Too Much Rain, Chapter 140
I don't know why this has taken me so long. Well, I do really. I had finished 75% of it, but have been so busy the last week and a half I couldn't finish the final 25%.
In this chapter, the McLen family prepares for a party...
NO WARNINGS EXCEPT: this is FICTION!
Chapter 140
A Few Weeks Later
May 14, 2000
Mary and Alistair’s Home
It was Saturday morning, and Mary’s house was buzzing with activity. Sean had arrived the night before, and was staying in Mary’s guestroom. He hadn’t bestirred himself yet, but Stella had come over early that morning and was helping Mary prep the food for the dinner party. Arthur, now over a year old, was in his little baby walker, skidding around the kitchen and getting under foot while periodically grabbing at cabinet handles. He was unsuccessful at unlatching any of them, however, because of the child guards Alistair had installed.
Mary had planned the meal using some old family recipes and some new ones. She and Stella were in the process of chopping vegetables.
“When is Julian getting here?” Stella asked.
“I think he’s coming just before dinner,” Mary answered. “He’s staying in a hotel.”
“It will be good to see him again after so long,” Stella commented.
“It will,” Mary agreed. “I sometimes miss those huge family vacations we used to take in exotic locales, with Sean and Julian too.”
“Sean’s been asleep a long time,” Stella commented in a slightly disapproving voice. It had been over a decade since she allowed herself to sleep in mornings. She was an early riser like her father, and basically started doing productive things as soon as her feet hit the floor, like her father.
“He was out late with his friends at the pub,” Mary commented, sticking up for Sean’s sleeping habits. “He was a bit loud when he came home last night. I was afraid he’d wake up the baby, but of course I needn’t have worried, because Arthur can sleep through anything. Thank God.”
As if they had conjured him up, Sean slouched into the kitchen. His hair was an unholy mess, and his beard and mustache were messy. Sean wasn’t big on keeping his hair trimmed and neat, be it on his head or on his face. He was scratching his head, and his eyes were puffy.
Mary said softly, “I suppose you need a hangover remedy,” and chuckled very quietly.
Stella, however, took one look at Sean and shouted in an unnaturally loud voice, “’Morning Sean!”
Sean winced, and covered his ears with his hands. He slumped down at the kitchen table, leaning against his elbows, forehead in his cupped hands. He made an inarticulate groan.
Mary had whipped around, poured a cup of hot herbal tea, and pushed it in front of Sean. She also rammed two pieces of whole wheat bread into the toaster for him. As the toaster ticked away, Sean sipped the heavenly hot liquid.
Stella managed to chop in a surprisingly loud manner, periodically casting her gaze over to Sean’s bowed head and smirking. Mary whispered to her, “Stop,” in her mature and gentle way, but with an understanding smile. Stella stopped. Stella and Sean had always had a full-on brother-sister relationship; they had often ribbed each other in this way. But Stella realized that Mary was right - Sean had a real hangover, and she’d made her point. It was the year 2000 after all, and Sean was almost 25 years old. He hadn’t yet shown signs of growing out of his teenage habits, and this worried Stella, just as James worried her, and for the same reason. She often wondered if there was something about being a Beatle’s son that was infantilizing. But then she corrected herself immediately. Dhani Harrison was very together, and so were Uncle Ritchie’s sons. It was only Julian, Sean and James that seemed extremely reluctant to grow up to be fully realized adult men. The thought struck her with a small buzz of alarm. She hoped it wasn’t because of the John/Paul relationship. But no, she thought it might be because John and Paul were the two ‘major’ Beatles, the songwriters and ‘geniuses’, and thus the expectations for their sons were much higher and therefore more intimidating.
The doorbell rang. Mary asked Stella to answer the door, since she was doing some tricky vegetable carving. At the door Stella found her sister Heather and James. They had just driven up from Sussex and looked tired and ready to flop. Stella routed out Alistair from the backyard where he was arranging tables, and soon all the luggage was out of their car and up in the guestrooms. James was sharing a room with Sean, like old times, and Heather would have her own room.
Soon all five of them were gathered in the kitchen hugging, laughing and talking. Sean felt exactly like the others. He had been raised since age 5 with Paul in his life, and since age 7 with the whole family. He barely remembered a time without them all. He truthfully saw more of the McCartney kids than he did his own half-brother, who was so much older and who kept pretty much to himself off on the Continent. Nevertheless, Sean loved and even idolized Julian, and was happy he was going to see him that evening.
In the ensuing two weeks since she had found out about her father’s decision to wear John’s ring, Heather’s mind had experienced the news as if it were a bird of prey, gliding in ever-narrowing and then ever-widening circles over it’s target. She hadn’t yet been able to swoop down and finally grab the idea. She hoped that once she had been able to speak to her dad about it, she might be able to wrestle what was bothering her to the ground. She certainly wasn’t an uptight soul. She had fully incorporated her hippie childhood into her way of thinking and living, and so had no moral or emotional objection to two men pledging their fidelity to each other. In truth, her views on the subject were much to the contrary - but what if her liberality on the subject was only in the abstract? Something about the news bothered Heather, and she was beginning to believe it had to do with the loss of her mother. Heather had really not fully integrated that sad reality into her daily thinking. She often pretended, while working in her pottery studio in Sussex, that her mother was off in London, and might suddenly drop down to visit her on a weekend. Heather knew this was not going to happen, but it was a little fantasy exercise she played with herself to keep the aching depth of her loss at bay. Maybe the reality of her father choosing to move on was interfering with Heather’s ability to keep her little fantasy alive. While Heather mused, she slowly became aware that the others were talking about their fathers.
“I don’t know why they’re being so bloody-minded about it,” Stella opined. “I suggested inviting more people - maybe the rest of the Beatle family, or at least George Martin. But John kept saying they didn’t want a big fuss. I wonder why? It’s kind of a major event in their lives.”
“Maybe to them it isn’t that big of an event. Maybe they think it was just the next step in a long journey,” Sean suggested.
