5. The bass.

Mum was shocked to see us back from Hamburg so soon. I had struck a deal with Brenda not to tell mum about what happened; I didn’t want her holding any grudges against Paul. Brenda thought I was insane but she respected my decision. As soon as I reached my room, I caught sight of the music box and exploded into tears. I cried myself to sleep for weeks; This was supposed to be the man who would sweep me off my feet and take me away to a little island all our own, and only at eighteen he had already broken my heart. For a long while I put the music box under my bed and tried my best to keep all thoughts of Paul at bay. Sometimes it proved impossible, like when I received a letter from him only a week later. He tried all sorts of apologies and promises, but although I didn’t believe a word, I could not bring myself to burning it; I was bewitched, or cursed, or god only knew what. The thought of him was so confusing now it was almost physically painful. All I could hope for was to be able to forget him one day.

As soon as I recovered from the trip, I threw myself into school. Maria seemed peeved that I no longer wanted to cut class and smoke cigarettes in the Cathedral’s graveyard. I really cared for Maria, but it had been her who had connected me with Lennon, and in turn, Lennon had re-connected me with Paul. I tried my best to once again become the old “college pudding” I originally was, but it was a hard thing to do when teachers and students already perceived me as one of the school’s “rotten apples”. My grades had dropped considerably and I was now number thirteen in class, after being number one for five months in a row. I no longer felt comfortable pulling up my socks, and I had tucked my school skirt in so tight there was no way it could go back to the nun-like original form. In the end I stopped trying and simply dedicated myself to just being me, which was what I was best at. On occasion I still cut school and Maria and I remained best friends.

I received a second letter not long after that. Paul begged me to write back, told me all the funny business was over and that he cried for me every night. Oddly, I even received a letter from John, telling me not to be so hard on his friend who seemed to get wasted beyond hope every night, cried himself to sleep whenever he did sleep and simply didn’t seem to find any woman attractive anymore. John pleaded for me not to tell Cyn what happened, since he didn’t want to share Paul’s fate. He loved Cynthia, but being away from home made them behave in an odd way. They were sorry, he said, very sorry anything had ever happened. I was starting to believe their poppycock when Brenda simply stated “sure, they are sorry… sorry they got caught.” That put me right again. But my suffering didn’t end there…

Near the end of November 1961 I ran into Mike. He seemed happy to see me and was obviously unaware that anything bad had happened. He didn’t know I had been to Hamburg, he didn’t know the state Paul was in, he didn’t know anything. He was on his way home from school when he saw me standing near the bus stop. He ran to me all smiles. I couldn’t help smiling back, swallowing a hard lump in my throat and struggling with my subconscious who yelled for me to run as fast as my heels could take me.

- There she is! - He smiled as he hugged me. – They mystery girl cum back from the dead!

- You could say that. – I grinned back. –How are you, Mike McCartney?

- Just fine, luv. Missing our kid like mad, I’ve no one to fight with.

- I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing. - I smiled, fighting the urge to tell him everything.

- He wrote to us and all, but I dunno…- He shrugged and put his hands in his trouser pockets. –Something seemed off… He wasn’t ‘imself you know. Told us everything was fine, ‘e was eating and the band played every night and all, but it’s not ‘is style you know. He’s usually a tad more talkative.

- Maybe he just missed you lot…

- No, I think it’s you ‘e misses. ‘E said in ‘is letter, “if you see my Val, tell ‘er I luv ‘er and miss ‘er.” Please don’t tell me ‘e’s not written to you.

- And then some…

- So then, what’s gotten into ‘im?

“What’s he gotten himself into, you mean…” I thought as I gratefully saw my bus coming.

- Gotta run, McCartney. Stay in touch. – I kissed him on the cheek and ran for the bus before Mike’s bewildered stare. I waved at him from inside and went to the top deck where I could cry my eyes out in peace. I knew I had stirred something up, but I didn’t care to make any explanations, especially not to Paul’s kid brother. It was the last time I saw a McCartney for ages. I heard from Maria that they had returned from Hamburg in episodes not long after my meeting with Mike; One week saw the return of little George Harrison, the next week it was Paul and Pete and John’s turn came with the next tide. Stuart, much to Maria’s dismay, had stayed behind to marry Astrid. Maria was mad at me for an entire week for not telling her about the existence of Astrid Kircherr, but she forgot about Stu not long after and continued her routinely philandering.

Deep down, I had hoped Paul would show up one day and would climb up my drainpipe with a rose clenched in his teeth, begging for forgiveness and promising the world; but it never happened. I suppose he took the hint very well when he noticed I would not write back. If Maria hadn’t told me, I never would have found out that the reason of his return had nothing to do with me or with any form of nostalgia, but rather as a result of an arson charge and deportation. It seemed a childish prank had gone wrong and the gimpy legged Mr. Koschmider had had them chased down, arrested and deported. As far as Maria was concerned, The Beatles had broken up and would never play another date again. I was sorry to hear about it and my heart still had a huge warm spot for the love of my life, even though I knew it would be best if I didn’t meet him or I would probably pounce and eat his lying, cheating, two-timing liver. I later learned that Dot, little Dot Rhone, Cynthia’s pixie-faced roommate, had finally earned her claim on him. So much for all his suffering and pining over Val McNaughton. The news once again threw me into a fit of rage and depression that lasted god knows how long. Mum noticed I had stopped eating and had lost a pound or two, and noticing Paul’s absence she figured it probably had something to do with him. I still never told her about what had happened in Hamburg. I didn’t want her to hate him; God as my witness, I didn’t hate him myself. I was just so deeply hurt, and now this!

Brenda was fast settling into the role of housewife-to-be; I tagged along with her when she decided she had to buy a house with Glenn, and I felt my heart shrink into a raisin when they both settled for one in Speke. It seemed everything, every moment of my life, was linked to Paul McCartney. We had grown together most of our lives, so it was obviously a little bit hard to disassociate anything from him. The final straw came one day when mum, Brenda and I went to visit an old friend of mum’s. After tea and some dinner, they started to talk about the War and how each one of them had lost a loved one. When they all sang “We’ll meet again”, I all but lost it and I began to cry myself. Mum and her friends figured my reaction had a lot to do with the sad topic of conversation, but Brenda knew better and held my hand under the table. I had to excuse myself and ran up to the loo where I sobbed to my heart’s content. It seemed that the shadow of Paul McCartney would haunt me to the end of my days.

I dwelled between agony and strength until I was finally myself again. It was so hard to even look forward to a new day it almost hurt to see the sun rise every morning. After a few months I was finally able to think of things other than Paul and I started the process for my GCE exams. I wanted an A level in English, hoping to one day make it back to the Institute as an English Teacher. I had good chances, since I had somehow managed to salvage the last trimester of school, free of Paul and his “divine” influence.

1962 was a very happening year for me; February 10, Brenda and Glenn finally married. Glenn had a promising future with a butchery business all his own, even when he would not be the butcher himself, but rather a hired hand that would run the butchery. He had a truck delivery service and would take the best cuts and chops directly to your doorstep. Brenda moving out was a sad episode; she was my sister, but all the more, she was one of my best friends and my number one confidant. I was now stuck at home, and I didn’t dare leave my mother all alone, but things began to happen when, during Brenda’s wedding celebration, she met a guy named Walter who asked her to dance. Walter was the owner of the famous barber shop in Penny Lane and had a nice house near Woolton. He seemed to take an active interest in mum, since soon enough we began to receive flowers and presents delivered at our doorstep. Now with Brenda gone and mother fast falling in love with a local barber, I felt like the loose end of the rope. Sometimes I would visit my sister and she would tell me of all the trials and tribulations of maintaining a household. Mum would come home late at night, slightly drunk and happy to be the one cared for again. Walter, it seemed, treated mum like a queen. While Brenda was a bit dubious about the relationship, I tried my best to encourage mum to go ahead and start a new life. She deserved it, after years of rearing two children and not treating herself to nearly anything save the occasional day out with the girlfriends. So a lot of the times I was left alone at home to do whatever struck my fancy. And one day, my fancy was not to be home. On June 15, there was a parade from the police brigade in Allerton and I seriously felt like seeing it. I knew I’d be dangerously close to the McCartney household, but I had my serious doubts that Paul would be around, let alone meet him. He was probably doing what he did best with Dot. I felt a tad sick and shook off the feeling as I got myself ready. I wore a long, tube skirt and a white sleeveless pullover jersey, tied my hair back tight and tried fishnet nylons for the first time in my life. Nylon was the newest thing in and people swore it was the single most comfortable thing in the planet. No sooner had I put them on I immediately differed from that opinion, but one look in the mirror made me feel so confident I put aside all ideas of discomfort and simply went ahead and left them on. It was June 10, 1962, it was a beautiful hot day, there was not a cloud in the sky and I had not felt this good in a long, long time. School was over and I was through with it at last, I only had one exam due in July, but I wasn’t worried. I had spent most of the previous week getting ready for my A level and had already covered a lot. I still had a whole month, so one day enjoying the clear Liverpool summer would do no harm.

