Paul's jet black Jag pulled up to the curb outside Beth's flat. Paul leapt out his door in order to help Beth out of the vehicle. This was when Beth realised that a delivery truck was parked in front of them. A man stepped down from the cab of the truck and walked to meet Beth. "Are you one Miss Elizabeth Anderson?" he questioned. "Yes," Beth replied. The Englishman thrust a clipboard into her hands. "Sign here," he said. She signed the documents and the deliveryman took them. He then opened up the back of his truck and began to unload dozens of boxes.
"What's this?" Paul queried. "Oh, this is the stuff I had sent over from the states," she said. "Would you mind helping me take it in while you're here?" "Not at all, luv," Paul grinned. The deliveryman, having finished unloading, doffed his hat at the lady, and with a "Good day", sped away to make more deliveries.
* * * * *
Beth soaked in the antique bath tub. Ah. This is better! My own bath scents, more of my clothes, pretty much everything else of mine.....more like home. Another thing I need to think about! I've got to write Mum soon, and Dad, maybe. They're not too sure what their "baby" is doing in Merry Old England. I wonder what they'll think when I tell them I'll be staying longer than expected! Beth had soaked long enough, so she climbed out of the tub and dried off. After wrapping herself in her fuzzy terrycloth robe and fixing her "turban", she searched for something to wear in the chaos of her wardrobe.
Beth decided on something that her mother had forbidden her to wear "under my roof". It was a multicolored batik gauze shirt with long, wide sleeves. To go with it, she chose a pair of tight sand-blasted jeans. She put these on and then went about brushing her hair. This was a formidable task, considering how much hair she had. She decided not to dry it, remembering that Paul was waiting for her. Putting on her thick-but-tiny wire rimmed glasses, Beth stood up and flashed the mirror her "Meet the Press" smile. Ha! Meet the press. Why would they want to meet me? She struck a pose. Still, I have to admit....I am photogenic.
* * * * *
The first thing that Beth noticed when Paul let her in was John Lennon, sprawled on the couch. "You have company, Paul?" Beth said surprisedly. John had his face turned away from her. "Wait, I know that sweet voice," he said. "Sparkle woman?" "Right you are," Beth laughed. Paul spoke up to clarify the situation. "Well, I invited John over, Beth, because I thought you might want to jam with two great minds. I also needed to do some talking with John." "I'm not sure about the jelly part, but I'd be glad to make music with the both of you," Beth said. John sniggered at her pun. "Saints preserve us all!" he laughed. "You've got quite a wit, gal." "I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult," Beth said quickly. "A compliment, I assure you," John said. "So, what are we waiting for? I want to hear your beautiful singing voice again!"
"Not yet, John...we need the chamomile tea," Paul said. "What?" John said. "The chamomile tea, lad," Paul urged. "Beth, this helps us warm up our voices. You could go ahead to the music room while John and I make it." "Oh, okay," Beth said. "Where is it?" "Up the stairs, to the left, second door on the right," Paul said. He dragged John to the kitchen and started preparing tea. When he was sure that Beth was in the music room, he explained his motives to John.
"What the...?" John said, confusedly. "I had to tell you alone," Paul said. "Remember what I told you? About wanting to show you a talent that would blow your mind? That's the very girl." "I suspected as much," John said. "Well, I heard her on the plane. Can she write?" "Like you wouldn't believe!" Paul said. "She'd got dozens of volumes, just lying around, filled with songs, arrangements, etc.!" "Alright then. How good's her guitar playing?" John asked. "That's what we're about to find out," Paul said. He took the teapot off the stove burner and put it on a tea service. "Well, I like her," John said. "I have a feeling it's a little different with you." "More than like, my friend," Paul said. "What's scary is she reminds me of you." "Is that good or bad?" "A good thing. She's more sexy than you, though." "And here I thought I was the sexiest!"
The men arrived upstairs to find Beth fiddling with her six-string she had brought along. She was working on a warm up to get her going. She sped through it with ease. "We have arrived," John said. "No, no need for applause. Stop it! It's all too much...." Beth looked up and snickered. "Huzzah for the Merry Old Fart of England," she muttered jokingly. "Now that you two have made your grand entrance, I don't suppose you'd like to hear me play." Paul put the tea service on the coffee table and sat next to John on the couch, facing Beth, who was sitting Indian-style in a large chair.