James, lounging across the table from Sean, smiled. He had been listening avidly to what the others were saying. They clearly did not have any problem with the ‘commitment ring’ thing like he did, and he liked the poetic sound of Sean’s suggestion. James had been torn about the news too, but he had allowed himself to think about it and parse out his feelings on the matter and conclude that he was missing his mother; he was missing the spice that she brought to the brew that was the McLen family (as John often called it). James had actively loved having John in the family, and had long since gotten over any qualms he’d once had over the triangle relationship. But his mother had been an integral part of him feeling at ease and secure in the triangle situation. Subtracting her had left a huge hole for James, and knowing that most of the rest of the family was moving on to try to fill that hole in different ways, was at the root of James’s confusion.
“That’s a very interesting take on it Sean,” Mary said.
Sean added, “The sense I have is that this is just a very personal thing to them, and they really don’t want to share it with the world,” Sean concluded. “And if so, that’s their prerogative, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is,” Mary agreed. By now, Heather was helping Mary and Stella prepare the food. Mary had two sous chefs but she was quietly giving all the directions, as once her mother had done.
Heather felt safe and secure when Mary was around. Mary gave off the closest vibe of their mother, and so Heather craved her company. She had listened avidly to what Sean had said, and hoped it was true. She didn’t want the whole world to know that her mother had been effectively replaced.
James heard what Sean had said, and it softened his heart. He loved his dad, and he loved John, and he wanted them to be happy. He was going to do his best to bury the anxious feelings that were niggling at him.
Stella heard what Sean had said and responded with some skepticism. “I think they’re a bit embarrassed about it, and that is why they don’t want anyone to know. They trust us to keep our mouths shut, but as soon as you tell one person, you know your secret isn’t going to last. I didn’t even tell my boyfriend. But Mary had to tell Alistair. And I suppose Julian told his girlfriend. It’s like concentric circles the way news like this flows, and I think the whole thing embarrasses them a bit so they limit the number of people who know.”
Sean heard Stella out, and felt that she was probably right to an extent. But he didn’t see it as being in conflict with what he’d suggested. Yes, they thought of this as a very private moment, and part of that was fear of others’ reactions. But Sean continued to believe that the emotional dance between his father and Paul was very intricate, and in truth they each performed for an audience of one: each one performed only for the other. That others were around to watch and enjoy was entirely incidental to them. They shared a very self-contained, magical kind of connection, and no one else but they themselves were permitted to see, feel, hear, taste, or touch it.
Sean said, “I get what you’re saying, Stell, but I think that’s only part of it. But even if it were all of it, we should respect it. They get to decide how to share their relationship, and we really don’t have a say in it.”
Mary smiled to herself as she chopped her vegetables. Sean was more than a match for the fiery Stella. And she was finding Sean’s take on it to be far more nuanced and interesting than the take she and Stella had shared between them.
“I guess it frustrates me that they don’t feel strong enough about each other to be public about it,” Stella said, only this time her voice had lost much of it’s stridency and certainty.
Heather’s interruption surprised them all. She hadn’t contributed even a peep thus far: “No! I don’t want them to go public! It would be horrible!”
Everyone turned to look at Heather, taken aback by her emotional vehemence.
“Why do you say that?” Mary asked gently.
“Think about it! They’ll all say Mummy was a beard!” Heather looked and sounded very distressed.
The others hadn’t thought about it from that perspective yet, but James quickly said, “I agree with Heather. You know they’ll say it wasn’t a ‘real’ marriage. That would damage Mum’s memory.” James’s voice was calmer and less hysterical than Heather’s, but he clearly felt strongly about it too.
“That’s an excellent point,” Sean said. “I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you’ve said it, I can see Pup putting his foot down over that, so as not to deal with people trashing his wife.”
“If no one steps forward and stands up for what is right, things will never change,” Stella argued. “And our dads have a tremendous amount of social influence. If anyone can afford to stand up to the pressure, they can. And then other people might find that their lives will be a little easier because of it.”
“I agree with what you say,” Sean said, “but you and I don’t have to live with the backlash, except vicariously, because we love them.”
“And Mummy’s memory!” Heather cried.
“Daddy isn’t going to let anyone say anything nasty about Mum without fiercely defending her,” Mary said gently. She gave her older sister an enveloping hug. “No matter what happens, Daddy won’t stand still for it. And neither will any of us.”
Stella laughed. “Yeah - we’ll all come marching! They’ll rue the day!”
Heather found herself calming down. She knew how protective her father was of his wife and his children, and also of John. Mary and Stella were right. The family wouldn’t let the press get away with a character assassination of her mother.
Mary said, “And there is something else.”
Everyone looked at her expectantly.
“Daddy told me himself. He thinks John would not handle the backlash well. He thinks he wouldn’t take being called names and being insulted well, because he takes that kind of thing to heart. Daddy thinks he himself would handle it better. So, maybe we’re all right. Maybe for all the reasons we’ve mentioned they’ve decided to keep it secret from everyone but us.”
“It’s too bad though,” Stella said, finally accepting the strength of the various arguments she’d heard her siblings make. “It is a great opportunity for them to help change social attitudes on the subject. But I guess that’s a lot to ask of them, when they have so many important things at stake.”
The controversial conversation ended, and the five of them moved on to less heavy subjects. But although it had been a little stressful for them, both Heather and James felt better about the whole thing having heard what their siblings had to say. And they were grateful their father and John were being circumspect about it, no matter the reason.
*****
That Afternoon
Cavendish
“I sure hope they haven’t gone overboard,” John was musing to Paul as they lounged on the sitting room sofa. John had been thumbing through the television channels with the sound down low, and Paul had been reading a newspaper. Hearing no response from Paul, John added, “I dreamt last night that they had naked men jumping out of cakes. It was horrifying. Woke up in a cold sweat.”
This got a rise out of Paul. From behind the newspaper John heard a snicker.
Encouraged, John continued with his fantasy worries. “I am scared they are going to do something really corny, like play soppy music, or read out smarmy poetry.”
Paul finally spoke from behind the newspaper. “These are our children we are talking about, you know...”
John chuckled. “I admit they’re not the most sentimental people on the planet.”
“They’re Liverpudlian-by-proxy,” Paul agreed.
John liked that. Liverpudlian-by-proxy. Every time John got full of himself and his verbal and lyrical abilities, Paul would suddenly show him up like this and send him hurtling back to earth with a thud. That was one of the many reasons why John adored Paul so much. No hair growing on him!
