Paul spoke up. "Mind if we use your phone?" he asked. "Not at all," said George. He stepped out of the office and shut the door. Paul explained his plan. "I thought a celebration would be in order," he said, "so I thought maybe I'd call up the guys and see if we can meet for lunch." "Oh, alright," Beth said. Paul picked up the phone and dialed a number. He waited for several rings, and got no answer. "That was Ringo's place. Nobody home," he said. He dialed again, with the same result. "No George, either," he said. "I'll try John's." He finally got an answer. "Hello, John? Oh, I'm sorry, Sophie. I just want to know if John's in...alright, no bother. Sorry again, Sophie."
"No luck there?" said Beth. "Er, no, no," Paul said. "Am I just seeing things, or did you dial the same number every time?" Beth asked. "Of course not!" said Paul. "Don't be silly. Well, I, ah, suppose we should go home and have lunch, then." "We can go out if you want..." said Beth. "No, I insist," Paul said. "I'll make something special for you."
They went outside, put Beth's equipment in the car, and took off. Something strange is going on here. I could have sworn that he dialed his own number each time he dialed...and that voice on the line was NOT female! What could be up? I guess I'll have to wait until we get to the house.
* * * * *
Paul and Beth came in through the back entrance. It was eerily quiet. They walked into the pitch black living room, stumbling. "Why's it so dark in here in the middle of the day?" Beth asked. No answer. "Paul?" Beth questioned. She sat on the couch and leaned over to turn on a lamp. A slight breeze passed by her. Weird, it's like there's a draft...must be the air conditioner. She turned the switch, and other lights suddenly came on. She was face to face with John.
"Surprise!" he yelled along with everyone else. "Aagh!" Beth shrieked. She soon regained her bearings and laughed. George, Patti, Ringo, Maureen, Paul, and John were all in the living room. On the wall, a sign proclaimed, "Now that the work's done, party yourself daffy!" On the coffee table was the coup de grace, a cake adorned with - what else - white roses.
"I should have known," Beth said. "I should have known!" She turned to John. "So, whose idea was this, 'Sophie'?" she asked. "It was your Paulie's," John smirked. Paul joined her on the couch, and she promptly kissed him firmly. "Awright, I change my mind," John said, seeing this. "It was me." "Too late," said Beth. "But thank you, all of you, for doing this. I hardly know some of you, yet you are so kind to throw me a party. It means a lot." "We know it's a real drag working long hours in the studio, so we thought you'd like it," George (Harrison) said. "So when Paul invited us over, we gladly accepted," Ringo said. "Besides, it's a good excuse to have a party." "All the same, it was really good of you," Beth said. "Now, who wants some of this cake? I'm starved!" "If you'd like some lunch first, Patti and I made some picnic food," Maureen said. "It's out on the patio." "As a matter of fact, I would," Beth said. "And by the looks of the Mod Squad, I'd say that they do, too." The guys took that as an invitation and sped out the patio door.
They sat around eating for a while and finally got Patti to divide up her magnificent cake. They gabbed about everything from Timothy Leary to toothpaste, when Paul finally remembered something in his pocket. He reached in and produced a long velvet covered box. "Ah, Beth," he said. "I've gotten you a little something. I hope it's not too much."
Beth took the box from him and popped open the hinged lid. Inside was the counterpart to her ring: a necklace. It had a wispy chain of gold and a pendant made of an emerald between diamonds. Paul took it from the box and gently fastened it around Beth's neck. "My God, Paul!" she said. "I think you've earned enough brownie points to last you a lifetime." "I can never quit trying, can I?" He said. "You know what's next, folks," John said. "Exit, stage right." Everyone laughed.
"Well, we probably need to get home anyroad," Maureen said. "We left Zak with a sitter." "Sorry, guys," Ringo said. "Well, we need to be off, too," George said, glancing at his watch. "My friend Eric will be over tonight, and I need to organise my new material." "I see, I see," Paul said. "Go on." They left, but John stayed behind. " 'Ey, mind if I have a word with Sparkle Woman before I go?" he asked. "Not at all," Paul said. He took the hint and went inside.
