Beatlemania!

Once the subject had been brought up, Paul wouldn’t drop it.

“Are you free this weekend, love? Because dad’s quite keen, ya know...” he asked me a couple weeks later.

“I’m fine with anything,” I smiled at him. “You set it up, and I’ll be there.”

So he did. A couple weeks later, he explained to me that we would drive to Liverpool on Friday and hopefully get there for dinner. Paul had somehow convinced me to stay for the weekend, too.

“You are way too good at convincing people to do crazy things,” I kissed his lips gently as he filled me in on the plans. “I wish I had that talent.”

“What are you talking about?” he looked genuinely confused.

“You completely charmed your way into my family a couple weeks ago,” I laughed. “I thought they would be dead set against me dating you, but somehow you smile and pull out the charm and my family loves you!”

“It’s a god-given talent,” he replied smoothly.

“Ha!” I snorted, giving him a small shove. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? I think it’s a Beatle-given talent.”

Paul shrugged. “I was always nice; but the being in the Beatles just showed me how I could use that to get what I wanted.”

“You went onto the dark side,” I teased him.

He smirked. “It’s lovely on this side. Why don’t you join me?”

“I’d like to keep myself bright and pure, thanks!” I sniffed.

Paul burst out laughing and pulled me in for a hug. “Pure! As if!”

He bent down and kissed me sensuously. I responded eagerly, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing up against him roughly.

“So maybe I’m not pure and you’re a smooth conman,” I mumbled.

“Fine with me!” Paul grinned and pulled me back onto the couch.
~

“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow,” I suggested anxiously as Paul pulled into his dad’s minuscule driveway.

He smiled at me. “Come on, love. He’ll love you. I know I do.”

“You can’t just use that to convince me to do everything, you know,” I frowned at me.

“Is it working today?”

I sighed. “Yes. But it won’t work for another month!”

He took the bags out of the boot and carried them all towards the door, despite my attepts to stop him.

“I’m happy to do it, love,” he smiled angelically.

I giggled and let him ring the doorbell. My heart pounded with trepidation and I heard footsteps. At that moment, Paul reached and sneakily pinched my bum. I jumped about a foot off of the ground and laughed along with him.

A man who I assumed to be Paul’s dad opened the door to the pair of us cracking up.

“Hi, Dad,” Paul hiccupped, trying to stop laughing.

I held in my chuckle and put a winning smile on my face.

“Hello, Mr. McCartney,” I grinned at him cheerfully.

“Paulie,” he nodded. “And this must be Alice! Please, come in!”

I grabbed a bag before Paul could stop me and carried it into the house.

“Paul! Help poor Alice with her bag, you scoundrel!” Jim McCartney shouted.

"She won’t let me, Dad. I swear!” Paul chortled as he closed the door behind him.

“Really, Mr. McCartney, women have been able to vote for decades now. Word is we can carry bags on our own, too,” I said cheekily.

Jim was somebody I automatically felt comfortable in front of. He was a lot older than I was expecting; he must have been early sixties by the look of it. He was balding and sturdy, but his eyes were wise and bright.

“Oh please! You girls love being waited on,” Paul accused.

“Well I never said I never liked it,” I resolved with a smile.

Jim led us into the living room and Paul dumped the bags by the stairs and hastened to sit next to me.

“Where’s my bugger of a brother hiding?” Paul asked out loud.

His father gave him a stern look. “Oi! Mike get down here and say hello!”

Paul’s brother walked nonchalantly down the stairs with a boyish grin all over his face. I was shocked to see that the two brothers had very little in common when it came to looks. Paul’s choirboy face and pouty lips were not encoded in Mike’s genes, but they had the same warm brown eyes and charming smile.

“Alice, that is my favourite brother Mike,” Paul introduced sardonically.

“Hello, Alice. You’re much prettier than the boys Paul usually brings round,” Mike teased.

I laughed. “Hi, Mike.”

I soon learned that Mike certainly had a taste for humour, but it was closer to John’s roguish remarks than Paul’s gentle wit. He teased his brother mercilessly, and Paul whipped out some jokes that John would have applauded at.

Jim stopped trying to get them to shut up but often told them to tone down the language. The first dinner in Liverpool was interesting, I tell you.

When it came to bedtime, I learned that poor Mike had been tossed onto the couch so that I could stay in his room.

“Please, Mike. I don’t mind sofas!” I pleaded, feeling guilty as hell.

“Oh leave him; he’s an ass,” Paul kissed my cheek and grabbed my suitcase.

“Paul!” I frowned. “You sleep on the settee, then.”

“Why don’t we share a bed and then nobody sleeps on the settee?” Paul suggested impishly.

