we reached the Indra. And it was until that moment that I understood what the taxi driver had been talking about. There was no sight of The Beatles there, only a flashing elephant shaped neon sign in front of some lowlife porno cinema. We were stared at with scorns as we made our way past the bead curtains into a seedy, beer and piss reeking club where a lady (might I add she was probably no older than I) was performing a striptease to the sound of a gramophone. No Beatles there.

A limping man approached us. - Entschuldigen Sie bitte!

Oh, no…

- Sorry, err…- I pulled out a little piece of paper where I had written small phrases in German. Or better said, one phrase: Do you speak English?

- Sprechen Sie Englisch?

- Ja, ja…- He spat back. –More English. What do you want?

- We, err…- Brienda swallowed a thick lump of saliva. –We are… we…

- We were told a band played here. A Liverpool band. The Beatles.

- Ah, ja, ze Beatles! - He finally smiled. –Not here any more. The other club…

Other club? Paul had never informed me that they had switched clubs at all. I sighed and nodded as I figured out what to say next.

- Are they there right now?

- Ja, ja! - He laughed a loud paternal laugh. – I am sorry. I thought you came here looking for work.

Very funny indeed. Limping, he put his arms around both of us and led us out of the joint, crossing the street and reaching another club, slightly less seedy. It was packed with youngsters dressed in black and fighting to get in. Just then, the music began, with “Blue moon of Ketucky”, a la Beatle. It was so good I didn’t initially think it could be them. Maybe their set was later on at night. But as I looked on to the stage, I saw five emaciated skeletons playing loud rock and roll… One of them was left handed. It was him, my Paul. I could not believe what I was seeing. He looked whiter than a ghost and was acting, well… strange. Like he had been drinking too much coffee. Not just him, but all of them. I was horrified to see them butting their heads together, fighting each other, cussing, spitting, drinking, stomping and nearly frothing and the mouth. At some point, I saw John grab Paul by his leather jacket lapel and throw him backwards, sending him crashing into Stu who would fall all over the place while the two leading men laughed evil cackles. Stu, however, didn’t seem too happy.

Then there she was; I could recognize her from Paul’s descriptions. Astrid, in all her glory, was a finely beautiful girl dressed in black skin-tight leather with tiny crops of blonde hair combed forward over her brow. I immediately felt like a hick. A Liverpool hick. Paul had dreamy eyes when she stood up and I could taste bile. But I was suddenly caught by the image of her reaching over the stage for Stuart, who eagerly bent over for a long, seemingly adoring kiss. Stu! Maria would probably give birth to twin hedgehogs if she saw this, but as far as I was concerned, I was the happiest girl on that side of the world at the time. Or at least the happiest girl in that club.

- I tell the boys you here, ja?- The limping man smiled and pushed his way past the cheering German crowds and the dancing figures.

Just as he reached the stage, George bent over to hear what this guy had to say and immediately shot his eyes back up to search among the crowd. After making eye contact, he smiled and waved while the others nudged him and asked what was going on. He turned to Paul and spoke in his ear. What Brenda and I saw then was completely unexpected. Paul jumped off the stage and lurched forward. He was still plugged in and when the cable reached its length capacity it pulled Paul to the floor, sending him crashing into twin tables. Standing up almost instantly afterwards, he dropped his Lucky 7 on the floor and continued to push past the crowds, eyes wide open and bloodshot.

- VAL!!- He shouted as he threw his now less plump arms around my neck. With strength I didn’t know skeletons could ever possess, he picked me up and spun me around in circles. – Valerie Ann McNaughton!! I knew I’d see you ‘ere soon! God, I’ve missed you! I’ve missed you like bloody madness! ‘Ow are ya, luv? It’s so grand to see you! So grand! So…- He spoke at a rate of three hundred words per second, and for a moment I feared he’d have a heart attack. – Did you get me letters? Did you luv? Why didn’t you write us back, eh? - He took me by the shoulders and shook me vigorously with an overexcited and toothy smile on his face. – You’ve probably dumped me fer sumone better, eh? Na, otherwise why would yous two be ‘ere at all? God, I can’t wait till the lads see this! Val! I’m so happy right now; I feel I’m going to burst!!

From the looks of it, he was probably close to.

- Mak schaw! - shouted the German limping guy.

- McCartney! Get yer bloody arse back on this stage right now, or we’ll ‘ave to cum after ya! - John shouted in a mock German accent. –We’ll throw you into the gas chambers! Make a Paul-soap outta ya! Komm hier!!- John then waved at me. –Allo fraulein!

- Gotta go! Got to finish the set! - Paul said before giving me a strong and almost painful kiss. –See you at one o’clock, luv, we ‘ave a break then. Find a table, or… Go on; sit with Astrid and Klaus over there… ok? See ya!-

And all that while I wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise. I stared aghast as Paul rushed back, picked up his guitar and leaped back on the stage. After jumping on John and horsing around on his back for a few seconds, they began to play again, this time with Paul screeching a dead on impression of Little Richard’s “Long Tall Sally”.

Needless to say, Brenda and I were stupefied. – What the bloody ‘ell was that!?- Brenda asked me in horror.

- Beats me…

- Is ‘e on something?

- Dunno…

The “limping German bloke” approached us and smiled. – Come this way. Table one. I’m Bruno. If you need anything, call me.

