Together - Again

Part 3

The assault began at last, thought Heather. She had been waiting for this, and at last the time had come. Paul was at Abbey Road studios, and it was her chance to clean up the pigpen he optimistically called a den. She decided to start with the bookshelf, choosing first the largest book of all, which was a history of St. Petersburg, Russia which had been a gift to Paul from Vladimir Putin. She stood there, clad in a ratty old shirt and a pair of castoff slacks, delicately dusting the book.

"Missed a spot," advised a familiar male voice. It was a somewhat familiar voice too.

Startled, Heather grabbed the bookshelf to steady herself, letting the oversized tome fall.

An unseen hand emerged from between volumes L and M of the Encyclopedia Brittanica and caught the big book deftly.

"Gotcha," the voice said triumphantly. "Christ, that's heavy!"

Staring at the huge volume seemingly hanging in midair, Heather plopped onto her behind on the floor and cried, "All right, who are you, how did you do that, and what are you doing in my house? I'll have you know I know judo, karate, and--and--I've been told that I have a very loud voice!" She hoped she sounded more menacing and confident than she felt.

As she sat there staring in disbelief, the image of a man came out from the bookshelf, floating freely and easily (although he did have a spot of bother when his belt buckle got caught on Moby Dick). The image started to solidify, and Heather saw that it was John Lennon.

"Bloody hell, some of those books are dusty. Did you know Paul nicked some of them from school?" chuckled the apparition. Heather stood up and crossed her arms. "John Winston Lennon. I should have known it was you," Heather said in an annoyed tone, more upset that she'd been caught off guard than afraid of the 'ghost'. John and George would no doubt have a hearty laugh over her reaction when they discussed it later, she thought. John ran one of his hands over his head, and thrust the other in his jacket pocket. "Cool it with the hostility," he said soothingly, but his eyes twinkled merrily. " I really need your help. Help only you can give."

Suspicious of John's motives, Heather sat down in a small chair. John sat opposite her in a big comfy chair which had been a wedding present from Paul's brother Mike.

"I want you to promise me that this conversation will be totally confidential. You're not to tell anybody living or dead, and that includes me," said John.

"Does that include my own husband ?" asked Heather.

John leaned back comfortably in the chair.

"Especially him," he replied. "Not one bloody word."

Heather relaxed in the chair.

"Before you say any more," she asked, "Shouldn't you be saying this to Yoko or somebody ?"

"Can't talk to her," John said moodily. "Besides," he added, "What I have to say would probably anger her and we'd spend the whole time fighting. Plus, she's seeing some bloke, Fred Seamans I think, and I don't think I could handle that. What I want to say is this. I've doing a lot of thinking. I've come out of Pauls mirror, his bloody piano, and now his bookcase. Every time I've tried to go to Yoko's, I've wound up here. I've given up trying to see Yoko, cause I think I belong here. Now what I'm about to say to has to stay between us - and not another soul."

John crossed his legs and looked levelly at Heather, letting her know that this was serious.

"When the Beatles broke up I was really pissed at Paul.," he continued. "The last time I saw him when I alive I was just staring to really get over that. But that damn bullet screwed everything up. What I really want to tell you - have to tell you, really - is that I miss working with Paul. We were close, real close; almost like brothers. If you really thought about it you could say that I love him - but not in a weird way if ya know what I mean."

"John Winston Lennon, I do believe there is a human being beneath that gruff exterior. So all the bad jokes that Paul told me about, the comments about "cripples", and those nasty records were all a front?" said Heather.

"You bet your sweet...leg. When I said 'Cripples, Neil!', it was simply in self defense. People were bringing their handicapped children backstage hoping that just a touch from a Beatle would cure the kid.

Sometimes the parents would put their kids at the front of the stage. That was pure torture on all of us. A few later years later I started writing songs that were a cry for help. Just after The Beatles broke up I wrote some songs that showed I was angry with Paul." He sighed deeply and his eyes went all soft. "When I met Paul we were both in our teens," he explained. "I think he was the brother I never had. Almost everything I did was either a cry for help of some kind, or an act of defense for a brother. What I can't figure out is how to do what I want. Just look at me--I'm a bloody ghost !"

Heather winced suddenly and began messaging her leg. "I see your point," she agreed, "But would you mind terribly if I moved to the sofa so I could undo my leg? It's starting to cramp up a bit."

John nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

After she moved to the sofa she put her leg up, undid some snaps on it, and allowed it to plummet to the ground with a rather significant thud.

Heather sat quietly, her hand beneath her chin. To John she looked like the statue "The Thinker" - only a lot more attractive.

"John, why are you all in white?" asked Heather suddenly.

"Normally I'd be wearing the clothes I died in," he explained, "But since those were destroyed when Yoko had me cremated, white seems is the only thing I can wear."

Heather scatched her head. " Without getting too personal, are you completely white?" she wanted to know.

