first question... ~ Paul McCartney (1st book)

•Part 22•

August 6th 1965

Her eyes flew open not recognising where she was but quickly saw the dark paintings and her back on the chair. She propped herself up on top of her duvet and rubbed her eyes. This was going to be one of those nights where she couldn't sleep and her mind was just running continuously.

Amelia made her way to the bright marble bathroom and had a shower, removing her makeup and washing her hair. Once she finished she put her underwear back on from yesterday, which almost made her gag, and wrapped herself in the soft dressing gown.

Usually she would just turn over and try and go back asleep but that was never going to happen. She shuffled over to the French doors, opened them carefully, to not wake anyone else who was sleeping, and leant on the balcony railing looking out on the streets. She realised her room was directly under where Paul and herself looked out at the city from the rooftop. The air was brisk and refreshing from the slightly stuffy room. The sky twinkled at her as she gazed in wonder, the street below was dimly lit by the posh lanterns. Amelia thought about a time when lanterns used to be lit by individuals late at night and how thorough everything was.

She noticed a couple stagger down the streets, obviously full of some sort of strong alcoholic beverage, slightly rowdy but quickly passed her window. A thin trail of smoke entered her vision, as if one of the lanterns had actually been set alight, and looked to see where it was coming from. Suddenly, out the corner of her beady eye, she recognised a slouched masculine figure on the balcony directly on her right. She turned slowly trying to not make him jump. She looked and he seemed to be very deep in thought so she turned looking back at the streets quickly not saying a word.

"all the lonely people..." he said softly into the dark only just loud enough for her to hear.

Her eyes drifted to something that she had never seen before in her life but instantly knew what it was. Something her mother particularly warned her about but she never encountered anyone of the sort until this night.

It's was a prostitute. Clearly. To her and Paul anyway.

Just like the drunken pair, she dragged her raged body down the cobbled street.

Amelia's eyes welled with sympathy and couldn't help but feel dreadful. All the things her mother had drilled into her mind about how terrible and disgusting these sort of women were melted away and she saw the real picture. How did her mother know what they were like? She'd never met one.

"Where do they all come from" she said transfixed on the girl not realising she had continued Paul's line.

They watched her silently without her knowing. They'd probably never see her again but Amelia knew she would most certainly not forget her.

"Eleanor" she whispered almost bursting into tears.

She felt Paul move "what did you say?" He questioned.

"Eleanor. I'm calling her Eleanor" she said still watching her slow gate.

"Eleanor Rigby" he said and their eyes met once again.

He tapped out his cigarette and she wiped a tear quickly. Paul knew exactly why she was like this, she was seeing the non-perfect side of life for the first time. He gestured for her to come with him and so she did closing the doors and back into her room.

****

"Hello" she said peeping round the door seeing Paul sat on his bed shirtless with just the table lamp on.

"How did you think of Eleanor?" He asked still confused.

"I don't know" she paused "I just... thought she looked like that"

"Like an Eleanor" he said now smiling slightly.

"Why is this so important?" She said bending down to look at his face and his eyes moved to hers slowly.

"Your a lyrical genius" he said kissing her lips.

"You've got to be joking" she said pulling away.

"I'm serious! I've been writing this song for weeks about a girl called Eleanor Rigby" he said kissed her again.

"So she's a prostitute?" She said smiling raising her left brow.

"Not quite, I mean I don't really know what she is but she's dead"

"And lonely" she said thinking she was stating the obvious.

"You see! You're a natural" he said astonished at her talent.

"Stop it!" She said blushing and kissing him for longer this time.

"Play it to me then" she said holding his chin and tapping his nose like a child.

"Alright then" he said standing up and grabbing his guitar from the corner which was so dimly lit that Amelia didn't notice it.

The melody was overwhelming and instantly her tears were rolling out of her. Maybe it was the lateness of the evening or the small lighting that made her so emotional. This song was truly real to her because she saw who she believed the song was about for her personally. Paul played the melody perfectly and then jumped in and out of lyrics that hadn't been fully completed yet. This influenced and inspired her newly diagnosed lyrical side.

"Eleanor Rigby, died in the church
And was buried along with her name
Nobody came"

The words fitted perfectly with the turn and tempo making Paul nod and spring back with the chorus. He stopped quickly rummaging for some paper and wrote down the words she had just came up with. She couldn't lie, she did feel proud of herself.

They sat writing more of the song that had once been started by Lennon and McCartney but was completed by her. The words just kept flowing and they couldn't stop until it was finished.

She glanced at the clock.

"I should go" she said, it was now just under ten minutes until five in the morning.

"Or you could sleep in here" he said getting back into bed.

She tossed over the thought but finally gave in to her tiredness and shuffled her way into his warm bed with him.

~~~

honestly I have know idea where I was going with the whole prostitute thing! I thought I should try writing something a bit less stereotypical idk lol hope you enjoyed
xxxxxxx