So THIS was Bruno Koschmider! The sheer impact of Paul’s reaction (or over-reaction) had clouded my vision. I barely noticed the moment Astrid and Klaus stood up to make room for Brenda and I. Klaus was very talkative and spoke English fluently, but Astrid was a bit quieter and spoke very little of our language, but was still very kind and friendly in her ways. While the boys played to a crowd twice as insane as their on-stage antics, we tried our best to make ourselves understood. We made it clear that we had just arrived, had had a hellish ride (the cow under the train seemed a funny episode to them for some reason) and were dead on our feet, with no place to sleep, to boot. And as I had planned, Astrid instantly smiled and offered us room in her house. It was a ten minute taxi ride away in an area called Altona, where she shared a huge home with her mother. During the chat, I became aware of the fiery stare from two girls on a table behind us and for a moment, I sensed that maybe I had rained on their parade; perhaps they were after Paul and I had blown their chances. I quickly shook off any ideas and tried my best to stay awake for the rest of the show.

As much as I enjoyed the music the boys made, I was way too tired to put up with another minute of it. Their stomping and trashing and thrashing and foul language and loud guitars were a little too much for me at that moment, and from the looks of it, Brenda shared my opinion. So I was grateful when the boys reached their break time at one o’clock in the morning. Paul took a large gulp of Beer from a “communal” jug they had onstage and flew in my direction. It wasn’t long before I noticed that Paul’s euphoric state wasn’t his alone. John’s eyes were bloodshot, George talked so much it was hardly believable it was George, Stuart had a terribly shaky pulse and the drummer Pete hadn’t stopped drumming, tapping his hands on the table.

I soon discovered the reason behind it all: It was called Preludin. A magical little pill that allowed the boys to remain standing during their set and hours afterward, sleeping only about three hours every day. No wonder they looked so darn awful! But for the time being I was tremendously happy to see Paul, and especially to see that Astrid was not some sort of love interest to him. Indeed, Stuart instantly swooned over and the two started necking. I sat for twenty minutes on Paul’s lap before they were due back on stage and Astrid had to leave. We went with her, called home (mum was already in bed) and as soon as I put my head on the pillow I was history.

The next morning, all I could think of was Paul, Paul and Paul. Well, it wasn’t quite morning when I awoke, rather, it was roughly one in the afternoon. As both Brenda and I stirred into an alarmed awakening, Astrid explained as best she could that we had nothing to worry about, since this was more or less the Beatles’ waking time as well. A quick bath, smoke and breakfast later, we were on our way to the Reeperbahn once again, only now in broad daylight. The fleshspots were less fleshy and the neon lights now dwelled in muffled opaqueness. The streets were still busy with passers by and clubs were already cleaning up to reopen later on. As Astrid drove us down the street, I zeroed on one of the two girls I remembered seeing the night before at the Kaiserkeller, a bleach blonde imitation of Brigitte Bardot; the other was a dark skinned brunette with a huge mole on her cheek. Only the brunette was not there. Hookers? Strippers? Who knew? But I suddenly felt sick again.

We arrived at the Kaiserkeller facing the Bambi Kino, where the boys, as I was told, were lodged. Astrid honked her horn repeatedly and some ten seconds later, a flustered John peeked out the window. – Eck, eck, luv, be quiet, yer man is still sleeping!-

- It’s not her man we’re after!!- I shouted with a smile.

- I meant Paul, you daft cow! - He giggled. –He’s errr… Oh…- He looked back. –‘Ang on, he’s coming down…

Paul appeared by the door not twenty seconds later, still tucking in his shirt and looking alarmed.

- Preludin aftermath?

- Aye, maybe that’s it…- He giggled clumsily, squinting and covering his face from the sun. – What are you doing ‘ere?

- What do you mean, what am I doing ‘ere? I’m ‘ere to see you, you stupid get! - I smiled and hugged him. And I smelled him. That was not sweat or aftershave… It was a woman’s perfume.

- No, no, I know, but… we were going to see yous lot later on, like in about an hour…-

I stared at him with disbelief. He could not be… was there another woman in the room?

- Val? – He frowned, instantly sensing my change in moods. –What’s going on?

Without warning I pushed past him. I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it. I had grown up with this boy, I knew him. I thought fiery thoughts of passion and angst as I rallied up the stairs. I could hear Paul shouting for me, hot on my trail and trying to stop me. –Val, don’t! Please wait!!

I finalyy pushed past the big door. There stood John Lennon in his underpants, quickly dressing up to come to his friend’s aid. There on his bed was some chick he’d picked up the night before… and the empty bunk atop his was not empty at all. Sure enough, there was the brunette girl from the Kaiserkeller, the missing member of the infamous duo that had eyed me so venomously the night before.

John’s face fell and I didn’t even dare to look at Paul. The woman smiled at me and said something in German. John instantly told her to shut up (or I can assume he told her to shut up in German) and turned to me with pleading eyes. – Val, things are not the way they seem…

- Oh, don’t worry, John Lennon, your secret is safe with me, I won’t tell Cyn. - I barked at him. –But know this… you don’t deserve her…- I turned to Paul, my eyes already welling with tears. – And I thought I knew you… what did I know!!-

- Val, please…- He begged, trying to grab my shoulders.

- Don’t touch me! - I pushed past him and turned back to look at him halfway down the stairs. – I should never have looked for you again, Paul McCartney!!!! Goodbye! - And I was off, running down the street before Astrid’s and Brenda’s stares.

They caught up with me in their car, with Astrid honking the horn and Brenda already aware of what had happened from my behaviour.

We left for Liverpool later on that night. Astrid agreed to write to us. She had, after all, been very kind and the incident had nothing to do with her. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t love Paul anymore. I loved him to pieces; I just hoped never to see him again. And I wouldn’t… at least not for a whole year.



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