I took the bus to Allerton, a bus I had not ridden in nearly eight months, and sat myself down by a downstairs window. Liverpool was still in a shambles after the war, but it was starting to look better. I had no idea why the bus was going so slowly, but it took only a little while to discover the crowds already walking towards the police academy just behind Forthlin Road. I jumped off, hoped for the best and found a nice spot to see the parade and the canine exhibition. I was amazed at what the dogs could be trained to do and suddenly the idea of buying an Alsatian popped into my head. The thought fizzled when I saw the enormous amount of food the police were carrying for the pooches, however. The next thing I noticed was the height of some of the police men. I toyed with the thought of maybe getting closer and meeting some of them. A police man and a teacher, not a bad match, better off than hooking up with a disloyal musician. A disloyal musician with eyes to kill for, a voice that could melt the ice caps, a smile that had the power to make anybody weak at the knees… a disloyal musician that I had known and loved my entire life. I suddenly found myself to be standing in the eye of the hurricane, in the midst of Liverpudlians minding their own business and the sounds of barking dogs, laughing children and shouting policemen. I looked at my hands and saw them shaking like leafs. I knew I had to get myself something to eat or the memory of the area alone would be the end of me, I’d pass out square on the floor. I rushed as fast as my wobbling legs could take me to a tent where they were serving tea and crumpets and quickly ordered a bun and a cuppa. I fidgeted nervously as I looked around, hoping, for my sake, I wouldn’t run into that cheating but beautiful ex of mine. As fate would have it, it was Cyn I ran into. I had not seen her in ages and we were both pretty happy to see each other. I recovered quickly when she informed me that there was no chance I’d find Paul around, since he and John were playing lunch hours at the Cavern Club on Mathew Street. She told me The Beatles, since their return from Hamburg, had become the most happening group in Liverpool, and the club was constantly jam-packed. They now wore black leather outfits and their entire look had somehow changed a bit. In all the time I had stayed out of touch, so many things had happened; it was hard for me to keep up. Paul was still seeing Dot Rhone, but Cyn told me he still pined for me. That thought alone made my heart skip a beat. But it confirmed what I had seen in Hamburg. Poor Dot; how could he be with her and still have another girl in his head? I didn’t know whether to feel angered of excited, but as I continued listening I once again felt weak at the knees. They had signed a contract with a manager and they had plans for an audition in London. Cyn seemed confident they would soon make it and they’d find what they had long been looking for: success. I hoped for Paul’s sake that they would, since it had been what he had wanted since he was a little boy. I remembered his precise words: “I’ll be rich and famous and I’ll take us both there…” I shook my head. It was gobbledygook. How could I rely on the words a seven-year-old boy had spoken such a long time ago?

Such were my ponderings when Cyn shocked me by asking me if I wanted to join her; She’d be going to see the boys play their lunch gig. I had taken such extreme care in avoiding McCartney, and now I had the chance of simply seeing him again, even after all the anger and sadness he had caused. I later learned that living as a part of Paul’s life was a constant race against other women and uneasy situations… but that he always made it all worth the suffering with one kiss, one word, one smile… So I wasn’t surprised to hear myself suddenly say yes to Cyn’s invitation. My subconscious was horrified and I could feel my very own Jiminy Cricket warning me against what I had decided, but almost as if on auto-pilot, one step followed the other and they all followed Cyn to the bus that led downtown. Life seemed to rush right past me as we turned right and hopped off, walking three blocks into Mathew Street. I was in awe when I saw a line of people, mostly girls, waiting to get in. I swallowed bile at the thought that maybe one of these girls would be having her way with Paul, and I remembered the nasty Hamburg episode with the giggling brunette atop his bunk. I had already begun to regret my decision when Cyn and I were allowed past the barricade of girls and straight into the club. The place was already packed and there was a distinctive odour that seemed to permeate from the very walls: Stale cheese and sweat. Cyn grabbed my hand and dragged me through the packed hose of people to the very front of the stage. My mind was reeling and I knew I’d faint soon, either from hunger, heat or simply the shock of seeing paul again. We stood against one of the pillars and I think I did a good job at pretending I was ok, since Cyn continued jabbing about God knows what. I just nodded, smiled and ignored every word she said… Then the lights went out.

I turned my head to the stage. John was easily recognizable, in spite of the odd little hairdo. That was not the old Elvis pompadour I remembered, but rather the hairstyle Astrid had sported that night in Hamburg. George followed, and I was shocked when I noticed just how much he had grown. He was no longer the little George I remembered, but rather, he was a fine looking youth in leather. And the unavoidable moment of truth finally came just before Pete Best climbed on stage. Paul was there. He no longer held his old, second hand Lucky 7, but now he had taken over Stu as bass player and had a violin shaped instrument that he held backwards and upside down to accommodate his left handed needs. He too, wore his hair combed in a Julius Caesar style, fringe brushed down atop his brow. He no longer looked thin or pale and I could tell he was not flying on any form of amphetamine. As a matter of fact, he looked bloody marvellous, older, tougher and yet still undeniably gorgeous. He didn’t seem to notice me in the crowd and it made me wonder just how much I had changed in nearly eight months. He turned to John and whispered something into his ear, and soon enough they started to play. The crowd just about lost it then. Girls began to scream as if it were Elvis himself swivelling his hips on the stage. I noticed some of them held up banners reading “I love John” or “Paul forever!!” or the like. They started off with a fave of theirs, “Kansas City”. I was marvelled at just how much they had grown as musicians. This was no longer the wet-behind-the-ear Beatles I had left behind. Suddenly, it hit me: He WOULD become rich and famous. He’d make it, sure enough; they all would.

It took two songs for one of them to finally notice my presence. John was first, as a matter of fact. He had been looking all around for Cyn, and when he saw her, a smile appeared on his face, but it quickly disappeared as he saw me standing next to her. Silly boy; did he still honestly believe I’d go as low as to tell her what I had witnessed in Germany?

Staring at me he took a step back and broke my stare when he turned to Paul. Paul seemed to smile attentively, but suddenly stopped when John whispered something into his ear. Paul’s eyes searched the room until they finally met mine. That was all it took. All I had to do was see him in the eye again, and all the damage didn’t seem to matter any more. The last thing I felt was an intense shudder, my skin going up in goose pimples and blackness surrounding me. The killer combination of heat, shock and hunger had finally taken their toll as I slid down against the pillar to the floor. I could hear Cyn shouting my name and it was all darkness after that. I don’t know how long it took, but when I came around, it wasn’t Paul who held me in his arms, but a rather clean and definitely wealthy-looking man in his late twenties, whom I somehow immediately knew was the band’s new manager.

- Seems you missed your tea time, love. –He smiled as he steadied me to my feet, holding a cotton wool ball soaked in alcohol under my nose. –Cyn here says you are my new best friend, is that so? She claims you will be the one to slap Paul back to earth…

- Huh?

- This is Brian, Val. - Cyn smiled. –The Beatles’ new manager.

- So YOU are the famous Valerie McNaughton…- He smiled as he produced a chocolate bar for me. – You’re the mystery girl dear Paul pines for.

- Told you…- Cyn nudged me with a wink.

- And what makes you think I pine for HIM? - I shrugged, trying my best to appear non-chalant but very willingly accepting the candy bar.

- Simple enough. –Cyn smiled. –All ‘e ‘ad to do was look at you and you were dead on yer feet! And he went white as a sheet, you missed that bit.

