Beth wore a pair of jeans and one of her high school swim team shirts. (She made a point to wear these because she had excelled in swimming in high school.) She took her purse from her overnight bag, stuffed some items in it, and went to the bathroom down the hallway to put on makeup.
Paul knocked on the door. "Care to go out for some breakfast?" he asked. "Sure," Beth said, coming out of the bathroom. "How are we on time?" "It's just nine o'," Paul said. "We come into the studio usually between now and ten." "Oh, that should work well, then," Beth said. "There's a place down the street that's nice and private, and serves up a good morning meal." Paul said. "We'll be going there."
* * * * *
Privacy was definately a big issue, and there was plenty of it at Chittley's. Paul knew most of the people working there, so he was able to get them a table in the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. They ordered and the waitress brought their drinks.
Beth was unusually quiet. She scribbled on a napkin, and furrowed her brow. "What's the matter?" Paul asked. "Just thinking, that's all," Beth said. "I've got so much I need to do! I need to call my mum and talk to her about this whole deal...God, I haven't even talked to her since I left! And then I've got to worry about recording, and I've got this idea for a new song...."
Paul glanced at what Beth had written on her napkin.
I fell in love with a singer in the rain
But all he ever caused me was pain
I once loved a guitar strummin' man
How was I to know he was a flash in the pan?
But now I love a man who looks into my heart
How do I know he won't steal it away?
Paul took a pen from his pocket and added on.
Please don't hurt me so, luv
You know my intentions aren't wrong
I've seen the same in my short life
Birds that fly away when they hear my true song
But now I've sung it to you, and here you still are.
Beth hooked onto this a chorus.
Sometimes one must understand
Thinking doesn't fly
When talking about love
Between you and I
Simply trust trust
From the heart
It's the only thing to hold on to
When the mind is torn apart
Beth added another verse.
Your kind is rare
One that I've never seen
An honest man, with an open mind
Unafraid in sharing his dreams
But if I asked you to tell me that you love me
Would I make you lie?
Again, Paul amended the lyrics.
The only lie you'd make me do
Would be to lie close to you
I need you more than I thought I would
I'd stay with you if I could
It's not a lie to say I love you
'Cause I do
Beth put in the chorus again, and as an afterthought, wrote:
Though the mind is torn, my heart is safe
Safe because you didn't think about it
Because you didn't think
Because you loved
"Thanks for helping me with that, Paul," Beth said. "I was having a little trouble on the continuation of the verse. Say, I have an idea...." "I don't like that look you've got in your eyes," Paul said. "Well, I was thinking, since the song's going to be credited for us both eventually, why not sing it as a duet?" Beth proposed. "Really, how bad could it be?" "Not bad at all," Paul said. " 'Anderson/McCartney' sounds do-able, as does a duet. Although," he whispered to himself, " a double McCartney whammy is a splendid idea....silly fool!" "What was that?" Beth asked. "Oh, nothing, nothing," Paul said. "Oh look! Here's the food!"
They ate in silence. After they paid and left, Paul proposed an idea. "I have an answer to your parental dilemma," he said. "Why not call your parents now? We've got a bit of time to spare, and your mum's probably worried. After all, there's no time like the present..." "Well, I suppose it would be okay. It's about seven o' there, right?" Beth asked. "I think so," Paul said. They stepped over to a pay phone booth and stepped in.
