Paul, Martha, and I return to his house, greet the gatebirds, enter through the tall brick wall, and pass the small courtyard leading to his door. I smile as Paul unlocks the large red door and Martha whimpers to get inside.

We feed Martha and prepare to listen to Ben E. King play at the Scotch St. James’s. We drive over and get rather good seats at a large table, waiting for John, Cyn, Pam, George, and Patti.

Ben E. King comes out on stage and begins to play. I wonder why they have yet to arrive.

“Paul, where do you think they are?” I whisper so as not to disturb surrounding listeners.

He faces me and shrugs. “Better make of the best of it, though. Shouldn’t we?” Paul says, smiling and putting his arm around me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. The jazz music is a perfect touch. I inhale and can smell Paul’s distinct scent—smoke, cologne, and shampoo.

Eventually, the show comes to an end. We all applaud and Ben E. King leaves. They still haven’t arrived. We decide to wait another hour for them.

While we wait Paul and I converse casually. I once again find myself smiling uncontrollably but this time decide just to let it be. We spend time just gazing into each other’s eyes, silently holding hands.

Suddenly, I look up to see John standing behind the unsuspecting Paul, facing me with a large grin. He makes a face and I laugh.

“Wha?” Paul says turning to see the whole lot of them circled around John and us. “Hey, where have you all been?”

Patti laughs, “We lost track of time talking at John’s.”

“We were sorry to miss the show,” adds George. “But it seems as though it may have turned out for the better after all.” He smirks and John gives me a wink. I can’t help but giggle.

“We decided just to come so you’d know we hadn’t fallen lost and shivering into some gutter somewhere,” Pam says.

“Good thing, too,” John says. “Otherwise who knows what scandalous things we might not have prevented by attending.”

“Oh John,” Cyn sighs, smiling.

“But as it is,” John continues. “Anyone up for a couple drinks?”

Everyone agrees to sit down and the table ends up as Paul to my left, me, Pam, John, Cyn, Patti, and George. John leads the table in loud, raucous laughter with his jokes and it turns out to be an incredible night.

I wonder at what had happened between John and Pam earlier that afternoon and try to read for body language. Cyn is reserved and oblivious as usual, talking with Patti. John is smiling and every once and a while glancing at Pam. And Pam is beaming and leaning on the table a bit which enough to give John something to glance at. Not enough to confirm anything.

The night soon ends and Paul offers to drive both Pam and I home. We say goodnight to the others, thank John and leave.

When we reach Pam’s flat Paul follows me to the door. Pam enters and walks into the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone.

“Goodnight, luv,” Paul says, kissing me.

“Good night Paul.”

I wave as he drives off and then enter.

“Woa Julia!” Pam smiles as I close the door. “A Beatle of your very own.”

I laugh. “We’re just dating. Who knows what will come of it? But—while still on the topic of illusive and uncertain relationships—what’s the dig on John?”

Pam grins mischievously. “Well…he did come over. We talked a bit. Had a nice chat. Then we returned to meet up with Cyn and the others.”

“’Had a nice chat’…now is this the same kind of ‘chat’ you had with him for his birthday?”

“Well, not exactly,” she smiles.

“Glad to hear it. So is everything set between you two at this point?”

“I should say so.”

“Great.” I yawn. “But Pam, I’m really exhausted, so I’ll think I’ll be going to bed now.”

“Oh no you don’t, not again. What happened between you and Paulie that has left you so exhausted and cheerful.”

I grin. I tell her about the stroll into the park that Paul, Martha, and I took and how he kissed me and said, ‘I’ll do my best, luv.’ Surprisingly she seems almost disappointed in the story.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing—so you mean you didn’t do anything?”

“’Do anything’ as in ‘Do anything’?” I question. She nods. “No, of course not. Well goodnight.” Pam says goodnight as well and I go to bed.

The next morning Pam and I have toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast. She says that she and the Beatle girlfriends-wives were hoping that the two of us could join them in a ‘girls day out’. I willingly agree and plans are set.

Patti pulls up and the five of us are squashed in. Patti and Maureen in the front, Cyn, Pam and me in the back.

“Care to do some shopping, Julia, Beatle girl style?”

I smile, “Sure, and how is that?”

“Scrounge around for the best deals money can buy,” says Maureen. “We still love to find sales anywhere we can.”

“It’s part of our nature,” Cyn grins.

