Threes a crowd. - Now Complete.

Part 20

It was just before dawn that Paul returned home. After peeping in on Mary, he had a quick shower then fell into bed. Just a few hours later he was awoken by the cries from his daughter. Despite feeling like shit, he got up and went to her. Rose entered the room just behind him.

"Hello Daddy!" she smiled at Paul, "I'd thought you'd be asleep. What time did you come in last night?"

"Late but not too late to see to this one thanks Rose."

"Are you sure Paul?" Rose looked concerned, "You don't look too good!"

He nodded. He was sickened by his own actions last night. He'd lost control. Forgotten his responsibilities and broken a promise to his wife and daughter. 

 "I'm just tired but this one has been neglected by both me and Jane lately. I'll stay with here. Hopefully Jane will be home soon anyway. We can spend sometime as a family then."

She nodded and left Paul with Mary. She reached up to him, wanting to be picked up. His heart melted immediately. He adored his daughter and was worried for her future!

"Dadada."

He froze, shocked and delighted. Mary had spoken her first word.

Daddy.

Jane glanced at her watch, another ten minutes and the train would be back in London. Although used to being stared at when out with Paul, usually out on her own she could be more inconspicuous...but not today. She could feel people eyes on her most of the time! 

She walked through Kings Cross to the taxi rank. A black cab was waiting so she climbed in and, after giving the driver the address, sat back for the journey. The cabby kept glancing at her. She ignored it thinking that perhaps he was trying to place her face.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" she asked eventually, "I've had it all the way home on the train too! Have a I got something on my face?"

"No madam. I'm sorry!"

"Then what is it?"

The driver looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's not my place..."

"Please...what is it?"

The driver pulled up at the end of Cavendish Avenue. There were hordes of reporters in front of one of the houses. Jane groaned to herself, it had to be her home. And that could only mean something to do with Paul. She looked at the driver. 

"Do you want me to get closer?"

"Can you?"

He nodded.  Suddenly the driver felt sorry for Jane. It was clear she knew nothing about the actions of her famous husband. "Erm...Mrs McCartney... I think you might need to look at this before you run the gauntlet of that lot."

"What do you mean?"

He handed Jane a newspaper from the dashboard of his cab.

"What's this?" She opened it up to see the front page. Pictures showed Paul kissing and groping a woman the night before. "Can I keep this?" She asked quietly.

"Sure. I'm sorry."

"No. It's OK. I'm glad I know before I go in."

The driver moved the cab closer to the house. Immediately the waiting press realised who she was and bombarded the vehicle. She paid the driver then pushed her way through and eventually let herself into the house.

The house seemed quiet and calm. Placing her bag in the hallway, she walked through. She could hear Paul playing the piano and singing softly. She stood in the doorway of the dining room. Paul was sat at the piano, Mary on his knee, singing songs to her. She was watching him adoringly...smiling and gurgling at him.