“Why do you suppose they want to make such a fuss over it?” John asked a few moments later. This time his voice was more serious. As a result, it caused Paul to bring his paper down so he could see John’s face. John, noting that he finally had Paul’s full attention, added, “I mean, your kids especially. In a way they must feel as though I’m taking Linda’s place.”
Paul’s eyes warmed reassuringly as they met John’s. “My kids love you like a second father,” Paul said firmly. “They don’t think you’re replacing their mother.”
“Stella and Mary told me that Heather and James were a bit upset about it, especially Heather. I’m worried they are hurt by it.” John was looking at Paul with intensity, his insecurity showing plainly in his eyes.
“We all took Linda’s death hard, John,” Paul finally responded. “And Heather and James most of all. They needed their mother more than Mary and Stella did, because Mary and Stella are much stronger emotionally. So no matter what I would do to change my life after Linda died, they were going to be thrown by it. But I don’t think it will be bad tonight, John. I really don’t. They know how to behave, even if they’re struggling with it.”
Another thing John loved about Paul: Paul always told him the truth, even if the truth was hard to hear. Of course, Paul had a way of ‘packaging’ the truth so that it went down much more smoothly than it otherwise would.
“They wanted to invite the others, but I said no,” John confessed. He hadn’t shared Stella’s urgings to invite the rest of the Beatle family with Paul. He had assumed that Paul would be freaked out by the very suggestion.
“The others?” Paul asked, momentarily stumped.
“Ritchie, George H., George M. and families,” John explained. “Your brother and his family.”
Paul said, “Why did you say no?” He was honestly surprised that John hadn’t wanted to invite them.
“I didn’t think you would like too many people there,” John said.
“Why ever not?”
“Well, you don’t want it to get out. You want to keep it secret.” John was looking confused by Paul’s mild reaction to the idea.
Paul said patiently, “I don’t want it to get out publicly, but of course the others are family, too. We can trust them to say nothing to anyone.”
John was pleasantly surprised. “Well, maybe sometime later in the year, we can host our own celebration with them.”
Paul smiled easily. “That would be great,” he said, winking. “I’m not a shrinking violet, Johnny. The whole family and our best friends know we’re living together. We don’t hide it from them. They don’t pry, and we don’t provide details. But they all know what is going on between us, and I’m very comfortable with that. Aren’t you?”
“I am. I guess I’ve always felt as though you weren’t comfortable with it.” John’s tone reflected the surprise he was feeling.
Paul sat up, folding the newspaper and pushing it away. He leaned towards John and said with intense clarity, “I only ever worried about my wife and the children. We created that family, and it was up to us to protect them from ugly public scrutiny. I also didn’t want our work to get overshadowed by prurient gossip. I wanted it to be appreciated for itself. But I’m not ashamed of us, John. I guess I just think this decision we’ve made is no one’s business except for our very closest friends and our families.”
John had listened to Paul with his whole being, and he felt tears pressing to be released, but he fought them off. He nodded, but didn’t trust himself yet to speak.
Paul then asked, “Do you feel differently? Do you find it hurtful that we don’t talk about it more openly in public?”
“I guess I would find it hurtful if I thought you were ashamed of us or embarrassed by it. But since you say you’re not, I’m not hurt by it. But do you have an objection to me sharing it with more of our friends? Like can I talk to Jason about it?”
Paul looked distressed. “John - it’s your life too! Of course you can talk to your friends about it. Jason especially! I’m a little surprised you haven’t told him already.” Paul added, chuckling.
John said, “I’ve been feeling so grateful that you accepted the ring. I know it was a difficult decision for you to make, and I don’t want to push you further than you’re ready to go.”
“Listen to us, John,” Paul said, chuckling deeply. “We’re so fucking mature. I’m thinking we’ll have to leave a significant amount of our combined fortune to our therapists in our wills.” John laughed at Paul’s joke. But then Paul added more seriously, “The only difficult part for me was telling myself ‘no more women.’ You know, I had gotten used to having sex both ways on a regular basis. It kind of surprises me to say it, but I never thought I’d get to the point where I wouldn’t want to live without both kinds of sex. But once I talked about it with Marc, and once I thought about it for a while, the answer was clear - I just want to be with you. It’s not a sacrifice for me, John. Even if I picked up some woman, I would be thinking of you and feeling horribly guilty, so what would be the point?”
John smiled. “It wasn’t like I was ever going to let you out of my sight, Pud. You wouldn’t have had the chance to cheat on me.”
“That’s what Linda said to me once,” Paul replied, surprised. “We’d go to parties and she wouldn’t let go of my arm. Sometimes it felt like a death grip.”
John laughed out loud. “Well, last November when you were being ambivalent about it, I was pricing choke-collars and leashes, so you ought to be glad you decided to come quietly.”
“I don’t know why neither of you trusted me to be faithful,” Paul said, a little put out. “I’m a faithful guy.”
“Oh, Linda and I trusted you. But we didn’t trust any of those people out there that wanted to get their hands on you. We each spent decades beating them off with sticks.”
Paul guffawed. “You’re making that up. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a congenital flirt, Paul, and you are too damn sexy for your own good. You can’t help yourself. And people read those signals and think you’re get-able. Linda and I spoke about this on many occasions, and we both agreed: one of us always had to have an eye on you when we were in crowds. We took turns.”
“This is ridiculous, I’m not going to encourage any more of this nonsense,” Paul scoffed, and he plopped unceremoniously back against the sofa cushions. He then grabbed the newspaper and snapped it open again until he was once more hidden behind it.
John saw this tactic and laughed heartily. “You can hide, Baby, but you can’t run...”
*****
That Night
Mary’s Home in Maida Vale
Julian arrived earlier than he had planned. He had wanted to arrive fashionably late, and act impossibly blasé. But his anticipation of seeing all the family again got the best of him, so he took a cab over to Mary’s house to arrive at 5 p.m., even though the party wasn’t starting until 6:30 p.m.
James opened the door, and was delighted to see Julian. He showed Julian into the sitting room where he, Alistair and Sean had been playing a video game on the TV set. “Wanna join?” He asked.
