Yeah Yeah Yeah (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

25. Stern But Benevolent

August 1966
London

Paul

Word had spread about the party, and the number of girls outside my home had tripled in size since I'd left that morning. All the Beatles complained bitterly about the gate birds, but I think the others minded more. If the girls disappeared one day, John and especially George would be thrilled. I'd probably be more concerned about why they'd gone off me.

"Is Keith Moon coming tonight?" one of them asked. She had pigtails and looked too young to be standing around the streets of London.

"Could be, yeah," I replied. I'd lost track of the guest list ever since the party had become a much bigger deal than initially intended. Somewhere along the line, it'd become a proper Happening.

A blonde girl handed me a picture to sign and gave me a coquettish smile. "Where's your new girl, Paul? "

"Who says I have a new girl?" I asked, scrawling my name at the bottom of the photograph. There was no need for her to know that I absolutely did have a new girl, and it was driving me mad that I hadn't been able to reach her in three days because I didn't know what bloody continent she was on.

"Oh, it's just... " she replied, sounding flustered. I looked up and saw that her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. "It's just that you've stopped..."

She trailed off, but I could have finished the sentence for her: I'd stopped coming home with a different bird every night. God, there really was a slutty Paul, wasn't there? Maybe that's why there was always the slightest bit of skittishness about Alice--as if she was always ready to cut and run if need be.

Handing the girl the photo, I put a hand on my hip, looking at the group with what I hoped was a stern but benevolent expression.

"Look, girls, you can't stand at the gate all night. I have the right to have friends over without them being hassled. It's one thing to hang about when we're working at the studio, but this is my home."

There was a collective groan of disappointment, even though we all knew nothing would change. I'd lecture them from time to time, and things would be marginally better for a day or two. Then, just as quickly, it'd be back to the same. It was as if they, too, had an inkling about how symbiotic our fan-celebrity relationship had become.

"But Mr. Plowers threatened to call the coppers if we stand on that side of the street." The tall, ginger girl who seemed to be the ringleader gestured at the white townhouse behind her.

I paused, wondering how she knew my neighbor's name when I didn't. Was he the older gent who rang at least once a week to ask me to close my upstairs window so that the piano music didn't filter out into the street?

I ran a hand through my hair, exasperated. "Well, maybe tonight's the night when I call the police, girls. Ever think of that? Hmm?"

I unlocked the gate in a huff and shut it heavily behind me. The house was full of people getting ready for the party: Mrs. Kelly was busy cleaning it from top to bottom, Mr. Kelly was fixing the dodgy light on the terrace, and Mr. Mal was somewhere putting away the copious amounts of alcohol we'd purchased.

The phone rang, startling me. The line hissed, and I held the receiver away from my ear for a moment before trying to speak. It was mostly static, and I could barely hear what was possibly Alice's voice.

"Liss?" I asked, only to be rewarded by a loud crackle. Another screeching noise and the line dropped.

"Fucking hell," I muttered, slamming down the receiver. Nearby, Mrs. Kelly looked at me disapprovingly as if I were the only person in the history of people who had ever cursed.