I stared at Cyn, trying to figure out if she could indeed see so clearly through me and realising all intentions of appearing hard and heartless had been in vain. I was as transparent as a ghost. I looked to the stage where the boys were now performing “Some Other Guy”, and noticed Paul looked every now and then at me from the corner of his eye. Had he even noticed I had fainted? From the looks of it, a good amount of girls probably did here, a place so crowded and hot with little other than the main door for ventilation. The boys were dripping sweat from every part of their anatomies and were now taking requests, it seemed. I stared at Paul from my little spot by the pillar while I munched away hungrily on my candy bar, which had begun to melt from the heat of the place. It was mid summer and an old wine and cheese cellar with no ventilation offered little to no solace from the condensed sweat on the ceiling which dripped back down together with the peeling white paint, forming some sort of Cavern Dandruff.

The boys announced it was time for a break. I spotted Mike McCartney rushing to the stage with four cokes. The boys each took one and gulped them down like there was no tomorrow, wiped their mouths with their sleeves in almost unison and jumped off the two foot stage. Paul stared at me, his jaw set and his eyes speaking of absolutely nothing. He turned, smiled at some of his fans and stood around for a few minutes, ever the diplomat and a smile plastered on his face as if nothing had been happening. I was aware of their moonstruck faces as he spoke to them and even more aware of his naturally flirtatious self when he produced a sudden, adorable wink at them. It made me sick to the stomach and I knew it was both good reason as well as a perfect chance for me to leave the premises unseen. While Cyn chatted with John about God only knows what and making use of the fact that Brian had slipped off to talk to the owner of the Cavern, I silently began to slither away, still feeling wobbly but determined not to let Paul swoon me back into his life with that tremendous McCartney charm of his. I pushed through and found myself right at the doorway when a second wave of girls began their way down the steep staircase. “How on earth do they fit them all in here? It’s like a sardine can!” I thought as I held on to the railing. Sure enough I was shoved, pushed and my hair ended up a mess. What had been planned as an otherwise peaceful afternoon enjoying the sun and the police parade was now turning into a disaster. “Must leave now, must get away from him”, I kept thinking as I tolerated push after shove. It all ended when one of the girls elbowed me on my right breast. The pain was such I inadvertedly let go off my grip and I stumbled downstairs under the pressure and stampeding hordes of Liverpool birds. Once I saw myself on the floor, I knew that this day was going to end in disaster if I didn’t get back on my feet. I just began to picture the publicity on the Mersey Beat music newspaper: “Young woman trampled to death during Beatles Cavern Gig”. I seriously didn’t want to be the woman in question, so I stood back up and turned around to see if the mob had passed. Instead, I found myself standing face to face with Paul.

- Leaving so soon?- He spoke softly.

I was paralysed. Hearing his voice again was almost like drinking poisoned wine, just as sweet and just as deadly but equally intoxicating. I suddenly found myself lost in his stare. He looked dead serous and with eyes that pleaded for us to at least have a decent, friendly chat.

- I… I needed air. – I managed to mumble back.

- We ‘ave vents in the dressing room, ‘cum ‘ead. – He suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me back through the crowds. I felt like I was going to throw up at any minute. The sudden feel of his grip around my wrist and that old fashioned determination that characterised him were indeed getting the best of me. I knew, however, that unless I got a batch of fresh air real soon I’d just faint again and it would not do to just pass out twice in the same day, so I didn’t object to the idea of a vent, no matter how small the space was of how foul the smell.

I was literally shoved into a tiny room no bigger than his old bedroom but with two small vents that reached ground level outside and ceiling level inside. I stood on a bench that sat just below the vents and saw hundreds of little stiletto heel clad feet cueing up to get in as I took in fresh air.- And just when I though she’d be gone fer good! - I heard George joke.

I turned a goofy smile at him and jumped into his arms. He hugged back but eased off slowly when Paul’s stare burned his skin.

- So great to see you again, luv. –He smiled his toothy grin. – I thought you’d ‘ave married off by now!

- No, no, that was my sister. –I smiled back and looked at Paul from the corner of my eye to check for any signs of surprise. His face stood rigid and his eyes seemed to scan me for any sign of anything.

- Well, she’s the bright one. I’d ‘ave thought you’d know better. – George giggled. –Waiting again fer this get?

- Who said I was waiting? I just 'aven’t found me second ‘alf, is all.

That got the desired reaction. Paul’s lips parted and his eyes closed a little. Pressing his lips tight yet again, he turned away, not wanting to show any further emotion, but for the five seconds his reaction had lasted, I had had a tremendous amount of fun and yet felt terribly guilty.

- Well, would ‘ave served ‘im right if you hadn’t. – George gave me a gentle shove. – How is Maria?

I went on to explain that Maria had joined the Art College and had moved out of her home; she was now renting a little flat closer to the school and I frequently saw her and joined her for tea. As for me, I delighted in updating George on my academic results and on how I was all set to present myself for my GCE English exam.

- Well, seems one of us is going along the right track. – He sat down. –Don’t you think, Paul?

- Hmmm.- Paul grumbled from between pressed lips, his back turned to us.

- I dunno, George, seems you lot are doing fine. I just met yer manager.- I grinned back

- Really? What do you think?

- I think I should just marry HIM.

Paul turned sharply. I knew with just one look that my words were stinging. He frowned and shook his head.

- You can’t do that! And even if you could, you couldn’t…

- And why not? - I spoke defiantly.

- Because ‘e is a poof. - I heard John’s voice from the door. – Got all the right holes in all the wrong places.

I turned and smiled at John. – Since when are you such a good judge of character?

- ‘E’s not joking, Valerie! - Paul barked.

Valerie… Never in his life had Paul ever called me Valerie. It had always been Val. But that didn’t shock me half as much as the thought of this perfectly gentlemanly Brian guy being a homosexual. I must have looked horrified because Paul’s expression instantly mellowed.

- So, you want a drink, luv? - John offered. –I could just get Paul’s kid to get you one.

- I wouldn’t mind! - I begged.

- ‘Ere George, go fetch Mike… -John grabbed George by the hair and dragged him out in the midst of wincing and moaning. – Now son, the girl ‘ere’s gonna melt. I’ll be just outside the door with Cyn, all right?

Paul and I stood in silence, simply staring at each other. I knew I was going to faint again soon so I slowly moved towards the benches and sat under the vents to get some more air. The uncomfortable silence was made even more uncomfortable when I looked up and saw Paul had tears in his eyes. Second time in my entire life I had seen him cry. I remembered his huge, puppy-eyed stare as he said goodbye that day, when he and his family moved away.

- George is right…- He broke the silence as he sat in front of me. –It serves me right. What are you doing ‘ere?

- I… Met Cyn at the parade. – I spoke back softly. –She talked me into coming to see you and I was dead curious…

- I’ve missed you.

- No you ‘aven’t. –I shook my head with a sad smile on my lips. –You’re with Dot. Maria told me.

Paul paled again and rubbed his mouth as he looked down. – I thought… you didn’t want to see us again, I just wanted to get on with me life and all, but…- He snivelled and bit his lower lip as a tear finally cruised his cheek. He looked up at me and his look alone could have made me faint again. –God, Val, it’s so great to see you… Really, it is.

I nodded. I didn’t want to say it and prayed that my body language wouldn’t either, but deep down I knew I had made the right choice in the end. I was delighted to see him again, German bird or no German bird. The conversation turned a little lighter after that; He told me about how they had plans to return to Germany now with a manager to play the Top Ten Club, and how Stuart had left the bass spot to him. – Truth is, I was a right bastard to ‘im. - He shrugged and looked down with a not too amused chuckle. –But then around that time I was so miserable I was probably a bastard with anyone who crossed my path. I was a proper mess. - He looked up at me. –I know, I know, it was my entire fault. I never got round to telling you ‘ow sorry I was. You probably burned all me letters. Or if you didn’t, I can’t blame you fer not writing back at all. - He looked at me intently and I could have sworn I had begun to melt starting from my ankles. He then broke the moment of solemnity with a perfect little grin that made me even hotter. –So, enough of me, then. You’re probably not interested, but I am interested in you. Tell us, when did Bren tie the knot?

- January. –I spoke back automatically feeling like I was no longer behind the wheel of my own engine. –To a fella named Glenn.