“I’ll just say hello to the girls,” Julian said politely. He wasn’t in to video games, but didn’t want to say so. He found ‘the girls’ - all three of them - in Mary’s kitchen, putting finishing touches on hors d’oeuvres and still working on the entrees.
“Jules!” Stella cried as he walked in the door. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and rushed over to give him a big hug. Julian had a kind of charisma - it was hard to describe - and most of the younger Beatle kids were affected by it. He was like their joint, much admired big brother. (Ringo’s older son Zak was too close to Julian’s age and too independent to feel the same way about it.)
“Hello Stella,” Julian said as he was engulfed in a hug. He was smiling at the greeting. Mary and Heather were waiting patiently for their turns. He looked over Stella’s shoulder to the kitchen and said, “You’ve really got a spread on here, haven’t you?”
Mary laughed. “I suppose so. Stella, let go. My turn.”
After a few more minutes of hugging and excitement, Julian settled down at the kitchen table and Mary poured him a crisp white wine. Mary was preparing the appetizer plates, and periodically gave a piece of cheese or sweet pickle to Julian on the sly. Each time she did it she winked at him, and he hid a grin.
“So where are the men of honor?” Julian asked.
“Oh, they won’t get here until 6:30,” Mary said. “I told them not to turn up early, because I want it all to be done and beautiful when they get here.”
“You spoil them,” Julian said with a sweet smile.
“I know,” Stella said. “We all do. None of us can help it. They’re so darn cute.”
Julian laughed out loud. “They’ve skimmed along through life riding that joint charm and combined adorable-ness, I’ll say that for them.”
Heather said shyly, taking the subject perhaps more seriously than did her siblings, “Things have been a lot harder for them on the inside than they looked to be on the outside.”
Julian met her eyes and said softly, “I know. I’m just giving them the piss. Their egos are so huge. They can take it.”
Heather didn’t like anyone to criticize her father. She agreed that John’s ego was huge. But she didn’t like anyone saying her father’s ego was huge. She frowned a little, but said nothing.
Mary said, “Well, what I know about Daddy is that maybe he has a big ego, but it is also fragile. So is your dad’s ego. They’re so easily bruised. I think Daddy is a bit tougher about it than your dad is, though.”
Julian nodded as Mary was speaking, “Yes, I agree. Pup - don’t tell him I called him that, he hates it - well, he’s a much more balanced person.”
“Why do you call him ‘Pup’?” Heather asked. She’d never had it satisfactorily explained to her before.
Julian laughed. “It’s kind of embarrassing. Just what I thought to call him when I was first learning to talk.”
“Pup? But why pup?” Heather persisted.
“He was kind of like an uncle to me. I actually played more with him than I did with my dad when I was little. He was very playful and imaginative. He reminded me of a puppy, so I called him ‘Uncle Puppy.’”
All three girls giggled at that. “It’s very descriptive, and right on point,” Stella guffawed.
“It got too long, and it eventually got shortened to ‘Pup’, you know, when I was approaching my teens. It wasn’t cool to call him ‘Uncle Puppy’ any more.”
“Why doesn’t Daddy like you to call him that?” Heather asked.
Mary interrupted. “I don’t think he dislikes it really. I think he is just teasing Julian when he says that.”
“I think your sister is right,” Julian told Heather. “I don’t think he minds it really. But it’s something I can do to give him a little friendly grief.”
“Sean calls him that,” Heather said. “I suppose he got it from you?”
“Yeah, he heard me doing it, so he started doing it. But he does it in all seriousness now, without irony. And I doubt he remembers its derivation - the ‘puppy’ part.”
Heather chuckled. “I think it’s perfect. Daddy does look like a puppy!”
*****
The drive from Cavendish to Mary’s home in Maida Vale was very short. Within ten minutes, the car was pulling into Mary’s mews. Paul had spent that 10 minutes grumbling to himself about how John had laid out his clothes for him again, as if he were a child. He was going to have to say something to John about it. The truth was that other people always complimented him on his clothes when John picked them out; they didn’t always do the same when he chose his own clothes. But that was missing the point! The flash teenaged John Lennon and the flash teenaged Paul McCartney had both been fashion hounds, and had influenced each other’s style. He didn’t like the unsaid judgment - that he had terrible taste, and John had great taste.
John had no clue this was going through Paul’s mind, because he was so busy slyly staring at Paul through the corners of his eyes. In that beautiful dark navy silk suit and that silky white shirt, and that deep purple satin tie, Paul was a sight to behold. Paul had always ‘cleaned up’ spectacularly well, but ever since he’d met Linda his sartorial standards had slipped substantially. She had encouraged him not to worry about such things as grooming and clothes, and to just let it all hang out and wear comfortable things. She’d encouraged weird color and print combinations and strange hairstyles. The 1970s were a kaleidoscope of horrible Paul outfits, from John’s point of view. Couldn’t recognize the guy as the same dandy who wore such tightly fitting suits in the early ‘60s! Now, John loved Linda, and he had come to appreciate how she had nurtured and de-stressed the highly tuned Paul McCartney. But since Paul didn’t have to look at himself, and John did, John felt he had every right to put Paul’s wardrobe back on the right track. Thus, he didn’t worry overmuch about Paul’s feelings in the matter. Just as on this evening, it never crossed his mind.
John, himself, was beautifully dressed also. He had never looked as good in suits as Paul did, probably because he didn’t have Paul’s long, slender legs. So instead, John wore high quality slacks - black - with a straight leg, and a deep medium blue pullover crew-necked sweater along with a nice array of the South American jewelry Paul had bought for him. Just thinking of that South American trip - even for a few seconds - sent a thrill up John’s spine. That had been so fucking romantic! He really did want to take Paul away from the world again - back to their hideaway in Costa Rica, or maybe they could do another exotic concert tour when their new album came out...
“We’re here,” Paul pointed out. The car had come to a complete stop and it had sat still for a few seconds while Paul gazed at John, who was in a dream. “What’re you thinking about?” He asked.
“You and me - getting away. South America. Remember that trip?” John’s smile was knowing and beatific.
Paul’s eyes went lazy with the sexy memory. “I sure do,” he said with a low, drawling voice.