Patti says, “Oh but she’s not a full-fledged Beatle girl yet, or are you?”

“Oh come on Patti, don’t pretend you didn’t see them yesterday carrying on at the Scotch,” Maureen answers.

“They looked so in love,” Cyn sighs.

“Yes, but Julia, you really should make sure to watch out. These Beatles can leave you in over your head,” Patti continues.

“Especially Paul,” Maureen echoes.

Cyn nods, “Yes Julia, make sure you don’t get too attached to him. You two look so sweet together but remember something, he’s still young, and he’s a Beatle. Beatles like to have their outside fun. You just have to be wary of that.”

“Oh now look Cyn, you’ve made her nervous. I, starting as a Beatle fan to Beatle wife should know. What she’s trying to say is don’t expect too much. Ringo and I have a wonderful relationship. We love each other. You’re a great girl, Paul clearly cares about you, and you obviously adore him, but he’s been with Jane for quite a while now and—“

Patti cuts Maureen off with a glare. Cyn tries to soften the blow. “Look, just be careful alright.” She smiles. “I’m sure everything will turn out great between you two.” She looks at the others. Patti shoots her a glance from the rearview mirror. I wonder at the messages being communicated between them.

I decide to say nothing. I manage a weak smile in hopes of communicating to them that I appreciated their advice. But did I? I care about Paul. I care more about Paul than he probably cares about me. And now they, the ‘experienced Beatle girlfriends-wives’ are giving me their ‘valuable’ advice? Are they trying to tell me that they see it’s just another one of Paul’s flings and he’ll be back with Jane in a week? Try to ‘comfort’ me with their illustrious knowledge that ‘everything will turn out great between us’? Paul and I haven’t even had our first argument!

Pam is the first to speak. “Which store first?”

“Hmm,” Patti says. “What would you all say to Harrods?”

“Gear,” Maureen says as we all chime in our agreement.

The day is fun and I almost get the sense that I am part of the female Beatle circle camaraderie yet that Pam is more easily accepted, living in London and knowing her way around. Besides they don’t see her as having the potential of taking one of their friends places. I wonder how long they’ve known Jane and how long it would take them to accept me as well.

Wait, hold on Julia. Remember something, beloved Macca only said ‘I’ll do my best, luv.’—that’s no vow of love. He’s never even said he loves you. He’s made no implications. You’ve caught him on the rebound and this may all just be loneliness speaking. In a few days he’ll probably have forgotten you. Few days Julia? You’re leaving a few days.

I had even thought much about that. The time was coming closer and closer within a week I’m leaving and probably stepping permanently out of the Beatles lives. I hadn’t even gotten any pictures. No one would believe me at home. The memory would fade into a long passed dream that I will doubt ever truly existed—a tall tale to tell my grandchildren.

“Julia! Things always look better on! Please try it on—it’s Paul’s favorite color…” I look to see Patti desperately trying to get my attention with this beautiful blue dress that she found on the sale rack. She smiling and seems sincere. I guess she feels somewhat in the same boat as me; after all, she still remains just as ‘George’s girlfriend,’ unlike Maureen and Cyn, she has no binding title. Maybe my thoughts on them were a bit severe.

“I’m sorry, I sort of spaced out for a second. It’s a beautiful dress. What size is it?”

“Well, they have it in 2, 6, 11 and 12…” Patti starts.

Maureen and Pam interrupt. “Wait! We found one in your size!”

I smile as they hand it to me. “I’ll try it on, then. Did any of you find anything else?”

Pam had found a short, tight, strappy black dress. This couldn’t be for John, could it?

I raise an eyebrow as she shows it to me.

“Well,” she says, “Black dresses come in handy on special occasions.”

The others agree and I cringe at the thought of Cyn helping Pam pick out an outfit in order to entice John. But then again, wasn’t everything settled yesterday?

I walk into the dressing room and try it on. I stare at this new me. Before I came to England I never used to wear such—well—‘Pam outfits’, but I must admit I beginning to truly like them.

The dress is a deep periwinkle, low cut, empire waist, and short hem beautifully accent with a simple flower design. I pose for the group and they all seem to like it. As I go to buy it they find another dress I take a particular liking to—deep brown velvet, Victorian, empire waist, gorgeous reddish brown satin ribbon for a belt, and of course, high hem.

I immediately buy both as Pam purchases her dress, Maureen gets a green sweater, Patti gets another black miniskirt, and Cyn contemplates buying the most hideous sweater I’ve ever seen.