- Really?- He arched his eyebrows all the way up and smiled at me thoroughly. – Is she ‘appy, then?

- So far…

- That’s really fab, I’m ‘appy for ‘er. - He swallowed. –She still mad at me, then?

- Paul…- I finally began. –You really have no idea what you put me through. If you were me older brother and you saw me cry meself to sleep every night for five months, how would you feel about the bastard who broke my heart?

- Probably would want to rip ‘is lungs out…

- That’s not the precise organ Brenda thought of ripping out, you know. She ‘ad something else in mind.

Paul winced and looked at me. –That would do me in fer sure…

- Not ‘alf of what you deserve…

- No…- He shook his head and looked down. –Not at all, yer right. - He looked at me again. – Any chance of being mates, at least? Fer old time’s sake?

Mates? Much as I hated to admit it, I still loved him over all things on earth, and seeing him again had only managed to prove it. In spite of all the hyperventilating, the passing out, the goose pimples and the shudders, I came to the conclusion that the only reason I still had such a reaction was because I would never stop loving him. But for the time being, jumping into his arms and swearing unconditional love seemed like the wrong idea, so being mates was not a bad second option. I nodded slowly and from some place I managed to produce a grin that seemed to brighten up the entire moment. I could have sworn my legs had moved and were ready to jump to kiss him, but they stayed still in place as I spoke. –All right, at least if I’m mates with you I run no risk of getting broken ‘earted again.

Just then, who else walked in on us but Dot Rhone. She stared at me like someone would stare at a venomous spider in a glass jar and stood next to Paul. –Should I leave?

- No, no, Dot. - I grinned and stood up. –I’ll be outside.

- Val…- Paul reached out.

- No, it’s ok, Paul, I’ll hang around with Cyn and watch the rest of the show. Don’t you worry, mate.

From the look on his face I instantly realised he had picked the wrong word; He definitely wanted to get back with me, but I wouldn’t let him have it; not with Dorothy Rhone on the side and especially not when she was right there supporting him. However, as I stepped outside I could feel a strong pang of jealousy eating away at me. I quickly got rid of all thoughts of Dot drowning in her bath and joined Cyn who had managed to salvage a seat for me. –So? Did you survive? –She grinned as the boys climbed back onstage.

- Oh, aye, we’re “mates” now…

- Mates? - She sneered. – I thought you two would get back together!

I was dying to tell her what Paul had done to me in Hamburg, but I knew that in doing so she’d immediately suspect John as well. If a sweet guy like Paul was capable of cheating on his bird, then Teddy Boy John would not only cheat, he’d become the next Casanova.

- Just what is it you know about Paul and I breaking up, luv? - I crossed my arms.

- Well, you was all upset because ‘e went off to Germany and didn’t tell you till the last minute, right? - She tucked her hair behind her ear. –John told me it was because Paul ‘ad told you ‘e’d be in Hamburg fer a month and it turned to three instead… But they’ve been back fer ages, and God knows John ‘as ‘eard ‘im go on and on about you like mad, I would ‘ave thought you’d forgiven ‘im by now…

- Well, I ‘ave, but…- I shrugged. –There’s Dot, so, what chance do I stand?

- Are you daft? - She giggled. –I’ve seen ‘em together, they won’t last long; Argue like cats and dogs, they do! I like Dot, but believe me, it’s you ‘e wants.

I gulped and turned to the stage where Paul, John, George and Pete had already set themselves to play the second half of the show. The crows once again went ballistic as they started off with a song Paul and John had written ages ago during one of their sit-downs at Paul’s place, called “I saw Her Standing There”. It now sounded so much tighter and better, I knew this was only the tip of the iceberg. Indeed, the second half of the show was dedicated mostly to the music they had written together. Some songs I had never heard before but I was equally thrilled to realise one song was just as good if not better than the previous. The show ended circa three ‘oclock and the crowd dispersed. I had hoped to be able to sneak out with the rest of the people but Cyn and Mike encouraged me to stick around a little longer. I had no idea what they were up to or if Paul had propped them to set me up, but no sooner was the club empty, the boys sat down, lit some cigarettes and began to talk about the future with Brian. I was enthralled in their chat when I suddenly remembered that I indeed had a home to attend to and that mum would probably be back from work soon. Standing up, I excused myself and I headed for the door.

- Can I see you off to the bus? - Paul called after me.

- No, no…- I shook my head. . –I’ll find me own way, ta very much Paul.

- Listen luv! - Mike stood suddenly and caught up with me. –We’re throwing a birthday bash fer our kid right ‘ere at the Cavern on the eighteenth. Yer cordially invited.

June 18 was Paul’s birthday… I didn’t know what to say or do. Brenda would have a fit if she learned I was once again associating with the fella that had made a miserable sopping mess of me, even when Mum didn’t know the particulars. But Brenda would surely stop talking to me for a week or more. However, I had known from the day I was born that Paul and I would always be connected one way or another, so after a quick yes, I waved goodbye and left the Cavern Club. Stopping by the corner for a much needed meal of Fish n’ Chips, I pondered what the hell I was getting myself into and I was lost in thought when I heard his voice behind me again. – I think I’d better see you off…- He smiled.

Chewing, I looked first at him and then around him. –And Dot? Who will see ‘er home, then?

- You really drive a hard bargain, don’t you?

- Paul…- I swallowed and wiped my mouth with a napkin. – What exactly is it you want?

- You. –He answered promptly. –Just you, is all.

- Well, you can’t ‘ave me. – I spoke as I shoved another chip into my mouth. – And ‘ow did you know I’d be ‘ere, anyway?

- Because I knew you’d not go far without eating. –He smiled. –This was the most viable option. And if yer worried about Dot, Mike’s taking ‘er home. I’m not too sure she wants to see me again…

- You ‘aven’t….

- I ‘ave, we’re over. –He suddenly turned serious. –Now do you understand??

- You really are a bloody rotten apple, Paul McCartney! - I stood suddenly. – Poor girl! How could you…?

- Because it’s you I want and always will! - He stood and faced me.

- Yes, until you find something else that tickles yer fancy…- I wrapped the chips angrily. – Do you really think I’d let you do that to me again? Do you ‘ave any idea what I went through because of it??- I finally broke down as I looked into his eyes. –I felt like me whole bloody world ‘ad come to an end! You broke my trust Paul! How do you expect to fix that?

- I don’t! - He spoke with equal intensity. – But I do ‘ope you’ll find it in yer heart to forgive me and we can get on with it! I can’t undo what’s been done, but I can make new things in the future. I’m not perfect Val, I fuck up like everyone else in the world, you know, or maybe a little more, who knows! I just want a chance!

- A chance? – I stopped dead on my tracks. I didn’t know whether or not he deserved a chance, but one thing I did know was that I was kidding myself if I pretended to believe I wouldn’t have a second go at it. I loved this guy more than my own life and it was hard to turn away from that fact, let alone from him.

- Please? - He begged.

I stared into his eyes and I seemed to have suddenly lost all my bravado. All I wanted was to hold him in my arms, kiss him, and maybe this time, make love. I wanted him there with me, forever, like it had always been. But then another thought struck me like lightning. I knew the moment I saw them onstage that The Beatles were facing their final days as unknowns. The crowds in the club, the unique sound, the manager and the imminent audition Cyn had spoken about meant that soon enough, the country would sweep them away, and they would be our Beatles no more. They would indeed become famous and quite likely, they’d move away, probably to London, where all the action was. I knew then that even if I managed to spend all my time with him I’d soon lose him again, this time not to a German bird but to the entire nation. I wasn’t sure I could take it another time. On the other hand, there was still the odd chance it could work. Terrified out of my mind, I no longer had the stamina to hold back. I swallowed hard and suddenly wrapped myself around him, nuzzling my face against his neck, fitting into his body like only I knew I could. His response was instant. He held me tenderly and pressed his nose against my shoulder as he rubbed my back with his left hand. – I’m so sorry I hurt you, luv. I’m so sorry…-

But I was no longer crying because of the memory of the leggy German brunette… I cried because I knew I was now standing with him for borrowed time… and the clock was ticking.

He held me at arms length and lifted my weepy face with his right thumb and index fingers. –There now…- He cleaned my cheeks with his other hand. – We’ll be ok…

- It’s not that…- I cried.