“We need to do that again - touring in an exotic locale.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Paul said, smiling dangerously. “In the meantime - it’s time for our party!”
*****
In this chapter, the McLen family prepares for a party...
NO WARNINGS EXCEPT: this is FICTION!
Chapter 140
A Few Weeks Later
May 14, 2000
Mary and Alistair’s Home
It was Saturday morning, and Mary’s house was buzzing with activity. Sean had arrived the night before, and was staying in Mary’s guestroom. He hadn’t bestirred himself yet, but Stella had come over early that morning and was helping Mary prep the food for the dinner party. Arthur, now over a year old, was in his little baby walker, skidding around the kitchen and getting under foot while periodically grabbing at cabinet handles. He was unsuccessful at unlatching any of them, however, because of the child guards Alistair had installed.
Mary had planned the meal using some old family recipes and some new ones. She and Stella were in the process of chopping vegetables.
“When is Julian getting here?” Stella asked.
“I think he’s coming just before dinner,” Mary answered. “He’s staying in a hotel.”
“It will be good to see him again after so long,” Stella commented.
“It will,” Mary agreed. “I sometimes miss those huge family vacations we used to take in exotic locales, with Sean and Julian too.”
“Sean’s been asleep a long time,” Stella commented in a slightly disapproving voice. It had been over a decade since she allowed herself to sleep in mornings. She was an early riser like her father, and basically started doing productive things as soon as her feet hit the floor, like her father.
“He was out late with his friends at the pub,” Mary commented, sticking up for Sean’s sleeping habits. “He was a bit loud when he came home last night. I was afraid he’d wake up the baby, but of course I needn’t have worried, because Arthur can sleep through anything. Thank God.”
As if they had conjured him up, Sean slouched into the kitchen. His hair was an unholy mess, and his beard and mustache were messy. Sean wasn’t big on keeping his hair trimmed and neat, be it on his head or on his face. He was scratching his head, and his eyes were puffy.
Mary said softly, “I suppose you need a hangover remedy,” and chuckled very quietly.
Stella, however, took one look at Sean and shouted in an unnaturally loud voice, “’Morning Sean!”
Sean winced, and covered his ears with his hands. He slumped down at the kitchen table, leaning against his elbows, forehead in his cupped hands. He made an inarticulate groan.
Mary had whipped around, poured a cup of hot herbal tea, and pushed it in front of Sean. She also rammed two pieces of whole wheat bread into the toaster for him. As the toaster ticked away, Sean sipped the heavenly hot liquid.
Stella managed to chop in a surprisingly loud manner, periodically casting her gaze over to Sean’s bowed head and smirking. Mary whispered to her, “Stop,” in her mature and gentle way, but with an understanding smile. Stella stopped. Stella and Sean had always had a full-on brother-sister relationship; they had often ribbed each other in this way. But Stella realized that Mary was right - Sean had a real hangover, and she’d made her point. It was the year 2000 after all, and Sean was almost 25 years old. He hadn’t yet shown signs of growing out of his teenage habits, and this worried Stella, just as James worried her, and for the same reason. She often wondered if there was something about being a Beatle’s son that was infantilizing. But then she corrected herself immediately. Dhani Harrison was very together, and so were Uncle Ritchie’s sons. It was only Julian, Sean and James that seemed extremely reluctant to grow up to be fully realized adult men. The thought struck her with a small buzz of alarm. She hoped it wasn’t because of the John/Paul relationship. But no, she thought it might be because John and Paul were the two ‘major’ Beatles, the songwriters and ‘geniuses’, and thus the expectations for their sons were much higher and therefore more intimidating.
The doorbell rang. Mary asked Stella to answer the door, since she was doing some tricky vegetable carving. At the door Stella found her sister Heather and James. They had just driven up from Sussex and looked tired and ready to flop. Stella routed out Alistair from the backyard where he was arranging tables, and soon all the luggage was out of their car and up in the guestrooms. James was sharing a room with Sean, like old times, and Heather would have her own room.
Soon all five of them were gathered in the kitchen hugging, laughing and talking. Sean felt exactly like the others. He had been raised since age 5 with Paul in his life, and since age 7 with the whole family. He barely remembered a time without them all. He truthfully saw more of the McCartney kids than he did his own half-brother, who was so much older and who kept pretty much to himself off on the Continent. Nevertheless, Sean loved and even idolized Julian, and was happy he was going to see him that evening.
In the ensuing two weeks since she had found out about her father’s decision to wear John’s ring, Heather’s mind had experienced the news as if it were a bird of prey, gliding in ever-narrowing and then ever-widening circles over it’s target. She hadn’t yet been able to swoop down and finally grab the idea. She hoped that once she had been able to speak to her dad about it, she might be able to wrestle what was bothering her to the ground. She certainly wasn’t an uptight soul. She had fully incorporated her hippie childhood into her way of thinking and living, and so had no moral or emotional objection to two men pledging their fidelity to each other. In truth, her views on the subject were much to the contrary - but what if her liberality on the subject was only in the abstract? Something about the news bothered Heather, and she was beginning to believe it had to do with the loss of her mother. Heather had really not fully integrated that sad reality into her daily thinking. She often pretended, while working in her pottery studio in Sussex, that her mother was off in London, and might suddenly drop down to visit her on a weekend. Heather knew this was not going to happen, but it was a little fantasy exercise she played with herself to keep the aching depth of her loss at bay. Maybe the reality of her father choosing to move on was interfering with Heather’s ability to keep her little fantasy alive. While Heather mused, she slowly became aware that the others were talking about their fathers.
“I don’t know why they’re being so bloody-minded about it,” Stella opined. “I suggested inviting more people - maybe the rest of the Beatle family, or at least George Martin. But John kept saying they didn’t want a big fuss. I wonder why? It’s kind of a major event in their lives.”
“Maybe to them it isn’t that big of an event. Maybe they think it was just the next step in a long journey,” Sean suggested.
