I don't know what I was looking for.

I was fresh out of high school and I had just finished co-starring in a

movie and I had had a few special guest appearances in a couple high-rated shows. I had modeled for a couple charity events and "big wig" events and I'd done a photo shoot for Vogue magazine.

I think I just wanted a little rest. I was going to start college or at

least get as many classes as I could without my career interfering. I did not want to wait to go to school. I would have nothing to do even though I had plenty of jobs. I wanted the reassurance of a degree or something in my hands. But not yet. I wanted to relax for a little while before starting school. I would be starting in a few months as the new school year was coming up then. I had the late spring and most of summer to myself. I spent a few weeks with my family and then I flew out to England, alone as I wanted it. I felt I had neglected my writing in all my busyness. I was attending college in England anyway and I was going to take some free "fun"-type classes that the Liverpool Institution of Performing Arts was offering before the year started.

Some of my friends thought I was nuts to go to England after my work and graduation. A few told me, bluntly, that they personally would stay home and party. I was going to college for four years, possibly more, with only a few vacations. Why would I want to go to

England so soon?

"Simple," I had replied coolly. "I've never been there. I'm going to go to school there and I want to get acquainted with it and know where to go so I'm not so obviously tourist-like when I get there. I also want to explore it."

My acting pals, ready for vacation themselves, offered to go with me, but I declined. For some reason, I needed to go alone. I wanted to think, unwind, "laze about," and write without someone reading over my shoulder.

I had an ample banking account so I was not worried about money. I had a few contacts in case I needed security or anything and I had the numbers of a few chums in London and Mayfair. My best friend Elizabeth was, in a sense, accompanying me, but not really. She was taking a vacation as well and in our teenage conversations, we'd talked about going to London. She was a few weeks ahead of me and knew the place. She secured me a decent

house in the country, though it really was more of a flat. She'd called me and described it to me breathlessly; knowing how much I loved Nature, she had kept that in mind when she "saved" it for me. While I rejected others tagging along, I did not mind in the least that we were going to be together a lot. She was my best friend and I did not mind. She also told me that she would be living in the flat with me and we would split the payment. The flat was unfurnished, but, she told me, she had already painted the walls and had it carpeted. She was saving the arrangements and various other things for when I arrived.

Elizabeth picked me up from the airport when I arrived. There was an affectionate greeting on the sides of both parties and after chucking my bags in her trunk (and signing a few autographs while doing so), we sped off to a restaurant. I was starving after the nastiness of flight food and I was not a bit tired either.

"So what do you hope to see here, Lynne?" Elizabeth asked me as she parked her car at a rather fancy restaurant. I must have looked dubious about going in, because she said, "Lynne, this is the restaurant where all the celebs eat. It's better to eat here than to get mobbed somewhere else."

I agreed and we walked arm-in-arm inside. I was recognized immediately and seated quite quickly in a very nice, private spot. I saw Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and another man who was not facing me, sitting at a table near us, but display palm trees gave both tables a little privacy. Mick nodded to me when he saw me and Keith waved. I grinned and took a seat before the other man could reply.

"Do you know them?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

I shook my head with a smile.

"No, but we're all in the same boat. All famous, I guess."

"Ah. Well, you still haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"What do you hope to see here? Not just London, but every place here?"

"I want to see the countryside. Go for drives. Ride horses. Swim in British water!" We laughed heartily. "And then, of course, the usual tourist sites like the Palace or Big Ben."

"Oh, so no Beatles tour, then?" she teased me.

"Actually, I think I will. Why not? I'm here."

She grinned. She knew me too well. "It's more than 'why not,' my dear. I know you want to (and you will). But seriously, isn't there a particular someone you'd like to see?"

I blushed hard.

"By any chance, is it Sir Paul McCartney?" she went on, enjoying my blushing.

"Yeah….well…that would be nice," I said softly.

"Look between the palm tree leaves, pal o' mine," she replied with a curious smile.

I did so. And I almost shouted,

"Oh my God, Elizabeth, did you know he'd be here?"

"No, dear, I didn't."

Paul McCartney was the "other man" sitting with Mick and Keith!

"Let's go," I said, standing and grabbing her hand.

She looked puzzled. "Why?"

"I can't do this now. Not here, not now."

"But you may never see him again!" She knew Paul was my favourite.

"I don't care! (Lie.) I can't! Not now! Let's go!"

"Lynne, Lynne," she soothed me, forcing me to sit. "You don't have to talk to him. You can just stare if you'd like." We both laughed hysterically. The other three occupants of the table hidden by the fake palm tree turned towards us.

"Now look what you've done! Now they're looking!" But we both couldn't stop laughing.

I caught Paul's eye and I smiled at him. He studied me fixedly for a moment and our eyes locked. I felt lost in the depths of his eyes and his gaze was steady. He averted his eyes, but something significant-I didn't know what-had passed between us. He returned to talking with the two Stones and I returned to talking with my best friend.

When I lifted my eyes to Elizabeth's, she was carefully watching me.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"What was what all about?" I returned, feigning innocence.

