November 16^th 1965   5.50am 57 Wimpole Street, Marylebone, London

 

“No, should be fine,” Paul said, twiddling the phone flex in between his fingers. “Jane’s away all night, and her parents are going out for dinner, so I’ll be home alone.”

 

“The coast is clear, then…” she replied, excitedly and giggled.

 

Paul smiled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? All this sneaking around.”

 

“Yeah, well, makes a change, doesn’t it? I feel like a spy!” She chuckled again.

 

“It’s nice to hear you laugh,” Paul said, and at once she stopped.

 

“Well, I shouldn’t. It’s not funny.”

 

Paul sighed. “No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “But if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.”

 

“When will you tell Jane?”

 

“Soon,” Paul promised. “And then John, Ringo and George. Get it all out in the open.”

 

“There are too many secrets.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’ll… I’ll see you later then, Paul.”

 

“Yeah, come about nine-ish. They’ll have left for definite by then.”

 

“Alright. I’ll come round the back again.”

 

“Good, okay. Take care, Pattie.” Paul hung up, He turned around, guiltily looking over his shoulder, sure he would find Jane standing behind him. There was no one there. He would have to tell her soon. It was starting to get to him.