James, lounging across the table from Sean, smiled. He had been listening avidly to what the others were saying. They clearly did not have any problem with the ‘commitment ring’ thing like he did, and he liked the poetic sound of Sean’s suggestion. James had been torn about the news too, but he had allowed himself to think about it and parse out his feelings on the matter and conclude that he was missing his mother; he was missing the spice that she brought to the brew that was the McLen family (as John often called it). James had actively loved having John in the family, and had long since gotten over any qualms he’d once had over the triangle relationship. But his mother had been an integral part of him feeling at ease and secure in the triangle situation. Subtracting her had left a huge hole for James, and knowing that most of the rest of the family was moving on to try to fill that hole in different ways, was at the root of James’s confusion.
“That’s a very interesting take on it Sean,” Mary said.
Sean added, “The sense I have is that this is just a very personal thing to them, and they really don’t want to share it with the world,” Sean concluded. “And if so, that’s their prerogative, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is,” Mary agreed. By now, Heather was helping Mary and Stella prepare the food. Mary had two sous chefs but she was quietly giving all the directions, as once her mother had done.
Heather felt safe and secure when Mary was around. Mary gave off the closest vibe of their mother, and so Heather craved her company. She had listened avidly to what Sean had said, and hoped it was true. She didn’t want the whole world to know that her mother had been effectively replaced.
James heard what Sean had said, and it softened his heart. He loved his dad, and he loved John, and he wanted them to be happy. He was going to do his best to bury the anxious feelings that were niggling at him.
Stella heard what Sean had said and responded with some skepticism. “I think they’re a bit embarrassed about it, and that is why they don’t want anyone to know. They trust us to keep our mouths shut, but as soon as you tell one person, you know your secret isn’t going to last. I didn’t even tell my boyfriend. But Mary had to tell Alistair. And I suppose Julian told his girlfriend. It’s like concentric circles the way news like this flows, and I think the whole thing embarrasses them a bit so they limit the number of people who know.”
Sean heard Stella out, and felt that she was probably right to an extent. But he didn’t see it as being in conflict with what he’d suggested. Yes, they thought of this as a very private moment, and part of that was fear of others’ reactions. But Sean continued to believe that the emotional dance between his father and Paul was very intricate, and in truth they each performed for an audience of one: each one performed only for the other. That others were around to watch and enjoy was entirely incidental to them. They shared a very self-contained, magical kind of connection, and no one else but they themselves were permitted to see, feel, hear, taste, or touch it.
Sean said, “I get what you’re saying, Stell, but I think that’s only part of it. But even if it were all of it, we should respect it. They get to decide how to share their relationship, and we really don’t have a say in it.”
Mary smiled to herself as she chopped her vegetables. Sean was more than a match for the fiery Stella. And she was finding Sean’s take on it to be far more nuanced and interesting than the take she and Stella had shared between them.
“I guess it frustrates me that they don’t feel strong enough about each other to be public about it,” Stella said, only this time her voice had lost much of it’s stridency and certainty.
Heather’s interruption surprised them all. She hadn’t contributed even a peep thus far: “No! I don’t want them to go public! It would be horrible!”
Everyone turned to look at Heather, taken aback by her emotional vehemence.
“Why do you say that?” Mary asked gently.
“Think about it! They’ll all say Mummy was a beard!” Heather looked and sounded very distressed.
The others hadn’t thought about it from that perspective yet, but James quickly said, “I agree with Heather. You know they’ll say it wasn’t a ‘real’ marriage. That would damage Mum’s memory.” James’s voice was calmer and less hysterical than Heather’s, but he clearly felt strongly about it too.
“That’s an excellent point,” Sean said. “I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you’ve said it, I can see Pup putting his foot down over that, so as not to deal with people trashing his wife.”
“If no one steps forward and stands up for what is right, things will never change,” Stella argued. “And our dads have a tremendous amount of social influence. If anyone can afford to stand up to the pressure, they can. And then other people might find that their lives will be a little easier because of it.”
“I agree with what you say,” Sean said, “but you and I don’t have to live with the backlash, except vicariously, because we love them.”
“And Mummy’s memory!” Heather cried.
“Daddy isn’t going to let anyone say anything nasty about Mum without fiercely defending her,” Mary said gently. She gave her older sister an enveloping hug. “No matter what happens, Daddy won’t stand still for it. And neither will any of us.”
Stella laughed. “Yeah - we’ll all come marching! They’ll rue the day!”
Heather found herself calming down. She knew how protective her father was of his wife and his children, and also of John. Mary and Stella were right. The family wouldn’t let the press get away with a character assassination of her mother.
Mary said, “And there is something else.”
Everyone looked at her expectantly.
“Daddy told me himself. He thinks John would not handle the backlash well. He thinks he wouldn’t take being called names and being insulted well, because he takes that kind of thing to heart. Daddy thinks he himself would handle it better. So, maybe we’re all right. Maybe for all the reasons we’ve mentioned they’ve decided to keep it secret from everyone but us.”
“It’s too bad though,” Stella said, finally accepting the strength of the various arguments she’d heard her siblings make. “It is a great opportunity for them to help change social attitudes on the subject. But I guess that’s a lot to ask of them, when they have so many important things at stake.”
The controversial conversation ended, and the five of them moved on to less heavy subjects. But although it had been a little stressful for them, both Heather and James felt better about the whole thing having heard what their siblings had to say. And they were grateful their father and John were being circumspect about it, no matter the reason.
*****
That Afternoon
Cavendish
“I sure hope they haven’t gone overboard,” John was musing to Paul as they lounged on the sitting room sofa. John had been thumbing through the television channels with the sound down low, and Paul had been reading a newspaper. Hearing no response from Paul, John added, “I dreamt last night that they had naked men jumping out of cakes. It was horrifying. Woke up in a cold sweat.”
This got a rise out of Paul. From behind the newspaper John heard a snicker.
Encouraged, John continued with his fantasy worries. “I am scared they are going to do something really corny, like play soppy music, or read out smarmy poetry.”
Paul finally spoke from behind the newspaper. “These are our children we are talking about, you know...”
John chuckled. “I admit they’re not the most sentimental people on the planet.”
“They’re Liverpudlian-by-proxy,” Paul agreed.
John liked that. Liverpudlian-by-proxy. Every time John got full of himself and his verbal and lyrical abilities, Paul would suddenly show him up like this and send him hurtling back to earth with a thud. That was one of the many reasons why John adored Paul so much. No hair growing on him!