- What is it then?

- You’ll forget about me…

- Come again?

- The Beatles…- I sobbed. – They are going to make it real big, I know it…

- Yes, luv, that’s the idea…- He grinned. –So?

- So then you’ll be so big, you’ll just leave me behind… You’ll find yerself someone glamorous, some bird from America with huge knockers and long legs or something, and… you’ll just leave me behind… I dunno if I’ll be able to take it again…

He laughed a long, hard laugh and held me to him again. –Don’t be daft… It’s been you all the time, you know that! Go on, you silly girl… Can I take you back ‘ome?

- Only… if you promise to be… just my mate, like you ‘ad stated.

- What?

- You ‘eard…

His face fell a little but he took a step back and smiled. –Fine, then, Val. I suppose it’s better than nothing…

Snivelling, I nodded, and picking up his encased bass from the floor, he put his arm around me and we both walked out of the Fish and Chip shop. He talked to me about the rest of their Hamburg stint and how it was that they all returned home. It seemed that one night, a man named Pete Eckhorn, owner of the best club in the area (namely The Top Ten), snuck into the Kaiserkeller one night and offered them the gig. The band had recorded a single called “My Bonnie”, backing up Tony Sheridan, a London rocker who was a favourite at The Top Ten, and Mr. Eckhorn thought the band was too good for a dump like the Kaiserkeller. The Beatles should go right over to the better side of the Reeperbahn, perform for a better audience and why not, drag some of Bruno Koschmider’s customers to a better club. Bruno overheard the talk and was definitely not amused. He had the band called for a “meeting” that turned into a bitter exchange of words and threats that ended with John Lennon telling Bruno to get stuffed. Bruno had promised them better living conditions and an increase in their salary and had done neither of the two, so they were off to the Top Ten. Thinking they had it won, The Beatles moved gingerly to their new home in the club, a far better one, and performed their first gig… which was abruptly interrupted when “Gestapo”, as John loved to call the German police, stormed into the club and arrested George Harrison, tipped off by Bruno that he was only seventeen and not allowed to play in clubs in accordance with the rules of the underage curfew. George was given a plane ticket and told to leave and not return until he came of age. Angered by this, Pete and Paul had decided to avenge their little friend the night they went to collect the rest of their personals from the Bambi Kino. Pete found a condom on the floor, new and unused, and the two boys thought it would be a blast to pin it to the wall and set light to it. According to Paul, there was nothing in the room that could have caught fire, since it was only a five by four little concrete room anyway (and that was no lie, I had seen the room myself). So after igniting the little rubber prophylactic, they giggled their way out of the Kino and headed with their luggage towards the Top Ten, eager to tell big boy John what they had just done. They were just about to reach the club and new living quarters when two police cars pulled over and grabbed them both by the collar, shoved them into police cars and drove them to the local police station. Having been found guilty of arson, they were scooped up into jail and held for questioning for the entire duration of the night. Paul said he had never been so scared in his entire life. He had heard awful things about the Germans during the war and if German police were anything like the old Gestapo he feared he’d end up with broken fingers, never to touch a guitar again. But soon enough, Peter Eckhorn bailed them out, handed them their belongings and told them that the police had decided to deport them ASAP. Without as much as a goodbye, they were led to the airport with paid tickets and soon enough they were on the next flight to London. They had then hitched a ride to Liverpool, and like a pair of sopping wet dogs with their tails stuck firmly behind their hind legs, they each moped their own way home. And that was that. He also went on to tell me how it was that the band got back together in Liverpool; seeing as to the fact that there was no point in remaining in Hamburg without his band, John decided to return, but was dismayed to learn that Stuart was staying behind with Astrid. Upon his return, he felt so depressed he spent weeks without letting the others know he was back. Paul had picked up a job delivering packages and later another job winding coils; but as soon as John found the pluck to give him a call, Paul packed the job in and they reformed the band. John decided he would not play bass and George immediately seconded, so Paul had no choice. He had played bass well enough before, in fact, he had done the playing doing the recording of “My Bonnie”, and so he thought he’d have a bash at it. Pretty soon they all realised the line-up was now complete with four instead of five. Paul managed to sell his lucky 7 and made a down payment on his new Hofner bass. He had picked that model because it looked good and symmetrical even if he held it to his left. It was pretty hard to find a left handed instrument, let alone be able to afford it, so his right handed bass with inverted strings and played upside down was a good call. And that’s how he had suddenly taken up Stu’s spot.

- Come to think of it, I rather miss the bugger…- He giggled as he found a seat on the bus, allowing me to sit first. – ‘E was only just beginning to pick it up…

- Why did you say earlier that you had been a bastard to ‘im?

- Dunno…- He shrugged and sat next to me. –Truth is, I was really messed up, but I was especially nasty to Stu. Undeserved barbs, really…

- I suspect you were jealous. - I grinned. –I suspect you had the hots for Astrid.

- That’s partly right…- He bit his lower lip and looked at a blank point ahead of him. –But in all honesty, it wasn’t because of Astrid. I…- he looked down. –God, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but…- He then looked at me. –It was John. I wanted to be John’s number one guy and that could not be with Stu pissing about. So yes, I suppose I was a little jealous…

- John’s number one guy? - I sneered. –Whatever does that mean?

- It means, John and I are partners now. We decide what ‘appens or doesn’t ‘appen to the group. We write the songs together, we’re like… best buddies now.

- Oh, that’s low, Paul…

- I know, I know…- He hid hid his face behind his hand and peeked an eye through open fingers. – I’m a bastard. But truth is, I like Stu, honest, just not fer the band. ‘E couldn’t play dick, either. John knows it and I know it, luv, this band will be the greatest thing since the zipper. But we ‘ave to find the right players is all. It’s been me struggle with John from the very beginning. Get… the right… people. John ‘as made the mistake of getting in mates instead of good players, you know. But things look better now, only…

- Only?

- Well…- He scratched the back of his head. –I dunno about Pete… - There you go; are ya going to ‘ave yer way and get ‘im booted as well?

Paul looked at me and frowned, almost as if condemning me for stepping into terrain where I was not invited. –No… John and I ‘ave spoken about it. He sometimes fails to show up at all, or ‘e ‘as another thing to do and just sort of… takes the band fer granted. He doesn’t realise that to the rest of us this is all we ‘ave and all we want, you know. But Pete… He doesn’t seem to take it seriously.

- And what do you do when ‘e doesn’t show up?

- We get Ringo in…

- Ringo?

- Yeh, Ringo, from Rory and the ‘Urricanes.

- Oh, them I’ve ‘eard of! - I smiled.

- Yeh, we met ‘em in Hamburg. Hell of a guy! Rich used to sit up with us all night and drink a pint while we played, you know… Bastards, they ‘ad the bloody Top Ten while we muddled through with the Kaiserkeller every night.

- So yer all thinking of sacking Pete?

- Nah. - He shook his head. –Just maybe ‘ave a word with ‘im is all.

The bus pulled over and I had to climb off. Paul followed me and for a minute there I thought he’d just be stepping into the house next door. I always had that feeling around him; it was that familiar.

- So, is yer mum in? I’d really like to see ‘er…

- No. - I laughed. –I’m afraid she’s out and up to no good these days. Met a man named Walter, swept ‘er off ‘er feet, ‘e did. You know the barber shop on penny Lane, in front of the roundabout? It’s his…

- Really? - He raised his eyebrows in that characteristic McCartney way. – Well, she deserved it, didn’t she? Putting up with yous two all by ‘erself! I keep telling me dad, you know “Jim, get yerself a wife”… Not that ‘e listens at all…

- My thoughts, exactly! - I laughed as I put my key in the keyhole and opened the door. –So, you want to cum in fer a cuppa?

He looked dubious AND devious. –A cuppa?

- And that’s all, McCartney, my virtue ‘as remained intact and I expect it to stay that way fer a while longer.

- Oh, yer no fun! - He smiled jokingly. –Yeh, I’d like a cuppa. But mind you, I ‘ave to be back at the Cavern at six fer the afternoon gig.