"Well," replied John, "Last time I looked I was completely white. Right down to my...socks."

Heather blushed slightly. "Can anyone see you ?" she asked.

"Not unless I want them to see me. If Paul came in here right now he'd see only you. He wouldn't see me or hear me flapping me gums. I can let any number of people see or hear me, but it’s my choice" said John.

"John, I can only think of one way to allow you to do what you want to do. We're going to make you look more human, and that means you're going to get a crash course in the art of make-up," declared Heather.

John looked decidedly unsure of this idea. He did not want to look like some Lime Street tart.

"This going to be fun," Heather assured him, "Cheer up. First, we've got to do something about your hair color, then we'll work on your skin tone. Now, let's get cracking!"

Heather stood up, but began to topple over. John caught her.

"Don't you think you should put yourself back together first?" he chuckled.

With a wry smile, Heather picked up her leg and strapped it back into place.

"Okay, smart guy," she said, "Let's go."

John followed Heather out of the den, walking like a man on death row.

"This is going to be such fun. I'm really going to enjoy this!" a gleeful Heather said.

"I'm really looking forward to this, too," said John glumly.

Before she began, Heather explained that she would apply hair coloring last, because that took the least amount of time.

"Oh hell, just do what you're going to do," said John with a sigh of resignation. "I'm at yer bleedin' mercy."

"Are you scared of a little makeover?" teased Heather, rummaging through her makeup case.

"No...I just wasn't expecting to do this today-- or ever, for that matter," said John, watching her warily as she selected several items and lay them out upon the dressing table.

"Well I wasn't expecting it either, and I am scared. I've never done this before on anyone else," she confessed.

John sort of whimpered and said quietly, "I'm doomed."

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen," Heather said with a smile. "You're a ghost, as you said; how much worse can things get for you?"

After giving John a manicure that was almost twenty-four years overdue, and giving his face some color courtesy of some theatrical makeup, Heather started coloring his hair.

"Since you and Paul had similar hair color, I'm going to use the same color he has been using for a few years," Heather said thoughtfully.

John felt a little better about things once he knew that Paul was coloring his hair; he smiled a bit and tucked this information away to share with George later.

When Heather was finished and John's hair was dry, he peered anxiously into the mirror she held up for him.

"Jumpin' Jack Flash, woman!" he cried, "What have you done? I look human again !" He grinned and grabbed the mirror, admiring his reflection.

"Well not quite," replied Heather, "We still have to do something about those white eyes".

"Not to worry," John said with a chuckle and a grin, "I've got the eyes covered." He pulled out some glasses with dark lenses.

"Now you look like your old self," Heather said happily, clapping impulsively. "Not bad, if I do say so myself!"

Meanwhile, Paul left Abbey Road studios and hailed a cab.

"Take me to St. John's Wood," said Paul.

" Oh, I know that" replied the driver.

"It's number thirty-two" added Paul.

"I know that, too. You may find this hard to believe," the driver added, "But we're related. Arnold McCartney, at your service."

"How do you figure we're related ?" asked Paul. "McCartney is not an uncommon name."

"Your father was a distant relation of my father," answered Arnold, "Just trust me when I tell you it's true."

Smiling, he maneuvered the cab like a race car, whizzing through traffic and stopping at Paul's gate.

Paul dug into his coat pocket for his wallet.

"We'll have none of that," said Arnold. " I would never dream of charging a relation."

"Arnold, you're my kind of guy," said Paul as he exited the cab.

"Do ya mind if I asked you a question?" asked Arnold. "Do you miss working with John?"

"More than you know," replied Paul, shaking his head sadly, "Much more than you know."

As Paul entered the house, Heather met him with a kiss and said, "There's a gentleman waiting to see you. He has come a very long way. He's in the den."

As Paul entered the den he noticed the stranger had his back to him, and was looking at an old photograph of Paul and John.

"I'd really like you to be very careful with that. That photo is of a very special friend," said Paul. "As a matter of fact, I was just thinking of him."

"I know. I was just thinking the same thing, son," replied John, turning to face Paul.

Paul's mouth fell open and his eyes bugged out. "I - he - you - Arnold--" he stammered.

John didn't have any idea what his befuddled friend was talking about and just decided to hug him. "Its been a long time," he whispered.

John took hold of Pauls shoulders and steered him toward a chair, while Heather brought him something to drink.

"Don't ask any questions. Just drink slowly. I'll tell you all about it," said John.

He sat in another chair opposite his friend and smiled warmly. "It was Heather's idea to colonize yours truly," John explained, "And after being in her clutches for a couple of hours, you're seeing the finished product. What do you think ? "

Still trembling, Paul finished his glass of water. " When you died," he said quietly, " I thought I'd never see you again. Now that you're back, I don't think I could go through losing you again. "

After Paul regained his composure he asked John what he was doing in his neck of the woods, to which John explained that he wanted to work with him again, and that he missed 'the old days'.

