FicWad

I didn’t see any of the Beatles for a couple of days. I assumed they were doing their own thing. That is, until the day before Thanksgiving after I had bought all the food I would need to cook. There was a knock at the door and Lucy answered it.

“’Ello. Is Alice home?” a slow but happy voice called.

“Er-Alice?” Lucy yelped.

I felt bad for Lucy. She opened the door for Paul, John, and now George? I can only imagine what she was thinking.

“Afternoon, George. What’s up?” I wiped the sweat off of my upper lip after lugging the groceries upstairs.

“Wanted to know if you wanted to get some coffee with me, Ringo, and Mo,” he explained.

I frowned. “Where’s Pattie?”

“She’s come down with a bit of a cold. She’s resting, but I wanted to get out. Are you game? You can bring your friend-Lucy, isn’t it?” he addressed Lucy.

Lucy nodded, her eyes shining. “Sure, George,” I sighed. “We’ll come.”

Ringo and Mo were waiting downstairs. I saw Lucy do a quick double take once she saw Mo’s youth, but she covered it up extremely well. I was impressed.

“Oh, I love this place,” I smiled happily as George led us to a quiet cafe on the corner of my apartment building.

George smiled. “Oh, good. Paul recommended it.”

I watched Lucy’s face as Paul was brought up. Her expression was brightly neutral, and she smiled reassuringly at me. It was beautifully decorated, and Ringo and Mo had scored the best table in the place

“So, he’s been exploring New York, has he?” I grinned widely.

George laughed. “Exploring is the wrong word. I’d say criticizing.”

I nodded. “He seems more like a countryman to me.”

“Oh he is. He loves Scotland and the hills of green up there,” Ringo agreed, standing up to greet us.

“And the cow shit, he loves that as well,” George joked.

We all joined in on the laughter.

“I like what?” The familiar, sort of musical voice exclaimed.

I turned in my seat and I saw Paul beaming at me. (And everyone else.)

“Apparently you have a poo fetish,” I teased.

Paul laughed. “Don’t think I’m the only one. I’ve seen George do some nasty things in the loo.”

More laughter. “What are you doing here, mate? I thought you had a date with miss nice-bum,” George questioned.

The handsome bassist shrugged. “I didn’t really fancy going.”

“The more the merrier,” Lucy said agreeably.

She was reacting fine to Paul’s presence. He tactfully placed himself next to me and Ringo, and put as much space between himself and Lucy. Lucy ignored him and talked to everyone but him.

I was having a lovely time getting to know George a bit more. He really was hilarious, but somehow he managed to be serious and insightful at the same time. He wasn’t fond of coffee (actually, none of the boys were.) I drank a small cup as did Lucy, and we even coaxed Mo into having a few sips.

“Is John at the hotel?” Lucy asked tentatively.

Ringo frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah, he got back about an hour ago and crashed on the bed.
He was knackered. I dunno why he got up so early today.”

I raised two fingers. “Guilty as charged. Lennon took me to lunch today. He got there before I was even up.”

Everyone turned to look at me. “You had lunch with John?” Paul asked.

“Er-yeah,” I didn’t understand why this was such a big deal.

Shrugging, George cheerfully changed the subject to his favourite scenes in A Hard Day’s Night. Paul kept his eyes on me for a while though. And it was very uncomfortable.
~
Thanksgiving Day meant total chaos for me. I was having all four boys and their girls. (Paul was still a question mark in that area.) I also had my dad coming, as well as a couple of cousins from New Jersey, one of which was married with two kids.

I was up early and I was cooking. The turkey was uncooked, the potatoes were peeled and I was looking up how to make a pie.

“Hello!” I screeched into the phone when it rang.

“Oh! Is this Alice?” a girl cried back.

I lowered my volume slightly. “Yeah, who’s this?”

“It’s Cynthia!” she replied.

I gaped. “Oh hello. I was just cooking. I don’t really have much time to chat."

She laughed. “I was wondering if you would let us girls help you with all that.”

I sighed in relief. “Would you? I’m drowning in gravy here!”

Cynthia giggled again. “We’ll be by in twenty minutes.”

Lucy was gone for the weekend to spend time with her folk, so she was no help. I wiped the sweat off of my brow and returned to my currently undressed turkey.

I relaxed and cleaned myself up a bit. The girls actually got here in just over ten minutes. I ran to the door.

“Oh my goodness, thank you!” I announced to them.

Mo came in first. “We thought as much. Pattie’s still a bit peaked and she didn’t want to spoil the food, so she didn’t come. She’ll be here tonight, though.”

I grinned. “Great. Right, can one of you make the stuffing? I’m not the best at it.”

