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Dear Alice,
How is Wonderland? I would give anything to be in New York right now. I need to get out of here. We’re making a movie, did you know? I think it might be alright. We’re all shit actors-except maybe Ritchie. The mobs and crowds are only getting worse. They’re calling it “Beatlemania” can you imagine? Paul’s seeing this actress, Jane Asher, so he’s always going on about her. Cyn and Jules are fine, and I’m trying out some of your advice, but I’m not much of a father.
Everything’s gear and fab,
John

Alice-
Apparently, John told you we’d be writing, so here goes. Everything’s fine here. I’ve met this wonderful girl-Jane Asher. She’s lovely, have you heard of her? We’re making a movie, and we’re being pressured to write the soundtrack, so there’s not much free time for us right now. I’m currently scribbling this in the loo (sorry about that) but not to worry, I washed my hands before writing!
Love, Paul

Dear Alice,
How are things in the Big Apple? Pardon, George would like to correct me. How are things in New York? (Apparently only idiotic foreigners call New York the “big apple”) I’m sorry if my handwriting is all wobbly, we’re in the car at the moment, driving to the studio. Did you know I picked out the name for the film we’re making? It’s going to be called “A Hard Day’s Night.” Brilliant, isn’t it? Wish you could be here, there’d be much more to laugh about.
We’ll phone you soon,
Ringo & George

Those were the first letters-in March.

Dear Beatles,
I really can’t be bothered to write out four separate letters for you all, so you’re just going to have to share. A movie? That’s great! I didn’t know you could act, Ringo! You’ll have to perform for me when I see you again. (No dirty remarks, John.) New York’s fine, it’s finally starting to warm up again. My boss is moving to California (like Elvis) and I wangled his job. I know this must sound terribly boring after your movie-making/album-recording news, but we can’t all be rock stars!
With a blush and a giggle,
Alice in Wonderland
P.S. Oh, yes, Paul. I’ve heard of Jane. But I haven’t actually seen any of her films. I plan to, now!

The letters became more and more uncommon as the summer time came, and I learned to forget about the Beatles. It was easier now, because Lucy had banned anything Beatle-related from being anywhere near her. I worked long hours, but when A Hard Day’s Night came out, I phoned in sick and watched it alone. (Lucy refused to go with me.) I phoned Ringo the next morning with the number that he had written to me on one of the letters.

“Hello?” his deep voice was familiar and yet so far away.

“Ritchie! The movie was great!” I squealed. Even though it was morning here, it must have been past noon over in England.

“Did you really like it?” Ringo sounded as excited as me.

I grinned. “Absolutely. You were great, all of you were hilarious; definitely award-winning material.”

I heard Ritchie laugh. “Yeah, it turned out alright, didn’t it?”

“It did, it really did!” I didn’t want to gush about it like a fan; they get enough of that.

“You got some time? I have to pop down to the studio but we can all talk to you from there if you can wait about twenty minutes,” he asked hopefully.

I bit my lip and glanced at the clock. “Sorry, Ritchie. I have to be at work in ten minutes. Tell the boys hi for me, yeah?”

“Sure, sure, Alice. Don’t work too hard. See you,” he said in closing.

“Bye,” I replied miserably. But he had already hung up.
~

Summer came and went. Lucy fell in love again, and I watched in horror from the sidelines as my best friend ran right towards a large, burly running back.

The Beatles? Who? I literally had days where I forgot they even existed. I didn’t bother calling or writing, and they didn’t either. I chose to ignore the fact that maybe they had a slightly better excuse, considering they were musicians with a hectic schedule.
In fact, it was November by the time I heard from any of them.

Alice,
It’s been such a long time, love! Is everything all right? Lucy? Your dad? I hope so. Everything’s fine over here. Hectic, as usual, but I can’t complain. We all need a holiday, though. We’re thinking of another visit to the Big Apple. (Pardon, New York, since only idiots call it the Big Apple, according to George.) Of course, we want to see you. (In fact, it’s our main objective.) Will you be busy at the end of November? We miss you! Write back soon. (We never answer the phone anymore.)
Love, Paul (and some other blokes whose names escape me)

I smiled lightly. My eyes were always pulled to the “love, Paul” part. I felt silly and juvenile, but I now got to feel excited.

Paul and the others-
I am absolutely positively free in November. Here in America we celebrate Thanksgiving around that time, so I’ll probably be given time off from work. How long will you stay? I can’t wait to see you all again either. But wouldn’t you rather go to the Bahamas with your girlfriends/wives? Don’t waste a holiday on me!
Love,
Alice

My spirits rose slightly, and they would have risen some more if I had been able to realize the weight of this. I went out and bought their new album, A Hard Day’s Night. I let myself remember John’s antics, George’s wittiness, Ringo’s lovability, and Paul’s eyes. The excitement swelled in me, so much that I ached to see them again.