Cramped in the tiny booth, Beth struggled to grab some change from her pocket. She put it into the phone and dialed up her mom's number. The phone rung a few times before Eileen Jaelle Anderson-Marsden picked it up. "Hello?" she said. "Guten Morgen, Mutti!" Beth said. "Elizabeth Katherine Anderson! I've missed you! Is everything okay in England? Are you in trouble?" "No, no Mum, I'm doing great. I missed you, too. Listen, what I called to tell you is rather...strange. Do you remember what I told Dad I'd do whenever he gave me a musar message about something?" "Yeah, you'd tell him you'd run off and do rock and roll records. Why talk about this? Are you sure you're not in trouble of some sort?" "No, Mum, listen! I'm going to make a rock and roll record!" Silence. "Mum?" "Oy vey, that is a great joke, dear, but really..." "Mutti! Would I lie to you about something so great? Listen, I met Paul McCartney on the plane ride out of New York, and coincidentally, the other Beatles. So, Paul and I got to talking...and he talked to his producer friend, George Martin...and here I am! I signed the recording contract last night!" "Beth, nice try." "Do you want to talk to Paul? He's right here."
Beth handed the phone to Paul. "Please?" she whispered. He obligingly took the phone. "Hello?" "To whom am I speaking?" "James Paul McCartney, madam." "You certainly sound like one of them. What's this my Tzippa is talking about?" "I have indeed talked to George about her...as I'm sure you know, she has a fabulous amount of talent. George thought it an excellent idea to sign Beth to the record label, and I am taking her to record her first album now." "My my! I suppose she has outgrown pranks! Could you put Beth back on the line?" "Sure."
Paul handed Beth the receiver. "Do you believe me now?" "I am sorry, Tzippa. I do admit, I'm happy for you, though. Anything else you'd like to drop on me?" "Actually, in about two weeks, staring on the eleventh of August, I'll be going on tour with the Beatles. And our first stop is in Chicago. Care for some tickets to the concert? I can get one for you, Ward, Harry, Carla, and Becky..."(Author's note: Ward Marsden, 44, the stepdad, Harry Anderson, 18, the brother, Carla and Becky Marsden, 14 and 9, the half sisters.)
"Oh my! My sweet child...you have grown up so fast on me! Why not? The concert should be a bit of fresh air, and Carla and Becky have been abuzz about the Beatles for a while now. Ward won't mind, and I'll have to check on Harry." "Has he chosen a college yet?" "He applied to University of Chicago, and he was accepted, thank God! He's going to live off campus at the dorms. He's been really busy lately, not just with that, but with some strange friends of his...they seem the right-wing type. I'm worried about him." "Mutti, you know how little appearance tells one about a person! Let him have some fun!" "I suppose you're right, but I can't help think...well, I'll let the others know about the good news. Would you like Harry to tell your father or were you planning on calling him?" "You know how I am about that! Harry can tell him. I have a hard time dialing the numbers, much less holding a conversation." "Just asking. Might I invite you...and perhaps your friends...over for supper? I hardly think that you'll get any healthy meals on this tour." "That would be great, mum. I'll tell Brian about it, make arrangements, and have the tickets sent over soon. I'll call you when we get in to work out a time plan." "Alright then, dear. I love you, and take care of yourself!" "I love you too, mom."
Beth hung up the phone and they shifted out of the booth. "And?" Paul asked. "Mum wants us over for dinner," she said. "You, me, the guys. I told her I could get her tickets to the concert, and I guess she wants to pay me back somehow." "Then it's settled!" Paul said. "We'll all go over to your mum's house and sup. Maybe it'll be fun." "You mean, you wouldn't mind?" Beth asked. "Nope," Paul said, "and I'm pretty sure the guys won't either."
* * * * *
When they arrived at the studio, Paul and Beth went their seperate ways; Beth, to record, and Paul, to mix. "We'll come over to rescue you soon," Paul said. "We haven't got much more left to do." "I'll be ready for you," Beth said. She stepped into the studio, where George Martin met her. "Beth, so glad you could make it," he said. "Would you step into my office? I need to discuss a few formalities with you."
