𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘 ── PAUL McCARTNEY

XVI. IN SPITE OF ALL THE DANGER

Wednesday the 15th of October 1958

I watch in the rare decadent sunlight, the waves lull and crash back and forth. In the warm and light on an autumn day, I try to deny all that I must and focus on going home.

I force myself to think of my nana ⎯⎯ to the heartache and distress I would have given her in knowing that I was gone. I could've killed her for all I knew. If I can remember anything about my mum, I know that she would have been distraught just like the time nana had taken me to the movies and I had gotten spoilt rotten with all the jewels and gems and accused of wasting my nana's money. I think of mum with a more extreme version of that. Even with nana telling me gently that memories are worth all the money in the world. And plus, dad would be worrying sick too. I knew that he couldn't bear to lose me despite it all. I had been gone for weeks and I wasn't even an inkling closer to going home.

The sight of his cheery smile and dark-tousled hair makes my heart flutter as he looks at me whilst conversing with George and John. It was a simple look of all things, merely lasting for a few seconds.

John and Paul had sagged off school to go to Paul's house to write like they often did. It had worked out really well in their three hour songwriting session I believe and in their sudden need for a break to celebrate they decided to toddle off to Crosby Beach with me. John was the one who had insisted for me to come along was a major first. George came along soon after, bringing a pack of beer, a bag of salty potato crisps as they all called them and a picnic blanket.

I yearn for shadows, for escape. I wish to sink into the sand and never, ever resurface. The beach, this place, just merely makes me want to grab Paul by his collar and gently kiss him. Yet, that would be highly idiotic seeing that George and John are here. Plus, the last time didn't go well and even more than that I cannot kiss him for any reason.

Why was I so deeply afraid to let him know me? I was being so careful, I was doing everything I could to remain untouched by time itself. I was worried of the risks of changing things, disrupting their lives ⎯⎯ and my own. Yet, despite it all, in my heart I wished to never hurt them in any way. These boys held such a special place in my heart ever so more and more increasingly.

"Are you alright?" Asks a soft sweet voice beside me. I had never seen this lady in my life before. She wasn't much more older than me.

"Uh, yes, I am very well thank you. Is something the matter?" I ask, fidgeting upon the patterned picnic blanket.

"You must be Daisy. John has told me about you. I'm Thelma."

Who is Thelma? And why would John utter a word about me?

"I'm his girlfriend," She gently pushes, trying to soften my confusion. Her dark pin curls were perfect. No matter what I did I could never get them to look like that. I think my hair was too long partly to that.

Oh.

"Have a seat," I mumble trying to be polite, scooting over on the patterned blanket. I couldn't help but wonder where Cynthia was ⎯⎯ this girl in front of me I truthfully did not have a single clue of who she was. I know that Cynthia been with John for a while before she fell pregnant with their son Julian.

"Ta," She says gratefully and twists herself elegantly upon the blanket next to me. The boys are walking along the waves barefooted with beer bottles in hand, laughing and mucking around, and I try to pay great attention to that. I want to remember all the little things forever.

"Are ya Paul's Australian girl?"

The words startle me, surprise me. What was John telling this girl? What was everyone saying?