No More Lonely Nights- 75

April 28, 1964.

London, England.

PAUL: The things that Epstein ropes us into doing, I swear…

Okay, maybe it isn't that bad. At least, I hope not. In honor of Shakespeare's four hundredth birthday (though in all accuracy, he was born on the 26th of April), we're performing a scene from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" as part of the upcoming BBC programme "Around the Beatles." Of course, we have to sing as per the usual routine, but oh well. The scene we're performing, you might ask? Well, if you have read "A Midsummer Night's Dream" (I haven't, but Allie explained it to me), there is a sort of play-within-a-play in which the characters get together and act out the story of Pyramus and Thisbe from Roman mythology (it's a Romeo and Juliet-esque story, what inspired THAT play, in fact). Yes, that's the scene we're acting out. I'm Pyramus, John is Thisbe (oh joy, I wonder how he will enjoy dressing in drag), George is Moonshine (as in, the Man in the Moon), and Ringo is a lion. I guess we'll see how this will all play out later on today.

"I can see you're not exactly thrilled about this performance later," Allie mused from her place on the bed, where she was still sitting after having gone over the basic plot of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" with me.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it will be okay. You know I don't like doing this kind of stuff. I hope I don't look stupid."

"You won't. You'll probably be cute as always. Now quit pacing around and get over here and lay down with me. Or something, I don't care."

I sighed and threw myself down on the bed. I put my head on Allie's lap and closed my eyes, feeling her running her fingers through my hair a moment later. "What, are you tired?" she asked. "You can't be tired, you slept till eleven this morning."

"I'm bored," I said. "We still have two hours till we go down to the Palladium Theatre. The clock says two-thirty right now. Got any ideas how these next two hours can pass, save for the obvious?"

"The obvious?"

"You know what I mean."

"I know. But in all honesty, I think I'll keep my clothes on right now. Okay?" Allie rubbed my shoulder gently. "I'm still feeling the effects of last night."

"What, was it… too much?" I asked.

"No. It was amazing as always. But right now, I just want to lay here and relax, not get a workout with you," she replied. "I like just laying here holding you and not doing anything."

I nodded as best I could, seeing as my head was resting against her shoulder. She was right, after all. Sometimes I did prefer this as opposed to taking off every piece of my clothing and making love until we were both extremely exhausted. It all depends on my mood, really. Actually, taking a nap sounds really good right now… I don't care if I did sleep in this morning.


ALLIE: It's almost four-thirty and Paul is still asleep, and I hate to wake him up (seeing as he looks just beyond cute right about now), but Brian will not be too pleased with him if he is late getting to the Palladium, so I guess I don't have a choice. I kissed his forehead gently and began rubbing his shoulder, whispering his name in his ear to try and see if that would wake him up. He stirred in my arms and opened his eyes a moment later, smiling when he saw me. Oh, his eyes… I seem to always fall under some sort of spell when I look into them, into the sea of bright hazel green… it's as if he is looking straight into my soul and can read every little thing about me. "Sleep well?" I asked him, kissing him again, this time on the cheek.

"I did," he replied, his voice still drowsy with sleep. "I don't want to get up."

"You have to, darling, you have to be leaving in twenty minutes," I said. "I'd much rather you keep sleeping too, but you know Brian will throw a fit if you're late." I kissed him again. "We'll do this again later, all right?"

He nodded and got up off the bed, pulling a crisp, non-wrinkled shirt from his suitcase. He changed his shirt and sighed heavily. "I hate these kinds of performances. All those stupid girls do the whole time is scream, scream, scream. You can't even hear us!" He knotted his tie and reached for his suit jacket. "I mean, it is utterly ridiculous."

I stood and walked over to him, putting my arms around him from behind. "I know," I said, pressing my cheek against the fabric of his charcoal grey suit jacket. "But you don't have a choice, you know."

Paul nodded. "I know. I just wish for once we could actually perform and everyone not act completely possessed. I have yet to figure out why we four are so enthralling to everyone."

"You're all amazing people," I said. "You all have talent, dynamic personalities, looks… I mean, it's easy to see why all these girls are so enchanted with the four of you."

"Well, I don't care about millions of girls I don't know. I care about you. The only thing on my mind the whole time I am up there performing is you." Paul kissed my cheek and sighed. "Guess we'd better get going though. Much as I don't want to."


PAUL: We all got to the Palladium around five and I of course wasn't exactly surprised to see the horde of lunatics- I mean fangirls- waiting outside the theatre. I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing I was back at the hotel and in the bed with Allie. But no, things just couldn't be like that, not in my world. We Beatles are in one vehicle and then the ladies- Allie, Delilah, and Vi (Cynthia stayed home with Julian)- are in another, and that alone makes me even more tense than I already am. I can feel the beginnings of a nasty headache throbbing behind my eyes, and I just hope we can get this over with quickly.

"You're a bit on the preoccupied side today," John mused as we gathered in our dressing room, receiving last-minute instructions from Brian. "Everything okay?"

"It's just the usual," I replied. "I hate all this performing to these crazy audiences."

John nodded. "Annoying, I know. Not that we exactly have a choice, after all."

"I know, I know," I said. "I just wish things would… slow down."

"Yeah, right. Good one, Paul," was the answer I received.

I sighed. John was no help, which seemed to be the norm as of late. I turned to see if George or Ringo were around but I didn't see them. Oh well. I will find George later and we can complain together, since he has been a bit irritated with things as of late himself.

"Paul!" I heard George call from behind. "There you are! Where are the girls?"

