Notting Hill, 5 July '67, 6:04 PM
I was exhausted by the time I got home from work. It had been a really long day to say the least. I had worked the morning shift, starting at six and ending at four. I actually liked working that shift, as I got to wake up the kids on the ward, but today, for some reason, had been so busy. I didn't think I got to sit down once.
On top of that I also had an appointment with Mrs Starkey for one of her final check-ups. The woman was well into her third trimester now, ready to pop as they said. I wouldn't mind an appointment with her if it was just the lady. Frankly, the mindless chatter about mothering was a welcome change from the chitchat by the children.
But no, unfortunately for me, it wasn't just Mrs Starkey. Ever since Ritchie Starkey, the husband, found out about how I had spent my nights with his bandmate, he came to every appointment with her. He clearly didn't trust me. I guess I had given him reason for that.
Though, Paul must've said something about it, as he had suddenly gotten a lot nicer again. The first appointment after he found out had been hell. He was clearly watching my every move, ready to sack me. He should be satisfied; I had ended it after all. Just like he wanted, wasn't it?
By the time I finally got home, I wanted nothing more than cuddle up on the couch with a package of crisps and a glass of the finest white wine three shillings could get you. Except, apparently the universe had different plans for me.
'Maggie called a couple of times. She needs you to call her right away,' Fran said the moment I opened the front door. I didn't even get to walk inside. When I finally did, my best friend continued. 'Don't worry, she assured me. 'No one is sick, dying or dead. But it is urgent apparently.'
'That's odd. Thank you, though,' I said with narrowed eyes. I took my bag off my shoulder and hung it over the back of a chair, after which I walked to the telephone in the kitchen.
It took me a while to get a hold of an operator who could connect me to my sister, but when I finally did, she picked up before it even rang once. 'I'm sorry, Archie. I messed up!' she burst out, not even greeting me.
'Maggie, what's going on?' I asked her, very confused and also very aware Fran was listening to my every word. It must've been a quiet day at the office if she listened to my phone conversations for her entertainment.
'I'm so sorry. But I think I messed something up for you,' she said, not actually answering my question.
'I'm sure you're fine. What did you do? Tell me,' I pushed on. I was getting quite interested now. If she thought it was so bad, than something must've happened. Whether it was a good or a bad thing, I didn't know yet, but I was sure going to find out.
'Arch, is Paul McCartney the guy you've been having an affair with?' she asked, completely taking me out of the blue. I was not expecting that answer.
'Well, he was, yes,' I answered, truthfully. My heartrate sped up with the mention of Paul, though. If she was asking me this question, it couldn't be good. 'Why are you asking me that?'
'I was walking to Piccadilly during my lunch hour today and maybe crossed his path? I didn't recognise him at first, but apparently he recognised me. That is to say, he thought I was you,' she explained. Shit, this was not good. 'He started apologising and I had no clue why. It was really strange, I'm so sorry, Archie.'
'That's okay, Mags. I don't want to see him again, anyways. I'm sure what you said, was fine,' I assured her. It must be fine as I wasn't meeting Paul McCartney anytime soon.
'No, it's not good. I panicked, because I didn't know what to do. So I told him we'd talk about it tonight?' It came out as a question and now I understood why she was so sorry. This really wasn't good at all.
'Shit, no, that's not good. Fuck, why did you do that? I don't want to see him again. I told him that as well. What did he say?' I shot out, now terrified of the answer. Also angry with my sister. Deep down I knew it wasn't her fault as she couldn't have known it was Paul I was talking about when I told her about the affair. But somehow that wasn't coming to mind as I asked her these questions. How could she be so stupid?
'I know, I'm so sorry, Archie. But I didn't know it was him. Why didn't you tell me?' she apologised again.
'Why would I?' I countered. 'It's not something you hang on the door, is it?' Was I ashamed of my affair with this guy? Yes, yes I was. Especially because it was Paul. Any other guy would be fine, but Paul not so much.