"Touring could be a problem. People know you're dead," remarked Paul. "If you just show up out of the blue it'll freak 'em out. People just aren't ready to have the dead walking about...but doing a record in the studio might be all right. We just have to time it right. Just out of curiosity, what have you said to Yoko about us working together again?"

John thought carefully about his response.

"I'm calling it quits with Yoko," he said at last. "I think she's seeing someone, and I think all she'd do is piss and moan if I said I wanted to work with you. I really don't want to hear her bitching at me, so I'm starting over again - without her."

Paul now wondered how people they both knew might react.

"Sir George Martin sometimes comes over with his wife Judy to shoot the breeze, or to see the baby," " Do you think seeing them would bother you?" Paul said thoughtfully.

"It wouldn't bug me, but it might bug them big time. I think the only way to handle it would be one person at a time," he answered.

Heather interrupted. "For a person thats been dead over twenty years, you're awfully wise."

John blushed. "Its been some time since somebody complimented me," he admitted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, Paul rang Sir George's house. His wife Judy answered.

"I had a feeling it would be you, Paul. George is writing some letters, but I'm sure if I tell him its you he'll come to the phone," she told him.

Paul waited, still wondering what he was going to say, then Sir George came to the phone.

"Yes Paul, and what can I do for you today?" he asked pleasantly.

"George, I was wondering if you'd do me a favor and come over tonight."

"Sounds like a most pleasant idea. What time would you like us to be there?" he replied.

"No, George, you misunderstand," Paul explained. " I would like to see only you. Somebody you haven't seen in quite some time will be here. You'll understand when you see him."

"You're being rather mysterious, Paul, even for you, but I must admit you've piqued my curiosity. I'll come over straight away," Sir George responded . As he hung up the phone he told his wife he was going over to Paul's. "I think he's going to try and get me to come out of retirement again," he told her. "I'll tell you all about it when I get back."

When Sir George rang the doorbell Paul answered, telling his guest that the person he knew was in the den. Sir George handed his coat to Heather. As he began walking in the direction of the den, he said, "This had better not be some sort of childish prank, Paul."

As Sir George entered the den, he noticed a figure standing in the shadows.

"Paul says I know you," the producer said.

John simply responded by saying "Yes".

"He also says you know me."

Again, John simply said, "Yes."

Sir George turned to Paul and Heather who were standing in the hall behind him, grinning, he thought, like a pair of idiots. "I'm very disappointed in you both," he told them. " If either of you expected me to have a conversation with a shadow, I dare say you are both very sadly mistaken."

Feeling that his old friend had waited long enough, John stepped into the light spilling into the room from the doorway and said gently, "George, please sit down."

The producer blanched and stammered, "J-John Lennon... but you're dead!"

"Got me dead to rights there, Georgie boy," he said with a grin.

"But Yoko had you cremated within hours of your death. So how can you be here?"

"I'm a ghost. Surely you've heard of them"

Sir George gave John a frustrated look. "You're John, all right. Only he could shock me in this manner". Sir George sat down in the nearest chair. "I'll tell you this, John Lennon," he said sharply, Only you would make a grand entrance of this kind. Paul," Sir George added, " I'm going to assume you're about to ask me about taking John on tour, or into the studio. I can give you those answers right now."

"Right on, George Boy!" said John.

Sir George raised his hand, adding, "Before I give those answers, I want to say something to John. When I first met you, I worked for EMI. When I had my own studios, they asked me to continue producing Beatle albums. Now that I'm retired, I can finally say to your face what I've wanted to say to you for almost forty years. Please be quiet and just listen".

The outburst surprised Paul and Heather.

"The answers are that tours are out of the question," continued the producer. "People would recognize him. He's too well remembered. Studio work might be possible, but you'll still need to alter his appearance. Now, if you will all excuse me, I really do need to go home and lie down. I'm not as young as I once was" With that Sir George left the house.

"Wow," said Heather.

"Wow and a half!" added Paul. "You really got under his skin. I've never seen anybody tick him off"

John looked at the floor. "I gave him a pretty hard time during the Get Back sessions. I was pretty pissed at everyone and just wanted out of the Beatles and everything associated with them," he said.

Paul looked like if he didn't ask the question on his mind he'd burst.

"How do you feel about me now," he demanded to know, "Because if you've still got that chip on your shoulder, I can tell you right now any collaboration between us isn't going to work."

John put his hands in his pockets and leaned against a wall.

"The chip and the attitude died when I did," he said simply.

"Paul's working on a new album," Heather told John, "And its not working out as planned. Why don't you give it a try?"

She then placed an arm around her husband's waist. "Why don't you see what John has to offer, honey?" she said sweetly. "You never know... it might work out."

Paul turned to John. "Well, what do you say, John?" he asked with a smile.

"Plug me in mate," John replied with a chuckle. "Plug me in."