- Oh, it’s only three fifteen! Cum ‘ead…- I smiled, still not believing I was talking so friendlily to the guy who little over than eight months before had all but torn out my heart, eaten it and spat out the bones like chicken. After reasoning that hearts didn’t have bones, I stepped in and he followed me. – Place looks exactly the same.-

- What did you expect, big changes?

- Well, Brenda’s married, yer mum’s shagging some bloke, I would expect some more changes…

- Speaking of which…- I said as he sat down and I paced to the kitchen. – That hairdo… you have some explaining to do about it. Isn’t it the same style as Astrid’s?

- Yes. - He sighed as he sat back. – We’d just come back from Hamburg and John got this nice, juicy present from ‘is uncle in Edinburgh… A hundred quid to be precise…

- A hundred quid!? - I peeked out from the kitchen. – Rich bloke?

- Bloody dentist! - He giggled. –Anyway, we were both still a bit sour from the whole mess so John thought it a good idea to go to Spain. Since I was the only bugger who had actually remembered ‘is birthday, he decided to invite us along, so we went off and stopped in Paris and just sort of stayed there. We met an old friend from Hamburg, one you never met, Jurgen. ‘E sort of talked us into changing the hairdo. We figured, “Aw sod it!”, and just went ahead and did it. - He laughed a little. –You should ‘ave seen the look on George’s face when we got back. ‘E was like, “Aw, fuckin’ ‘ell!!”. ‘E caved in eventually… We’re still trying to talk Pete into it, and all, you know, fer group unity.

The kettle was on the fire, the tea cosy was ready and I had two cups standing by. I joined Paul in the living room and sat down close enough to be able to lose myself in his eyes but still far enough to call it a respectable distance. I wasn’t about to let him lure me into anything and then see him slip away through my fingers. All the same, it felt so good to have him there with me; it was almost like the good times. He went on about how Mike was now an assistant in a beauty salon and was making a good career out of it after a few random tries at other odd jobs. Jim, it seemed, was still with the cotton trade and making an easier living, now that his two sons were making their own money. He did mention that as soon as he could he had to figure out a way to leave home, since many of the Beatles’ fans, sensing their upcoming success, were sneaking into his house and stealing Mary’s precious tea set, something Jim didn’t really appreciate at all. Mike was seeing a girl he referred to as “his saviour”; Celia was her name, simply called her Ceel. For my part, there was little else to tell. I thought I would bore him to death when he heard of my upcoming English GCE, but he seemed to be listening with attention and interest. He even made comments on how he might have made the same choice had he stayed on in school. He told me one day I’d make a great teacher if I didn’t suddenly decide to become a big singing star, since, as far as he could remember, I had a great singing voice. To prove him right, we sang “Drunken Sailor” together, and he cheered and applauded me when we were done.

The kettle finally decided to whistle out and I once again stood up to prepare tea. After serving his cup just the way I knew he loved it (two sugars and one small drop of milk), I took it out and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. He took it to his mouth, blew air into it a couple of times and took the first sip. For a brief moment there, I wished to be a cup. He then licked his lips, closed his eyes and smiled before finally looking at me. –No one does it like you do, luv…

- I ‘ope you mean the tea…- I giggled with a blush.

- Unfortunately, yes, I do mean the tea.

- Unfortunately?

- Yeh… From what I sense tha’ virtue of yours will remain yours and yours alone. I must be honest…- He sat the cup back on the table. –I ‘ad my hopes…

- There’s more to life than shaggin’, Paul.

- Yes…- He nodded. – There’s making love, for one. Not the same as shaggin’ at all.

I swallowed and looked at him. – Yer not on.

- I know; I’ve known fer a long time. – He grinned sadly. –Unfortunately, at this point, if I even suggest it to you you’ll think I’m just after that and nothing else… you’d never believe me…

- Suggest exactly what?

He looked at me like one would look at a math quiz, like knowing it had to be tackled but not quite sure what to make of all the questions. I could tell then he was plucking up and getting ready to say something big. Good ol’ Paul. Always had a hard time saying things that really meant something. He sighed deeply, pressed his lips tight and after a hesitation or two, he finally spoke words that undid me.

- All this time, I’ve thought of nothing but you, Val. You’re my entire life. I can’t be just yer mate… I’m sorry, I just can’t. I love you too much, I always ‘ave and always will. I’ve not touched any other girl after what you saw, luv. I just haven’t been able to, because you just keep coming back into my mind every time… the look on yer face that day, I felt I’d rather have died. Just when I thought I’d be able to get on with it, I saw you there, standing by that pillar and I realised this would never go away. Just one look and I felt I’d just die then and there. And still I felt it was the best day in a long, long time. If you tell me no one more time, however, I will know for sure… Please, Val… If the band grows, I’ll take you with me, everywhere I go. Shit, if it were up to me and there were no other things to think about I’d elope with you right away. I just love you so much, luv… I can’t sit ‘ere and pretend otherwise, I can’t do it anymore… look at me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel the same way, and if you mean it, I promise I’ll just walk out and you’ll never see me again… But you ‘ave to tell me.

I was stunned. I think it was evident that I was shaking from the clattering sound of my tea cup against the little plate. The incident in Germany now seemed like years and years away and what I had always known just got confirmed once again. The bloody charm had worked its magic yet again and I somehow felt my limbs take a life of their own as I stood to put the cup on the table. Paul stood up, his eyes staring into mine, and followed every move I made. I couldn’t resist just reaching out and touching his face, praying to god he hadn’t gone about making things up just to get his way. I knew he had spoken the truth the moment he closed his eyes, feeling my touch on his skin and sighing a long, alleviated sigh. He gently took his hand to mine and grabbed it, opening his eyes as he caressed my face in turn. Slowly we leaned forward and a subtle kiss seemed to heal every wound in my heart. It started slowly, gently and soft, like every first kiss we had ever had. I felt myself slowly sliding into his arms and the contact of our bodies together again felt wonderful. This was no longer like the two fifteen year olds in the room. Two young adults sealing a promise of love, alone and happy to be together again was a completely different matter. I seemed to fit into his embrace perfectly and felt marvellous when he suddenly tugged me tight to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing me intensely. The gentle touch of his tongue not only felt wonderful, but better than before, and for a few brief and absurd seconds, I mentally thanked the German floosies for the improvement. I felt him harden and knew I was in for the real thing if I didn’t stop it soon. But this felt so darn wonderful I felt I was no longer in control. New hairstyle and new clothes, new instrument, same Paul. His hair felt different between my fingers, no more Vaseline oil holding it back, just silky soft and black. I pulled away long enough to simply answer back. – Don’t go away, Paul… Stay with me.

That was all it took. The kissing didn’t resume there; rather, we exchanged a knowing look and, hand in hand, made way up to my bedroom. First thing he noticed as I closed the door behind us, the music box was not where it usually sat. –Where is it? - He frowned.

- Under the bed, together with every other things you gave me…

- Can they cum back out now?

- Yes.

I sat on the bed and he sat next to me, caressing my hair. – You don’t ‘ave to do this… Not if you don’t… want to…

I touched his face and took in the sight of huge hazel-grey eyes and black, curly eyelashes staring back at me. – If there is anyone who I would ‘ave chosen for this it’s you, Paul. I luv you…

He looked at me, nodded and kissed me as he pushed me back on the bed. It felt so good to have him there, lying on top of me, that I knew at that precise moment I’d want him to lie by my side every night for the rest of my life. His hands began to wander and slowly tugged my pullover out from the skirt. He was now touching bare skin and his hands were not slowing down. In return, I wanted to touch him, feel him, and clothes suddenly seemed like a barrier that I had never cared much for before but seemed impossibly obstructive now. I slid both hands under his t-shirt and caressed his back, lean but strong, feeling every muscle and every movement. I almost lost it when he pressed his mouth against my neck, kissing his way down at first and then back up as his hands pulled the jersey up. I must have gasped or shifted my position because I heard him whisper – Shh, it’s all right…- into my ear. He stopped for a few seconds and then resumed his activities. He stopped briefly to finish the job I started and he removed his t-shirt. I stared at him for a few brief seconds: china white, pink nipples, loads of black hair on his arms and a small amount of it on his chest. In all the years I had known him, I had never seen him bare-chested, not even as little children, or if I had I had probably been too young to remember or even give a damn. This was beautiful to behold. Slowly and as I stared in awe, he sat me up and tugged my pullover jersey all the way out of my neck until I sat there in my bra, still too entranced looking at him to even begin to realise I was almost half naked. It wasn’t until he pressed his bare chest to mine that I even remembered what was about to happen. I didn’t stop. Raised a catholic, I wasn’t supposed to agree or condone such an activity out of wedlock, but if there was a God up there, he’d see through both of us and would know this wasn’t just out of lust; we loved and wanted each other, to feel and touch and be as close to each other as humanly possible. Wedlock had little to do with it, although for the first time I began to contemplate it as a possibility. He had said that had there not been so many obstacles, he’d elope with me. We were both nineteen (Paul was three days away from turning twenty) and I still felt like I had lived a long lifetime waiting for this to happen.