Jim McCartney stepped in there. “Not under my roof, laddie.”

“It’s okay, Alice. There’s room for two on the sofa,” Mike waggled his eyebrows teasingly.

Paul snorted loudly. “I told you, Alice. Tell you what, you take my room. God knows what’s living in his.”

Mike threw a well-aimed shoe at Paul’s head. Expertly, Paul dodged it and waggled his tongue at his younger brother.

“Am I going mad? Or is it 1949 again?” Jim asked sarcastically. “Show Alice to her room, Paul.”

With a grin at his father, Paul took my hand and raced up the stairs to his room. Paul’s room was small and slightly dusty, with a small bed shoved against the wall with a lamp on the bedside table. There were the classic novels on a rickety-looking bookshelf. Treasure Island, Oliver Twist, Gulliver’s Travels, and even The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

“Wow,” I smiled at the books, running a finger over the binding.

“Didn’t I tell you I was going to be an English teacher before the Beatles came about?” Paul hugged me from behind and placed his chin on my shoulder.

“No, you didn’t,” I said absently. “Professor McCartney...I like that, actually.”

Paul laughed. “Yeah, so did everyone else. My mum was keen on it too.”

I turned to kiss his cheek. “I think she would have been proud of everything you’ve achieved.”

He sighed heavily. “You didn’t know her. Even dad is appalled by my lifestyle.”

I turned around so I could look at him properly. His greeny-brown eyes were imploring me to tell the truth.

“Your lifestyle may be...unorthodox,” I admitted. “But you’re a good person, Paul. You know you are.”

“You may be a bit biased,” Paul smiled gently, kissing my forehead.

I looked around his room again. “I would have loved to have known fifteen year old Paul.”

“He was a horny little bugger, you’re lucky you never knew him.”

I laughed. “I don’t think that’s really changed.”

Paul pulled me to sit with him on the bed.

“I’ll let you get changed and all that. I’ll sneak in a bit later.”

I kissed him lightly and sent him off.
~
Paul could't have into my room, because I woke up alone, surrounded by beams of sunlight. It must have been nearly ten o’ clock. I went to figure out where the bathroom was.

Once I found it, I showered quickly and pulled on jeans and a nice blue jacket and left my hair down, slipping down my back like silk.

I hurried downstairs to find it empty except for Paul’s dad.

“Morning,” I said shakily.

He looked up from his mug of tea and newspaper and offered me a slight smile. “Good morning, Alice. Sleep alright?”

“I slept like a log,” I replied with a grin.

I glanced at Mike, still conked out on the sofa with his mouth wide open.

Mr. McCartney nodded at his younger son. “Looks like you’re not the only one who did...”

I laughed and reached to fill up the kettle to boil some water for tea.

“Mr. McCartney, did you want any more tea?” I asked politely.

He looked embarrassed. “Call me Jim, dear. But I should probably be asking you if you want tea.”

Jim made to stand up and I quickly stopped him. “I’ve got it, I promise I know how to make tea.”

He cracked a smile and went back to his paper. Silence fell like a thick blanket until the teapot began to whistle.

Mike woke up with a thud when the tea was ready.

“Fuck!” he swore, rubbing his head tenderly.

“Watch your mouth, son,” Jim reprimanded sternly.

Mike made a face behind his dad. I choked on my tea.

“Good morning, Alice. I see you’re all nice and washed. But you’ll change for the party, right?” Mike yawned.

“The party?” I asked brightly.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, some of our relatives are coming by to say hello to Paul and meet you. You’ll want to impress the Aunties and Uncles.”

My eyes widened. “Right,” I squeaked, “I’ll be right back.”
~

“There’s going to be a party?” I jumped onto Paul’s sleeping body and bounced anxiously.

Paul yawned and pulled me down onto the bed and cuddled me. “Paul!” I cried, wriggling out of his embrace.

“Love, calm down. It’s just a few relatives. You’ll charm the knickers off of all of them,” he assured me with a voice that was thick with sleep.

“What if I don’t?” I frowned, burying my head in my hands.

Paul finally sat up. He placed one hand on my cheek and kissed me gently. “You’re lovable, my dear. And if by some freak accident they hate you, I’ll still love you.”

I closed my eyes. “Get dressed, will you? You must be hungry.”
~

People started arriving at four thirty. Jim’s new wife came first. She was much younger than Jim, but she seemed in love and very happy. Angela, as Paul introduced her, was out of town with her daughter for a week and only just got back.

“Alice! Paul’s told us about you, of course,” she smiled. Her blonde hair was something to be envious of.

