Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles

04. Peter Blake's Works in Progress

Carnival of Light

04.

I met William Burroughs, legendary Beat writer and proud junkie, on the 26th of February, 1966. On the 27th, I binned my novel, and on the 28th I met Beatrix Miller, the editor-in-chief of British Vogue. Mrs Miller kindly passed samples of my writing on to her friend Norah Smallwood of Chatto & Windus. Within weeks, Norah invited me to her office, where she informed me that her boss Leonard Woolf (Virginia Woolf's widower) enjoyed my poem Pink and Blue and that Chatto & Windus would very much like to publish a collection of my poetry and short stories.

I don't believe in fate or destiny or any nonsense like that, but it felt an extraordinary coincidence that the day after I decided to "bin" my beleaguered novel, I met Mrs Miller, who helped set all this in motion.

March of 1966 was heady and fast for Matthew and I. We tried LSD under Robert Fraser's watchful eye at a dinner party that included the pop artist couple Peter Blake and Jann Haworth, who would go on to create the album artwork for Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. After the dessert course, we had tea sweetened with acid-infused sugar cubes and spent the following eight hours exploring the deepest recesses of our consciousness.

It was magnificent.

Taking acid kicked off a kind of honeymoon period for Matthew and I, not just with each other but with London itself. We were out nearly every night of the week, overindulging and ecstatic to be alive. It was fabulous. Or, "fucking gorgeous" as Fraser would say.

In early April we attended the opening of Blake's 'Works in Progress' exhibition at Fraser's gallery. Matthew wore a navy pinstripe suit with a pink shirt and printed Mr Fish tie, his blonde hair now fashionably long. I had on a simple white shift dress and chandelier earrings that grazed my bare shoulders — they left my earlobes aching by the end of the night. We made a very swinging-looking couple.

Fraser greeted us with one of his soft, sly smiles when we arrived. He made sure we had strong drinks before he guided us over to Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, fresh off the boat from their European tour. We'd met them through Fraser before. Mick was bizarrely intrigued by Matthew, questioning him persistently about what it meant to be a gentleman. I found Keith absolutely delightful. He drawled and smirked and suggested with a lascivious twinkle in his eye, and he always had fabulous grass on him. He was also remarkably insightful.

We were discussing California, where the Stones had recorded their new album Aftermath when an odd ripple of heightened conversation and turning heads passed through the gallery. I had never seen this phenomenon before, and looked around to see what had happened.

"That always happens when Paul turns up somewhere," Keith observed, smirking lazily.

My stomach did a funny, nervous flip. I hadn't seen Paul in over a month and I'd done my best since then not to think about him or how he nearly kissed me.

I lost track of what Keith was saying, my eyes drifting over his shoulder where Paul stood with Jane and Peter Asher, a crowd gathering around them. Paul's hair had grown longer, curling at his ears rather attractively. He wore a gray suit with a sherbert-coloured shirt and floral tie, and white penny loafers. His face was lively and animated as he spoke to Fraser, radiating charisma that made him hard to ignore. Then as if he could feel me staring, he glanced my way, and caught my eye.

I looked away, my heart leaping unreasonably hard as if I'd had a fright.

"D'you know what I mean, darling?" Keith drawled.

I had no idea what he'd said.

"Oh, of course," I plastered on a smile. "I couldn't agree more."

Keith smirked and offered me a cigarette. "I mean if you can't hear yourself play, what's the bloody point?"