He had somehow learned a thing or two in Germany, it seemed (I wasn’t surprised) and I was amazed at the skill with which he undid my bra with only one hand. Here came the first big step… I closed my eyes tight as he slid first one strap and then the other down my arms, finally pulling the uncomfortable garment and dropping it on the floor. When I couldn’t feel him doing anything, I opened my eyes apprehensively, only to find him staring at me, his lips parted and his eyes transfixed on my breasts, almost as if he were staring at an original Renaissance masterpiece by Michelangelo. He was finally able to look into my eyes. He must have detected my apprehensions because I saw him smile at me warmly as he spoke. –You are more perfect than I had imagined…

So he had imagined!! That was a relief! When he came down upon me and I felt his chest pressing against mine I thought that was as close to heaven as we could possibly get. For the first time in my life I learned what it means to be turned on, to want something so bad you fear you’ll reach the point of no return just to get it. And it was doing something to me because Paul giggled a little when I suddenly shifted gears; my kisses became hungrier and I wantonly reached down and grabbed his behind. It’s not that I hadn’t looked before; I always knew Paul had a lovely arse, but I had never actually gone down to feeling it. Through the black leather pants I was able to finally have a taste of it, and it felt good. It did something to him as well; he gasped and also began to kiss me more fervently, panting and grabbing and squeezing gently, first one breast and then the other. His hand went up my leg and tried desperately to tug the fishnet hoes down. Seeing his frustration when he wasn’t able to do it in one go and deciding there was no other or more glamorous way of doing it, I raised my hips and tugged them down myself. He smiled, finished the job and continued moving his hand up my thigh. “Of all days I could have worn these things, I couldn’t wear normal stockings with a garter…” I thought, and dismissed the thought rather suddenly when he groped at my bum, first gently, then desperately. I knew then I was too close to that famous point of no return I had thought about only minutes before. I had to choose then. And just as I was about to decide, destiny made the choice for me. Paul and I stopped suddenly when we heard the laughing voices of my mother and Walter as they stepped through the doorway. Paul sat up like bolt lightning. –Aw, shit! - He panted.

- God, not now!!- I mumbled desperately as I tried clumsily to put my bra back on.

- Do you ‘ave a broom closet where I can hide? - Paul joked as he stuck his head through the neck of the black t-shirt he had been wearing.

- Shh!!- I hushed him as I tossed the bra aside, completely giving up on it and simply slipped my jersey back on without. –Go out the window, climb down the pipe… go on!!

- Are you mad!?- He whispered as he peeked out the window.

- Val?? Are you home, luv???- I could hear mother calling me.

Paul turned a begging face to me. – She’ll kill me, won’t she?

- Not if you get out of ‘ere, right away!

- It might be a worthy death…

- Go! - I rushed him as I opened the window. –I’ll go to the lunch session tomorrow. Get out of ‘ere…

Paul stepped out the window and grimaced as he looked down. –I’m gonna die real young…

- No you won’t, go on!!

- Luv you! - He looked up at me.

- Val???- Mum called again and I could hear her coming up the steps.

- I’m getting changed, mum, I’ll be right out!!- I turned to Paul but noticed he was gone. I looked out the window and saw him hop off the drain pipe from about four feet up and land on the floor. He turned his face up, smiled, blew a kiss and ran off down the alleyway. Suddenly it struck me… HIS BASS!! It was in my living room!

Just as I closed the window, mum opened the door. – What’s all the mystery about, then?

- Oh, just letting the air in…- I fidgeted nervously already dreading the moment. – You ‘ad a good time, then?

- Oh, aye… we’ve even thought about a thing or two, you know. - She sat on the bed and I was relieved to see she didn’t notice the sheets were all rumpled up. – What if Walter suddenly asked me to marry ‘im?

I turned sharply to her. –And ‘as he? Asked you to marry ‘im, I mean…

- Oh, no…- She smiled. –But we was just talking about it…

- Well, that’s already sumthing…

- Well, better not keep the man waiting, ‘e’s downstairs… Did you make tea just now, luv? One of yer mates came over? There’s a couple of cups on the table downstairs…

Aw, crap! I had also completely forgotten about the tea. Now with the bass, the tea cups and the time it had taken me to answer my mother, I knew I’d probably get in trouble. Paul would certainly have something else to say, he was very good at making up good excuses on the spot. But the same way he was good, I was lousy at it.

Just then there was a tap on the door. I was partly grateful to see mum turn suddenly and walk out of my room to answer the door. I followed her and hoped to be able to slip the encased bass away unnoticed, and the cups would have a much easier explanation. Just then, mum opened the door. – PAUL McCARTNEY!!- She squeaked and suddenly threw her arms around him.

I stared at him from behind my mother, and Walter must have noticed the look in my eyes. He gave me a friendly nudge and whispered into my ear. –Just be sure ‘e didn’t leave a sock behind…

I must have blushed furiously. Mum was too busy hugging Paul and Paul was too busy hugging my mother back. –Great to see you, lad!! Been ages! Cum to see our Val, ‘ave you?

- Actually, I was just ‘ere with a friend of ours, Maria…- He smiled diplomatically. –I sort of left something ‘ere… hiya again luv. - He turned to me. –I left me bass ‘ere.

- I… noticed…- I smiled as best I could, and handed him the bass. Walter had to turn away to stifle a giggle.

- Oh, still playing with yer band, luv? - Mum asked him in.

- Oh, aye, every lunch hour at the Cavern Club and also Friday and Saturday nights…

- Oh, you must be one of The Beatles! - Walter cut in with a smile. –I ‘eard sum lads talking about that in the barber shop, hottest band in the Pool, made it to the cover of The Mersey Beat. I ‘ave a copy of it lying around the barber shop.

- Oh, yeh, that’s us!- Paul smiled and reached forward, offering a handshake. – I’m Paul McCartney.

- Walter Neely. – The older man shook Paul’s hand fervently. –So lad, would you like sum tea or did you just ‘ave sum?

I gulped. Mum smiled. Paul was pure gold and perfectly diplomatic. –I think I’d luv a cuppa. I only stood around while Maria drank ‘ers, but now I think I would fancy sum…- He looked at his watch. –But only fer a few minutes, mind you, I ‘ave a gig at the Cavern.

- I take it you saw the young lady off at the bus stop…- Walter chimed as they both sat down.

- Oh, aye, we was going off to the Cavern together, but I remembered I couldn’t exactly play bass in a band when I ‘ave none in me hands, now, could I?

- And how’s Jim, Paul, luv? - Mum asked as I picked up the two cups from the table. God, he was good!

- ‘E’s fine, you know me dad, working all day every day. I ‘eard Brenda got married!!

The chat went on and I witnessed Paul gallantly taking in his second cup of tea. I sat and probably had the goofiest look in my face when Paul turned around to me and smiled, telling Walter that he and I had known each other since forever and would probably continue to be a part of each other’s lives.

- But fer a while there, I thought you two ‘ad all but broken up!!- Mum sighed. –Val was miserable, lad. She never told me anything, but I figured it ‘ad something to do with you being away in Hamburg for such a long time… Why did you stay there so long?

Paul looked at me and I could read in his stare how grateful and relieved he was that I hadn’t told mum what had happened in Germany.

- The band got bigger and better dates. - He lied with a perfect grin. –We knew we’d be back before Christmas, but then Val got mad at us and wouldn’t see me until… well, until today! - He smiled a huge smile at me and I almost melted then and there. – She came to see us play today, after she saw the parade at Allerton.