Cyn volunteered to have a bash. I gave her simple directions. Maureen took care of the potatoes, and I tackled the turkey.

By lunchtime, things were simmering and cooking and crisping and baking. The three of us sank onto the sofa and began to talk.

Cynthia had known John since college. She became pregnant with Julian and so they married. She loved him so much. I wondered whether John reflected the love, or whether he took it for granted.

Maureen had known Ringo since the Cavern days. She loved him, I could tell. But she was only eighteen, and she talked of marriage. I smiled at her and wished her the best. She certainly deserved it.

My dad arrived at five, like I told him too.

“Dad!” I greeted with a grin, giving him a quick hug.
He smiled his crinkly-eye smile and then walked in. He was taken aback by the two girls in my living room.

“Dad, this is Cynthia and Maureen,” I introduced.

“Hello,” my dad replied cheerfully.

I cleared my throat. “Cynthia is John’s wife, and Maureen is dating Ringo.”

Dad’s face broke into a smile. “Oh, the boys are in town, eh? I saw Paul a couple nights ago, but good! The lads are certainly great entertainment!”

“Are you from England, Mr. Westwood?” Cynthia asked hesitantly.

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. I moved out to the U.S. in my late twenties.”

The conversation was moving stiffly until the boys arrived. Their presence lightened the mood completely. The girls were relieved, and the boys were cheerful.

“Smells alright, nothing burning,” George observed, sniffing around the kitchen suspiciously.

I feigned hurt. “I am a perfectly good cook, thank you very much. You’ve had my food before!”

George chuckled and Pattie smiled appreciatively. Pattie definitely looked peaked. She was pale, which worked for her, but her smile was droopy and her eyes were red.

“Are you feeling better, Pattie?” I asked sympathetically.

She smiled. “I will be after I eat some of this food!”

I laughed along, ignoring the fact that she had evaded my question.

My cousins from New Jersey came next with Jenna and Kelly, the ten year old twins who loved the Beatles.

“ALICE!” Jenna squeaked. “There are Beatles in your apartment!”

I laughed. “They’re the entertainment for the evening. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Jenna gulped and blushed, while Kelly just stared rather gormlessly. The food was served at six, and everyone was starving by then.

“Is it okay?” I asked hopefully.

“YES!” all the voices chorused, followed by laughter.

I sighed in relief. “Thanks so much for the help, Cyn and Mo.”

The table offered up more cheers and I grinned widely. We dug in and we threw cautions to the wind. All of our cautions were gone, apparently, because even with Cyn sitting next to me, I found myself remembering John’s kiss.
~
Everyone but Paul cleared out before nine-thirty. He hung around rather awkwardly, hands in his pocket.

“Don’t you have an early flight to catch tomorrow?” I asked shortly.

“Yeah, I just thought I’d say goodbye now.”

I felt like crying when I saw all the dishes I would have to wash. “Okay.”

“Here, I’ll help you wash,” he offered kindly, picking up a sponge and a dish.

I smiled at his profile and then continued to scrub at my plate. It was rather serene, in a way, doing the dishes with Paul McCartney. We were silent, except for the sound of running water, and soft music played in the background. It took me seconds to realize that this was a very handsome Beatle next to me. I blushed like mad and I dropped a plate clumsily. It cracked, and I sighed.

“I’ve got it, Alice,” Paul reassured me, picking up the pieces and throwing them away.

My heart filled with affection towards Paul and in about half an hour, the kitchen was spotless.

“So, I guess you’ll be leaving now,” I smiled wryly.

Paul nodded. “Yes. I will be.”

I’m not sure how it happened. I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned just slightly, and I ended up kissing him on the lips. Rather...er, deeply? I tensed, but Paul was relaxed for a while.

The aftermath was awkward.

“I’m sorry, Alice,” he groaned mournfully.

I blinked. “About what, exactly.”

“I...you...Jane,” Paul struggled to get the words out and looked at me pleadingly.

My eyes and heart grew cold. “You’re still seeing her.”

He nodded numbly.

I sucked in a breath. “Well, I always thought I deserved better than that.”

“You do! You do! I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he shouted, burying his face in his hands.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard him say that. “Look, Paul. I don’t want to be one of your ‘birds on the side.’ Maybe you should go,” I said miserably.

Paul walked to the door and placed a hand on the doorknob.

“I’ve fucked it all up, haven’t I?” he asked softly, his back turned to me.

I gulped. “Yes, you have.”

Paul slammed the door and he was gone.

Dejectedly, I looked at the dishes and realized that this was the first time someone hadn’t left me to do it all.

Maybe I needed someone to pick up the slack sometimes.