The Sound of Silence | Paul McCartney ✅

17

"Okay, ladies," Jean and I looked at our agents, Tom and Francis, "have a good time out there today - humour the journalists, pose for photos. Smile and wave."

"And most importantly," Jean's agent, Francis, said, "make sure that you're nice to them - your looks won't last forever, but we still want you to be remembered when you're old and wrinkly."

"Gee," Jean said dryly, "thanks so much for that little pep talk, Francis. It's good to know that you have faith in me -"

"You know what I meant, Jeannie." He held out a tablet to her and she took it using two fingers, throwing it to the back of her throat and swallowing it.

"Jean!" I exclaimed in surprise. I didn't know that she took drugs.

"Want one, Adaline?" Francis asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out another pill. "It might help you to loosen up a little -"

"No!" I exclaimed. "I will never, ever take drugs -"

"Never?" Jean asked in surprise. "Not even once?" I shook my head. "Not even just to try -"

"I said no!" I snapped.

Tom sighed. "Addy, just go in there with Jean - and make sure that you look like best friends -"

"We are best friends!" I snapped again, glaring at my agent. "But I will not do drugs."

"Whatever, Ad. Come on." Jean took my arm and led me into the room full of reporters, journalists and photographers.

Immediately the flashes on the cameras went off and the chatter which had previously been turned was now being aimed at us. We had not even sat down before they had started pelting us with questions.

"What will you be wearing to the reception of the opening of the new wing at the British Museum next month, Adaline!?"

"Jean! Is it true that you take narcotics before interviews? Have you just taken some?"

"Can I get a picture of you and Jean Shrimpton, Adaline? Pose!"

Jean and I took our seats. Tom and Francis were standing behind us and were speaking into their own microphones. "Please! Please! Could everybody please sit down!"

When the room was as silent as it was going to get, Tom said, "welcome to this press conference. Adaline Quinn and Jean Shrimpton are here to answer your questions and to pose for some photographs. Please respect them and their answers." He paused. "Who would like to ask a question?"

Other than the photographers, everybody's hand went up. "Yes?" Francis asked, pointing to a journalist in the back row.

The man stood up and was given a microphone to ask his question into. "Is it true, Adaline, that your fiance was recently killed in a car crash on the way to his Grandmother's estate in Wales?"

I sat back in my chair. I hadn't expected to have been asked about Robert at all, let alone have it be the first question. "It is." I answered slowly. "I am most saddened by the news and ask that myself and his family are not questioned any further on his death."

Several hands went down. Francis pointed at another male journalist and the microphone was handed to him. "Adaline, the dress that you were wearing at the premiere of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, the other night was lovely."

"Thank you."

"Wherever did you get it?"

"Harrods." I answered. "Jean picked it out for me as I was at a photoshoot earlier in the day."

A female journalist was chosen to ask a question next and was given the microphone. "Jean, you have been nicknamed 'The Shrimp' by some magazines - what do you think of this title?"

Jean laughed a little before replying, "I think it's a little unoriginal."

The journalists and photographers laughed politely, and I giggled. "Adaline, you have been spotted several times recently with Paul McCartney of The Beatles. What is he like, in your own words?"

What an odd question, I thought. I hesitated in replying, and felt Tom nudging me in the back, not too hard but hard enough that I knew he was expecting me to answer very quickly. I cleared my throat and tucked some of my hair back behind my ear. "Paul is a very kind man. He's funny - I enjoy spending time with him, and consider him a very good friend."

"Adaline, there are speculations and rumours that you and Paul McCartney are in a relationship. Can you confirm or deny this?"

"Like I said," I replied, "Paul McCartney and myself are just good friends."

"Jean, you've met Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr." That wasn't a question, but Jean nodded. I watched her listening to the rest of the question. "What are your thoughts on them?"

"Paul and I aren't close - we've only spent a few minutes together here and there. Nevertheless, I like him a lot and would consider him a friend."

"And Ringo Starr?"

"Was kind of enough to accompany me to the premiere of Hitchcock's film a few weeks back. It was most kind of him. He's good fun, and easy to be around."

"And are they talented?"

Jean laughed. "What kind of a question is that?" She asked. "Of course they're talented."

"Adaline, do you see your relationship with Paul McCartney progressing past the point of being friends?"

I glared at the journalist. "I don't really see how that is relevant to this interview," I answered slowly, "but... perhaps... yes, I suppose."

Tom and Francis were very quick to end the press conference after that. Jean and I posed for some photographs and answered another seven or eight questions before we were rushed from the room and straight into a car.

* * * * *

I was dropped home in the early hours of the afternoon. I had a bath and got some things done before I finally allowed myself to relax, laying down on the sofa and watching the television. "London supermodels Jean Shrimpton and Adaline Quinn attended a press conference today where they were asked about their recent encounters with the Liverpudlian rock band, The Beatles." I sighed. Here we go, I thought. "When asked if she could see her friendship with bass player Paul McCartney going any further than friends, Adaline Quinn said 'I don't really see how this is relevant to the interview, but perhaps... yes, I suppose.'" It had cut to a clip of me and I groaned. That sounded terrible, that part... as if I were trying to be suggestive to Paul.

At that moment, my phone began to ring and I sighed. I knew who that would be. Paul. I picked it up and answered, trying to sound positive. "Hello?"

"Adaline." He did not sound happy.

"Good evening, Paul," I replied. "How's tour?"

"I just watched you on the television." Ah. Okay, so it was definitely not going to be a good conversation.

"Really?" I asked, not knowing what else to say. "What did you think?"

"I think you made a bloody fool of yourself." He answered gruffly. "And me."

"Paul, how did I do that?" I asked, feeling tears fill my eyes. "I answered them honestly! That's what my agent said I should do!"

"Well of course he would!" Paul yelled. "He wants you to look like a fool! That way he gets you more interviews and more money for himself!"

"Well what did you want me to say then!?" I exclaimed. "Something dumb? A lie!?"

"Of course not!" Paul answered, still yelling down the phone, "you're supposed to say something witty in reply and steer them away from the conversation ="

"Oh," I answered sarcastically, shouting at him, tears pouring down my face, "well next time, I'll phone you up between questions for advice, shall I?!"

"If it will save you looking like a bloody fool on television then yes!"

I huffed, slamming the phone back onto the hook.