John took Beth in a bear hug. "You've got the world in your pocket," he said. "One smile, and they're yours, kid. You're all over the paper. Seems to me that you have been called to serve." "Aw, don't call me kid," Beth said. "I'm only three years your junior! But what's this about me being in the paper?" "Oh, there was an advertisement for your single, and your album, all beside your glimmering smile," John said. "The public is putty in your hands. As soon as your album hits the stores, you'll be knee deep in riches." "I see," Beth said. "I'd forgotten about those ads. Well, if this gig doesn't work out, I could always go back to the states and set up a practice. I know my father would have urged me to do so if he had any say at all, which he doesn't. C'est la vie." "If your father had any say in it, you wouldn't be here now," John said. "And you are here, so everything's 'swell'. Now, the real reason I wanted to talk to you."
He pulled a bag out of nowhere. From it, he revealed the contents. "Here is my shameless plug," he said. "A copy of our latest album. Call me if you want to have a sing along." Beth laughed. "And in this picture frame, you will find a most hilarious scene," he said. In it was their picture taken at Madame Tussaud's. Beth laughed harder (if it was possible). "But now, something completely different," John said. She opened up a box. Beneath layers of tissue paper lay a pair of earrings. They were very little glass cages with tiny blue birds inside.
"That's you, the bluebird of happiness," he said. "If you ever feel as if you're in a glass cage, come talk to me. I'll see what I can do." "Thank you," Beth said. "You really didn't have to get me anything." "But I did, and you can't do anything about it," John said. He kissed her lightly on the cheek and smiled. "Well, I must go. I'll see you at my place at six, correct?" "Yes, I plan on it," Beth said. "Take care." John, having tipped his hat, hugged her once more, and left.
Beth came back in the house and found Paul sitting on the couch. Just as she decided to join him, the phone rang. "I'll get it," she said.
"Hello?" "Beth? Oh, hello. This is Brian. I called your place but you weren't there." "Alive and well. What's up?" "I've taken care of the publishing bit. Your publishing company will be called...and you'll get a laugh out of this...Sparkle Limited. I need you to bring me finished copies of the songs you used on the album. I can give you your pay for them as soon as I do.
"George has given me the photo for your single, and I must say, it is quite suitable. We'll put out the single on Thursday instead of Saturday, and the album on Sunday instead of Thursday, as planned, because of the demand. I've made sure that you've gotten much publicity, and I already have advance orders for the single and the album. So, this means that you will have your first press conference on Saturday, at the Adam's Mark Hotel! Many of the critics will get the album that day, so some may ask you about it. Be on the lookout for 'controversial' questions."
"That's a lot to take in! Anything else?" "Yes, actually. I've organised a release party after the conference, at the hotel. All for the sake of publicity, of course. You are also invited to the Beatles' release party, as well as their press conference on August 4th." "Wow! That's a lot to take in, Brian. Ah, well. Anything you've forgotten?" "Yes again! I'll send my assistant Constance over to your apartment at 10 'o tomorrow. She'll take you out to get your stage wardrobe, for the tour." "Great! I'll be ready! See you later!" "Cheerio!"
"Who was that?" Paul asked. "Only Brian," Beth said. "He wanted to tell me what was going on with the album, etcetera. They've pushed my single and LP releases up, so tomorrow, my single comes out. Then on Sunday, my LP comes out. I have a press conference and release party on Saturday, and tomorrow I have to shop for clothes, for the tour." "You're certainly going to be busy from now on!" Paul said. "Looks like tonight and Friday are the the only nights you won't be busy." "Actually, I have to meet John at six to work on my album cover," Beth said. "But yeah, Friday is wide open." "Good," Paul said. "Y'know, it's amazing, but we've not gotten to know each other very well, although we've spent this time side by side. Sit down, let's talk."
Beth sat with him and he took her hand. "So, first thing that comes to my mind is family," he said. "Mine's Irish-English mix. My mum died when I was a lad. I have one brother named Michael, and my dad's name is Jim. And yours?" "Very formal like, I see," Beth said. "My mom's side of the family is Irish as well. She was born and raised in Ireland, and she and most of the rest of the family moved to the US when she was a teenager. When she was young, she lived under Jewish tradition because her parents were Jewish. A missionary came to town one day and introduced them to Christ, and it spread through the family. So, they all moved to the US because their land was no longer good for farming, and they had heard good things about Illinois.
