No More Lonely Nights- 62

February 22, 1964.

London, England.

ALLIE: Today. It's finally the 22nd, finally the day I have been waiting for now for nearly a fortnight. Today is the day that the Beatles come back from America… the day that I see Paul. I can hardly stand the wait even more now that the blessed day is here. Their flight lands at eight-twenty this morning, and it is three in the morning and I cannot sleep. I still have a bit more than five hours left before I see him, and those five hours are going to absolutely drag.

Cyn (along with Julian) and Vi and I are camped out here in a hotel in London waiting for the flight to get in this morning. Cyn and Vi don't seem nearly as anxious as I do. I know they love their men as well, but somehow I don't think the love they have for John and Ringo respectively will ever be on par with the love I feel for Paul. I never knew what people meant by unconditional love until I fell in love with him. What I feel in my heart every time I look at him, hear his voice, see his smile… I can't put it into words. I love that man more than life itself, and I would die if I had to live without him forever. These past twelve days have been agonizing enough, and I cannot fathom a lifetime of his absence from me. I am ready to see him, to hold him, to kiss him, and just be with him and make up for lost time. I think I deserve that much after waiting this long as patiently as I could.

I sat in the plush red chair by the window and reread all the letters he had sent to me while in the States, a mountain of envelopes and postcards in the shoebox at my feet. I counted over one hundred letters and at least fifty postcards- several of the postcards from the entire group, one or two individually from John and George and Ringo as well- in the box. Over one hundred letters. I ran my fingertips over Paul's signature at the bottom of one of them, followed by his characteristic line of "P.S. I love you." He had to be dedicated to me to write to me that many times in a span of twelve days. I had written him too, numerous letters, but I didn't think I had written him as many times as he had me.

I missed him so much that there was a literal pain in my chest. His voice over the telephone line wasn't quite the same, as the connection spanning the Atlantic was erratic and static-filled. I couldn't see his smile over the phone, now could I? Absolutely not.

I glanced at the clock and saw that is was a bit past four. Finally, time was passing. Not by much, but it was at least getting closer to eight. I reached back into the box and pulled out another envelope, and I was surprised to find that the one I held in my hand was still sealed. I suppose I somehow overlooked it, as at least ten letters from Paul had arrived daily (all sent express, as well, which had to be costing him a fortune in stamps) over the past couple weeks. I slit it open with my letter opener and withdrew a single sheet of paper.

February 13, 1964

Allie,

This is rather short, I know, but I am attempting to sleep and, seeing as that is NOT working, I couldn't think of anything better to do than talk to you the only way I can at the moment. It's a bit before midnight here back in NYC again, around five in the morning back home… I would call you but I have no idea if you are at your house or Megan's. I'd rather not take the risk.

I just really only wanted to say I love you, even though I would much rather being lying beside you in bed right now, whispering those three words in your ear as we make love before falling on to sleep. It might be crazy to some people to send a letter this short saying only that, but I don't care. I know it isn't crazy to you, as it certainly isn't to me.

Maybe I can sleep now, after writing this down. Doubtful though- I'm stuck sharing a room with Ringo, we all know how he snores! But I shall try anyway.

Good night, my love.

All my loving,

Paul

P.S. I love you.

I held the paper in my hand for a long moment. The letter was barely three-fourths of a page long, yet it still touched me like all the other really long ones did. "I love you too," I whispered, hoping that maybe he would somehow sense that I had spoken the words.


PAUL: It's six in the morning, England time-wise, and I have no idea what that translates to for us on the plane somewhere over the Atlantic. Maybe around two or three in the morning? I didn't really care. All I knew was in a few hours, I'd be home again and with Allie. I had waited for twelve days to be on this flight, crossing the expanse of water that had separated us for this amount of time. I was ready to just be home.

"Not much longer, Paul," John spoke up, as if he had read my mind. "It's six-fifteen over there. Four-fifteen for us now on the plane. In case you wanted to know."

"I was wondering but not enough to find out."

"Maybe you should go to sleep or something. That'll help the time pass. Ringo and George and Delilah seem to have the same idea." He gestured a few rows back at the two of them, soundly sleeping and oblivious to anything around them. Ringo was on one row and George and Delilah another, sprawled out across the seats dead to the world.

"Maybe. I can't, though, I'm too keyed up."

"I know." John sighed. "I'm sorry this has been such a nightmare for you. I can't believe you actually told Epstein that you would not allow him to tell you what to do concerning things like this ever again. I'm proud of you, Paul."

"No one has the right to keep my baby away from me. She should be right here next to me sleeping on my shoulder, not in England waiting for me. I will not leave her again. Epstein knows that now, I made it abundantly clear. If he doesn't like it, I swear, I'll see he is dismissed as our manager."

"That wouldn't bother me," John replied. "I think he'll respect your wishes now, though. Seeing as you pretty much threatened him."

"I had to do something! I have been in literal pain these past twelve days, John, you know that! And it's all thanks to him. Some manager…"

"I know. But it's over now… or at least, it will be in two hours."

I nodded. I could make it two hours. I knew I could.

I hoped I could.


ALLIE: I can't stand it, I'm going on to Heathrow now. I don't want to keep sitting here in this room staring out the window. I need to be there in case they land early.

My heart was in my throat the whole ride to the airport, knowing that in one hour, I would be with Paul again. I was so ready for that moment. I couldn't quite imagine what our reunion would be like. It would be happening in front of a couple thousand fans and reporters, though, but I could care less. They all could think whatever about the two of us. Let the fans get mad that their "cute Beatle" Paul McCartney was coming home to his girlfriend and they'd have to witness a very ecstatic and emotional reunion between me and him. Let the press print whatever they so desired. All that mattered was seeing Paul. I didn't care about anyone or anything else.

