Beatlemania!

Ob-la-di Ob-la-da, written for my dear friends Des and Molly back in New York, was released finally, and it was an instant hit. I loved the song, but everybody else detested it.

“If you were there the number of times we had to play it, you’d hate it too,” George explained to me.

So I bopped my head to it, and phoned Dad to tell him about it.

Meanwhile, the boys had new ideas on how to keep the Beatles fresh and on top of the charts. They wanted to film the production and recording of their next album, to show the fans how a Beatles album came about.

While excellent in theory, I told Paul that the boys might find the constant pressure and the awkwardness of the camera a bit of a creativity kill, but as usual they brushed me off.

“It’ll be fine, love,” they assured me.

The album was going to be called Let it Be. I liked it; it was simple and to the point.
Beatlemania was dying. I could feel it. I felt the connection between the boys grow weak as filming progressed. The tension grew and grew until I felt I could cut it with a knife.

Yoko’s presence was causing a bigger problem now that the Beatles were being filmed. I winced every time the boys messed up or got a little angry. What had happened to the magic?
~
Paul’s beard had grown into a thick mane of black – I kind of hated it, but I loved the way his eyes gazed at me and the rest of his face was basically covered. Let it Be was a mess. Every time they took one step forward, they managed to take about fifteen steps back. Everyone was sick of it. Half the time, Paul didn’t even want to go to the studio anymore.

“Let’s go to Rome,” he suggested one evening as we ate vegetable stir fry at the table at Cavendish.

I laughed. “You’ve been to Rome.”
“But that was God – 1966?” Paul guessed.

“Sixty-five,” I corrected. “But close.”

“Come on, Alice. Let’s just go. Who the hell cares what happens while we’re gone, eh?”

Paul kissed my cheek. “We could get married there. Can you imagine? Getting married in Italy!”

I kissed him gently. “I’m not robbing my dad out of going to my wedding. I want to do it here;
where all our friends can be happy with us.”

“Rome though!” Paul pleaded, nuzzling my cheek.

“Oh be quiet. And shave that damn beard,” I teased.
~
“Can we please just drop Linda off for a couple of days? Geoff and I are dying for a break
here,” Lucy begged over the phone.

I bit my lip. Paul had planned on a big weekend out to Scotland, where he had a small property he needed to check up on.

“What time?” I asked unenthusiastically.

“About nine in the morning? She’ll be all fed and clean, I promise,” Lucy replied convincingly.

“Where are you two going?” I asked curiously.

“Spain, believe it or not! Geoff surprised me yesterday,” Lucy squealed with excitement.

That sold it for me. She was my best friend and she deserved this.

“Drop Linda off at nine, Lucy,” I gave in with a laugh. “I’m her godmother after all.”

“Thanks so much, Alice! I owe you one!” she exclaimed.

“Of course you don’t,” I retorted before hanging up.
~
“A baby? In the house? For the entire weekend?” Paul groaned.

“Oh come on, Paul you love babies,” I scolded, cleaning up the dishes.

“Yeah, but I’d planned this entire weekend for us...” he reminded me.

“It’s Linda, Paul. And it’s for Lucy and Geoff! They deserve a little break, don’t you think?” I
asked him.

“Well when you put it like that,” Paul mumbled.

I kissed his lips. “Thank you.”

Paul suddenly grinned wickedly. “You know, I was going to shave the beard for you this weekend, but if we’re not going...”

“You’re such a liar, Paul. I know you,” I laughed, tossing the dishrag into his face.

“Am I? I guess you’ll never really know if I was telling the truth after all,” he winked slyly before hurrying upstairs before I could stop him.
~
“No, Linda. No biting,” I unhooked Linda’s new teeth from my handbag. “Play with your own toys.”

Linda looked up at me with Lucy’s bright blue eyes and smiled goofily before crawling off to amuse herself.

I wiped the sweat off my brow. Having a kid, even for a few days, was stressful. Paul had left for a quick jam with the boys, and I was knackered.

“Okay Linda,” I sighed, picking up the toddler. “How would you like your first trip to a real live recording studio?”

Linda drooled uninterestedly, but I packed up the baby bag and drove her there anyway.
~
I burst into the studio rather noisily, with Linda grumbling and the baby bag slipping off my shoulders.

“Ouch!” I whispered as the door slammed shut on my ankle.

“Alice, what on earth is this? I mean I thought you had gained some weight, but...” George gasped.

I shot him a playful glare. “Oh hush, Harrison and take the baby while I amputate my foot.”

Linda was all smiles for the boys, even for John who gave her a quick grin and a plonk on
the tummy.

“Is this Lucy’s kid?” Ringo asked as he tickled her ear.

“Yeah, I’m watching her for the weekend,” I explained.

“You mean Paul isn’t helping?” George gasped. “Naughty daddy!”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Let’s play something. You pick, Alice.”

“Something from the old days,” I said dreamily.

George started them up with Roll Over Beethoven and then Paul played If I Fell. I was grinning and laughing at the end.

John looked uninterested, Ringo and Paul looked nostaligic, and George was deep in thought. It was completely silent in the recording room until Linda spat up very gracefully and

I whisked her away from the equipment after a polite suggestion by George Martin.