All In Good Time - A Time Travel Beatles Fanfiction

Track 16 - Let Me See You Make Him Smile

Jim McCartney gestured for Lainey to have a seat at the kitchen table while he busied himself with putting the kettle on and opening a box of digestive biscuits.

"The kitchen is where it all happens, you see." Paul pulled out a chair for Lainey. "The front room is only for when the priest comes to visit. Which means never."

"We're getting a bit overwhelmed with the post, Son," Mr. McCartney said.

"I know Dad. You can toss it all as far as I'm concerned." Paul poured himself a large glass of water at the sink and gulped it down.

"Now, Son, you need to get on with it. There's a fairish load of the stuff upstairs."

Paul filled another glass with water and took a seat at the table next to Lainey with a sigh. He picked up a stack of black and white photographs. "These Mike's?"

"Yes, they turned out rather well, I'd say."

Shoulder to shoulder with Lainey, Paul began sorting through the photographs. "Our last gig at the Cavern Club."

Lainey's eyes widened. "No freaking way. That's a gold mine right there in your hands."

Paul glanced at her. "You've heard of it?"

"It's famous." She peered at the photograph in his hand. "I think I've even seen some of these before."

"Ee aya, I think not, bah gum," Paul said in a broad accent. "I 'aven't even seen them meself."

"What kind of accent is that?"

"Yorkshire, duck."

"Charming."

"How's the garden coming along?" Paul asked his father.

Jim looked out the window. "Hunky-dory. We'll have our tea outside and take a gander. The dahlias and snapdragons are putting on quite a show."

Paul turned to Lainey. "When I was a lad, Dad used to send our kid and me into the street with a bucket and shovel to bring back horse manure for the garden. Then Dad became secretary of the horticultural society and Mike and I had to go door to door trying to sign people up."

"Did you no harm. Boys should be busy," Paul's father said, opening the door to the garden.

Paul lowered his voice. "Ya know, I worked like a bastard when I was a kid, for some reason."

Lainey hid her giggle behind her hand. "And you still do."

"But now at least I'm getting paid for it."

Three kitchen chairs were carried into the back garden, arranged in a half circle before a bed of flowers. They drank tea and nibbled on chocolate biscuits while Paul and his father entertained Lainey with stories of Paul's childhood.

"We didn't have a car, you see, but we would have adventures on foot, walking to nearby towns on the weekends, taking the train into the country for holidays."

Mr. McCartney kept the conversation lively with intuitive questions about Lainey's family and Paul's latest successes with the band. It took only a few minutes for Lainey to discover where Paul got his eyebrows, his smile, his way with words and his charm.

"Do ye mind if I show our lass some of the family photo albums?" Paul asked when they'd finished their tea.

"Course not, Son, and while you're at it, sort out that sack of letters."

At the top of the stairs Paul turned right and led Lainey into a tiny bedroom facing the street. The only furniture was a single bed, a wardrobe, a small desk and a green wicker chair. A huge sack of mail rested just inside the doorway.