The Arch of Love ~ Paul McCartney

41. When it's night

Notting Hill, 30 November '67, 7:16 PM

And just like that, our random schedules weren't ideal anymore. Throughout the entire month of November I mostly had dayshifts, which enabled me to leave the hospital just after six in the evening. Unfortunately, Paul had left for the studio by that time, which resulted in us not seeing each other much.

There was, however, that one time that Paul had asked me to come to this club in Soho with him. I was apprehensive to say yes. I was still in the unknown, only known as Paul's new fling, but not by name. I didn't really want to change that. Another issue was that I had work in the morning and a short night wasn't really appropriate. But in the end, the fact that I hadn't seen him in over a week won. I couldn't say no to him.

Unfortunately, this turned out to be a massive mistake. When before, there had only been rumours that Paul had moved on from his break-up with Jane Asher, there was now living proof that he did have a new girl. Someone, I hadn't a clue who, had managed to snap a grainy shot of Paul and I entering the club and by morning come, it was on every gossip magazine at the paper stand.

The photo itself was so grainy that you could only just make out it was Paul and someone, but you couldn't actually recognise me. Still, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks when I first spotted that picture on my morning commute to work. If anyone would get a look at me now, they would know who "Paul's mystery bird" was.

But that was just the start, unfortunately. As soon as that picture hit the tabloids, the press on Fleet Street had made it their sole mission to find out who I was. More and more articles appeared and Paul was pestered with questions and followed to and from home for days.

Even at work I wasn't safe. Though I didn't work on the maternity ward anymore and nurse Foster, or Grace as I had come to know her, did, we still talked from time to time. Apparently working on the same case and being forced to keep that a secret for months helped to start a friendship. Only, she was still as Beatles obsessed as she was at the beginning of us working together. Where she had been kind and supportive of Paul's "girl on the side" in March, she wasn't anywhere near that now that he had a new girlfriend. Being called a tramp and a homewrecker over lunch wasn't one of my favourite pastimes, I had to admit.

He called me up one night, just to tell me he wasn't sure how long we were able to keep it a secret. And then he warned me with the stories of the others. All the other Beatles were married and their wives weren't treated the best. To the contrary, actually. Abuse was slurred at them every time they dared to leave the house and sometimes they were even physically attacked. He hung up the phone on that last day of November with that information and the promise to swing by in the morning.

'Everything alright?' Fran asked as I walked into the living room after I'd hung up. She must've seen my hanging shoulders and sad face and realised that no, not everything was alright.

'I need wine first,' I announced and I walked to the chest of drawers in the corner; the place where we kept our wine glasses and bottles of wine.

'So what's got you on the closet?' my best friend asked, only after I had given her a glass of wine too and was sat down next to her on the sofa.

I contemplated for a bit, then took another sip of wine as a form of Dutch courage. 'Paul,' I finally admitted.

'What's he done now?' she countered immediately, a disappointed tone in her voice. Nope, she still wasn't his biggest fan.

'Pipe down!' I warned her. 'It's not so much him as Fleet street.' I looked down at the coffee table, where an assortment of gossip magazines were lying, two of which had headlines about me on their cover. I wasn't one to read the tabloids, but Fran was. She loved the gossip and absurdity of some of them and thus there were always plenty of magazines in our flat.