Beatlemania!

I gulped a few times before managing a response.

“I’ll get Paul for you, John,” I choked slightly before setting the receiver down on the kitchen counter.

I re-entered the living room and put a smile on my face.

“Paul? The phone’s for you!” I called out.

He separated himself from the laughing group of people he had been surrounded by and kissed me gently on the mouth.

“Who is it?”

I smiled broadly. “It’s John – and he’s got some news for you.”
~

We drove back to London on Sunday, after bidding farewell to all of Paul’s family members.

We were anxious to get home. Just hours after John called about his engagement, Ringo phoned to say that Maureen had given birth to their second child – a boy again. His name was Jason.

It was a mixed return. I was enthused for Ringo and Mo, but I was sad and slightly annoyed that Yoko was now officially in the Beatles’ circle. Not only that, but she drew her own circle. She was ever-present in the studio, and practically attached to John’s hip. Or penis, whichever.

Overall, I was very satisfied with the parent-boyfriend conference, and he declared that his family adored me .

“Especially Angela, love. She thinks you’re lovely.”

I was pleased to hear that. Another side of me yearned for my mother, who I would have loved Paul to meet. I remembered that Paul didn’t have his mother either, and I felt a rush of sympathy and love for him. We were so similar, yet different enough to make it exciting.
~
Lucy gave birth to her baby girl on July 3rd. I remember it because it was the day that the Beatles moved Apple to Savile Row. I rushed to the hospital without Paul and cried with Geoff and Lucy at the beautiful baby in their arms.

“Have you got a name?” I asked with a smile.

“Actually...” Lucy’s eyes sparkled, “we want to name her Linda Alice.”

I gasped. “No, don’t! Oh, please that’s too nice! I love you both so much!”

“Do you love us enough to be Linda’s godmother?” Geoff grinned at me.

“What?” my voice cracked.

“Well neither of us has any siblings, so I thought you might...”

I pulled both of them into a hug. “I would love to be her godmother!”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do all of the religious stuff. Just be the cool aunt for her. Introduce her to the Beatles when she gets older,” Lucy suggested.

I forced my tears away and looked at my closest friends. “Linda’s lucky. She’s got amazing parents.”
~
Yellow Submarine premiered in mid-July, and Paul was very excited to see it. The only thing the actual Beatles had seen was the short-film thing at the very end of the animated segment. I was just as excited to see it. George and John were coming with us as well, but Ringo stayed with Maureen because she was expecting her second baby soon.

George brought Pattie along, but Yoko was nowhere to be seen.”

“Playing the bachelor tonight?” I asked him cheerfully as the group lingered in the lobby of the theatre.

“I’m not playing,” John winked at me.

I smiled at him fondly. “Your hair really is too long, you know. Please go get it cut.”

“Never, miss. I do so like it like this!” John mimicked a schoolboy’s voice.

I laughed. “No really, where is Yoko?”

“She’ll be along. She said she’d meet me here,” he explained.

“The roads are at a standstill! The crowds are blocking the doors! How the hell is she going to get in?” I demanded.

“Obstacles can be overcome, Westwood,” Yoko’s deep, disconcerting voice reached my ears.

“Hello, Yoko.” I kept my voice politely neutral.

“Yes, hello to you too. John, it is rather warm in here; shall we make our way to our seats?” she said to him.

He nodded in a puppy dog-like manner and trotted off with her into the dark theatre.

Paul joined me a few seconds later, clutching a green Apple as a way to advertise their new country.

“Was that John?” he asked me. “I need to give him an apple.”

“He’s gone into the theatre with Yoko,” I told him.

He shrugged. “Oh well; I’ll just slip it to him before the film starts.”

I thought the film was lovely; much better than that horrendous Magical Mystery Tour.

The voices were uncannily similar to that of the real Beatles, except for George, really.

“I don’t sound like that!” Paul whispered in my ear as the film started.

I smiled lovingly at him. “Oh I’m afraid you do!”

John thought it was good too. “Got all the voices spot on, didn’t they? Except for me, course.”

“What are you on about, Johnny. It sounded exactly like you! Here, take this apple, will you?” Paul spoke quickly, handing John the crisp green apple.

“I meant to wish you congratulations, Yoko,” I said kindly. “I haven’t seen you since the engagement.”

She nodded briefly. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t get any congratulations from you, Paulie! Let’s have it out, then mate,” John teased his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah. Congrats mate,” Paul clapped him on the back and nodded at Yoko. “I hope you’re happy.”
~
I was too wrapped up in my own work life and personal life for most of the year that I didn’t even think about Julian for half of 1968.

Paul was the one who brought it up. Apparently the poor lad hadn’t been taking the divorce very well. He was only six, after all.

“Doesn’t John visit?” I asked, appalled.

“He used to, but it’s far less frequent now that he’s with Yoko.”

I frowned. “Ah.”

“I go to see him once in a while; would you like to come and see Cyn and Jules?”

I nodded blankly.
~
It was funny seeing Cynthia and Jules again. It was like looking back in time. Cyn hadn’t changed at all, but Julian was taller and much more talkative.

I hugged Cyn cheerfully. She was optimistic as well, seeing as the bloke she had been seeing had recently asked her to move in with him. She just didn’t know how to tell her son.

“Alice, how are things?” she asked me, sitting me down in the kitchen while Paul played with Julian.

“Maureen’s about to give birth again, I think,” I started.

Cyn’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Do send her my congratulations!”

“Of course,” I smiled. “Erm...John’s engaged, actually.”

She bit her lip. “Ah yes, to that Japanese artist, isn’t it? I did hear about that...”

I waited with trepidation. She noticed my expression and giggled. “I’m not going to break out into a jealous rage, Alice. I love Adam very much; I’m happy! If John is happy, then I’m happy. But he hasn’t come to see Julian since he and Yoko got serious.”

I frowned. I was trying so hard to stay neutral about the whole Yoko thing, but Cynthia’s stories were making that very hard for me.

“I’ll have a word with him,” I promised, “Jules has gotten so tall!”

Cynthia grinned. “I know; I love that boy to bits. He looks just like his dad.”

"John would be happy to hear it.” I placed my hand on top of hers and gave her a genuine smile.
~
Paul drove home feeling sorry for Julian, who would likely spend most of his life without a father unless John decided to change.

He was quiet in the car, humming thoughtfully to himself.

When we got home, he lingered in the kitchen while I cooked, writing things down on a pad of paper.

“Can I ask you something?” I said quietly.

Paul jumped in surprise. It had been silent for a bit too long.

“Anything, love.”

“How do you do it?” I demanded.

He was puzzled. “Do what?”

“How do you just wake up one morning with music floating around in your head? How do tunes come to you? How do you think of all those beautiful lyrics?” I burst out.

Paul smiled and pulled me into a hug. “When I close my eyes, I don’t listen to the silence; I listen to everything else. And those sounds form a tune. Lyrics? They just come to me because of the people around me. They give me the ideas. I’m no genius.”

“Rubbish!” I snorted. “All I can hear now is the bubbling of the pot and the wind outside.”

“Right!” Paul nodded encouragingly. With that, he hummed a little tune into my ear.

“What song is that?” I breathed.

“Can’t you hear it? It’s all around this room!” Paul exclaimed.

I kissed him. “Maybe you won’t admit that you’re a musical genius, but you’re definitely bloody mental! I can’t hear a damn thing!”

He buried his head in my neck. “Mental it is, then.”
~
That evening, Paul pulled me to the piano and played me the first two stanzas of the song that would eventually become “Hey Jude.”

Take a sad song,
and make it better...