Alice,
I’ll arrive on the twentieth of November at 7:00 in the morning. The other lads will come on the twenty-third and they’ll be bringing their lovers. I daresay you don’t really want to come to the airport. We’ll be going back to England on the twenty-seventh. The whole trip is supposed to be a secret, so naturally everyone knows. I’ll meet you in the hotel’s lobby at ten in the morning. (It’s the same hotel as last time.) This isn’t a waste!
Can’t wait to see you!
Love,
Paul

The twentieth! That was only two days from now! And Paul would be staying for over a week! Reading between the lines, I considered the fact that Paul was no longer with Jane. After all, he wasn’t spending time with the “love of his life.” Should I try and...Well, seduce him? No, I couldn’t. I barely even knew the guy, and I was certainly unwilling to be in a one-week relationship.

I expected the next two days to go slowly in anticipation of Paul’s arrival. But they didn’t. Lucy spent a majority of her time at her new beau’s place, so on the morning of the twentieth, (it was a Friday) I was up at eight and showered and ready in an hour. I fed the cat and then I was off.

My nerves caught up with me as I neared the hotel. I was walking, so as to keep myself from sweating out my nerves. I entered the hotel lobby, and there he was, just sitting on one of the lounge chairs, looking eagerly at the entrance. His brown eyes met with mine, and he broke into a lovely smile.

“Paul!” I grinned, as he hurried towards me and enveloped me in a hug.

I loved his hugs. “Alice, love! It’s great to see you!” Paul was bundled up in coats, and it wasn’t even snowing yet!

“You look cold,” I remarked with a nod at the fur.

“I’m freezing!” he laughed. “But it’s worth it. I get to be here-no Mal, no Neil, and no Brian, just me!”

I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yeah, had it on the plane. Do you have work?” he asked worriedly.

I nodded. “It’s only a half day; I’ll be done at three. How about you rest up and such and I’ll pop by right after I get off.”

Paul admitted he was tired, and then he waved me off to work and he headed for the elevators.

Work could not go by slower. I was operating the phone, giving demonstrations, giving tours, and even received a date invitation from one of the richest men in the United States, Liam Norton. He was ten years my senior and adamantly interested in me. He would be dropping by to pick up papers in a few days, so he would probably offer to take me out to dinner. I was not going.

I almost sprinted to the hotel, only to bump into Paul himself.

“Whoops!” I caught my breath. “Sorry, Paul.”

“Don’t worry about me, I love having birds run at me,” he winked.

I felt my face grow hot, but it could pass as the flush you get from running five blocks.

“Shall we go to Central Park?” I suggested. It would be nice to sit and talk.

Paul looked grateful. “That sounds nice. I’m still knackered, I couldn’t fall asleep.”

I smiled sympathetically. “Come on, then.”

The outskirts of Central Park were bustling as usual. Some fan girls noticed Paul and begged him to autograph their copies of “A Hard Day’s Night.” Paul was the perfect gentleman, and signed each one before continuing his stroll with me. Luckily, none of the girls bothered with me.

“It’s strange, you know,” Paul remarked as we strolled rather leisurely.

“What?” I asked curiously.

“People keep asking me for autographs. I feel like they have the wrong person. I want to yell, “I’m just Paul Macca from Liverpool! What do you want?” But I just have so smile and nod, and act as if I’m fine with it all.”

I smiled affectionately at him. “I think it’s good you’re so down-to-earth. But you can bask in your fame a little, can’t you?”

“When I get time. I haven’t had a moment to myself in over two months!” he replied incredulously.

“That’s the price of your kind of fame,” I sighed.

Paul nodded in agreement. “Your Wonderland, or New York, whichever, seems to be the only
sanctuary left on the planet. I couldn’t get here fast enough.”

I felt my hopes fall. He was here for some peace and quiet. Not to see me.

“So,” he asked eagerly. “What’s been happening here?”

I made a face and then started to talk about my dad and his newest hobby (sewing) and Lucy’s new beau.

“Oooh,” Paul teased. “Is he a darling?”

I arrived at my bench and I sat down with a sight. “Of course he is! He’s gorgeous, and a little dumb, just like Lucy.”
Paul looked unsure. “And she’s in love?”

I nodded. “Again.”

“Is she still livid with me?” Paul sounded troubled.

I gave him a reassuring look. “She’s not angry with you, she just feels like an idiot for telling you she loved you after two days together.”

“There’s more,” he guessed.

“She wants nothing to do with you or the Beatles. She’s just ashamed, Paul. I would be too,” I reasoned.

He nodded. “And what about you? Any beaus?”

I giggled. “A filthy rich thirty-two year old asked me out not three hours ago.”

“And? What did you say?” Paul raised his eyebrows.

“I said yes, the wedding’s tomorrow,” I swooned.

Paul laughed with me. “Am I invited?”

I shrugged. “Depends on the gift.”

Grinning, he slipped his arm casually around my shoulders.

“You know,” I considered. “I always feel bad for people like Lucy.”

Paul removed his arm subtly and slipped off the bench and lay on the grass, like his mates had done just nine months ago. I joined him companionably.

“Why is that?” he seemed worried at the direction the conversation was moving.

“She loves so wholly and truly, and it seems like she never gets enough love back.” My voice grew a little wobbly at the end.

Paul picked the grass thoughtfully. “You know what I think?”

“What?” I asked.

“I think,” he rationalized. “I think that the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

I smiled broadly. “How poetic. You should put it in a song.”

“I’ve had the words for a while now. I just need to find a tune.”

“Save it,” I advised. “It’s going to be the perfect song.”