⇾ 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 | 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐈

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮-𝙎𝙞𝙭 ➪ 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙒𝙖𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧, 𝙎𝙤 𝙈𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮

ꕥ October 22, 1969 ꕥ
27 weeks

Life in Scotland was—to put it simply—perfect. We'd been here quite a few weeks now and the fridge was now full of food, we had a few chickens and goats running around that Paul had gone off and bought (without telling me, might I add), and the house was pretty much decorated as we wanted it to be.

Martha and Eddie immediately accommodated to the new lifestyle. They'd made it a habit of going outside every morning to chase the bloody chickens around and terrorize them. Paul had built a pretty sad-looking chicken coup with some scraps of wood he had dug out of a shed that was on the property and falling apart. That shed had become a playhouse for Mary who often had us out there for her tea parties, or she'd turn the building into a restaurant and we'd be the customers, or it would become a grand concert hall where we would all three put on shows while the dogs laid in the corner side-by-side and the chickens and goats would wander to to see what all the ruckus was about. Even Thisbe the cat would join us sometimes.

All in all, we loved it here. It was good to get away from the madness back in London—and little did we know how mad it had gotten back in London.

The screen door opened and Paul stepped through, wearing pajama bottoms and no shirt. His hair was a wild mess and his eyes were studying something that had come in the mail.

"What's that?" I asked him as I fixed some scrambled eggs for breakfast.

He came and leaned against the counter. "Dunno," he responded. "Haven't opened it yet, have I?" He gave me a teasing smile.

I jabbed at the eggs in the pan and rolled my eyes. "Well, what're you bloody waiting for?" I asked him.

He began to rip the envelope open. Out of it came a newspaper clipping. I curiously went to look over his shoulder and see what it said.

Is Beatle Paul McCartney Dead?

"What the fuck?" Paul said quite bluntly as he read the headline. He pulled out a little note in the envelope and read it over as well. "They think I'm bloody dead," he said. People had been saying nonsense like that for a few years now, but this was the first time that I'd ever seen it so public. He dropped the paper onto the counter and cradled his head. "I come out here to get away from the papers, and they find some other bloody thing to say about me! Wow, I can't believe I'm dead now."

"Oh, Paul, just let them think what they want," I said. "You and I both know you're alive and that's about all we need!"

He looked up and grinned at me before leaning forward to kiss me on the lips. "Finish making your eggs, you silly girl," he said teasingly. "I'm gonna go get Mary up."

I nodded. "You do that. Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes."

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

The phone rang as I was in the kitchen, making strawberry fool. I was craving it again.

"Paul?" I called out. "Paul, can you get that?"

Paul appeared at the bottom of the staircase pretty quickly, going towards the phone.

"Hello?" I heard him ask. "Peter? Oh, hey...yeah, I saw it. Ridiculous, right?" I listened as he spoke on the phone. Maybe eavesdropping was a bit rude, but I didn't care.

"Mummy, why's Daddy on the phone?" Mary asked me, entering the kitchen to see what I was doing. "What're you makin'?" she then asked, pushing herself onto the tips of her toes, but still coming up short of the counter.

"Strawberry fool," I responded with a grin and her eyes lit up. She loved the dessert about as much as I did. "And Daddy's got a call from work," I responded, reaching down and lifting her up so she could sit on the counter and watch me. "So, we should be quiet, alright?" I said in a teasing whisper. She smiled and dragged her fingers across her lips to signify that she was going to keep quiet.

She helped me whip the cream for our lovely treat, and just as we were making progress, Paul came into the room, looking discouraged. I watched as he reached in the fridge and pulled out a beer. Then, he went to remove the lid and leaned against the counter next to us, taking a long, contemplative sip.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Peter," he said. "Brown," he added in case I didn't know who he was referring to. "Wants me to have an interview to tell the bastards I'm not dead."

Mary's face scrunched up in concern. "Daddy, are you gonna die?" she asked quietly. "Are you a ghost?"

Paul grinned, sitting down his beer bottle and going over to her. "What if I said that I was a ghost?" he asked teasingly, raising his hands and wiggling his fingers as if he were a ghost. He moved forward and began to tickle Mary, causing her to erupt in uncontainable laughter. His arms closed around her, and he lifted her from off of the counter as she flailed her little feet and continued to laugh.

"Where's Martha?" Paul asked her, stopping his tickling so she could talk.

Mary pointed out the window and Paul and I both followed her hand, only I be met with Martha scampering along after a blonde chicken that Mary had named Gerald. Gerald's "twin," another blonde chicken that was a little bit bigger was named Harold. We didn't have the heart to tell her that these chickens were all girls. We just let her have her fun.

Martha snapped her jaws at Gerald, but wasn't able to reach her. Gerald was simply too fast for her.

"I think we should go help Gerald," Paul said as the chicken made it to the coup and Martha had to stop because she was too big to fit. So, she resorted to barking. "Let's go get Martha, shall we?"

Mary nodded, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Go get her to come lay down with you," I said to her, kissing her on the cheek. "We'll watch a movie and you can take a nap. How's that?"

Mary nodded. "That's good," she responded groggily.

"You guys go get the dogs in here," I said. "I'll put this in the fridge and get you some milk." Paul smiled at me and I watched as they disappeared outside. Then, I turned to put my whipped cream into the fridge, trading the bowl out for the carton of milk. I turned to get one of Mary's cups out of the cabinet and filled it with some milk, screwing the cap on tightly.

When I had stored all of my strawberries and cream in the fridge again, I went into the living room. Martha came in through the front door, panting. A few seconds later, Eddie and Paul followed, Mary bundled in Paul's arms, laughing. I noticed when Martha began to shake that they were covered in water.

"It's raining," Paul said to me with a laugh as he shook his head just like the dogs. Mary giggled and tried to lean away. Paul kissed her on the cheek and carried her over to the couch, sitting down and seating her on his lap. I handed her her milk and then went to turn the telly on before grabbing the remote and a blanket from the trunk by the entertainment center. Mary had laid down on the couch, her head in Paul's lap as she enjoyed her drink.

"Do I get my drink?" Paul asked me with a smile. I rolled my eyes and tossed the remote to him, but went to retrieve his beer from where he'd left it on the counter anyway. I got myself some water and joined them finally,

"Look!" Paul said enthusiastically and I looked up to see what he had found. It was Help!, the Beatles' second movie. I looked over at him and recognized the look in his eyes as he realized what he was looking at—a whole other chapter in his life, one that was over.

I scooted closer to him, moving Mary's legs onto my lap and leaning my head on his shoulder. He watched with a glint of fondness in his eyes. I looked at how the band smiled at each other. Mary enjoyed the movie, laughing at all the funny parts right up until she fell asleep. Even when she was out, Paul and I finished the whole thing.