Beth sat down at a table, and George joined her with a pen, some paper, and her notebook. "First, the matter of songs. Which ones were you planning on singing for this album?" he asked. "I want 'I Won't Hurt You' to be on it," Beth said. "As well as a song called 'Light'. Hmm, I've worked out a duet with Paul called 'The Only Thing to Hold On To', and I'd like to talk to John about doing a number called 'Then I'll Be Dead'. I sang one on the plane that the guys seemed to like called 'Children of the Night'." Beth flipped through her notebook. "This one, 'It's Not You' is a good one. So is 'Questions', and a piece aptly titled 'Pieces'. 'Self-Portrait No.1' is also pretty good. How many is that?" "That's ten. I'll need maybe three more," George said. " 'The Blossom' is one I like," said Beth, "and 'I Don't Know You' is an excellent work. One more? 'We Are All We Have' should work."
"Sounds excellent!" George said. "Now, what about a single?" "I've thought about this, and though I think my choices are both A-Side, I'm going for 'I Won't Hurt You' on the A and 'Questions' on the B," Beth said. "Very well then!" George said. "We'll need to work on those first, so that we can give the public a taste of your work. We should have publicity shots of you in every major newspaper by Wednesday, and that should be enough to make people curious. now, my last inquiry involves your album cover. Do you want to use a shot from the shoot yesterday? I must say, all of them turned out well..."
"Actually, no," Beth said. "I was looking for something a little more personal. Perhaps a shot of me at the piano, or doing something I enjoy. Maybe some artwork, too. I'm going to need to talk to John about this project." "Alright," George said. "I'd like to get your single out by 30 July, and your album by the fourth of August. We'll need to come up with covers for them both. You can either opt to have someone do them for you, or you can come up with ideas and submit something to me." "I think I'd rather do it myself," Beth laughed. "I don't trust those press photos just yet." "Quite alright," George laughed. "And with that settled..."
George put down his pen and went to his safe. He took out fourteen wrapped stacks of bills, and placed them on the table. "Fourteen thousand pounds, your incentive and first payload," he said. "I see you have a purse. Put these in it, and guard it with your life. I've notified the bank that you should be over in a day or so to put in some money, and they have an account open for you. So when you're ready, go over there and they'll hold onto it for you." "Thank you, George!" Beth said. She shook his hand and put the money carefully in her purse. "Now," said George, "are we ready to record?"
* * * * *
James McCollough was Beth's engineer for today. In the following days, she would work with Geoff Emerick. He was helping the Beatles mix Revolver right now, though. "Take five, piano/vocal, 'I Won't Hurt You'," Beth said. George was in the sound booth with James. "Try the progressive switched chord style again," he said. "Okay," Beth said. She started the intro and sang. George had the right idea, for this was the best take so far. "Good, good!" he said. "Now, about the guitar and bass parts..."
"I'm miles ahead of you," Beth said. She picked up the studio bass and started the take. It went well, but the line was a little tricky. In two more takes, she had it. She went on to the guitar, and three takes also suited it. " 'Ey, George, can we steal her away now?" a voice called. "Yeah, we're wastin' away with hunger," said another. "I suppose," George said. "Beth? Be back in a couple hours." Beth glanced at her watch. It was one o'. "Will do," she said. She joined her disguised friends and they left to get some lunch.
* * * * *
Beth and the guys dined at a local restaurant and talked. "So," said John, "How much did he give you?" Beth mumbled something. "Wha'?" John said. "Fourteen," she repeated. "Fourteen hundred!" John said. "Don't worry, that's just the beginning of the money you'll get." "Not fourteen hundred," Beth said. "Fourteen thousand." "Whoa!" John said. "I guess...well, George has a lot of faith in you!" "I suppose so," Beth said.
"An' what's that rock on your finger?" John asked. "Yeah....I haven't seen that one," George said. "I did!" said Ringo. "That's why I'm wearin' my sunglasses!" "Ha ha," Beth said. "Well, my dear Paul here presented it to me, and I was simply charmed...." They all laughed. "But the little sneak went out and got it and said he had to 'make an errand'....all the nerve!" she finished. "But dear, I couldn't have told you, 'Well, I'm going to go out and buy you a piece of jewelry and come home with it, so act surprised'!" "I know, dear, I was only kidding!" Beth told him. "I--ah--oh, I know," he stuttered. She kissed his cheek tenderly and smiled.