- And did you two decide to get back together or will you continue to just be a pair of silly sods and suffer separately?

Paul and I exchanged a grin and he turned to my mother with an impish grin.

- We’re back together, mum. - He added a little wink that made even my mother blush a little and giggle.

- And you say yer going to play tonight?- Walter asked.

- Like every Friday.

- Well, if you want, Val can cum along with you… As her provisional, stand-in almost step-father, I find you rather approvable and would not mind a tad if you took my stand-in, almost step-daughter out on a date tonight.

Mum and I turned our heads to Walter, our jaws almost reaching the floor.

- Oh, the cheek!!- Mum laughed aloud.

- Actually, I really WOULD like that! - Paul grinned at me. –How about it, Val? Mrs. McNaughton, is it all right if I take yer daughter out to watch the band? I swear, I’ll ‘ave ‘er ‘ome by eleven!!

- Val? - Mum turned to me with a gracious smile. –Do you want to go?

“Oh, mummy dearest, if only you knew what nearly happened under your own roof just a bit ago that little grin would disappear from your face just as fast as it came on!”, I thought, and I had to look down to hide the cheeky smile on my face. I knew that Walter and Mum were also probably trying to get rid of me to have the place to themselves, so I didn’t make a fuss.

- All right, just let me get me cardy and do my hair a little and we’ll be off.

Paul nodded stood, asking if he could use the loo. He followed me upstairs and whispered in my ear with a smile just before turning to the loo. –We’ll ‘ave to finish up some other time…-

The rest of the evening was fabulous. I was just delighted to be there. The rest of the band seemed rather shocked but happy to see I was back. John cornered me at some point and begged me again never to tell Cyn what I had seen in Germany. I assured him I wouldn’t and told him things were all right. He seemed relieved and went back to the stage. Cyn, Mike’s girl Ceel and I stood around watching the boys play. This was not the same audience any more; they were a slightly tougher group of teds and judies, but were peaceful enough and simply went to hear some good beat music played by what was now considered the best band in Liverpool. Brian stood by and beamed proudly at his discovery. I was able to notice then that he stared hard at John, and considering what I had learned about him earlier on, I was unable to hide a giggle.

Their set was a little bit rougher than the afternoon show. Spitting, punching and swearing onstage, a shove or two, and the teds would cheer like mad. The girls seemed a little wilder and screamed insanely, the very first sign of what in the future would be called “Beatlemania”. The majority of them seemed to melt over Pete. Truth was I had never had the chance of even crossing word with the drummer, nor was I desperately keen to; I had eyes only for Paul. He had cheated on me but had won me back so easily in was scary. I believed him again. In less than twenty-four hours, eight months of dejection and plans to harden my heart had been flushed down the toilet. At some point, Paul pointed at me and waved, just before the band broke into their rendition of “Till There Was You” from The Music Man. I could have melted into frothy goo at that point, hearing him sing that song just for me, but was startled back to reality when they burst into “Red sails in the Sunset”.

- Ello, ello…- Paul spoke into the mike after they were done. –We ‘ave a guest ‘ere tonight, a guest who would luv to please you with ‘er beautiful voice…

Oh, no…

- She’s a brilliant singer, you lot, and she’s a guest of the band, so be good with ‘er. To sing “To Know Him is To Love Him”, please give a warm welcome to my long time friend and fantastic singer, Valerie McNaughton!!

All romantic notions I had of Paul faded and I suddenly wanted to kill him again. John clapped and shouted “Come on, Val!!” George played a little introductory fanfare on his guitar and Pete Best (whom, I stress, had no clue who I was), did a little drum roll. Cyn and Ceel gave me encouraging nudges and the people around us instantly knew who Val McNaughton was. Blushing and feeling the wobbliest pair of legs ever, I went to the stage and stared daggers at Paul, who simply whispered in my ear. –You’ll thank me later, luv.

I stood behind the microphone and saw how over one hundred pairs of eyes stared at me expectantly. Sure, the original version of the song was performed by The Teddy Bears and their lead singer was a female, but the people there had come to see The Beatles, not some unknown “college pudding” who just happened to know the bass player. I grinned a shy grin and decided to get it all over and done with. I would see to Paul’s castration afterwards, with no one looking.

The melody started and so did I.

To know, know, know him…

Is to love… love… love him…

Just to see him smile Makes my life worthwhile…

To know, know know him…

Is to love… love… love him,

And I do…

I mellowed out seconds later when I saw the tough looking teds smiling at me. Better still, I could feel Paul’s stare from behind. I turned, returned the smile, and continued singing. The audience was really digging it and I knew then I would not neuter my re-discovered flame. Some people were intently listening and nodding, some were singing along, some others simply smiled in silence. For the first time I had a taste of what being on a stage was really like, and I was enjoying it. It was a small share of Paul’s life. I now knew I was in, completely a part of his world. When I finished, the crowd erupted into applause including the band themselves. John came up to me and spoke to my ear. –Yer still good even after all this bloody time…-

I smiled, took a small bow and climbed off the stage.

- That was Val McNaughton, everyone, remember ‘er, she’ll make it someday…- Paul joked and the audience clapped again as I rushed back to my place.

- That was fab! - Cyn smiled at me as I reached my standing place. –Johnny’s really gone out of ‘is way, you know, ‘e usually doesn’t share that solo spot with anyone, let alone a girl!

- John sings this?

- Beautifully.

After the gig, Paul and Mike accompanied me back home. It seemed that earlier on, Mike had to drive up somewhere, so it wasn’t until that night that I learned Paul had a car and could actually drive it. It seemed the McCartney brothers had put together their meagre savings and had somehow managed to buy a second hand Ford Zodiac, naturally with a little aid from Father Jim. He was a careful driver and even though there were no other cars in sight at that ungodly hour, he still observed all the signals and red lights and whatnot. After a short drive (Liverpool at that hour was virtually dead), I stepped out of the car, said goodbye to Mike and Ceel, and went to my front door. Paul accompanied me to the door and we stood there talking for a little while.

- So, this has been… an interesting day…- I giggled.

- Been the best day in a long time fer me. –He replied and kissed me gently. –We didn’t finish up, but we will someday…

- You know, you keep saying that.

- And I mean every word…

- Don’t you dare try and make me a star again, or I’ll see to it that you never again feel like a man.

He laughed eagerly. – Aw go on! You luved it and you know it!

- Only because of you…

- Seems to me I picked the right song, eh? - he smiled, caressing my cheek.

- What is it you do to me, McCartney? - I smiled and held his hand. – I should be flaming mad at you and yet, you manage to come out smelling like roses… How do you do it?

- You want the truth? - He looked down. –I didn’t think you’d forgive me. I’m just grateful that you did, is all.- He looked back up at me. – What are you doing tomorrow?

- Got to see about my exam, have to go fill the applications for it.

- And at night?

- Sleeping…

- I’ll be sure to wake you… I’ve seen all yer pipes can do now; I think I should be able to climb up as well as down.

- NOT when me mum is in the house, you won't! - I laughed.

- Course not! - He joked, acting like a dignified old man. –What kind of a monster do you think I am?

- One of the worst sorts. –I spoke with a serious note in my voice. –Don’t ever break me ‘eart again, Paul. You’ll kill me.

- I won’t…- He whispered as he leaned over to kiss me. Just as the kiss began to get hot again, Mike peeked out the car window. –Eck eck! Unhook, yous two, or Mrs. McNaughton will pour cold water on the two of ya!

- SHHH!!- We both turned to him giggling, knowing mum was probably just upstairs trying to get some sleep… or something else, perhaps.

- So, see you tomorrow? At least fer tea and scones? God knows dad would be really ‘appy to see you again.-

- Give us a call after yer show. –I answered. –I’ll be waiting.

One more kiss, and fearing Mike would open his big yap once again, Paul turned and went to sit behind the wheel again. After waiting for me to go inside, they left, leaving a cloud of combustion steam behind. I looked out the window at the car as it disappeared in the distance and smiling, made my way up the stairs. If Walter had at all stayed with mum I didn’t want to know, so instead of popping into her room to tell her I had arrived, I simply slipped into mine and went to bed, where I tossed and turned miserably, too happy to get a decent night’s sleep, and hoping Paul would be in the same state.

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