“You must be Angela,” I greeted.

She smiled again, displaying dimples. “Yes, and I know what it’s like to be in your position. Meeting the McCartney clan can be a bit overwhelming.”

My eyes widened. “No kidding. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Angela took my arm companionably. “Come and help me start the cooking now, although when everyone else comes you’ll be the star of the show.”

I gulped. That was something to look forward to...

Angela put me to work on the appetizers: crackers and cheese, and delicious veggie kabobs; grilled tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella all drizzled with vinegar and olive oil.

“Alice, this is exquisite!” Angela praised. “Are you a chef?”

I blushed. “No, but my mother was an excellent cook. I like to think I inherited that part of her.”

Angela was about to respond with something sympathetic when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Paul called, running to the front door excitedly.

A/N: The following scenes contain fake McCartney family members. Forgive me, Paul, for making up all of your family tree.

I cowered in the kitchen with Angela, hurrying to make sure the roast potatoes weren’t burning. I bustled around, trying to look busy, but I was listening with all my might to Paul greet his family.

“Auntie Fanny,” Paul grinned ecstatically. “Haven’t seen you or Uncle Jerry for ages!”

“Yes, yes Paulie; it’s lovely to see you again!” Fanny hugged her nephew quickly while scanning the room.

“Where’s your Alice?” another Auntie crowed.

“In the kitchen, Aunt Beth,” Paul explained just as a crowd of McCartney children came piling into Jim’s small house.

I turned my back to the visitors as I stirred the gravy.

“And she cooks!” someone called.

I turned around in mock surprise and smiled politely.

“Hello, I’m Alice!” I greeted cheerfully.

Angela kindly introduced me. “Alice this is Paul’s Aunts Fanny, Beth, Sue, and Carol.”

I waved shyly.

“Alice is a whiz in the kitchen; she saved me today,” Angela supplied us with a conversation starter.

“Do you cook for a living, Alice?” Carol asked me.

I shook my head ruefully. “I work for a company that owns many art galleries. It’s based in New York, but I manage the international branch in London.”

“And you’re from where, exactly?” Sue demanded.

I blushed again. “I was born in Manchester but my family moved to New York when I was young. Dad moved back last year, and I followed suit just months later.

The Aunts tittered at that, but then Paul came to rescue me.

“You’re monopolizing her, ladies,” Paul teased, leading me by the waist to meet more people.

I was introduced to Ruth, Angela’s daughter from a previous marriage, and was taken with her immediately. She had dimples not unlike her mother’s, and she loved Mike, Jim and Paul senseless.

She was very shy with me at the beginning, but she warmed up after I was elected to feed her dinner. Dinner was a hit, thanks to Angela and myself.

I was later introduced to Mike’s official fiancée, whose name was also Angela, but mostly went by Angie.

I never got to eat much food, as Paul was showing me off every chance he got. I smiled politely but I was internally shocked. There were so many names to remember.

When I finally caught my breath, I sought comfort in Angela.

“How in the world do you remember all the McCartney’s?” I gasped as I reached for a glass of wine.

Angela laughed at me. “Don’t worry; you’ll start memorizing the important ones soon. They’ll all be anxious to spend time with you...although it is Paul you’re dating; so maybe they won’t be pushy.”

“What, is Paul unpopular?” I joked.

“No, it’s just that he’s a Beatle, and people are afraid that their kindness will be mistaken for kissing up. They don’t want to look like leeches.”

I frowned. “That’s almost...noble, but sad.”

“That’s why Paul likes coming to Liverpool. It reminds him that he really is loved by his family.”

Just as Angela finished speaking, Mike swooped into the kitchen.

“Love, you can’t escape the McCartney’s that easily!” he teased, taking my arm.

“Please? You can distract them by...I dunno, breaking your leg and I’ll make my escape!” I suggested.

“Somehow, I think my broken leg will be what everyone remembers,” Mike replied sarcastically.

I didn’t get another break until nearly midnight, where I stole a quick drink in the kitchen. The phone rang, and I hastened to pick it up.

“McCartney residence,” I announced into the phone.

“Er...yeah, is Paul there by any chance?” an irritated voice demanded.

“John?” I asked in wonderment.

“Well if it isn’t Alice Westwood,” John whistled jokingly.

I laughed. “It feels like ages since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah, the McCartney’s can do that to you.”

I smiled fondly. “So should I get Paul? Or what?”

John sounded nervous now. “Er – it’s not necessary, I just wanted to let the two of you in on the good news.”

“Ooh, what is it?” I asked eagerly.

There was a slight pause before John answered. “Yoko and I...we’re engaged.”

My jaw dropped.