With a loud belch, John announced that he was finished. "John!" Beth yelled. "Er...I mean....Mister Winston!" (John had adapted the pseudonym Mr. Winston to go with his disguise.) "I'm sorry," John said. "It's the German way of thanking the cook!" "Listen here," Beth said. "I was an exchange student to Germany my sophomore year of high school and summer after my sophomore year of college, and I know a whole lot about German customs. THAT is only common in the Biergartens and is rude when in public otherwise. You can find another way to thank the cook." "Whoa! We've got an expert here, boys," John said. "Tell me, how's the German beer?" "I didn't try it," Beth said. "I tried some Schnapps on holiday to Austria which made me more sick than I've been in my life, so I laid off the native drink. But that's beside the point! You could be less rude..."
By this time, the guys were hysterical. All except for Paul, who was blushing a shade of red close to that of a maraschino cherry. "The same thing happened to Paul when he tried Schnapps," John laughed. "I gave him a shot of the peppermint kind, and he downed it really fast. He immediately ran to the men's room and well, Er hat die Fische gefuettert!" (Means: he fed the fish (threw up)) Paul smiled nervously and shrugged.
He changed the subject. "Well, I think if we're done we should pay and get out of here," he said. "I suppose so," John said, "But you won't live that one down." " 'Ey," George said as he footed the bill, "Do we have to go back just yet?" "Sadly, we don't have an excuse not to," Ringo said. "Actually," Beth said, "I've been needing a car of my own. Perhaps we'll take a look at the Jaguar dealership?" "Anything!" John said. "Let's go!" They all piled into Paul's own Jag quickly and sped away to the dealership.
* * * * *
Beth discovered exactly what she was looking for when she stepped in the door. It was an electric blue Jag, right side driver's seat, Air Conditioning and Heating, white leather interior, radio, and convertible top. She was drawn to it as if her name were on it. A salesman sidled up to the group and tapped on Beth's shoulder. He stated the obvious. "You're looking at this car?" "I'd like to buy it," she said. "How much?" "If you have to ask, you can't afford it," he said. "But in case you're really curious, it runs at about three and a half thousand." "Listen here..." Paul started. "I'll handle it, man," Beth said. "Now listen to me. I'm a woman, but that gives you no reason to stereotype me as another dumb broad. I happen to know quite a bit about cars, and I am willing to pay for this excellent vehicle in cash if your attitude and manner improve. Otherwise, I shall take my business elsewhere."
The salesman's eyes were as wide as the car's hubcaps. "I...ah, I'm sorry. Would you like the keys? I'll get them and the certificate of ownership...." That's better," Beth said. The man scurried away, and soon had the title and keys in his hand. Beth rewarded him with three and a half stacks of pounds."Here you are, sir," she said. He gave her the keys, the title and a pen. She signed the double copy and he took the duplicate. "The name is Elizabeth Anderson," Beth told him. "Become familiar with it. Now, would you mind getting this off the salesfloor for me?" "Right away," he said. He took the keys and gave them to one of the floor hands, who drove the car out of the room.
They all went outside to meet the car. The floor hand got out of the vehicle, and Beth got in. "Thank you, sir. Perhaps I will come back to this establishment in the future," she said. The salesman kept saying sorry, and scurried inside. The guys laughed. "Someone knows how to take charge," George said. "I certainly do!" Beth said. "Now, who's going with me? I'm wasting gas." John jumped in shotgun before anyone could say what for. "Okay," Beth said. "See you at the studio." John laughed maniacally as he put the top down and they sped away.
