Honey Pie (P.M)

Delivery For You

"Mr McCartney; this just arrived at the front desk for you!” One of the receptionists came into Studio Two of Abbey Road, holding a white envelope. “Thank you, Janice.” Paul thanked her, taking the envelope from her. He sat back down, his Hofner bass sitting steadily on his lap. Paul looked at the writing on the front. He seemed to recognise it from somewhere. Shrugging, he opened it and pulled the letter out. “What is it, Paul?” George asked, walking over to Paul. Paul read the letter, his eyes widening. He handed the letter to a concerned George, who read the letter himself and had the same eye-widening reaction. “What’s up lads?” Ringo asked from behind his drums. “What ‘sup with ‘im?” John asked, returning from the control room. “Should I?” George asked Paul, who simply nodded back. George cleared his throat and read aloud the letter:

 ‘Dear Mr McCartney,

                                It has come to my attention that you have been trying to get into contact with a client of mine, one Miss Louise Harding. I have asked Miss Harding of your relations with her, and she assures me that she knows you personally and that you grew up together but lost contact when you and your band gained global success.

I would like to take this opportunity, on behalf of Miss Harding, to invite you to the Los Angeles premier after party of her latest movie, Live a Little, Love a Little, co-starring Mr Elvis Presley. I hear that you have seen it already and we hope that you enjoyed watching it.

We hope to see you (and your bandmates) at the premier.

Yours faithfully, Mr R.J.Rodgers’

When George had finished reading, John snorted. “He sounds like a right arsehole.” He commented, picking his guitar. “I was just thinking the same thing.” Ringo said, coming out from behind his drums. George turned to Paul, who was simply starting straight ahead at nothing in particular. “So, what do you want to do?” George asked. “I don’t think I can face her.” Paul finally managed. John threw his empty beer can on the floor. “Bollocks! What do you mean you can’t face her?” He asked, taking a seat beside Paul. “I promised her we’d stay in touch. But I didn’t even try to keep my word. And now she’s a massively famous movie-star in America.” “And we’re massively famous rock stars all over the world. What’s your point?” John asked. “It’s just… the thought of meeting her makes me go weak at the knees.” A light bulb went off in George’s head. “That’d be a good line for a song.” The four Beatles looked at each other, nodding in agreement. “Right Paulie. Go get to work on that new song. I don’t care if it’s your old granny music; go write something!” John pulled him up and pushed him towards the control room. “What’s going on?” George Martin asked, coming out of the control room. “Paul needs somewhere to write. Let ‘im sit in the control with ye, eh?” John asked. George Martin nodded and led Paul into the control room, shutting the door behind him.