-summer's day ; paul mccartney

four

[1960]
🌾
[𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟]
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Paul opened the front door to his larger-than average, cottage style home, my eyes instantly taking in the sights I hadn't seen in five years.

I felt along each crevice in the wood of the front door as I closed it behind me, taking in a deep breath of the musky wood that had sat boiling in the heat, my eyes reaching up to admire the tall wooden beams along the ceiling that seemed to scrape just past the blue skies outside.

My eyes wandered down to the old, shaggy, red runner at the entryway of their home, and around the sharp, lace-like trim edges, showcasing its many doors to at least three multipurpose rooms—it wasn't as open spaced as the others along the street.

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[1955]

She came bustling into my view wearing a white apron fitted around the hips of her black cotton dress ending just below her knee caps.

"Hannah! How lovely to see ye over again!" Her cheery red lips parted into a smile as she brushed off her hands and surrounded me with her motherly arms.

"Good Afternoon, Mrs. McCartney." My lungs were suddenly filled with the delicious odor of fresh chocolate biscuits and earl gray as I walked further into the home, waiting for Paul.

"He'll be down is just a second," She winked at me. "Oo!" She seethed as her eyes shot down to a cut on my arm from climbing branches. "That doesn't look too good." She pursed her lips and grabbed onto my arm, bringing it close to her face.

"I told her to come to ye, mum." Paul hollered softly, walking down the steps to meet me. I glared at him before looking back into her striking hazel eyes—exactly like Paul.

"I'll fix ye right up..you silly girl." She had me follow her into the kitchen, with Paul tailing along.

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[1960]
🌾
[𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟]

"Hannah!" Mr. McCartney's eyes grew wide as he walked in from the kitchen, carrying a silver tray. "I just made some fresh chip butty." He motioned to what was on the tray before setting it down to come give me a hug. "My! Ye've gotten so big. Just like little James 'ere." He pressed his hand onto Paul's shoulder but he shook it off.

"Bye, dad." Paul mustered a smile to his father before grabbing my hand and bringing me off into one of the colorful rooms of the home, this one having the lightest touch of baby blue to it.

Paul closed the door behind us. "Sorry 'bout that. Dads still not well." He walked over to the light, wooden piano that sat upright against the wall. I marveled at its jaw-dropping beauty; for the last five years I've missed the smooth feel of the white keys over my dainty nails and here I was, touching it once again.

A childish smile brushed across my grown lips as I sat down on the bench, tucking my black skirt under my thighs and raising a hand—Paul caught it in the air.

"Here, let me show ye." I was slightly annoyed, but his eyes seemed to cast a spell, making me nod my head. He placed my hand gently under his rough and calloused fingers, placing my fingers on notes and extending my pinky so it touched one of the slim black keys. "And press." Out emitted the most wonderful harmony to my ears, three angelic voice combining into one, performing for the musical machine.

"Wonderful." My dry lips were ajar as I released my hand back into my lap.

"I wrote something for ye. Let me play it." He focused his eyes on where his hands were as they painted along the bare, white notes. It was a happy little melody, like for a child. "Martha my dear..." he smiled at me before looking back down. "Hold your head up, you silly girl.."

Tears brimmed in my eyes as I was reminded of Paul's mum and how well she took care of us as kids. She used to always call me a silly girl, and I was sure that's what Paul was referring to as he looked me in the eyes again and continued to smile.

"Look what you've done..when you find yourself in the thick of it, help yourself to a little bit of what is all around you, silly girl....Martha my dear you have always been my inspiration, please, be good to me. Martha my love, don't forget me, Martha my dear.." He trilled on the last note before releasing his foot off the gold petal and looking at me. "Did ye like it?"

I was at a loss for words as tears and deep emotions held a firm, imaginary grip on my throat. I ended up collapsing into Paul's chest where he tightly wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder as I attempted to not ruin my mascara.

"Paul?"

"Mhm?"

"Did you say 'Martha my love'?"

"W-When d-did I say that?" He pulled away and I could see his cheeks turn pink in the cool room.

"In the song."

"Oh, well, lyrics. Rhyming. That stuff." He exhaled and looked away awkwardly, focusing his eyes on the music stand carefully cut and built onto the front of the piano.

"Sure. Right." I shook my head and agreed.

My eyes then flickered up to a ornate, crystal vase containing some of the most perfectly formed yellow buttercups I've ever seen. Paul must have noticed me looking at them.

"They're mum's favorite. She grew them over in the garden, so I went and picked a few after I left your house."

"They're wonderful, James. Just like Mar-I mean, your mum." I gave him a sympathetic smile and rubbed my hand on his arm.

I felt Paul shudder with my touch, his eyes turning glossy. "I-I'm gonna go, now." I hastily got up and ran out the door, feeling hot tears follow down out of my own eyes.

I now understood a bit of the brokenness of loss—a little bit of what Paul must have been feeling.

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"Did you end up going over to the McCartney's, honey? I was thinking of baking Jim a casserole." My mother sat at one of the seats at the table in the kitchen, listening to the radio.

"Uh-yeah. He seemed to be fine with his chip butty." I sniffled and took a large bite of a nearby biscuit.

My mother gasped. "Chip butty is a heart attack on a plate! That man must get out again and see other woman, it's been four years, I would want your father to—"

"Stop!! Mary was a wonderful woman and I understand his pain! She died too young!" I felt more tears form in my eyes as my hands gripped around the chair in front of me, my mother's eyes wide.

I whipped around and pushed open the swinging kitchen door, feeling the large wave of air behind me.

"Excuse you, young lady!!" She yelled out after me.

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deep.