"I saw how you were-" She shut her mouth. "Right, that was jus' my imagination. Never saw anything."

I bit my lip to hide a grin. I was saved from any further comment by the food choosing this moment to arrive. Elizabeth had a juicy-looking lobster on her plate, but I hated seafood. I wasn't as hungry as I had been earlier, so all I had was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some salad. Elizabeth eyed me.

"Going on a diet, are we?" she said, pretending to be prissy. She gave a deprecating glance at my arms, which rested on the table. She would call them "skinny" and I would call them "slender." I was really quite thin, though not sickeningly.

"What makes you say that?" I replied through a forkful of lettuce.

"You hate salad." A little smile fluttered at the corners of her mouth.

"Damn right I do. But I eat it anyway." I made a face and we both laughed.

"Oh, come on, my dear Lynne, it can't be so damn' bad," she giggled.

I grinned and said, "No, you're right. It's not so bad. But whenever I eat some, I remember just a couple years ago when I was trying hard to like it!"

We both chortled at the memories that produced. Whenever Elizabeth had come to see me when I was younger, we'd go out to dinner with the family and I'd sometimes have an argument with my mom about my veggies.

Three men suddenly seated themselves at our table. I glanced up, my smile still on my face, and saw Elizabeth flanked on either side by Mick and Keith.

And Paul was taking the seat next to me.

"'ello, girls!" Keith greeted us. "How're you today?"

I had met many celebrities and was one myself, but I felt speechless. I started coughing as a piece of carrot got caught in my throat. Paul pounded gently on my back and I saw approval on his face as he saw my food, which turned to concern as I started hacking.

"We're fine, thank you," I wheezed, my speech coming back.

"We've just been wondering about you two girls," Mick said. "I know you-" he pointed to me "-are Lynne Lewis, right?"

I nodded.

"And this is your best friend Elizabeth, right?" Mick motioned to

Elizabeth.

"Yes."

Introductions being strangely made, we engaged in conversation. We talked about our careers. They were very surprised I knew about music as I talked about chord changes, harmony and all kinds of things. Mick and Keith dominated the conversation, teasing Elizabeth mercilessly and making sexual

jokes to me, which I only laughed at. Paul said a few things and I found that when he talked, every part of me listened to him. This was my "meeting" with him, too-when interviewers asked me whom I wanted to meet, I promptly answered, "Paul McCartney!" without hesitation. But I had always thought my meeting him would be different. He would be coming from his Sussex farm and stop to sign an autograph for me. But this was even better! Here he was, right next to me, and I just wanted to hug him. I wondered many times if my face was giving away my thoughts because I felt it burn, Paul would look at me again and Mick and Keith would exchange glances.

Elizabeth and I finished eating as we all talked. After a little while, our chat wasn't so formal. I think they had all approved of us and spoke comfortably. A waiter passed by Paul and I and he had to scoot his chair over. He scooted it in my direction and I thought I was going to start laughing like a drunk. I wasn't a hysterical fan, but I loved this man next to me and wanted to get to know him. Be his friend. I'd had so many dreams about that-he was my friend and he loved me (you can love a friend, you know).

"Come for a ride with us?" Mick said. I saw him wink lewdly at Paul and Keith.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say yes, but I interrupted.

"Pullin' birds, aren't you?" I said pointedly.

Paul cracked up (I loved his laughter!) and the other two soon joined him.

"Well, aren't you the smart one!" Mick laughed. "Okay, I admit it. We were pullin' you two fine birds. Will you still go for a ride with us?"

I grinned at him, and said, my nose high and my tone very posh-like, "Yes, we would like to. But your behaviour had better be honorable!"

There were smiles all around and we paid our bills separately and then walked out.

"May I have the pleasure of walking you out, Miss Lewis?" Paul asked me.

My heart did a queer flutter as I said, "You can call me Lynne. Sure."

He offered his arm and I accepted it.

"Oh, so that's how you get the chicks!" Keith said in a falsetto voice. "May I have the honour of your arm, Elizabeth, my dear?"

Mick and Keith took her arms and walked on either side of her while we all laughed. They had, it seemed, come in a limo that was quite an invention. It had eight seats. Two seats, connected, faced another two seats, which were separated from the other four by a dark glass window that couldn't be seen through. The other side had a dark window of its own that separated it from the driver.

The chauffeur held the doors open, but Mick dismissed him to "go back to the wheel." Paul held the door for one side open for me and helped me in and then got in himself. Mick, Elizabeth, and Keith sat on the other side and the windows were up, curtains at either side drawn. My pulse quickened when I realized I was going to be alone. With Paul.

Paul sat right next to me and quietly buckled himself in. The driver was warming the engine (it was cold) and then I remembered we had come in Elizabeth's car.

"Oh," I said. "What about Elizabeth's car? All my luggage is in it! I can't leave it here!"

Paul looked at me and said, "You can get it tomorrow or we could toss your things in the back and I'll get someone to pick up your car."