"My mom met my dad in Chicago when she was in high school with him. She finished, and they got married. I was born on December 17th, 1943. My brother Harry was born later in '48. My dad was known for his temper, being of Scottish background, and I was rather afraid of him. He never hit me or Harry, but he would use spiteful words that hurt. My mom couldn't stand it anymore. So, when I was eleven, they divorced. Mom went to med school, then met a nice guy, Ward Marsden, a doctor at the hospital where she worked. They got married, and she became Eileen Jaelle Anderson Marsden. We moved to a nice place on Cherry Blossom Drive, and they had two daughters, Carla and Becky. The end."
"Okay," Paul said. "How about music? I was in a band called the Quarrymen with John and George in my late teens. We eventually became the Beatles, and ditched our old drummer to bring in Ringo. And you?" "I was in with the 'music crowd' throughout secondary school," Beth said. "I played the oboe, and eventually learned guitar. I picked up some drum skills from palling around with some of my guy friends in bands, and joined a beatnik band when I sojourned in Germany. When I came back to the States, Roy Orbison ad infinitum were the new scene, so I connected with it. I got in with some girls to do a Ronettes sort of thing, but that bombed. The last band I was in was 'Ivy League', and I was the pretty-faced lead singer. I got out of that quickly, and realised I didn't need a full time band to get by."
"That's quite a move to make," Paul said. "I feel as if the guys and I are headed in a new direction, onto something grander. However, the Beatles won't last forever. I'm not sure what I'll do when there are no Beatles, but it'll be something with music. Do you feel it? The connecting force that drives me forward is music." "Yeah, I do feel it," Beth said. "I've felt it since I can remember remembering. My life has always revolved around music: my life, my learning, my loving, my dreams." "See, now that's where I connect with you, too," Paul said. "Music in the gene pool makes for interesting matches." "Wet matches, but interesting ones, nonetheless," Beth laughed. They bantered on this way for a while until they had run out of things to discuss.
"Is there anything else I should know about you?" Paul asked. "Well, you should probably be aware that I'd argue with a brick wall for the sake of arguing," Beth said, "but if I do argue with you, that doesn't necessarily mean I'm sore about something. I...it's been my nature to do so over the years, if you take my hint." "Ah, I understand," Paul said. "Your dad really has hurt you, hasn't he?" "Yeah, although I'm afraid to admit it," Beth said. "I'm supposed to be the strong one, to protect my mum and Harry. I'm the oldest, and I can't give in to my fears. I have to hide the hurt."
"Keep doin' that, luv, and one day you'll lose the battle in a bad way," Paul said. "You're supposed to hide yourself away, not your pain." "I've not known any other way to deal with it, Paul," Beth said. "It's how I cope. It may not be the best way to do so, but I don't let him know he's hurt me if I put on a happy face." "Even happy clowns have a sad face underneath their disguises," Paul said. "Well, I tell you what I think. You don't want anyone to know how much you hurt, which is understandable. And I know, if I said something that touched you just in the right place, you would breakdown before my eyes. But I want to spare you from being embarassed about your feelings. So, I propose that you go home, have a good cry, clean up, and go over to John's. You'll feel much better, and you won't feel ashamed over crying."
"I think that's a splendid idea," Beth said.Oh, come on. What is he thinking? Could it be as easy as having a good cry? I've tried nearly everything...I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make another attempt. "Yeah, I'll try it," she said. "I'll just go now, and I'll see you tomorrow after I'm done shopping?" "Sure," Paul said. "Come over when you want. I should be here all day." "Alright," Beth said. She picked up her things and went to the door. Paul stopped her. "Don't feel afraid to call if it's too much for you," he said. He kissed her firmly. Beth hugged him as he did so, and they parted.
* * * * *
Beth found it easy to cry once she found something to think about. She thought about what had happened for the last twenty-two years. How although her father joked around with her, the joking got too out of hand.
