Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles

01. Beatrix Takes A Trip

Carnival of Light (Part 2)

01.

February 1967

Sue invited me round to share a new magic brownie recipe she was experimenting with. We sat across from each other on the blue velvet Ginsberg couch, our legs folded lotus style as we waited for the brownies to kick in. We had that morning's Daily Herald spread out in front of us, the page dominated by the headline, BEATLE PAUL'S NEW GIRL: WHO IS SHE?

"I wouldn't be able to guess that was you," Sue decided, reaching for a second brownie.

I examined the picture of Paul and I outside the Saville Theatre for the hundredth time since I opened the newspaper that morning. Paul was clearly Paul, his face impassive for the camera and his arm around me. I was less clearly me. You could only see the back of my head, my hair a wavy mess down my back. Mal was there too, but only his shoulder was in the frame. He'd been shepherding us from the Saville's stage door to a waiting car when the photographer jumped out at us.

"So what's it like dating Paul for real?" Sue asked. "Aside from having to turn up and leave everywhere separately to avoid getting photographed together. Which you're doing such a good job of," she added with a smirk.

I shot her a withering look and popped a bite of pot brownie in my mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Well, so far the Beatles are taking over my life even more than I thought they would, and that's without the entire world knowing I'm Paul's girlfriend."

"That was always gonna happen," Sue said sagely. "Paul gets stuck in on being a Beatle when they're recording. Barry hardly saw him at all while they were making Rubber Soul and Revolver. It was all Beatles all the time."

"I don't know if it's just because they're recording," I mused. "It's almost like they had too much space from each other after that American tour when they all went on holiday, and now they're sticking together closer than ever."

"Or maybe you're inside it now," Sue pointed out. "You're seeing dynamics you weren't seeing before."

"That's true," I agreed. "I've seen a lot of John. He's round all the bloody time. He and Paul do this thing where they stare at each other when they talk. I think they actually believe they can read each other's minds. Sometimes I believe it too."

"What?" Sue laughed.

"I'm serious." I grinned. "I've seen Paul have an entire one-sided conversation with him where John doesn't say a word. I can't decide if it's romantic or creepy."

"Maybe both?" Sue raised an eyebrow. "Hang on, are you living with Paul?"

"No, I go back and forth," I explained. "I work from mine but I stay the night at Cavendish."

"That kinda sounds like you're living there, doll," Sue grinned.

"I'm not," I hesitated. "None of my things are at Paul's."

That wasn't strictly true, but some lingerie, a couple of dresses, a jumper and some books hardly counted as "my things." My favourite green dressing gown, however, was relatively damning. That had migrated over to Cavendish rather early on.

"I don't know, babe," Sue grinned. "When Barry and I came over for dinner with Mr Martin and Judy the other night, you seemed pretty cosy hosting with Paul."

"Did you catch Mr Martin's little comment about me not cooking?" I wrinkled my nose.

"Won't you be cooking for us this evening, Ms Beauford?" Sue stuck her nose in the air and put on a posh accent to mimic Mr Martin.

"Paul's brother said the exact same thing to me last week!" I laughed.

"Why are men so obsessed with you cooking for them?" Sue shot me a bewildered look.