Three
Paul landed in the snow and scrabbled comically for a moment to maintain his balance. The cold air and exertion caused another brief coughing fit which made him brace his hands on his knees for support until it passed. He straightened and gestured for the others to follow.
"Oh hell," Ringo breathed, positioned himself on the ledge and leaped. Paul caught his arm as he landed to steady him. Ringo made a show of wiping imaginary sweat from his brow and grinned at John and George.
"Come on, lads!" he encouraged.
"Go on, Georgie," John nudged him, "I'll catch you if you slip."
"That's bloody reassuring, John," George muttered and clambered onto the sill, gripping the sides and avoiding the scenery below.
"Aahh!" he yelled and jumped across the gap to Ringo and Paul. Safe on the neighbor's roof, he peered down and shook his head.
"Come 'ead, John!" Paul said urgently, "They're going to catch on pretty quick." He pointed to the crowd of girls four stories below.
John stood on the sill and spread his arms wide, "Ready or not, here I come!"
The others all grabbed for him as he landed beside them. Unfortunately, as soon as they let go, his boots slid in the wet snow and he fell flat on his bum, legs straight out in front of him and a surprised expression on his face. George and Ringo fell about laughing while Paul lent him a hand to get up. But he had neglected to plant his feet because as John took his hand and pulled, Paul slipped and fell too, landing spread-eagle on top of John in the snow.
Lying prone underneath him, John slyly murmured, "Paul, I didn't know..."
"Oh shut up," Paul replied and lightly cuffed him on the head. "Give us a hand, mates," he said to George and Ringo who were still reeling about giggling.
As they were brushing themselves off, a small window suddenly opened behind them and a deep voice inquired, "Are you chaps all right?"
"Fine, Mr. McAlister, sorry for the intrusion," Paul said.
"Glad to be of service, young Paul. Let's get you in from there," the older man replied.
The four Beatles squeezed through the window and found themselves in a cluttered attic storage room, facing a distinguished, grey-haired gentleman wearing a corduroy smoking jacket and a slight, quizzical smile on his face.
Paul quickly made introductions, "Mr. Arthur McAlister, John Lennon, George Harrison, Ringo Starr."
They shook hands all around. As Paul extended his hand he said, "Thanks so much, sir. Love to stay and chat, but we must be off."
"I quite understand," Mr. McAlister said. "You know the way."
Paul nodded and was about to say more when he sneezed three times in quick succession. He waited for the resulting blinding headache to subside. Unfortunately, it lessened to a dull throb but didn't go away.
Mr. McAlister frowned, "Eh, take care of yourself there, laddie. Sounds like you've got a bit of a nasty bug."
"We'll watch him," John replied and tugged discreetly on Paul's arm.
"Right. Ta!" They headed down two flights of stairs. Paul suddenly stopped on the landing, causing the others to bump into him. John saw that his eyes were shut and he was gripping the balustrade rather tightly. He touched him on the arm, "Paul?"
He opened his eyes and exhaled. "Just got a bit dizzy for a mo," he answered. "Ready?"
George grumbled, "I still think we ought to postpone this thing."
Paul led them down another flight of stairs to the main level of the house and out the kitchen's back door, where Alf stood waiting next to the car, glancing anxiously at the opening of the alley.
"Thank goodness, lads!" he said as he opened the door for them. "I was beginning to worry."
Once safely inside the car and underway, John watched as Paul let himself slump back and closed his eyes. "I still feel like shit," he said.
"We'll get Nell to round up some throat lozenges," John said, lighting a cigarette, which he was promptly relieved of by a grinning Ringo.
Paul dozed while John and Ringo attempted to use his knee as a card table. This worked fine until he coughed and shifted position. John threw cards in his face, and the resulting card throwing fight continued all around until George ended up with the majority of the deck down his shirt front.
Arriving at the theatre where the show was to be filmed, the Beatles made a rush past a growing crowd to get through the back way to their dressing room.
Neil and Mal were waiting, as always, as they walked in. Ringo complained, "Some bird was trying to rip my scarf off. I just got it from my mum for Christmas."
John said to Neil, "Be a luv and get some Zubes lozenges for Paul, eh?" as Paul plopped down on the sofa and massaged his temples.
"Right, anything else, boys?"
Paul added, "Aspirins," George said, "birds," and Ringo piped up with "a gallon of scotch." Neil replied by rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
"Watch this lot, Mal. I'll be back as soon as I can. You don't go on until about an hour and a half from now."
They all four groaned in boredom and Ringo switched on the TV to flip through the limited channels for something halfway interesting to watch.
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