“Are you getting that, Cyn?” I ask, nonchalantly, trying my best not to reveal my utter distaste for the bright yellow disaster with bright green polka dots and red blotches.

She smiles at me, “I don’t know. At first I thought it was awful-looking, but Pam seems to think that John would like it. She had originally pointed it out, she says it works well with my eyes and hair.” She holds it up against her to give me a sense of what she would look like in it. I do my best to hold back my laughter at Pam’s ‘wonderfully friendly good-hearted suggestion’ towards Cyn. I guess she took it all too literally when she heard the quote, ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.’

I decide the only way not to blatantly say I hate it and destroy my friendship with Pam is to pick out something else to distract her. I notice a rather pretty pink sweater behind her and point that out. She ends up getting it.

We spend the rest of the afternoon similarly, picking out various clothes, and such. Updating my wardrobe to the latest fashions and to what female Beatle circle and Pam think Paul might like and would be useful for the coming winter.

Finally, exhausted, and at the brink of shopping sickness, Patti, Maureen and Cyn drive us home. We thank them and run back inside.

I laugh as we enter. “I love that sweater for Cyn. It’s such a pity she didn’t buy it.”

“Oh—that,” Pam grins. “I just couldn’t help myself. It was just so—catching.”

“Catty is more like it.”

“Oh come on Julia, have a little fun. You say I can’t have her man so why not give him a good chuckle?”

“Pam, have you no compassion? Cyn is really a sweet girl. It’s a pity John treats her the way he does, but that is his nature. Can’t you at least try to be nice to her?”

She sighs. “I am nice to her. I can’t help it with my little glitches.”

I roll my eyes and return to my room. I put away my new purchases and sprawl out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I fall into a light sleep but awake at the sound of a ringing phone.

I run and catch it on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Julia, I’ve been longing to hear your voice all day. Can you come over?”

“Paul?” I beam. “Sure, do you want me to drive?”

“No, I’ll pick you up. I could come now if you like.”

“Alright,” I say. We hang up and I sigh.

I find Pam midway between organizing her books and watching TV. I tell her about Paul. She raises her eyebrows and grins. “Ah ha. You guys are such lovebirds. But hey—you should get ready. Your hair’s a bit messy.”

I rush to fix myself up and glance in the mirror at my navy miniskirt and matching peasant shirt. I brush out my hair and dab on a small bit of vanilla perfume. I never can stand too much perfume—nor cologne for that matter. It usually makes me sick. This is the one perfume that I don’t mind as much.

The door bell rings, I grab my bag, throw on my coat and wave goodbye to Pam. I open the door. Paul stands there, smiling. I beam at his freshness. Something about him makes me feel like I’ve just been sprayed with ocean water. His aura is warm, sensitive, yet wonderfully refreshing. I close the door and follow him to the car. He cradles my cheeks in his hands and gazes into my eyes.

“It’s great to see you, luv,” he says. “I couldn’t get my mind off you. Even when we were recording all I could think about was you—your eyes, your hair, your voice…” he trails off. “But now you’re here in front of me.” He smiles that adorable smile and kisses me.

“I missed you, too.”

“But I missed you more.”

Wow, we’re apart a day and he misses me. Definitely positive.

Paul and I drive to his home. He leads me to the living room and we sit. We kiss. He showers my neck in kisses. He moves his hand in between kisses to my back. He persists and I move them away again. He seems to get the message and leaves it at just kissing.

Our make out session ends and we spend time just sitting together. I can tell he’s not quite satisfied with just kissing but I’m not ready. Our make out session ends and we spend time just calmly sitting with each other. I rest my head on his shoulder and he places his arms around me. Soon enough I fall asleep.

I wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom and look around. No Paul. I am fully dressed and warm and comfortable in the middle of a lush and beautifully decorated room.

I find a clock—4 am! Pam’s going to think that Paul and I—

I get up and realize Paul had driven me there and I’d have to take a taxi home. I walk down to his kitchen and pull out yet another piece of paper from my notebook.

I leave the note on his kitchen table and run to the door. I grab my coat and frantically search around the door for the button to open the gate. I worry about not being able to lock the door but figure he has a high security system and will be awake in a few hours anyway.

As I finally find the button I can hear Martha start barking. I guess he’ll be up sooner than I thought. I panic, press the button, open the door, and close it as fast as I can without it slamming and run to the gate, just making it before it closes.