{Look at you! You've gained some weight, haven't you? You need to lay off those chocolates and greasy foods. And look at what they do to your skin!}
Why couldn't you ever accept me for who I was, Daddy? Aren't I good enough? I'm not fat, Daddy. I'm a pretty girl. I've got friends. I've even got a boyfriend, Daddy. Why don't you take that under consideration? I'm not five anymore, Daddy. I can pick things up in stores without breaking them. I can ride my bicycle in the street. I can go to foreign countries. I can get a driver's license. Where have you gone, Daddy? The moment I jumped out of your control was the moment you stepped out of my life. Why do you make me feel guilty when I have nothing to feel guilty about?
The tears flowed gently at first. Beth had sort of a prolonged sense of loss. The one who had grown up Daddy's Girl realised that she had lost him. And why? Only because of him! I have a life to live. I can't let him control me, even after I've left him out. I don't deserve to be a marionette, with him tugging at my heartstrings. Now the tears came angrily. Beth lay on her bed, sobbing, not knowing exactly why she was.
I have to admit, I still love him with a little bit of my heart. He is my dad, and I can't deny that. He's not been all hate. But to think of him crying crocodile tears for me when I told him I was going to Germany...
{But I'll miss you, honey. A whole year? And you're so young, hardly mature enough. Maybe when you're a junior, and only a couple months. We'll see then.}
I've been more mature than some adults since I learned to talk, Daddy...that was because I never got to play with kids my age, I had to listen to you and your friends babble. I was instantly thrown out of the loop, and I found a way to occupy myself by making believe, singing, playing all on my own. And I stayed all on my own. I've never really been able to connect with people until now. Why'd you put me out in the cold?
Beth's crying subsided as she found she had no more tears to cry. She looked at the clock, and saw that two hours had passed since she had come home. I must have forgotten myself for a while. Well, I guess I had better dry my eyes, put on some make up, and go see John. It's five o' clock, and I need to hurry if I want to get out there at six. Beth washed her face in the bathroom, brushed her hair out and put on a little make-up. She changed into a fresh pair of jeans, and another Indian-type silk shirt. She gathered her notebook with ideas and her purse, and went out the door.
Once in her car, she made sure she had everything she needed; all of her guitars were there, although she wasn't sure she'd need them. She dissmissed the thought and put the top down. Such a pretty sky. I couldn't bear the thought of not feeling the wind on my skin today. the sun is just starting to sink down, and I'll see the sunset while I'm driving. Ah, the Dawn of the Sunset has come, and shall reign for at least a while. But for how long? Beth buckled in and sped away, making fast her journey to John's.
* * * * *
John welcomed Beth warmly into the house. "Hey, right on time," he said. He looked at her strangely. "Beth, have you been crying?" "Yes, but it's not what you'd think..." she said. "What happened? Is it Paul? If it is, I'll bash his bloody brains in..." John started. "No, no!" Beth said. "I had to get out the pain I've been harboring for a long time. I'm not sure if you'd understand, but I've been hung up on my dad. He's not the nicest guy, so he's made me feel pretty bad about myself in the past. So, Paul suggested that I go home, cry him out of my system, and come away from it without a bullet in my brain."
"Are you sure you're okay?" John asked. "We can just have supper, and talk about the cover another time if you want.." "I'm fine," Beth said. "I've faced reality, and I need to move on with my life." "Alright," John said. "If you say so. I've got supper in the dining room." "Great!" Beth said. "What are we having?" "Veal, marinated in Schnapps," John laughed.
* * * * *
After eating, John and Beth got to work on the cover. John had some paper about the size of an LP, and they ran their rough draft off of that. "I've got some pictures here for you to look at," Beth said. "Which one should go in the center? And be honest if it's too cheesy...." "You should know I'm
"Do you think I have a nice smile?" Beth asked. "Sure I do," John said. "It's made to be shown to the world. Be proud of it." "I do try," Beth said. "Well, now that that business is taken care of, care to look at some of my ideas?" "Let's see," John said, taking her notebook. "These are some very nice drawings," John said. "I like your attention to detail. What's this one right here?" "It's Sleeping Beauty," Beth said. "She's my favourite thing to draw." "Well, then, it should be on this album somewhere!" John said. "What about right over in this corner-" He put his finger on the spot of the paper he was talking about. "Yeah, I think it would work right there," Beth said. She carefully drew the picture of the sleeping maiden as John thought.
