Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles

14. Tangerine Is a Great Word

The Lonely People

14.

If I thought I'd tapped into a well of creativity before Weybridge, it was like a gasket bursting afterward. I became obsessed with my work in a way I couldn't remember ever being before. Sleeping and eating seemed like inconveniences, and Mrs Fitz had to remind me to do both, as well as encourage me to go out with my friends, who seemed to be ringing me up constantly with one thing or another

I rang Matthew every day and I missed him a great deal but Paul was increasingly sneaking into my thoughts. It was as if Matthew and Paul existed in two different universes and I flitted between them. Perhaps it was because nothing had actually happened with Paul. His hand had remained on my thigh until we got back to London, at which point we'd both pretended it hadn't happened. He dropped me off at home and we exchanged a friendly kiss on the cheek goodbye, and that was that.

Anita rang me up a few days later. She'd heard Paul and John had advanced copies of my book and wanted one for herself. We went shopping at the vintage stalls on the King's Road, and she confidently pointed out the scarves and necklaces and dresses I should buy. We ran into Jenny Boyd and we all went for dinner then stopped by a party at Granny Takes a Trip, the boutique responsible for giving London a psychedelic wash of colour in the summer of 1966.

It was a small party, only attended by intimates of the owners, Nigel and Sheila. There were bottles of warm wine lined up on the register and the air was heavy with herbal smoke. Anita, Jenny and I were there for about twenty minutes when heads began to turn, including mine.

Paul walked in with George and Pattie Harrison, who cut quite the striking couple. Pattie was beautiful, wide-eyed and coltish. George was dark and very handsome, grinning crookedly as he said something to Paul out of the corner of his mouth.

Pattie made a beeline for Jenny, her sister, with George in tow, and we were all introduced. When I shook George's hand, his eyebrows rose, a grin spreading across his face.

"Ohhh," he said, looking very amused. "So, you're Beatrix Beauford."

I frowned at him. "Yes."

"I read some of your book when I was round John's the other day," George explained, still grinning. "Tangerine is a great word."

"Yes, I think so too," I laughed. "Revolver is fantastic. I loved it."

"Yeah, I heard Paul sent you a test pressing," George widened his eyes at me. "Funny that you got one before everyone else, innit."

Pattie elbowed George in the stomach, making him grunt and complain at her. She sent me an apologetic look, and Paul joined us moments later, saying hello to everyone else before he turned to me.

"Hullo, love," he smirked, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"Hello," I grinned back at him. "How have you been?"

"Fine thanks," Paul winked and put his hand on my lower back, pressing lightly, and kept it there for the rest of the evening. 

***

Tara and I went to see a band at Bag o Nails that weekend. He picked me up in his sporty little AC Cobra, which he'd had the art collective Binder, Edwards and Vaughan paint into a kaleidoscopic piece of pop art. We passed a joint between us as Tara sped through central London, driving far faster than was necessary.

Paul was already at the club – Tara had forgotten to mention we were meeting him – and he was with Ringo and Donovan, all three of them cutting very colourful dandy figures. Mal was there as well, fetching drinks from the bar as usual.