To my dismay a clan of gatebirds had decided to sleep over on the sidewalk and start to wake up at sound of the gate opening.

I sprint down the street down the street in hopes of not being seen, glancing back only long enough to make sure none of the girls were able to enter the gate before it locked.

In the dark of the wee hours of morning, I warily roam the streets in search of a taxi. It takes an hour but I finally find one get to Pam’s.

I pay the driver and search my purse for keys. I quietly unlock the door and tiptoe inside. I lightly push the door closed and lock it. I remove my shoes in order for my footsteps not to be heard. I make it to my room—no sign of Pam. I feel hot and sweaty and tired and decide to take a shower. I creep into the bathroom, closing the door yet not locking it. It’s a habit I’ve had since I was little due to an overprotective mother who has always told me to keep it open as a precaution.

I sling a towel over the clear glass shower door and turn on the water. As I finish washing my hair and just turn the knob, the door opens.

There stands John wearing nothing, sweaty and wielding a bathrobe, humming. We both notice each other at the same moment and I freeze, eyes locked.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters.

I quickly pull my towel down in an attempt to cover myself and not stare at John who is making no attempt whatsoever to cover himself.

My cheeks are burning. “John—I didn’t expect…to, uh, well…see you here.”

He looks a bit embarrassed himself. “Yeh, Pam and I were under the impression you were at Paul’s.”

Oh no, they think that Paul and I were sleeping together.

“Um, well I was actually but I fell asleep on his couch and woke up in an unknown bedroom, alone, and clothed and decided to rush home so that no one would get the wrong impression.”

“Oh, I see.”

“But, uh—here. I’m out of the shower now.” I skillfully wrap the towel around me so that nothing more is revealed, grab my bathrobe and leave John to shower.

Well I guess Pam and John had resolved things a bit differently then I had expected. It was her choice, after all. I throw on a nightgown and try to fall asleep. I drift into a blank sleep and wake up early afternoon.

I groggily dress myself and come down to find that John has already left. Pam is sipping tea in the kitchen.

“Hello Pam.”

She appears to almost be glowing. John definitely brings out a certain happiness in her that no one else ever has. “Hello,” she smiles. “I guess you had an fun night, too, then?”

I cringe. “Well, actually not quite the same fun you had. Paul and I kissed a bit and I fell asleep with him on the couch. We didn’t—well, do anything.”

Pam’s smile fades a bit, “Oh.” Her smile is retained momentarily and she begins to laugh. “John and I had wonderful time.”

“So I noticed.”

“Yea, he mentioned walking in on you in the shower.”

I become very uncomfortable and decide to sit down. “Pam, I had thought you guys were just going to be friends.”

“We are,” Pam grins. “Just a bit more intimate than most would imagine.”

“But he’s married.”

“Sure doesn’t act it.”

“Aren’t you worried that he’ll treat you the same?”

“Why should I worry? I love him. We have a great time together. Look I wouldn’t have done it last night if I thought you’d be home. That’s just rude, you know, shagging someone while their friends are in the next room over.”

“Um, yea I guess.”

“Julia, I didn’t think the topic would make you feel so uncomfortable. You act as if you’ve never—“

“That’s because I haven’t.”

“Oh, Julia, I knew you were virginal in a lot of your ways—but really? Never?”

“No.”

“Well that explains it. Why not?”

“Pam, you know my parents. Besides, I never found anyone perfect enough to break my personal vow of no premarital sex.”

“You can be such a square,” Pam sighs.

“Pam.”

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t serious. It’s your choice; I know that. But still—I guess I’m just sort of surprised. But then I guess it is then my place as friend to be willing to offer you any advice, protection, or answer questions you might have or need.”

“That’s nice of you, but currently I have no immediate needs.”

“Alright. But if you find you do—especially hanging around that Paulie—"

“Yes, Pam. If I do, I’ll let you know.”

“Good then. Want something to eat?”

We eat breakfast and I do everything in my power to recall last night. Why didn’t John even have the decency after meddling with my friend to try to cover himself in my presence? Wait a second Julia, this relationship isn’t one-sided, Pam is just as much a part of it as John. I should really stop putting the blame on one of them.

“Julia? Is there something bothering you? It’s not John, is it? It is my own choice you know.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just—I don’t know, you know my feelings about the whole situation.”

