Yeah Yeah Yeah (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

22. Off-The-Record Paul

July 1966
London

Alice

I adjusted the dial on the television to bring into focus the four Beatles walking off the plane at Heathrow. They stood on the tarmac with smiles plastered on their faces. A cigarette dangled precariously from Ringo's lips, John chewed gum vigorously, and George looked delighted to be back on English soil. Paul was more fidgety than usual, and, uncharacteristically, his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. They all looked dead tired, like they just wanted to go home and sleep for a month.

The fellows filed wearily into a room a few moments later and sat behind a long table. Reporters began speaking all at once until the press officer quieted them down.

"At the airport, did they come up and start physically threatening you?" a reporter asked off-screen.

Paul hesitated a moment and then leaned towards the microphone. As he spoke, I leaned closer to the screen to peer at him. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink since I'd last seen him.

"Did you get kicked any?" another reporter asked.

John took the question. "No, I was very delicate and moved every time they touched me."

I rolled my eyes, imagining their manager's pre-conference instructions: make it clear you'll never, ever go back... but don't be so harsh that we can't sell records there.

Paul pulled out a cigarette, his eyes gazing off into the distance. He returned his attention to the interview every so often, offering a laugh or a quick comment, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere. It was almost like he had somewhere to be, and he was just barely tolerating this interruption.

I sat back, the arm of the sofa digging into my arm as I watched them stand and wave wearily to the cameras. The footage switched to screaming girls standing outside the airport, one of whom was holding a sign saying "You're Luverly, Lennon." The BBC reporter asked the girls a question, eliciting more screams and hysterics.

The phone rang, startling me. Quickly, I shut off the television and walked across the room to pick up the receiver.

"Hi, Alice."

Paul's voice crackled slightly on the line, and I nearly sagged in relief. I'd been driving myself mad ever since I'd returned to London, wondering if that whole thing in the airplane had been a panic-induced hallucination. Had it even happened? Had I dreamt it all up?

"I was just watching you on The Beeb," I said as off-handedly as possible. "Seems like you all made it back in one piece."

"Mmm," he hummed. "In body, anyway, if not in mind. Listen, did you know that there's a huge staff lounge at the airport where they have an entire row of showers? Showers, Alice. An entire row of 'em."

I grinned. "I did, in fact. Are you going to avail yourself of them?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "We're all going to wash up and change clothes before trying to escape this shitshow."

"You must be exhausted," I said sympathetically. It was so good to hear his voice.

"I could sleep for a week," he replied almost cheerfully. "But I was hoping that I could drop by your place before I do that?"

Where else would I be other than my flat? BUA had canceled my routes for the rest of the week while they sorted out what to do with me. My dad had summoned me to my granny's estate later in the week, which wouldn't be a good scene. And it was too bloody hot outside to do much else.

I nodded, and there was an awkward pause until I realized that he couldn't see me. "Yeah. Sure. Yeah, that would be nice. I'm here, I mean. In my flat, that is."