Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles

26. Mrs. McCartney

Carnival of Light (Part 2)

26.

April 1968

The morning's nausea had subsided into a more manageable lethargy by the time Paul and I agreed to love each other until death parted us and signed our names in the registrar's book. I signed a second document legally changing my name to Beatrix McCartney, and it was only then that I felt a poignant sense of sea change taking place.

I set the pen down and looked up at Paul, at his pretty eyes and inky black lashes, his straight nose and soft, smiling mouth. He caught me looking and winked. I smiled too.

"Let's go feed the vultures," he suggested, taking my hand.

We emerged onto the registry office steps into a shower of white wedding confetti and flashing camera bulbs, the deafening cacophony of wailing girls making my ears ring. I expected to be rushed into the car as I'd been rushed from one place to the next whenever we were faced with this kind of madness before. Instead, Paul put his arm around me and kissed me, making the wailing girls scream louder as the reporters whistled their approval.

Paul answered the press's questions about our surprise wedding and I found I didn't have to plaster on a smile. I was genuinely beaming as I agreed that yes, I was very happy and so very lucky to be married to Beatle Paul. We raced down the town hall steps to join Poppy and Mike in the car, picking confetti out of each others' hair as we made our way to the wedding breakfast Poppy had organised at Claridges.

It felt like there were hundreds of people to greet and thank for coming before we were allowed to sit down. We said hello to Paul's father and his step mother Angie, who was mystified that I was wearing trousers. Then there was a gaggle of Paul's Liverpudlian aunties to get through, including Auntie Gin. She shoved a Guiness into my hands, insisting it was good for the baby. Ringo was there with the head of Apple Films, Dennis O Dell, who pulled Paul aside to ask him about Apple business while I snuck a drag off Ringo's cigarette.

I was knackered by the time we got to Miles and Sue, who I'd not seen in nearly a year. Miles immediately started pitching Paul an idea for Apple Books while Sue hugged me hello.

"You're back," she observed, giving me an odd look. "And you're married to Paul."

"Yes," I agreed, smiling wearily. "Funny how these things play out."

Sue looked conflicted. She glanced at Paul and then back at me like she couldn't understand what was happening.

I remembered a night two years earlier when we went for a drink in Soho and bumped into Paul and Maggie. Sue and I had both been outraged about what a womansing cad Paul was for cheating on Jane so flagrantly and getting away with it. Now I was married to that womanising cad and pregnant with his baby.

An awkward silence stretched between Sue and I. Neither of us seemed to know what to say, and it was suddenly very clear that where we had once been kindred spirits, we were now on very different paths.

"The International Times could, er, do with a bit more advertising from Apple," Miles was saying to Paul — some things never changed. "If you've got the bread to spare, that is. The coppers keep trying to shut us down and it's costing a bloody fortune to keep the lights on."

"That's a drag, man," Paul was already edging away and pulling me with him. "Just come round the house whenever, we'll sort it out."

"Yeah, great," Miles said eagerly.

"It was lovely to see you both," I said. "Thank you for coming."

"Congratulations," Sue said, catching my eye. "Call me if you ever need anything."