“True and you continue to act as Mother. Besides John’s mad good in bed.”

“Pam, just because your mother hasn’t served as the protective mother hen you’d like doesn’t mean you can go around without principles!”

I can’t believe I just said that, why did I have to say that?

Pam’s eyes lit up with anger. “How dare you say I have no principles!” I could see hurt filling her eyes.

Obviously this has been a debate of her own and my inability to stand by as a passive friend and let her follow her decision has truly upset her. She can’t take back what she did. And she certainly doesn’t want to stop. She can only get hurt. Maybe I should have just said nothing.

“Pam—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way—“

“Oh, don’t ‘Pam I’m sorry’ me. Just because you’re too much of a baby to go out and get laid you shouldn’t try to make me feel bad for being the stronger one.”

That hurt. That really hurt.

“Stronger one?”

“Yes, the stronger one. Look at you, you pick the cheap untalented pretty Beatle. At least I have the good sense to pick the intellectual of the group. He’ll always be remembered, Paul’s memory will fade. It’s no wonder John’s already taken—after all, he is the best of the Beatles even you know that.”

“Listen Pam there is no way you are the ‘stronger one’ because there is no ‘stronger one’. We’re best friends, we make different choices. I’m no weaker than you just because I don’t go around sleeping with married men!”

I didn’t think this would turn into a debate over which Beatle is better. I didn’t think this would turn into an argument over which one of is right in their choice. Oh why did I have to start this? Why did she have to sleep with him?

I wait for her to say something but she doesn’t. I clearly scalded her with my last comment and I’m already regretting it. “It’s true that sex has been a matter I’ve been debating over in my mind but I’m not about to jump into something before I’m ready. I’m sorry said you had no principles, you do. You just are more ready than I am. Pam, I’m just afraid, afraid you’re going to end up hurt. John isn’t known for great loyalty and if your ‘intimate friendship’ continues I’m really worried you’re going to end up like Cyn. He’ll start cheating on his affairs.”

“He cares about me, Julia. I know he does. Cyn means nothing to him. I mean a lot.”

“Pam, I know that. You guys can be great friends. Has he ever actually said he loves you to you?”

Pam looks down, thinking, truly searching her mind for such a trace of a memory. She looks back up, a bit hurt by the realization. “No, he hasn’t.” I open my mouth to speak but she stops me. “But that means nothing. I love him and that’s all that matters. I can tell how much he loves me by the way he kisses me. It’s in his, Julia. He doesn’t have to say it.”

“It’s a romantic thought, but if he doesn’t say it, he doesn’t mean it. And even if he were to say it, it might not mean anything. Just a ploy to get you in bed or because he feels guilty afterwards. Pam sleeping with a married man is bringing you into hot water...”

“Then what are you saying I should do?”

“Stop.”

“Stop?” She begins to laugh. “Oh yes sure. ‘Oh John, yes, I’m not going to do it anymore. No, I suddenly changed my mind. Why? Oh, no reason, maybe your marriage. Didn’t bother me before, I know that, but still, I was thinking—‘”

“Yes Pam exactly.”

“You’re batty, Julia. You’re damn daft.” Pam then storms out of the room. “I’ll see you later.” She walks out the door, slams it shut and drives off.

I can’t believe it. I can’t believe the fight we just got into. It shouldn’t have happened it’s all my fault. But she wouldn’t even accept my attempt at apologizing and ending the whole thing.

But in what I was saying to her. Has Paul ever said he loves me? Well, he hasn’t but he does seem to care—Julia, you’re the one who told Pam that his kisses and few kind words don’t mean as much as a sincere, ‘I love you.’ Have I expected him to love me? Well, I guess not. I guess I’ve just been enjoying the company of this man I care so much for. Do I love him? I don’t know. I really don’t know. Will any of this matter, after all, I’m going back to America in a few days. Oh I hope it does, I just have to make sure to get some pictures; maybe I’ll give them my home number and address. I couldn’t bear to leave my relationship with the Beatles just because of an ocean and a few thousand miles.

But Pam—is the rest of this trip going to be tainted by the whole episode? I do hope it isn’t. How horrible, my last few days with my best friend spent arguing.

Now distraught I go back to my room, open my beloved Pride and Prejudice, and fall into a light sleep.

Chapter Twelve

Written by Jane Anderson. May not be reproduced in any form by any means without the permission of the author. Permission may be obtained by e-mail.

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