Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles

04. A Splendid Time Is Guarenteed For All

Carnival of Light (Part 2)

04.

I walked into the kitchen at Cavendish in my dressing gown, feeling fuzzy-headed after a late night of smoking some exceptionally potent hash with the International Times crowd. Paul was on the telephone, already dressed in pinstriped trousers and a patterned shirt he'd not bothered to button up. He was ruffling his hair and he kept saying "fucking hell" with increasing incredulity as whomever he was on the phone with recounted something he clearly found shocking.

There were newspapers splayed out on the kitchen table, the News of the World on top. I picked it up, my eyes widening at the headline.

"POP STARS AND DRUGS: THE ROLLING STONES RAIDED."

I scanned the article, which was even more shocking than the headline.

The police had raided a party at Keith's country house, Redlands. Mick, Keith and Robert Fraser had been arrested but not jailed. A naked girl had been present wearing only a fur rug. Marajuana, LSD, amphetamines, and heroin were found and confiscated.

"Yeah, alright," Paul was saying, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, see you then."

"What the hell is all this?" I asked incredulously, holding up the paper.

"Exactly what it says," Paul said, also incredulous. "That was George. He and Pattie were at Redlands a few hours before the police turned up and raided the place yesterday."

"Bloody hell," I was genuinely shocked.

"George spoke to Keith this morning," Paul frowned. "Keith reckons they were stitched up by these wankers," he waved at the News of the World. "They couldn't have gotten the story already if they weren't in on it."

"Bloody hell," My eyes widened.

"The coppers chased Robert down in the bloody back garden," Paul ruffled his hair at the back. "They fucking rugby tackled him when he tried to do a runner."

"Bloody hell," I covered my mouth with my hand.

I couldn't think of anything else to say. Drugs had been part of the London scene ever since there was a London scene, and they were taken with aplomb out in the open without any consequences to speak of. Being arrested for taking drugs was shocking.

"Thank God George and Pattie weren't there," I said as Paul crossed the kitchen toward me.

He put his arms around me so mine were pinned to my sides, dropping his chin on my head.

"What would have happened if they'd been there?" I tipped my head back to look up at him.

"Dunno," Paul shrugged. "The papers always make us out to be the good boys to the Stones baddies. George is wondering if they weren't waiting for him to leave."

"I suppose it really does pay to be a Beatle," I said, and Paul made a humming sound like he agreed.

"The guys are gonna come round before we go to the studio tonight," he added, frowning. "George says John's freaking out and burying all his gear in the back garden or something mental like that."

"Christ," my eyebrows rose. We had a massive box of all kinds of drugs just sitting on our mantelpiece.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Paul cupped the side of my face. "Should we go to Liverpool for the weekend? Get a bit of space from all this? It's my cousin Steph's birthday. She runs a brilliant pub."

This was the third time he'd asked me to come up to Liverpool and it would be the third time I would have to say no. It seemed one of Paul's fifty-plus cousins had a birthday every weekend, and Paul was now asking me to come home with him every weekend.