Downtown!
A Personalized Story by Anyathe


Though she was usually very well behaved, Paul had just known that today was going to be a bad Martha day. Something, some inner force from Beyond (So George would say) had told him that he was going to have trouble with the dog today. At least, that’s what he thought he’d have trouble with.

Nonetheless, he had longed for a good lengthy walk and had not wanted to take it by himself. There wasn’t anyone else to take – no one that he wanted to, anyway – and Jane was out of the question now that it was officially over. Besides, Martha had faithfully been there as she always was. Sitting on the shag rug with her tongue hanging out and her tail wagging – how could he resist that? So Paul had gotten her lead and put her in the car. The shaggy sheepdog hung her head out the window all the way out to the countryside and enjoyed the refreshing freedom.

Paul needed to unwind, relax, let go of things for a little while. So what, if Magical Mystery Tour hadn’t exactly worked out the way they’d intended. Worse things could have happened. Besides, it wasn’t their fault that it hadn’t been received the way they it was meant to have been. People had been to intent on finding a storyline, rather than just soaking in the principles and the –

Mentally he admonished himself. His plan of a relaxing country walk was what he had in mind here. Not reliving the past disappointments and trying to angle new ways to reflect on them. Today could well be the first day of a brand new season of life and only he … and Martha … could make that happen.

He stopped the car when he’d decided he’d gone out far enough. As he turned off the engine he caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview window. He tilted it down to look at himself better and pushed his fingers through his already lumpy brown hair. Those looked like premature worry lines on his forehead. Grimacing (and deciding that grimacing made him look older too) he let his hair fall back down and repositioned the rearview. Paul was disgusted with his current frame of mind but did not know quite what to do about it.

‘Come on Martha, luv,’ he said as he took her lead. Eagerly she followed him out of the car and then proceeded to trot happily ahead of him once they started walking along. At least she seemed happy. He hoped she wouldn’t get too dirty. She was a bugger of a thing to wash and keep clean. But he would rather her be happy and dirty than keep her bound in cotton wool for the rest of her canine life.

As he walked he became aware of a figure in the distance walking towards them. He didn’t pay much attention to it at first: it was just a blobby shape on the horizon. In fact, Paul didn’t think much more about it until he was near enough to see that it was a woman, sitting on a log with a golden retriever beside her. The closer Paul got he could make out her features: clear white skin and brilliant hair like a comet’s trail down her back. Yet now that he was this close he could tell there was something wrong.

Paul sped up his leisurely walk to a jog and then to a run when he saw the way she was breathing. She was unnaturally pale and her large brown eyes were wide with fright as she struggled to breathe. Instantly Paul recognized the symptoms of an asthma attack. “Wait here, I’ll get my car!” He told her and immediately wheeled around and went at a dead run back to his car. It didn’t occur to him until he threw a confused Martha back in and revved the engine that his arrival and promise to get his car might have alarmed her more; but there wasn’t time for lengthy explanations now.

It took just over thirty seconds to reach her and Paul prayed it wasn’t thirty seconds too long. The tires squealed to a halt. He threw open the door and scooped the woman up; she was even lighter than he expected. In moments he had her in the car and the door shut before he realised he’d forgotten her dog. Vocally cursing himself he stopped the car a few meters down the road, ran back for the dog, and then sped along the road towards the nearest hospital at a speed that would make George jealous.

“I’m Paul,” he told her once they were under way. “Are you all right? Is there anything else I can do? I’m taking you to the hospital you know … it won’t be long, can you hold on that long?” He was babbling but all he wanted to do was put her at ease. “Great dog you’ve got, but I’ve always fancied sheepdogs myself. That’s Martha in the back. You all right? It won’t be long now.”

The trip seemed to take an eternity, but she seemed to get better as they went along. However, that wasn’t enough to deter Paul from his breakneck speed or to discard the idea that she may have a relapse.

He zoomed up the emergency drive. He leapt out of the car shouting at the medics what had happened and where he had found her. In a blur of activity they took the young lady away and Paul was left, standing in the emergency waiting room with her dog in his car and absolutely no idea of what he was meant to do next.

So he sat down and opened a magazine and read an article about himself.

He wasn’t sure how long he was sitting there when he noticed the young woman filling out forms. It took him a few minutes to register that it was her. There was colour in her cheeks and the panic had left her eyes. She was startlingly beautiful; Paul wondered how in all the excitement he’d managed to miss that.

Setting the magazine aside he got up and brushed his shirt sleeves down. Then he crossed over to her and leant against the bench beside her. “Hello ….” He glanced at the top of her form, “Vanessa.”

Vanessa looked up. He watched her process of realization in her eyes. Curiosity, surprise, recognition, embarrassment and a final attempt at normality. “You’re Paul, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“They said you brought me in here. I can’t thank you enough.” She paused and shook her head lightly. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

“Well, everything happens for a reason,” he smiled. “Are you all right now?”

She nodded. “Much better. I shouldn’t have gone walking in the first place.”

“Because of your asthma?”

“Yes. Sort of. I mean, it’s not usually a problem – I take dancing lessons which is good for my breathing … it’s just the warm weather and Jezebel wanted to go for a run …”

“Jezebel?”

“My dog. Have you –”

Paul grinned, tipping his head towards the car park. “She’s keeping Martha company in the Aston Martin.”

“Martha?”

“My dog.”