"I have an idea," he said. He took a pen and drew a picture of her in a gondola, with Paul steering the boat and seranading her. "That's rich!" she said. "Hmm, maybe I should put the name of the album...and my name!" In elaborate script Beth scrawled Elizabeth Anderson, and underneath it, The Dawn of the Sunset. John drew a picture of the sun in another corner (rising or setting, depending on whom you asked). "Hmm, what now?" Beth pondered. "Ah, I know." Beth drew a picture of her Stratocaster in the last empty corner. "Great! There's the cover," she said. "It's beautiful! Thank you so much for your help. I think this copy will work for the final draft." "Don't mind at all," John said. "If you ever need anymore ideas, come talk to me." "I will," Beth said. She picked up her things and the cover sheets.
"Has Brian called you about my press conference and release party?" Beth asked. "If not, I'd like you to come." "Oh, yeah, he called me," John said. "I'll be there." "Good," Beth said. "I'll get a copy of the album to you as soon as I can." "Alright," said John. "And are you sure you're okay?" "Well...not completely," she said. "But I think I can handle it. Or at least I'm hoping." "Don't beat yourself up over it," John said. "You're too wonderful to let something tear you up." He hugged her and she departed.
* * * * *
Constance picked Beth up the next day to go shopping. Beth had free reign of the city, so they went to lots of different stores to find just the right things. Beth explored the boutiques for foreign garb and brightly-colored things, and later was fitted for formal wear by Halston, Givenchy, and Chanel. She also bought accesories, including several new pairs of glasses. All of this was done quickly, so Beth had finished shopping by four. At this time, she and Constance circled back around to the designers to pick up finished clothes. Then they went back around to her apartment. Constance left with Beth the majority of her formal wear, so that she'd have something to wear to press conferences and the like.
Beth hung her clothes up in her closet and sat down to think. Gee, I didn't eat much for lunch, that must be why I'm so wasted. Beth got up and went to the kitchen. Well, nothing in the fridge except for Coke. What about the cabinets? Beth reached up to open them, and found a box of tea bags. Oh brother. It's no wonder I never eat in! I don't think I've been to the grocery store once. Perhaps I should go get some take out from that Indian place. Beth sighed, for there was no other choice. She grabbed her purse from the couch and went out the door.
* * * * *
Beth waited for about fifteen minutes at the restaurant, and she had her food and drinks. She had ordered double, in case Paul wanted some when she went over. As she was going out to the parking lot, three teenage girls met her. "Madam?" one called. Beth put her stuffdown on the hood of her car and turned around to talk to them. "Yes?" she said. "See, what'd I tell you?" another whispered. "Ahem, we girls bought your single today, and we think it's just gear. Would you mind signing our copies?" the first one said. "Certainly," Beth said. Each handed Beth her copy and told Beth her name. Beth signed them each with a little message.
"Thank you so much, madam," the first girl, Doris, said. "Any time," Beth laughed. "And call me Beth."
Beth took her food off the hood and got in her car. Curious. George and Brian have really been at it...thinking of those two, maybe I could leave the LP coversheets with George... Beth put her drinks in the cupholders and drove over to Abbey Road.
When she got there, the secretary said that George was in the studio, and that she could wait for him. Beth told her just to give George the envelope she had, and to tell him it was from Beth Anderson.
Having that taken care of, Beth drove over to Paul's. She took the food and went inside, for the door was unlocked in back. "Hello?" Beth called. She heard sounds from the music room, but they abruptly ended when she called a second time. Paul raced down the stairs and met Beth in the kitchen, where she was eating. "Early dinner," she said. "Want some?" "Sure," Paul said. "Smells good." He sat, and they ate. "Why so early a dinner?" Paul asked. "Oh, I get to feeling pretty sick if the sugar content in my blood gets low," Beth said. "So, I just have to eat regular meals and I'm fine. But if I get really busy or stressed out, I'm more likely to feel funny."
"I see," Paul said. "Hey, I've got an idea. I heard about a new art exhibit over at the Indica Gallery tonight. Care to go?" "Sure," Beth said. "I went over there with John to get some books one day. It's a pretty groovy place." "Yeah, I think so, too," Paul said. "I helped start it up, after a few friends, Barry Miles, John Dunbar, and Peter Brown wanted to start it. It's been pretty successful as of late."
