The Sound of Silence | Paul McCartney ✅

Prologue

Sometimes silence is the only reminder of what we have lost.

- Author Unknown

13th December 1975

Dearest Robert,

Here we are, so many years later. My heart no longer yearns for you like it once did, and I no longer cry myself to sleep at night.

I completely forgot that I used to write in this journal to you, and that at one point, I didn't know how to go a day without doing so. For so long you were everything to me, and now I hardly think about you.

I have a lot to occupy my mind with now: there's seven of them, though Paul wants more. Cecily Mary is 11, but will be 12 next month. James Paul is only just 11, Arthur Robin is 9. Phoebe Daisy is 7, Jessica Marie is 4 and the twins, Oliver David and Christopher Ian are 3.

I haven't told Paul yet, but I think I'm pregnant again. I don't even know why I'm telling you this right now, to be honest. I thought I was over the whole silly thing of writing to my dead fiance... but here I am...

Well this will be the last time, Rob. I want to put you to rest, finally. I want to never think of you again: I have my family now, and as horrible as it may sound, it isn't with you.

I will always have a space in my heart for you though, I think. You were my first love, though you are not my last nor my greatest.

Adaline.

I stood up and went over to the fireplace, looking for a second into the orange tongues which leapt up and down. I closed my eyes and kissed the front of the book before I threw it into the flames, opening my eyes only once I heard the louder crackling and knew that the flames had claimed my words and my ink.

"Mum!" I was startled, and turned towards the doorway of the room. I hadn't even heard the front door open. Cecily was standing there, Oliver clutching at her hand. Paul was standing slightly beside her, Christopher in his arms whilst Jessica and Phoebe held onto either one of his hands.

"Where are the boys?" I asked, seeing that James and Arthur, my two oldest boys, were missing from the little crowd of my favourite people.

"They went to put the horses back -" Jessica was cut off by myself.

"You took the horses?" I asked, looking at Paul. We had agreed that we would not take the horses out when either of us went out with all of the kids because the two horses were too big for Oliver and Christopher and Jessica to ride, and they got annoyed and tired when they couldn't go on the animals like their older siblings could.

Paul shrugged. "I figured we'd break the rules." Cecily giggled as her dad gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Also," he said, "Cec is going to try out for the junior jockey championships next summer - I figured she should have her own little audience, right?"

I looked at her in surprise, aware that it had been something she'd wanted to do, but wasn't sure if she was good enough (despite Paul and me telling her repeatedly that she definitely was). She had been riding ponies and horses since she was four and we'd moved to the farm in Scotland.

Paul sent the kids to their rooms and then came over to the fireplace, taking me in his arms and leading me to the settee. He sat down and pulled me down beside him, gently pushing my head to his chest so I could relax in his warm embrace. "What were you doing before we came in?"

"Thinking."

"Of what?" He asked me, stroking the hair back from my head.

"Of what we'd call the next one," I answered simply.

Paul stopped his movements and then pulled me away from him, looking into my eyes. "You mean...?"

"Baby number eight." I confirmed. Paul put a hand on my stomach. "I'm pretty sure, anyway."

"Eight?" He grinned. "I thought you said we'd only have six?"

"I said maybe seven." I teased, "though it seems like you worked your magic again -"

"I hope we get eight and nine." He grinned.

"Anymore children, Mr McCartney, and you'll ruin me for all of the hundreds of suitors queuing up outside for my good looks and charm."

Paul pretended to glance out the window. "I see no suitors."

I slapped his arm playfully before snuggling back against his chest. "I love you so much, Paul."

"Hmm," he hummed in reply, "I love you too, Mrs McCartney. More than you could ever imagine. I can never thank you enough for the life which you have given me - and the eight children."

I laughed, moving my head to kiss his lips. As our lips locked together, I heard the chatter from upstairs and in the yard - the seven voices of my seven children, soon-to-be eight.

My world was never silent anymore - Paul had seen to that.