“Why do you suppose they want to make such a fuss over it?” John asked a few moments later. This time his voice was more serious. As a result, it caused Paul to bring his paper down so he could see John’s face. John, noting that he finally had Paul’s full attention, added, “I mean, your kids especially. In a way they must feel as though I’m taking Linda’s place.”
Paul’s eyes warmed reassuringly as they met John’s. “My kids love you like a second father,” Paul said firmly. “They don’t think you’re replacing their mother.”
“Stella and Mary told me that Heather and James were a bit upset about it, especially Heather. I’m worried they are hurt by it.” John was looking at Paul with intensity, his insecurity showing plainly in his eyes.
“We all took Linda’s death hard, John,” Paul finally responded. “And Heather and James most of all. They needed their mother more than Mary and Stella did, because Mary and Stella are much stronger emotionally. So no matter what I would do to change my life after Linda died, they were going to be thrown by it. But I don’t think it will be bad tonight, John. I really don’t. They know how to behave, even if they’re struggling with it.”
Another thing John loved about Paul: Paul always told him the truth, even if the truth was hard to hear. Of course, Paul had a way of ‘packaging’ the truth so that it went down much more smoothly than it otherwise would.
“They wanted to invite the others, but I said no,” John confessed. He hadn’t shared Stella’s urgings to invite the rest of the Beatle family with Paul. He had assumed that Paul would be freaked out by the very suggestion.
“The others?” Paul asked, momentarily stumped.
“Ritchie, George H., George M. and families,” John explained. “Your brother and his family.”
Paul said, “Why did you say no?” He was honestly surprised that John hadn’t wanted to invite them.
“I didn’t think you would like too many people there,” John said.
“Why ever not?”
“Well, you don’t want it to get out. You want to keep it secret.” John was looking confused by Paul’s mild reaction to the idea.
Paul said patiently, “I don’t want it to get out publicly, but of course the others are family, too. We can trust them to say nothing to anyone.”
John was pleasantly surprised. “Well, maybe sometime later in the year, we can host our own celebration with them.”
Paul smiled easily. “That would be great,” he said, winking. “I’m not a shrinking violet, Johnny. The whole family and our best friends know we’re living together. We don’t hide it from them. They don’t pry, and we don’t provide details. But they all know what is going on between us, and I’m very comfortable with that. Aren’t you?”
“I am. I guess I’ve always felt as though you weren’t comfortable with it.” John’s tone reflected the surprise he was feeling.
Paul sat up, folding the newspaper and pushing it away. He leaned towards John and said with intense clarity, “I only ever worried about my wife and the children. We created that family, and it was up to us to protect them from ugly public scrutiny. I also didn’t want our work to get overshadowed by prurient gossip. I wanted it to be appreciated for itself. But I’m not ashamed of us, John. I guess I just think this decision we’ve made is no one’s business except for our very closest friends and our families.”
John had listened to Paul with his whole being, and he felt tears pressing to be released, but he fought them off. He nodded, but didn’t trust himself yet to speak.
Paul then asked, “Do you feel differently? Do you find it hurtful that we don’t talk about it more openly in public?”
“I guess I would find it hurtful if I thought you were ashamed of us or embarrassed by it. But since you say you’re not, I’m not hurt by it. But do you have an objection to me sharing it with more of our friends? Like can I talk to Jason about it?”
Paul looked distressed. “John - it’s your life too! Of course you can talk to your friends about it. Jason especially! I’m a little surprised you haven’t told him already.” Paul added, chuckling.
John said, “I’ve been feeling so grateful that you accepted the ring. I know it was a difficult decision for you to make, and I don’t want to push you further than you’re ready to go.”
“Listen to us, John,” Paul said, chuckling deeply. “We’re so fucking mature. I’m thinking we’ll have to leave a significant amount of our combined fortune to our therapists in our wills.” John laughed at Paul’s joke. But then Paul added more seriously, “The only difficult part for me was telling myself ‘no more women.’ You know, I had gotten used to having sex both ways on a regular basis. It kind of surprises me to say it, but I never thought I’d get to the point where I wouldn’t want to live without both kinds of sex. But once I talked about it with Marc, and once I thought about it for a while, the answer was clear - I just want to be with you. It’s not a sacrifice for me, John. Even if I picked up some woman, I would be thinking of you and feeling horribly guilty, so what would be the point?”
John smiled. “It wasn’t like I was ever going to let you out of my sight, Pud. You wouldn’t have had the chance to cheat on me.”
“That’s what Linda said to me once,” Paul replied, surprised. “We’d go to parties and she wouldn’t let go of my arm. Sometimes it felt like a death grip.”
John laughed out loud. “Well, last November when you were being ambivalent about it, I was pricing choke-collars and leashes, so you ought to be glad you decided to come quietly.”
“I don’t know why neither of you trusted me to be faithful,” Paul said, a little put out. “I’m a faithful guy.”
“Oh, Linda and I trusted you. But we didn’t trust any of those people out there that wanted to get their hands on you. We each spent decades beating them off with sticks.”
Paul guffawed. “You’re making that up. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a congenital flirt, Paul, and you are too damn sexy for your own good. You can’t help yourself. And people read those signals and think you’re get-able. Linda and I spoke about this on many occasions, and we both agreed: one of us always had to have an eye on you when we were in crowds. We took turns.”
“This is ridiculous, I’m not going to encourage any more of this nonsense,” Paul scoffed, and he plopped unceremoniously back against the sofa cushions. He then grabbed the newspaper and snapped it open again until he was once more hidden behind it.
John saw this tactic and laughed heartily. “You can hide, Baby, but you can’t run...”
*****
That Night
Mary’s Home in Maida Vale
Julian arrived earlier than he had planned. He had wanted to arrive fashionably late, and act impossibly blasé. But his anticipation of seeing all the family again got the best of him, so he took a cab over to Mary’s house to arrive at 5 p.m., even though the party wasn’t starting until 6:30 p.m.
James opened the door, and was delighted to see Julian. He showed Julian into the sitting room where he, Alistair and Sean had been playing a video game on the TV set. “Wanna join?” He asked.