"A lot of people I knew in Germany were interested in the art scene," Beth said. "I went over a second time in college over the summer, to catch up with friends and talk. Seems that the art scene has migrated here." "Yeh, it was pretty successful when we went to Hamburg," Paul said. "We-the Beatles-were invited to play at a club there, and we met some Existentials, or Exis, who were into art. I think the Germans pick up a lot of stuff before the English do." "I agree," Beth said.
They finished their food and cleaned up. "So, when is this showing?" Beth said. Paul looked at his watch. "Oh, fifteen minutes," he said. "Are you ready to go?"
* * * * *
They went to the gallery, and a great time was had by all. Paul introduced Beth to his friends, and they found some new people, too. "Hi, I'm Beth Anderson," she said to a woman. "What's your name?" "I'm Yoko Ono," the woman said. "I'm an avant garde artist, here to see the exhibit. What do you do?" "I'm an artist as well," Beth said, "but more of the musical sort." "Ah, I knew I'd seen you before," Yoko said. "I heard one of your songs on the radio this morning. It was very intense." "Thank you," said Beth. "So, have you ever done an exhibit here?" "No, but I have one coming up in November, on the Eighth. Perhaps I'll see you there," she said. "That would be nice; I look forward to it," Beth said.
She and Paul slipped out of the crowd after seeing the exhibit and retired early. The next day, they went out to the country and had a picnic. They visited Stonehenge nearby, and roamed around the village not too far away. When Friday gave way to Saturday, Beth was prepared for her press conference. She showed up in a simple, short, black dress and answered questions with ease.
Reporter: Why is your album's name The Dawn of the Sunset?
Beth: The dawn is a symbol of a beginning, and I thought it appropriate. The sunset is something beautiful that we all love to watch, and marks the ending. So, it's almost as if I shouted, 'Happy New Year!' Besides, I have a thing for opposites.
R: Miss Anderson, we've heard you're American. Why then, are you here in London?
B: I've always wanted to come here to England. So, when I graduated from college, I took a holiday over here. I ended up with some most interesting fellows, and they introduced me to their friend, Mr. George Martin. The rest is history.
R: About those fellows...you've been seen with Paul McCartney, as well as John Lennon. What's going on?
B: They're my friends, but I don't want to violate their privacy, so I'll leave it at that.
R: On most of your songs on your new album, you play all the instruments. Why not hire session musicians?
B: I've picked up some very basic drum rudiments from my brother, so I used them on the album. If I need to do a more drum-heavy piece, I'll hire somebody who can get the job done. My principals are piano and guitar, but I've learned some bass, too. Paul played the more complex bass parts on the album.
R: Beth, why do Paul McCartney and John Lennon play on your album?
B: I co-wrote a song with Paul, and it seemed only natural that we sing that one together. And another song, "Then I'll Be Dead" was perfect for John's range and style, so I called him up and we jammed.
R: Is this a grab at personal power?
B: Heavens no! Like I said, they're friends, and they helped me out. I sincerely thank them for doing what they do and have done.
R: Are you surprised by your speedy success?
B: Yes and no. I'm surprised that people like me and my music, and it makes me feel very good. It feels like the natural thing to do, though, so in that aspect, I'm not surprised. I guess I'm in denial.
R: Some of your songs seem dark. Why?
B: No one's completely sunny or perpetually happy. I mean, I can be happy, but I can also be sad or angry, like everyone else. My music reflects my life and feelings.
R: Do take your musicianship seriously?
B: Once again, yes and no. If I don't add an element of fun to it, I can't get into my music. But if you mean that it's not just a one time thing, yeah, I'm very serious. This is my life's work, my career.
R: Why have you so suddenly joined the Beatles' American Tour?
B: George, Brian, and the guys all thought it was a good idea, so they asked me to join.
R: What are you doing when you get back from the tour?
B: I want to record another album, because I've got plenty of ideas. I like London a lot, so I think I'll settle in here. Maybe I'll stay for a while. Say hello to the Queen for me! Well, danke schoen and auf wiedersehen. I believe it's time for me to fly.
Brian had called up Mal Evans, and he was there to take Beth to the banquet hall. He led her through a crowd of noisy, shutter-happy reporters into the busy, yet safe room.
*Continued*
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