They shared a laugh, and then Vanessa continued her story. “I know I should have had someone there, especially being so isolated and all … but I just love the countryside, and Sindy and Mary – they’re my friends, not dogs,” she grinned, “were working and couldn’t come.”

Paul nodded, surprised that he’d felt he’d run out of things to say. “Well … I’m glad you’re all right then. You scared the shit out of me. I’d better let you finish your form.”

“Thanks,” she said, and then added as if on an afterthought, “Wait a minute. I really owe you for your help. Do you want to get a drink somewhere when I’m finished?”

He stopped and nodded. “Sounds like a good idea to me, Vanessa.”

“Call me Vee.”

*-~-~-*-~-~-:+:-~-~-*-~-~-*

Once her forms were completed, they went back to Paul’s Aston. But there were a few things that needed to be done before they could go for a drink. First of all the dogs had to be taken home, because it was too hot in the car for them and they really were making a mess of his backseat. Then they had to go back out into the country to pick up Ve’s car. In the process they started to get to know one another surprisingly well. Paul hoped she wouldn’t feel alienated by the gatebirds outside his house when they dropped Martha off: the chances of rumors starting were high.

He trusted her judgment and went to her favourite teahouse, where they continued their conversation about travel and art. She was quite well-versed in the arts. Paul, who had thought himself quite cultured, felt left behind on his end of conversation until the topic switched to the theatre.

He enjoyed the theatre a great deal. He’d frequented the West End and a variety of other British stages to see Jane in her plays. Ve told him she was more inclined towards musicals, whereas Jane had been involved in straight plays such as Chekov and Shakespeare.

“Why didn’t you become an actress, then?” Paul asked her at length.

Ve shrugged lightly and swished the liquid inside of her cup. “It’s what I wanted to be, no doubts there. But it was just one of those things that never quite eventuated. I became a singer instead.”

“Really?” Paul leant slightly forward, quite interested by the turn of discussion. “Where do you sing? Have you released anything?”

She laughed. “Oh no. I’ve not a contract with anyone or anything like that. I just sing at dancehalls and clubs. I started as backup, but I’m starting to get my own gigs now.”

“We started like that,” he said. “Backed for Tony Sheridan a few times, and supported people like Helen Shapiro till it became apparent that people were coming to see us, not the headline acts.” He chuckled softly at the memory, even though they’d felt simultaneously elated and rotten about the fact back then.

“I remember reading about that somewhere. She’s got a good voice, she has.”

“Not too bad, yeah. So what’s your catalog like? What sort of material do you sing?”

Ve smiled, clearly flattered that he was so interested. “I like Motown,” she admitted. “And the Blues.”

“Would you sing for me?”

“What?! Here?!”

“Yeah.” Paul sat back and smiled lazily across the table at her. “Here.”

“I don’t think this is really the place…”

“It could be.”

“I haven’t warmed up!”

“So?”

“I’d get chucked out.”

“Not with me here, you wouldn’t.”

“No,” Vee said adamantly, “I’m not going to. No.”

Paul gestured around the room. “Look at these people. They are dying to be entertained. Go on, do them a favor.” He paused as a thought his him. “I’ll run it past the manager. How’s that? Hang about.”

And before Ve could utter another word Paul had scooted away from their table to seek out the manager.

There were two ways she could handle this. One was to walk out and the other was to go through with it. But standing up Paul McCartney was unthinkable, especially considering he knew where she lived and where she worked. She was stuck.

Under the circumstances the manager didn’t mind – the circumstances being that a Beatle had asked this favor of him. He set up the mike usually reserved for evening performances and hustled Ve to the little stage. He apologized profusely for not having any musicians for her but assured her that from what Mr. McCartney had said, she would be just fine on her own.

Ve saw this as her way out. But Paul was not so easily deterred. He grinned and asked the manager to loan him a rhythm guitar, which he set up on a stool behind Ve.

“Well? What are you going to sing for us?” He asked, looking cheeky and smug as all hell.

“Downtown,” she told him. Paul fiddled with the chords for a few moments, picking out what he needed to know.

“Give me a minute,” he said, playing till he worked it out. Ve used this precious time to give herself a quick vocal warm-up. He nodded to her when he was ready and she sang Downtown, which was the first song that had popped into her head when he asked her.

A reasonable crowd was watching them, and, at Paul’s requested, the manager had closed the café to prevent any Beatle worshippers coming in and tearing him to pieces. It was a pleasant, closed-circuit audience.

Ve sang a few more numbers, including Stardust, Airmail Special and As Tears Go By. Paul felt obliged to sing a few songs to please the audience to, so at Ve’s request he did acoustic versions of Your Mother Should Know and For No One.

When they’d had enough they slipped out the back entry. They were laughing and recapping the funnier of moments from their spontaneous concert – the most humorous being when Paul realised he had no idea how Airmail Special went and resolved to making things up as he went along to try and sound like what Ve was singing.

Paul took her home. He’d arranged a jam session with the lads at 5pm, and John would never forgive him if he were late. Yet when he stopped by Ve’s house to drop her off, they shared their first kiss. As he massaged the small of her back and caressed her cheek Paul decided he wasn’t ready to let her go home just yet. Without even running it past her he accelerated and told her she was coming to the studios with them. She didn’t protest: she seemed quite pleased by the prospect.

The wheels in Paul’s mind began turning. He thought of Apple which was beginning to ripen and of the new talent they were thinking of starting to look for. Paul began to think he’d found their first new star.