"You will? Thank you!" I kissed him on the cheek in gratitude and got out to get my things, telling the others. Paul followed me and stood a bit dazedly as I handed his a few of my suitcases.

"Are you all right, Paul?" I asked concernedly, putting my hand on his shoulder.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, though he didn't look like it. "Had a glass too many."

I grinned and pulled the rest of my things out and then shut and locked the car.

"Why so much?" he asked, looking at my six suitcases.

I laughed. "I'm going to college here. I won't be going home except for vacations. If I like it enough here, I might buy a house and live here sometimes."

"Ahh," he said and we walked back to the limo and put my things in our side of the car. We were sitting by each other again and we began talking.

"D'you have jet lag, Lynne? You tired?" he asked me.

"No. When I get on a plane, I get a little tired, but I always perk up when I land!"

He smiled at that. I bent away from him for a moment to rummage through my suitcase for my writing bag. When I got it, I sat up, produced a notepad, and jotted down a reminder to set up a spare key system with Elizabeth and to look for ink for my typewriter. I wrote down a line for a story and then put my things away. A copy of David Copperfield fell out and I shoved it in

and locked the suitcase, hoping it wouldn't explode (I didn't pack well!).

"You've read that, haven't you?" Paul asked.

"What?"

"David Copperfield."

"Yeah. A million times. It's one of my favourites."

"I thought it was okay."

"More than okay. The part about David and his "first half" at Salem House made me laugh. It was very interesting."

"And what about Uriah Heep? Not the band," he added.

"I could picture him perfectly, writhing like a snake. What a weirdo he was! Every time he shook David's hand, I could feel how 'fishy' it was!"

Paul rubbed his own hands, imitating Uriah Heep, and I laughed.

"And what about Little Em'ly?"

"I thought that David had a little childhood crush on her, but sometimes there seemed to be more than that. She was very beautiful."

He hesitated almost imperceptibly before asking the next question:

"And what about Annie and Doctor Strong?"

I wondered about the hesitation, but did not ask. "I thought their

relationship was beautiful. He was like a father to her-and yet her love for him was so much deeper. He loved her so much and even when she was thought to be having an affair or whatever, he still loved her and never tried to hurt her or confront her. There were so many years between them, but he had trusted her, quite rightly, to be faithful to him. What do you think about them?"

"I don't know," Paul replied. "Just recently did they hold a special interest for me. Their separation by age was incredible, but like you said, they still loved each other very much." A shadow passed over his face.

I wondered if he was thinking of Linda. It had been a few years since her passing just a bit after my nineteenth birthday, which had been a few weeks ago. The shadow was gone, but there was some sort of carefulness-I do not mean caution but the very word-carefulness-in his eyes. He smiled at me and said, "Listen to us-going on and on about people who don't exist!"

"But they do," I replied. "They exist here." I touched his head. "They exist in your imagination."

We talked a little more about books and then he switched the topic by asking, "Are you a vegetarian?"

I had to be honest. "No," I admitted. "I am avoiding certain meats, though. I might eventually stop eating them altogether."

"What are they?" he asked.

"Lamb," I answered. "Veal. My dad told me what's done to veal and I was just sickened. I've never touched it. I don't eat seafood except for canned tuna fish. I try to stay away from porkchops, but when my mother makes them, I feel bad by saying 'no!'" We laughed a little and talked a bit more. I started to yawn and my head fell to one side. I tried to stay awake, but my eyes dropped down heavily. I was vaguely aware that my cheek was on Paul's shoulder and tried to wake long enough to move.

"Sorry," I mumbled sleepily.

"It's okay, Lynne." He put an arm around me and held me to his shoulder. I fell asleep immediately, without insisting that I move.

The next thing I knew, the comfortably soft purring of the engine had stopped and Paul had gathered me in his arms.

"Did you try to wake her up?" Elizabeth's voice said lightly in my ears.

"Yeah," came Paul's closer reply. My head rested on his chest and I could hear his heart beating. "She's a sound sleeper!"

"Not really," Elizabeth answered. "She usually wakes at just a bit of noise-or a bad conscience. You could slap her-she'll wake up then."

"No, that's alright," Paul replied, a touch of humour in his voice. "I'll carry her in."

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah. Just tell me where she goes!"

There was some chuckling and from what I could ascertain, Elizabeth had gone inside our house-that's where we were, the house/flat-with Mick and Keith to make them some tea. Paul followed and took me into a dark room, turned on a small lamp within, and shut the door behind us. He laid me on the bed and pulled off my shoes and coat and pulled the covers over me. He

left and returned with all my luggage, which he piled in a corner. I could tell from his echoing breaths and steps that the room was bare, except for a bed and bedside dresser. Elizabeth hadn't been kidding about it not being 'decorated!' Paul came back to me and sat with me on the bed. I could feel his eyes on me, studying me.

"Lynne," he said softly. "Like Lin." He pulled the blankets a little more securely around me, patted my hand, and left. Since I was still

half-asleep, I didn't think that I might never see him again. He could be walking right out of my life.

On to Chapter 3

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