Above Us Only Sky (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 26 - Where the Magic Happens

Marisol supposed she'd get used to stumbling upon random people having cornflakes at her kitchen table before she was fully awake. This morning it was Tara Browne, with Mike, sharing a newspaper over their cereal. The good news was they'd already made tea.

"You've made the front page, Sis." Mike held up the Daily Mail with a photo of Paul and Marisol below the fold.

"Well look at that." Marisol tightened the belt on her navy kimono and scrutinized the newspaper, pleased to find she didn't look utterly terrified in that particular photograph.

Tara scraped back his chair and stood, kissing Marisol on both cheeks in the French way. "You've done it now, darling girl! Gone and married the last Beatle! I barely made it inside for all the McCartney widows flailing about and beating their breasts."

"Are they still out there?"

"Course they are. True love never dies." Tara flicked a hand to the newspaper. "You'll be recognized now, wherever you go. You're infamous."

"It's bloody petrifying, that," Mike said. "The look people give you when they're trying to suss out if you're famous is the same way they look when they want to chin ya." Mike squinted his eyes and mugged an intense scowl, to Tara's delight.

Tara giggled in his uninhibited, childlike way. He grinned at Marisol. "I've brought you a present, dear girl. Where is the Mister?"

"Still sleeping it off. We had quite a day...actually two days, when it was all said and done."

"Come with me. I can't wait any longer to show you."

By the front door were two sets of matching designer luggage, with engraved leather tags. "The journey is everything" was etched on the back of the tags.

"Tara! You lovely man, you're so thoughtful! I love these!" Marisol knelt on the floor in front of the largest suitcase, running her hand over the pebbled leather. "Thank you!"

"You'll think of me when you use them and send me postcards from all the glorious places life takes you, won't you?"

"We definitely will. Paul will love these."

Every time Marisol passed through the dining room full of presents, she felt stunned by the outpouring of love. Her new husband had many friends who loved him, and many who wanted something from him. The challenge was, she supposed, figuring out which was which.

Tara paused in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting the knot on his scarf. He was dressed in the latest fashion: a peacock blue jacket, paisley shirt, and, of course, a green silk scarf.

Paul dressed like Tara now, especially since their trip to Paris. When he came home wearing his French scarves, the fans noticed and brought him more. Now he had quite a collection. Marisol was even wearing some of them herself.

"Do stop by mine, love. Tell your Mister I've just got the new Bang & Olufson receiver. So powerful it has warnings on the back."

"The what?"

"The new Beomaster. He'll know."

The phone began ringing at the same moment the gate buzzed. Marisol looked at her watch. Nine o'clock in the morning must be the time the party started in northwest London.

She heard Mike answering the phone, so she followed Tara to the front door. There was a moving van parked in front of the house, and Beau and Cookie had scampered around from the back garden to bark madly at the front gate.

"Are you expecting movers?" Tara asked.

"Who knows what to expect around here," Marisol said. "I just roll with it."