“I’ll just say hello to the girls,” Julian said politely. He wasn’t in to video games, but didn’t want to say so. He found ‘the girls’ - all three of them - in Mary’s kitchen, putting finishing touches on hors d’oeuvres and still working on the entrees.
“Jules!” Stella cried as he walked in the door. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and rushed over to give him a big hug. Julian had a kind of charisma - it was hard to describe - and most of the younger Beatle kids were affected by it. He was like their joint, much admired big brother. (Ringo’s older son Zak was too close to Julian’s age and too independent to feel the same way about it.)
“Hello Stella,” Julian said as he was engulfed in a hug. He was smiling at the greeting. Mary and Heather were waiting patiently for their turns. He looked over Stella’s shoulder to the kitchen and said, “You’ve really got a spread on here, haven’t you?”
Mary laughed. “I suppose so. Stella, let go. My turn.”
After a few more minutes of hugging and excitement, Julian settled down at the kitchen table and Mary poured him a crisp white wine. Mary was preparing the appetizer plates, and periodically gave a piece of cheese or sweet pickle to Julian on the sly. Each time she did it she winked at him, and he hid a grin.
“So where are the men of honor?” Julian asked.
“Oh, they won’t get here until 6:30,” Mary said. “I told them not to turn up early, because I want it all to be done and beautiful when they get here.”
“You spoil them,” Julian said with a sweet smile.
“I know,” Stella said. “We all do. None of us can help it. They’re so darn cute.”
Julian laughed out loud. “They’ve skimmed along through life riding that joint charm and combined adorable-ness, I’ll say that for them.”
Heather said shyly, taking the subject perhaps more seriously than did her siblings, “Things have been a lot harder for them on the inside than they looked to be on the outside.”
Julian met her eyes and said softly, “I know. I’m just giving them the piss. Their egos are so huge. They can take it.”
Heather didn’t like anyone to criticize her father. She agreed that John’s ego was huge. But she didn’t like anyone saying her father’s ego was huge. She frowned a little, but said nothing.
Mary said, “Well, what I know about Daddy is that maybe he has a big ego, but it is also fragile. So is your dad’s ego. They’re so easily bruised. I think Daddy is a bit tougher about it than your dad is, though.”
Julian nodded as Mary was speaking, “Yes, I agree. Pup - don’t tell him I called him that, he hates it - well, he’s a much more balanced person.”
“Why do you call him ‘Pup’?” Heather asked. She’d never had it satisfactorily explained to her before.
Julian laughed. “It’s kind of embarrassing. Just what I thought to call him when I was first learning to talk.”
“Pup? But why pup?” Heather persisted.
“He was kind of like an uncle to me. I actually played more with him than I did with my dad when I was little. He was very playful and imaginative. He reminded me of a puppy, so I called him ‘Uncle Puppy.’”
All three girls giggled at that. “It’s very descriptive, and right on point,” Stella guffawed.
“It got too long, and it eventually got shortened to ‘Pup’, you know, when I was approaching my teens. It wasn’t cool to call him ‘Uncle Puppy’ any more.”
“Why doesn’t Daddy like you to call him that?” Heather asked.
Mary interrupted. “I don’t think he dislikes it really. I think he is just teasing Julian when he says that.”
“I think your sister is right,” Julian told Heather. “I don’t think he minds it really. But it’s something I can do to give him a little friendly grief.”
“Sean calls him that,” Heather said. “I suppose he got it from you?”
“Yeah, he heard me doing it, so he started doing it. But he does it in all seriousness now, without irony. And I doubt he remembers its derivation - the ‘puppy’ part.”
Heather chuckled. “I think it’s perfect. Daddy does look like a puppy!”
*****
The drive from Cavendish to Mary’s home in Maida Vale was very short. Within ten minutes, the car was pulling into Mary’s mews. Paul had spent that 10 minutes grumbling to himself about how John had laid out his clothes for him again, as if he were a child. He was going to have to say something to John about it. The truth was that other people always complimented him on his clothes when John picked them out; they didn’t always do the same when he chose his own clothes. But that was missing the point! The flash teenaged John Lennon and the flash teenaged Paul McCartney had both been fashion hounds, and had influenced each other’s style. He didn’t like the unsaid judgment - that he had terrible taste, and John had great taste.
John had no clue this was going through Paul’s mind, because he was so busy slyly staring at Paul through the corners of his eyes. In that beautiful dark navy silk suit and that silky white shirt, and that deep purple satin tie, Paul was a sight to behold. Paul had always ‘cleaned up’ spectacularly well, but ever since he’d met Linda his sartorial standards had slipped substantially. She had encouraged him not to worry about such things as grooming and clothes, and to just let it all hang out and wear comfortable things. She’d encouraged weird color and print combinations and strange hairstyles. The 1970s were a kaleidoscope of horrible Paul outfits, from John’s point of view. Couldn’t recognize the guy as the same dandy who wore such tightly fitting suits in the early ‘60s! Now, John loved Linda, and he had come to appreciate how she had nurtured and de-stressed the highly tuned Paul McCartney. But since Paul didn’t have to look at himself, and John did, John felt he had every right to put Paul’s wardrobe back on the right track. Thus, he didn’t worry overmuch about Paul’s feelings in the matter. Just as on this evening, it never crossed his mind.
John, himself, was beautifully dressed also. He had never looked as good in suits as Paul did, probably because he didn’t have Paul’s long, slender legs. So instead, John wore high quality slacks - black - with a straight leg, and a deep medium blue pullover crew-necked sweater along with a nice array of the South American jewelry Paul had bought for him. Just thinking of that South American trip - even for a few seconds - sent a thrill up John’s spine. That had been so fucking romantic! He really did want to take Paul away from the world again - back to their hideaway in Costa Rica, or maybe they could do another exotic concert tour when their new album came out...
“We’re here,” Paul pointed out. The car had come to a complete stop and it had sat still for a few seconds while Paul gazed at John, who was in a dream. “What’re you thinking about?” He asked.
“You and me - getting away. South America. Remember that trip?” John’s smile was knowing and beatific.
Paul’s eyes went lazy with the sexy memory. “I sure do,” he said with a low, drawling voice.
“We need to do that again - touring in an exotic locale.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Paul said, smiling dangerously. “In the meantime - it’s time for our party!”
*****