* * * * *
"Okay, Beth," James said. "That last take should be good for the guitar solo. Ready for the vocal?" "I think so," she said. Beth started the first line, but cut herself off. "Bad take. I need to sneeze," she said. She did so, and resumed. It took her five takes to get the lines how she wanted them, but she finally got in the zone and perfected it. From this, she went to the piano and recorded a complementary track. All this she did by four thirty, at which time she was done with it. "What next?" George asked.
"The best thing for me would be to record 'Children of the Night'," Beth said. "But I'd really like to record 'The Only Thing to Hold On To' while it's fresh in my mind, and Paul's still here." "Oh yes, that's the duet," George said. Paul was just returning from the bathroom and noticed all eyes on him. "Paul, would you mind recording that piece we talked about over breakfast with me, in just a few seconds?" Beth asked. "Ah, well, sure!" Paul said. "Let's work on the vocal line so I can get a feel for it, and then perhaps we'll get a guitar line working." "Good!" Beth said.
They went fast to work on a harmony, and Beth scored it on a staff sheet. When they had sung it for a while, they picked up electric guitars and strummed some lines until they were happy with it. Then they combined the parts and worked with them until they were clear at what they wanted to do. So the track was recorded in five takes, because all they would use would be their guitars and voices. They finished the song around seven, and Beth went on to record "Children of the Night". She played her acoustic for rhythm with her vocal, and gave George a list of the orchestra assemblage she'd need. They discussed that for a while, and he let her go at eight-thirty (after she promised to be back at nine the next morning.) "I'll call John to let him know he needs to be here for your other duet," he said. "Thanks," Beth said.
She and Paul went out the door, and Beth checked her watch in the streetlight. "Is it too late to pick up some dinner?" she asked him. "Oh no," he said. "Take out from Chittley's?" he suggested. "Hey, it works for me," she said. "Who's gonna make the trip?" "You go on home," Paul said. "I'll get it. What do you want?" "Chicken tenders sounds good, with some honey dijon. And a Coke," Beth said. "Alright," Paul said. "I'll be over to your place in a bit. Love you." He kissed her and bade her farewell.
Beth got in her car and put the top up. Almost on cue, it started drizzling. She laughed and revved the engine. She made her way to her apartment in short order. The first thing she did when she got in was take a shower, dropping everything to do so. She had just finished when she heard the door open. "Beth?" Paul called. "Hang on!" she yelled. "I'm in the shower." She put on her robe and wrapped her hair up. She wiped her glasses of their fog and stepped out of the bathroom, and went to meet Paul.
He had set up their dinner on the coffee table and invited her to sit on the couch beside him. She smiled and obliged. "Thank you, love," she said. They started eating, and sat in silence for a little while.
"You sounded wonderful tonight," Paul said. "I have to say, your voice has a certain quality to it that I love." "And I yours!" Beth said. "Out of every singer's voice I've heard, yours is my favorite." "Thank you," Paul said. "But I don't see why." "And I know why you don't," Beth told him. "You see, I have this theory. People have told me I have a beautiful voice, but I was never sure why. I think it's because I've lived with my voice my whole life, but everyone else hasn't." "I'd have to agree," Paul said. "That is probably true. I see now why you pursued psychology." "It's useful," Beth said. "Now, if you'll excuse me for a minute, I'm going to go change." "Not a problem," Paul said. "I'll just clean up in here."
Beth put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, as she was accustomed to doing. She brushed out her hair nd managed to squeeze most of the water from it. When she returned to Paul, he was stretched out on the couch. "Want to catch some z's with me?" she asked. "I'm going to need to get up around eight tomorrow, and I need to get some rest." "I was about to nod off there, so yeh, that'll be good," Paul yawned.
He stripped down to his boxers and shirt and joined Beth in bed. She set the alarm to eight o'clock and switched off the bedside light. They curled up together, and fell asleep in moonlight waves.
*That finishes Chapter Six! Please, please e-mail me and tell me what you think of my book. I'll do my best to give you a kind and thoughtful response. Now, go read Chapter Seven!*
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