The World Spinning Round (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

25. Fight The Man

August 1969
Paul

John and Yoko's new house was much more imposing than the pictures he'd shown me. Four towering columns framed the white Georgian facade, which was surrounded by meticulous boxwood hedges. It looked like the sort of place a stodgy doctor and his society wife retired to in old age, not the sort of place that a pop star and avant-garde artist would dig.

The whole thing screamed old money bought with new money, but also isolation and vastness.

"Bloody hell," I muttered as I climbed out of the car and stretched my arms above my head. "It's a bit much, isn't it?"

Alice joined me a moment later with a sleeping Louise nestled against her. She had cried the entire drive and had only fallen asleep five minutes before we arrived, which was sadly predictable. We craned our necks to stare up at the ancient brickwork as I mentally prepared myself to be switched on for my bandmates.

"It dates back to the early 1700s," Alice said off-handedly like she was reciting a well-known fact. "But the current facade was built by Thomas Holloway... you know, the philanthropist who founded Holloway College and the sanatorium."

Without taking my eyes off the ivy winding toward a tall window, I shook my head. "How do you always know this stuff?"

She shrugged as if it were a daft question.

"Random historical facts about posh estates... it's not normal, Liss."

She shrugged again. "When I was little, my mum would send me out with my governess so I wouldn't be underfoot... so our driver would take us all over and we'd learn about-- well, posh estates, I suppose."

I turned to stare at her bemusedly. "Not normal, baby."

She gave me a crooked smile. "Maybe you're the one who isn't normal, have you ever considered that? Perhaps you should be positively mortified that you have such a lack of knowledge about posh estates."

The white door opened and John stuck his head out and waggled his eyebrows. Something about the gesture reminded me of all the times I'd visited him at Weybridge. Except now his hair was too fucking long and he always vaguely looked like he hadn't bathed.

"Whaddya think, Viscountess?" he drawled as he opened the door wider so we could walk through.

"A lovely home, John," she replied breezily as they did the perfunctory air kiss, somehow managing not to wake the sleeping baby. She eyed the outfit he'd chosen for the photoshoot.

"I've always wondered if the Le Chateau jumpsuits were comfortable," she said with a smirk.

He grinned and put a hand on his black velour-covered hip. "Like a second skin, babe."

"They're meant to be worn with knickers, you know," she noted drily. My eyes immediately went to his lower half where, indeed, it was plainly evident that he was only wearing the jumpsuit and nothing beneath it.

"But then it wouldn't feel like a second skin." He flashed a wicked grin before his expression softened as he peered down at Louise. He always had a soft spot for other people's kids, and I wished desperately that he had the same fondness for his own son.

"Didn't know it was going to be a family affair. Would've asked Ritch to bring his little ones."

I clapped him on the back as I passed by and pulled the door shut behind me. Every surface that I could see was painted an austere white, just like the exterior. John had told me that he and Yoko were in their white phase, but I hadn't realized it was meant to be so literal.

"The nanny quit this morning," I explained. "So it was either bring Lou or leave Alice behind -- and you specifically said to bring the chicklets, so here we all are."