"This is a little song I like to call 'When It Can, It Will'," said Beth.
Alarm bell's waking me in the dark
I reached over to slap it and fell outta bed
It gets worse from here
Go out to take a walk in the park
But the sign on the gate says,'Park Closed Up Ahead'
Don't you hate that?
Not another minute of rest, can't sleep, no quiet solitude
Will everything go wrong today?
When it can, it will
I'm blinking in my passport pictures
My guitar string snapped at the worst of times
Somebody end this!
I just want to sleep for a while!
It won't hurt to miss a little lecture, especially in here!
I hate mornings!
broken steel, wasted money, sleepy me-oh-my!
Must everything test my limits?
When it can, it will
Quite sure it will
"Very nice," John said. "How long did that take you you?" "To tell you the truth, it was improv," Beth said. "Couldn't think of anything right off the bat, so I made it up." "Even better!" John exclaimed. "So, all I know of you is that you are very talented and that you're staying here in London. How long were you planning on being here?" "Well, I haven't decided yet," Beth said. "I was originally set for two months, but I think I'd like to stay longer." "Ah, I see. Any particular reason you want to stay longer?" "London is such a beautiful city, at least what I've seen of it," Beth said. "I'd like to stay to see it, the rest of England, and maybe Scotland and Ireland. I've heard that they're good this time of year." "Quite so," John agreed. "I used to go to Ireland every summer. It's very beautiful. Doesn't appear that I'll be able to this year though."
"Why's that?" Beth asked. "We've got an American tour on the agenda," John said. "As much as I love touring, I think this may well be our last one." "I can see your problem," Beth related. "It seems like you four are touring all the time." "That's because we are!" Paul said. "We have to go back on the road in just three weeks...can you imagine?" "That's awful!" Beth said. "I suppose you have to make the most of your free time. No languishing about, sleeping in, go to one place, then to another.." "You get the gist," John sighed.
"Thinking of making the most of time," John said, "How about after we're done, I treat you two beautiful people to dinner?" "Fine with me if it is with you, Paul," Beth said. Paul shrugged and grinned. "Why not? I'll probably end up driving anyway."
* * * * *
The little Jag containing our trio sped along the road to a restaurant John had specified. Paul concentrated on driving while Beth and John made small talk in the back seat. "This place is great," John said. "It's called the Scotch. A bit smartass, having put a plaque saying, "The Beatles", on the table we sat at the first time we came. It has great food though, and even better beer." "I see why you like it," Beth laughed. "But I've never really had a taste for beer." "Ah, but you've only tried the ratpiss American variety. The English stuff is much better by far. I'll introduce you," John assured her.
"So, what lies between you and my Macca friend?" John asked in a hushed tone. "Something more than friendship, but I'm not sure what," Beth replied. "If it's him you're worried about, be not afraid," John said. "He's taken quite a shine to you." He leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear. "I'll bet you a million that a big part of it is your voice," he said. "Yeah, but you have a million to bet," Beth joked. "Really," John said. "You've got a sexy voice, and it drives him wild. I know from experience, dear." Beth sat up, shocked. "Oh, come now. I'm not putting moves on you, luv," he whispered. "But I can't lie." I believe I should take that as a compliment! "You do enjoy shocking people, don't you?" Beth said. "You and I are too much alike!"
The car jolted to a halt. "We are here," Paul said. "You will find exits on either side of the vehicle." John hopped out of the back after folding forward the passenger seat. He held out his hand for Beth. She took it and stepped with as much grace as possible out of the car. This occasion had called for a costume change, and Beth had been prepared. She had brought an overnight bag with her (among other things) when she had returned to Paul's, and in it was an emerald-green, flapper-style twenties dress that had been shipped over. I'm dressed to the nines, and with two very interesting gentlemen. What more could I ask for?
