Carnival of Light (Part 2)
10 February 1967
Pattie and I shrugged on our coats and got settled in the back of Mal's little green Ford Cortina with Neil behind the wheel, leaving the four Beatles to catch a ride in John's Rolls whenever they decided they could be bothered to turn up to their own party. There would have been more than enough room for Pattie and I to join them in that massive car, which I pointed out to her as Neil pulled away from Cavendish and the fans collected at the gate.
"They like to be alone sometimes," Pattie explained. "George told me on the last two tours they had entire floors of hotels booked with a massive suite each, but they would hang out in the bathroom together, just the four of them."
"I suppose the four of them went through something no one else will ever understand," I mused.
"I used to think George loved the Beatles more than he did me," Pattie admitted.
My eyebrows rose. George clearly adored her. "Really?"
"George loves me as his wife," Pattie explained. "The only way I can explain it is that there's a fence around the four of them, and then there's another fence around us and them to keep the rest of the world out. We're with them, but not the same way they're with each other."
Neil was clearly eavesdropping. "It's got to be that way, doesn't it," he said. "Keeps em' safe. And sane."
I tried to process that. The idea that I might not ever be as close to Paul as he was to John, George and Ringo.
"Mo and Cyn feel the same way sometimes," Pattie paused thoughtfully. "Especially Cyn."
Neil pulled into the small car park at Abbey Road, which was packed with a couple of Princess Limousines and a flashy car or two. He showed Pattie and I through the labyrinth of corridors leading to Studio 1, the biggest and grandest studio EMI had to offer. The sounds of a party trickled down the hall as we came up to a set of double doors, the hum of voices and laughter and glasses tinkling.
Neil held the door open, and Pattie and I stepped inside.
An orchestra were getting settled behind their instruments, the musicians wearing tuxedos and surreal party favours — gorilla paws and big red noses, oversized glasses and bald caps with tufts of hair. I thought Mr Martin looked incredibly handsome in his tuxedo, his fair hair slicked to the side like a Royal Airforceman.
"Baby!" Anita came bounding up to me with a coup of champagne in hand. "It's been fucking ages!"
"Hi!" I laughed as she threw her arms around me, then dragged Pattie into our hug too.
"You kittens are gorgeous," Anita kissed both our cheeks, making Pattie giggle nervously.
In a roomful of my very good friends, sticking with Pattie seemed the obvious thing to do that evening. Perhaps it was how she'd described the fence around us and our Beatle partners. Or maybe I just wanted to keep her close to me as we said hello to some of the strongest personalities I've ever encountered.
"You're looking scrumptious tonight, darling," Keith smirked, kissing my cheek.
"Gorgeous feathers, Pattie," Mick drawled. "Red's your colour, love."
"Hello, Beatrix," Marijke crooned, fixing my hair for me.
"Beautiful to meet you, Mrs Harrison," Fraser said slyly, shaking Pattie's hand.
"Where's Paul?" Miles wanted to know.
"Why are you so tall?" Sue demanded, tripping her bollocks off.
"Beatrix Beauford?" Mike Nesbitt's eyes widened as he shook my hand. "The writer?"
"Good to meet you, man," Mickey Dolenz grinned at Pattie.
"Hey, you two," Donovan gave us a dreamy smile. "This is gonna be wild."
"Have you had any party favours yet?" Marianne sidled up to me slyly.
"Not yet," I grinned.
Marianne shared her party favours with me, and I was feeling shimmery and fizzy as Neil and Mal handed out movie cameras to the guests so we could film the festivities. There were coup glasses of champagne and a few cheeky spliffs, more than one person was tripping and the increasing popularity of cocaine was evident in half the guests.
"Do we have any idea when they'll be here?" Mr Martin frowned at Mr Epstein.
"I'm sure the boys will arrive soon," Mr Epstein said nervously, taking a large swallow of champagne.
When double doors to Studio 1 opened a ripple rolled through the room, the orchestra and assembly of pop stars and friends turning to watch the four moustachioed Beatles stride in, fashionably late and looking completely far out. There wasn't a chance in hell they could have imagined this night when they first walked into EMI five years earlier, with Love Me Do in their back pockets and lust for fame and fortune in their hearts.
Mr Martin heaved a sigh of relief and strode forward as the Beatles scattered into the party, only managing to catch Paul.
I held the Super 8 camera I'd been given up to my eye, focusing it on Paul as he clapped Mr Martin on the shoulder, imparting some reassuring words — probably his usual response to George Martin telling him something was impossible: "you'll sort it out, George" — before he looked around the party for me.
I caught the moment Paul saw me on camera, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his face. The orchestra started tuning up, and I kept filming him as he bounded across Studio 1 toward me.
"Why the devil are you wearing an apron?" I laughed.
"I dunno," Paul grinned and pulled me into his arms. "Why not?"
"Fair enough," I kissed him quickly. "You've finally got your orchestra."
"Half orchestra," Paul corrected me. "But close enough."
"Shall I leave you to your conducting?" I grinned.
"In a bit," Paul grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together. "Let's get a drink and say hullo to people."
Paul was even more intense and animated than usual from dipping into his own stash of party favours as we made the rounds saying hello to our friends. He kept me with him as he spoke to Mr Martin and some of the orchestra members, attempting to convince them to embrace the far out avant garde Happening mood of the evening with little success.
The cameras were rolling everywhere. Whenever I turned around someone was filming us. Paul kissed me and Pattie caught it on her camera with a giggle. I caught her and George murmuring sweetly to each other in return. Ringo insisted on a close up of my eyes, getting me to bat my eyelashes at him, then he struck silly mime-like poses for my camera as if I'd startled him.
The current mix of A Day In the Life played through the big speakers and we all went quiet as Mr Martin brandished a conductor's baton. The orchestra began to play, starting from the lowest note and working their way up to the highest, a chaotic and clashing spiral of sound — like an orgasm building towards the euphoric release.
It gave me goosebumps.
That night was the first time I really felt like Paul's partner. Like I was part of the Beatles wives and girlfriends club. I naively thought I knew what being beside him meant, but of course I didn't have a clue.
How could I? I had no idea what was in store for me.
None of us did.
***
A/N: this is just a scene I like from a deleted chapter that didn't fit into the book. It was too long for my announcements so now it lives here.
See you next week for a proper update.
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Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles
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