'Well, no, but it's Paul McCartney. The bloke's a legend. It's insane. Not to mention that he's your past. Weren't you friends in grade school?' Maggie exclaimed, now more excited than anything. And this is why I don't tell people about it.
'Okay, saying that we were friends is really pushing it. But we did go to school together, yeah.'
'That's what I mean. You go way back!'
'That doesn't matter anything now, does it? What did he answer when you said we would talk about it tonight, you fool,' I sneered, a little angrier than I perhaps was. I was annoyed, though. How could she be so foolish? You don't go telling other people's exes that they talk about it that night?
'He thanked me, so I think he's coming over, Archie. I'm so sorry. But please try to work something out. He seems like a really nice guy,' she answered, completely missing the point. Didn't I just tell her two weeks ago why I ended it? Honestly, this girl could be so stupid.
'I can't talk about this right now. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you later,' I said and hung up the phone, not even giving her the chance to answer. I was too angry right now.
I turned around with a huff, only to see an amused Fran looking right back at me. She had only heard my side of the conversation, but I guess that was enough for her to figure out what was going on. It amused her, at least.
'So, she found out about lover boy?' she asked with a smirk on her face.
'Don't call him that. And yes, unfortunately.' I took a cup from next to the sink and filled it up, taking a big sip of water, before continuing. 'That's not it. She actually invited him 'round tonight. So he'll apparently be here in a bit.'
'Good,' she answered, surprising me with her tone. When I raised my eyebrows, she elaborated. 'Then I can give him a piece of mind on how he used my best friend as a cheap whore.'
'Easy on the language there, Fran. That whore can actually hear you,' I snapped back. My patience with the entire world was wearing thin right now. She just happened to be on the receiving end of it.
He barely gave me time to change out of my work uniform, before a short knock on the door announced his arrival. I was still in my bedroom, but I could hear Fran using a few colourful words as she opened the door.
'Pipe down, Fran. Archie actually invited me to come over,' Paul calmly answered her. I could hear their voices coming towards me. Dang it, Fran, don't actually bring him to my bedroom!
I panicked and quickly walked into the hallway. If he would step one foot inside my bedroom, he would assume we would be back to where we were; back to square one. If there was one thing I was sure about, then it was that I didn't want that. 'Paul, hey,' I quietly greeted him.
Looking at him actually hurt me. He looked dashing in the slacks and white shirt he was wearing. Both the trousers and shirt were hugging him in all the right places; giving me a great opportunity to imagine what exactly was under there. Okay, maybe I did actually miss him.
'I'll be in the living room,' Fran announced as she walked away, but then seemed to remember something. 'Within hearing distance!' she added. I wanted to facepalm, but managed to stop myself. That would be weird, wouldn't it?
I couldn't help but quietly thank my best friend in my mind, though. She had told me off from the very first minute, but never once did she tell me "I told you so", when it ended the way it ended. No, she comforted me with wine and cuddles and chocolate when the nights seemed to drag on forever; meanwhile telling me what a jerk Paul McCartney really was.
'Let me make you a cup of tea,' I said, at a loss for a better thing to say. And where else could I go then the kitchen? Fran had taken over the living room and no way that he was coming anywhere near my bedroom.
So, I led him into the tiny kitchen, where we had shared many breakfasts before. I put the kettle on, before I turned around and actually spoke. 'What are you doing here, Paul?' I asked.
I was suddenly hit with a massive déjà vu. Wasn't it just six months ago that we were here in the exact same kitchen; Paul sitting at the table and me in front of the stove. He had tried to start an affair back then and foolish as I was, I went ahead with it. Now he was here, presumable to start it again? But I wasn't foolish anymore. No, I was not going to let Paul talk me into sleeping with him once again.
Confusion flashed across his face; he hadn't expected that question. I could see his mind racing behind his eyes, trying to figure out what had happened and where he had made a mistake. In the end, he didn't seem to find an answer and just went with the logical one. 'Didn't you invite me here this afternoon?' he asked, his voice dripping with bewilderment.
