St. John's Wood, 14 March '67, 16:15 PM
'We may have a problem,' Paul said as he walked in the living room. He had just taken a phone call in the hallway and it had left him with a worried look on his face.
I narrowed my eyes. 'What do you mean?' I asked. I was lying on the couch, a blanket draped over my legs and a dog's head somewhere in my lap. I didn't want to move.
Martha, Paul's sheepdog, was the only other living soul that knew of our affair. And luckily for us, she was in no position to tell anyone. So I let her lay with me. Besides, I got a good cuddle buddy out of it. Who didn't like doggie cuddles? I won't repeat Paul's answer when I told him that. I started blushing, even thinking about it.
'John's coming over,' he said bluntly, not beating around the bush whatsoever. He let out a sigh as he fell down on the couch next, or maybe half on, me.
'What?' I asked alarmed. 'Shit. I need to get out of here.' I sat up and swung my legs from underneath Paul's arse, to which he groaned. Poor guy, you would think he didn't just get up from the couch five minutes ago.
He sighed again. 'Yeah, you do. I just don't want you to go,' he said.
I raised my eyebrows. 'Staying here is out of the question, isn't it? No one can know. Especially not people who might blab. He can't see me,' I rambled, already scouting the room for my shoes. I had discarded them somewhere this morning when all that was on my mind was sleep and Paul and, probably, doing both of them at the same time.
Both of us had had a night shift and because his girlfriend still hadn't shown up, we had made arrangements for me to stay over at his place, again. I had been exhausted after a ten-hour shift in the middle of the night, only to witness a road accident when I'd been on the bus for three stops. Only after I had made sure the cyclist was taken care of by an ambulance and the driver by the police, I could finally continue my journey to Paul's house.
It had been past ten when I finally showed up and could make my way inside. All he wanted to do at that moment was me and I had to say that it was a great way to keep my mind off my tired body. According to Paul, a shag and a nap was all one needed in a day. I didn't fully agree, but sleep was something I had given up on for today anyways. We could do that tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.
'Yeah, no, you're right. He can't see you. But John's not very convinced of anything at the moment. The tosser thinks he wants to have lunch with me. I'm sure I can get him out of here within thirty minutes,' Paul mused, trying to drag me back to the couch.
'So? What did he want anyways? Doesn't he live way out of town? Why would he come all this way for lunch?' I asked, confused. I was struggling against his pull on my hand, but not with a lot of enthusiasm. I was tired and I did not actually want to leave. But I was aware of what someone finding out would mean. Paul was never going to leave Jane, so as soon as someone found out, the affair was over and I had to say goodbye to Paul forever.
'The pretentious git was in the studio already and he wants to get lunch and go over a couple of songs or something,' he complained. He sounded annoyed. If there was one thing I had discovered about Paul is that he was incredibly competitive. Especially if it came down to song writing. He talked himself down and thought he didn't compare to John in that regard. Hearing that John was in the studio this afternoon, obviously touched a nerve.
I raised my eyebrows to urge him on, while I put my shoes on. It was clear I had to leave. For how long, though, wasn't clear to me.
'I'll get him out as soon as I can. Play off a hangover or something. Which isn't half true either.' He was clearly thinking out loud as he wasn't making much sense.
I nudged him and decided to put my own brain to use. He clearly wasn't a criminal mastermind, nor did he work good on a time crunch. How did he ever get anything done? 'How about I take Martha to the park. I'll be back in half an hour or so. Enough time for you to eat a sarnie and get him out of here.' I was actually proud of how quickly I made that up. It beat his efforts.
'Do you have to?' he whined, whilst he wrapped his arms around me. He nuzzled his face into my neck; he clearly didn't want to let me go.
I chuckled and pushed him away. 'That itches. You should shave!' I scolded him, though I secretly liked his scruffy look. There was something extremely sexy about the moustache with the five-o'clock shadow. 'I've got to go. He could be here any minute.'
While I put my coat and scarf on, Paul put a leash on Martha. 'Half an hour, tops, okay? Please do come back after that,' he assured me and that was my cue to quietly leave his house.
Sneaking past the girls in front of his gate was next to impossible, but at this point I was hoping they thought I was his housekeeper or something. If only Paul had a back gate. But a gate to his neighbour's garden wasn't going to help much.
Martha barked happily at the girls, who wanted to give her a lot of attention. 'Not today, girls. She really needs to go for a walk,' I explained as I pulled the dog along the sidewalk. It was such a blatant and obvious lie that I was surprised the fans even let me go; Martha was obviously very happy to get all the attention in the world and did not seem like she needed anything soon.
I made my way down towards Regent's Park. Now that spring was finally upon us, all the flowerbeds were blossoming and the park just screamed of life. I knew Martha would enjoy it, and so would I. That was if I would've actually made it there. Unfortunately I didn't as there was something on my path over there. Or someone.
I blinked twice, before I realised the very person I had left the house for to avoid, was walking right at me. I looked around for a place to hide, but there wasn't any. Even worse, Martha had realised who was walking towards us. And she did want to say hello!
She pulled on her leash with so much force that it slipped out of my hand, giving her the full opportunity to run to the musician that was her owner's bandmate.
I valued my options. I could still make a run for it. Pretend that she wasn't with me and had just run from home. But chance was good that John Lennon had already spotted me walking with her. Besides, Martha would probably betray me when I would try to sneak off. I just had to face the truth
'Martha, hey girl. What are you doing here? Did you run off?' I heard him say as I got closer. He was bending down to pet the sheepdog behind her ears, which made his cap fall off. The cap had clearly been his way of hiding his identity while he walked to Pauls house. Didn't really work.
As if Martha could understand him, she turned around and made her way to me. Shit! Can't you help a friend out, Martha? I let you sleep on my legs! Don't rat me out.
But the deed was already done. John looked up and his eyes met mine. I couldn't even pretend that the sheepdog had gone up to a stranger. That it was a coincidence. Because by the way she was wagging her tail and licking my hand, it was clear that Martha was just as familiar with me as she was with the singer in front of us.
For a split-second I hoped he would recognise me. But I knew that was blind hope. We had talked once, years ago, in Liverpool. There was no way he would remember me. And there was no sign of any recognition on his side. I had lost.
If looks could kill, I would have died right then and there. John's eyes turned dark and he was sending daggers my way. He was angry and that was an understatement.
'Are you out of your fucking mind?'
A/n I love all of you readers, so please be safe on the roads. I've learned my lesson to always wear a helmet when cycling in London last week, when a car didn't spot me pulled out right in front of me. Don't worry, I was alright and didn't have more than a couple of nasty bruises and a bruised ego. But it isn't the first road accident I've witnessed between a bike and a car in the two months I've been living in London.
So I hope you liked this chapter and I'll see you in the next one!
Love Noëlle