I paid and tipped the cabbie and stepped out of the taxi. Navigating Heathrow was as easy as anything, as I had been here multiple times since I had been living in the UK. I found my way to the gate which lead to the tarmac where their plane would be landing in a mere half-hour, and I saw that the landing strip and surrounding area was packed with press and fans. I should be at the front of this madness, not hanging back here behind everyone else. I was Paul McCartney's girlfriend, damn it, not some bystander hoping to catch a glimpse of the band. The immediate area around where the plane would land was cordoned off by a chain-link fence, I noticed, in an attempt to keep everyone away from the plane and the Beatles. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wouldn't even be able to see Paul as he came off the plane. I wasn't even sure if I would be able to see him within moments of the landing, what with a crowd like this. I buried my face in my hands and began crying. I didn't exactly mean to just break down and start crying, I just couldn't stop myself. I had waited twelve days to see him. I didn't want to be back here in a spot that didn't even allow me to see him right after the plane touched down.

"Excuse me, miss, is everything all right?" I heard a male voice behind me say, and I turned to see one of the airport security guards. "You seem flustered."

"I don't know how to make you believe me, but I'll try to anyway. I'm Allie Morgan, and I'm Paul McCartney's girlfriend. I'm here to meet him after the plane lands but I can't even get up there to the front thanks to the crowd of people who don't have any business being there. I'm just a bit upset." I took a deep breath. "Sorry if I'm causing any problems."

The man, whose nametag read "James," looked at me for a long moment. "You are his girl, I recognize you from some of the pictures the papers have printed. Look, I'll do whatever I can to help you get up there. No guarantees, but I'll try. So just follow me."

I felt relief wash over me. "Thank you so much!" I exclaimed. I was so thankful that someone had come along to help me at this moment.

Thanks to the help from the security guard, I soon found myself up at the edge of the gate, leaving me with a clear view of the landing strip. I cast my eyes to the sky and saw a tiny dot in the clouds, a dot that grew larger and louder as it approached. A plane, no doubt. Their plane. His plane.

My baby was finally coming home.


PAUL: London. We're over London now, heading straight for Heathrow. We'll be landing in a matter of minutes. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I was filled to the brim with so many emotions at the moment that I could hardly think straight. All I kept telling myself was that in a few minutes, I would be with Allie again. I felt tears come to my eyes at the thought.

"We're home!" George exclaimed. "Are you happy now, Paul? You've been so down the whole time. You finally get to see her!"

I nodded. "I can't even describe how I am feeling at the moment, George. It's basically impossible."

"I bet." George buckled his seatbelt and sat back. "I'm glad for you." He slipped an arm around Delilah and kissed her cheek, and she beamed at him. They were so lovely together. I could see an amazing future ahead of them. I just wonder when the wedding will be.

"Now he'll be in a better mood," Ringo added. "No offense, Paul, but you've been in such a state this whole time."

"He won't be in about five minutes," John threw in. "We're landing!"

We were indeed landing, finally. There was an immense crowd waiting for us on the tarmac, but I didn't care one bit about them, the fans, the press, the photographers, none of them. I only wanted to see one person.

The moment we received the word to unbuckle and exit the plane, I jumped up and headed for the now open door, just behind John. We were lined up in our characteristic "John, Paul, George, and Ringo" order for our disembarkment, and for once, I wished I could be in the front. John was probably going to get knocked down as I sprinted around him to get to Allie, but he wouldn't care, I knew.

I shielded my eyes from the glare of the morning sun and scanned the crowd, trying to spot Allie in the sea of faces before me. I was standing on the steps of the plane, a million flashbulbs going off in my face, an equal number of microphones being thrust at me. I didn't want to talk to these reporters. I wanted to be with my girlfriend.

"Do you see her?" John asked.

I shook my head. "Not yet. I'm looking." My pulse was racing in my chest. I took a deep breath and continued looking. My eyes scanned every single face before me, both press and fan alike, in the event that she was in the midst of them. I hoped she had been able to get up close enough so I could see her immediately as we got off the plane. I looked out over the faces again, still trying to find her.

Wait… could it be? Up at the front, near the gate. I looked again, and I felt my whole body go weak.

It was her. Allie. I would know her face anywhere, in any crowd. She was about as close as was allowed, and I think she saw me as well.

I literally shoved John out of my way, pushed the microphones out of my face and dodged the cameras, running as fast as my legs would carry me. She had indeed seen me, and she was running too. "Paul!" I heard her cry in the voice I had missed so much.

"Allie!" I called back. I sprinted past several more dumbstruck reporters and knocked down a poor woman attempting to photograph me. Not that I cared. These people meant nothing to me. They were just rabid reporters and obsessive fans out to try to get my attention in some way, regardless of what they had to do to get it. My girlfriend had waited twelve days to see me. That was all that mattered at the moment.

She was in my arms a moment later, and I held her tightly, both of us crying. "You're home!" she cried. "Oh, Paul, you're here! You're finally here!"

"I'm here, baby, I'm here," I said. "I'm not leaving you ever again, I promise."

She was sobbing against my shoulder, and I tightened my hold on her, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. "I missed you so much, Allie," I whispered. "You can't even imagine."

"I think I can. I missed you too, Paul, so much!" She looked up at me and managed a faint smile through her tears. I kissed her lips, and I felt the familiar longing rush through me, the one I always felt when I needed her. I didn't want to let go of her for a very, very long time. I continued to hold her in an embrace, unable to even bring myself to separate from her right now. I had promised her when I left on the 10th that the minute I got home, I'd step off the plane and take her in my arms and hold her for a very long time. I had to fulfill that promise.