I sighed. I should explain it to him. It wasn't fair, was it? 'It seems that you've met my sister, Maggie,' I answered. I knew Maggie looked like me. We could pass for twins if it wasn't for our hair colour; hers was slightly darker than mine, or for the shape of our face; hers was slightly more round than mine. Paul, however, was the first person that was really close to me that couldn't tell us apart. He should've realised it wasn't me. He should've recognised the differences between us.
'Your what? Which one? All of them are older, aren't they? Don't pull me one like that, Arch, it's not funny,' he answered, seemingly annoyed now. He didn't believe me, that was clear.
'I'm not joking. You know Maggie. I'm sure you've met her before, when we were kids. We've always looked alike. You know that!' I countered. The kettle started whistling and I quickly turned the hob off. I filled up the teapot and set it on the table, together with two cups. I didn't actually pour the tea, knowing that would annoy him to no end. Good.
'So, I didn't see you in the street today?' he asked, his voice now drowning in disappointment.
'No, you didn't. Honestly, Paul, what were you expecting? That I'd come running back to you? Do you even know me?' I asked, calmly pouring myself a cup of tea.
'I guess I wasn't really thinking then,' he said, after which he nearly took the teapot from out of my hands in his haste to do something with his hands.
It was quiet for a few minutes as we both made our tea to our preference; him with his splash of milk and two spoons of sugar, not actually stirred enough to dissolve and me with just a tiny bit of milk.
'Can't we talk about it, Archie? We never really did in the car,' he said, after he had taken a sip of his sugar filled tea. 'You just kind of sprung it on me that you wanted to end it.'
'That's not true,' I fired back, my anger rising up again. I was lashing out at everyone now, though Paul being on the receiving end, didn't face me whatsoever. 'I told you why and I still stand by that. Yes, we both agreed on an affair, but I don't want it anymore. I want more than that and I won't get it.'
This seemed to spark something in Paul and he sat up, taking my hand in his. I pulled away before he could do anything to it. I didn't want any physical contact. 'Sorry,' he quickly apologised before continuing. 'You want a relationship with me?'
'Didn't we already go over this?' I said tiredly, but I nodded nevertheless. Why was I even nodding to that, did I want a relationship with Paul? I wasn't sure about that, so admitting it to him seemed like the worst idea ever.
Paul didn't answer, but continued with this spark of something. 'So, if we would be together for real, you would want to take me back?'
This really confused me. 'Yes, but that's not happening, now is it? Or can you promise me now, you'll go home and break up with Jane?' I lashed out. I had zero patience for stupidity and Paul was being incredibly ludicrous right now.
'I can't right now, but I will,' he suddenly said, but it was all too little, too late. I was tired of this. Tired of him.
I yanked his cup of tea away, barely drunken out, and pulled at his arm to get him up. He seemed so startled by my physicality that he actually complied while I showed him to the door. 'I've heard that all before, haven't I? You never change, Paul. You'll never learn. Don't bother coming back here, unless you're single,' I said as I pushed him through the hallway. 'Please, just don't come back here. Stay away from Notting Hill,' I begged him now, because apparently kindly requesting wasn't working for him.
His shoulders hung as he realised his departure was imminent. 'I'm sorry, Archie,' he apologised one last time, before the door slammed in his face. He was finally gone.
Last week I finally finished this story. All the remaining chapters (don't worry, there are plenty) are waiting to be edited and published.
And right after I did, I tripped down the stairs and broke my hand. I finally got to see what an English hospital looks like from the inside. Luckily no lasting damage, no surgery needed (thankfully) and the cast got taken off yesterday. It's still really painful though, so I'm typing this with my thumb. Not the easiest thing to do.
Anyways, happy birthday George! Apparently it was technically yesterday but he celebrated it on the 25th for most of his life, so we'll just follow him! Enjoy this chapter, dedicated to the amazing George Harrison!