The three were admitted into the Scotch without delay, for reasons very obvious. And, as John had said, they were seated at a table labeled "The Beatles". John ordered a round of beer for all of them, and the waiter rushed away to get it. Beth laughed as he scurried off. "Well, you two seemed animated on the way here. Talking about anything in particular?" Paul asked. "Nothing, really," Beth said. "Just gabbing to pass the time." Beth studied Paul's face as she spoke, and it confirmed what John had insisted. As if he knew her thoughts, John gave her a see-what-I-mean smile.
By this time, the waiter had returned with their lager and took their orders. Again, he flew away to get things taken care of. "Welcome to the World of British Beer, Beth," said John. He took a long sip and encouraged her to do the same. She sipped it tentatively, and then took a nice gulp. "Right again, Johnny boy," she said. "Pretty good." "What did I tell you?" John said. "Everything's better over here. I'll have to introduce you to Guiness." "Don't think about it, Beth," Paul urged. "Guiness is a rich, Irish lager. Nasty stuff." "Oh, get off it, McCartney! I was weaned on the stuff!" said John. "I suppose I'll have to try it myself," Beth said.
The club buzzed around them. Music played, and couples danced on...where else, the dance floor? Paul asked Beth to dance and took her by the hand to the dance floor. They danced contently for the next couple of slow songs, talking quietly and laughing until they noticed the waiter busing food to their table. John watched them come back with a sad grin. Seems that the good guys are the lucky ones. I guess it's my lot in life to be stuck, unhappy. I've tried to make it work out with Cyn....I really have. I just don't know what else I can do. He put on a grin and quietly told them that their food was getting cold.
* * * * *
Beth woke up groggily to sunlight washing over her. Hmm. Another morning at Paul's. Wonder what time it is? She turned over to take a look at the antique alarm clock on her bedstand. She grabbed it and put it closer to her face, having not been able to read it from a distance. 11:45?! We're supposed to be at John's at 12! Better get up. Wonder if Paul's up?Beth threw on her silk robe and ran down the hallway to the master bedroom.
When Beth got into Paul's bedroom, she knew immediately that he was still asleep. The curtains were drawn so that not a ray of light shone into the room. Beth could barely see the outline of Paul on his bed, and to make things worse, she'd forgotten her glasses. She rushed into the room and bumped promptly into a chest of drawers. Cursing, she stumbled over to the bed. Beth shook Paul gently. "Get up, luv," she coaxed. Paul came to awareness, but, turned over, avoiding her. "Go away," he said sleepily. "C'mon, we've got fifteen minutes to be at John's." "I don't care," he said. Beth threw back his covers and lifted him out of the bed. Needless to say, this woke Paul up.
She righted him and he scratched his head and yawned. "Okay, I'm up," he said. "Now what were you trying to tell me?" "We have less than fifteen minutes to get ready and be at John's!" she said frantically. "I'm going to get ready, promise me you'll do the same?" "I promise," he said. "Now go."
* * * * *
John greeted Beth and Paul at the door with an amused look. "You're late. Busy last night, perhaps?" "Nay," said Beth. "I am quite chaste, presently." "There goes my chances," Paul joked. "Well, don't just stand out here!" John said. "Get in here and drink some cold tea."
Paul and Beth seated themselves in John's sunroom, and he played the gracious host. "Tea? One lump sugar or two?" He scurried about until everyone was satisfied. He then sat and mopped imaginary sweat from his brow.
"So, is all well with you two?" "Depends on what you mean by 'you two'," said Beth. Paul didn't think too much of that last remark, so he didn't quite catch on. "Well, you've been spending a fair amount of time together. You make a good couple, y'know," John goaded. "He's already pegged us as an item," Paul sighed. "Well, are we?" Beth asked. "Willing, if you are," said Paul. "And here I thought I was the sly one," said Beth, kissing him. "My question is answered," said John.
"Enough with pleasantries!" said John. "I asked you here for a reason. Paul do you remember what I asked Klaus to do? He's finished." "Klaus Voorman, Beth luv," Paul explained. "He's a friend of ours from our wild and wooly days in Hamburg." John made his way to an easel covered with a drop cloth.
Well, there's more to come in the fourth chapter! You may notice I've changed the name of this chapter. The next chapter shall officially be called High On Love And Ginger Ale. You'll figure it out. Come back soon!
Copyright 1998
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