"I have absolutely no clue," I replied. Great. Just one more thing to worry about, having Allie out there potentially in the presence of all those fangirls. If any of them recognize her (it's no secret we're together, much as Epstein wants to hide it) and see what she is wearing on her left hand… well, let's put it this way. If anyone causes some sort of trouble or bothers her, I'll personally get involved and make them wish they had never even thought of bothering her.

George sighed. "And to think this place is swamped with fangirls…"

"I know. I'm a bit worried about that myself."

"Vi can just turn to them and cuss them out, no problem. It's Delilah and Allie that I worry about. Or, am I allowed to worry about your girlfriend?"

"Of course, because I worry about yours too," I said. I sighed. I hope this is over as quickly as possible.


ALLIE: At least we so far haven't been surrounded by fans that are too rabid. Hopefully it stays that way, but at any event involving the Beatles… yeah, never happens. The fans always go insane and act like sheer and utter freaks. I twisted the diamond ring around on my finger and smiled to myself. They might as well get over their little obsession with my fiancé in particular.

It feels both thrilling and weird to think or say that word- fiancé. This time three years ago, I wasn't exactly expecting that I'd be engaged to one of the most famous and desired men on the planet right now. It's not like I planned this, of course. I didn't wake up on the morning of my sixteenth birthday and say to myself, "Well, Allie, you're going to meet your future husband tonight, and he's an incredibly sweet and adorable musician at that." No, didn't exactly happen that way. But here I am regardless- the one woman who will be privileged to bear the name of McCartney in the not-so-far-off future. Okay, in around fourteen months. But still…

"Are they singing first or doing their little performance first?" Delilah asked. "George didn't say. He was too busy grumbling about having to do this."

"Funny you should mention that, Paul was doing the same thing," I replied. "I had to force him to get up, he wanted to keep on napping instead of coming down here."


"Why did you two end up with the whiners?" Vi's voice cut in. "Ringo never complains. He does what he is supposed to do and doesn't moan about it. It must come with being the eldest of the group and therefore the most mature."

"Well good for Ringo, then," Delilah said. "I don't think it has much to do with maturity, really. Look at John."

"Oh, true. I forgot that John has less maturity than his own year-old son," was Vi's response.

And here they came out on stage, suits pressed to perfection and those lovely smiles (fake, I know, but still) on their faces, looking like the model musicians. Of course the horde of crazies went insane the split second the lads came out to sing and started screaming at deafening levels. I clapped my hands over my ears, wishing they would shut up so I could actually hear the band performing, but it was useless. Just for once I would like to actually hear them sing, actually hear their performance, but no. I guess that will never happen.


PAUL: Okay, one performance that no one could hear completed. Now we're on to the part that I am certain will either be fun or be humiliating. One or the other. Watch it be the last option.

"How do you all like me in a dress, hmm?" John said as he came flouncing out of the dressing room, clad in a frilly white dress with a little white shawl and a blonde braided wig slapped on his head (not even in an attempt to hide his natural dark hair). "Aren't I just gorgeous?"

"Umm… no," was George's answer, and he whacked John over the head with the thorny stick he was carrying for part of his costume (his "thornbush," apparently). I feel rather like a jailbird in these grey and black striped leggings with the matching (and yes, striped as well) tunic with this preposterous helmet-like thing on my head… let's put it this way. I do NOT want to look at myself in the mirror any more than I have to do so.

"Come on, we have to go out there now!" Ringo exclaimed, stumbling over the tail of his lion costume in the process. "Much as I know none of us want to-"

"Are you kidding me, I'm in a dress! I'm beyond eager to get out there and should how beautiful of a lady I make!" John dashed off to the edge of the stage, infinitely more excited than the rest of us. I rolled my eyes and walked over to where he stood, George and Ringo following behind.


ALLIE: The minute they all walked out here on the stage, costumed and ready to go, the hormonal female population that surrounds me (with the exception of Vi and Delilah) had one giant anerysm, and I swear, I am about this close to whirling around and slapping the girl behind me in particular who keeps screaming MY fiancé's name over and over and over. If she doesn't stop… well, I think you can figure it out for yourself.

John… oh my. He looks extremely proud of that fact that he is being filmed for a spot on television and he's dressed as a woman. I think the others would be humiliated, but not John Lennon, of course not. He would enjoy this experience. George and Ringo look caught between wanting to laugh at John and be irritated with the crowd, and Paul has a look on his face that I know well, the look of "I'd-rather-be-being-boiled-in-oil-than-be-here." Well, if he can make it just a bit longer…

They began their rather unorthodox Shakespearean skit and I caught myself laughing, mainly at just how they were interpreting this and presenting it. I think they're trying to forget that they really don't want to be here and are trying to enjoy themselves. I hope so, at least.

John and Paul have stepped off to the side and George and Ringo are in the spotlight now, and I considered trying to get Paul's attention, but I don't think that will be the best idea. It will involve drawing attention to myself and if these girls snap out of their hysteria long enough to figure out who I am… no, don't really want to put up with that right now. I looked back up at him a moment later though and he caught my eye and gave me that characteristic wink, smiling in the way he does only for me. Even in the outlandish costume performing this highly ridiculous little play, he's still absolutely adorable and just… never mind. I can't think of any synonyms for "adorable" and "amazing" at the moment.

They're at the part now where Paul/Pyramus discovers John/Thisbe's little white shawl on the ground with blood on it (courtesy of Ringo/Lion with George/Moonshine providing the necessary light for such a discovery), and I know what happens next in this scene in the real play, so I'm curious if this very loose adaption will keep that in or not.

Oh, apparently so. Paul pulled out his fake sword (it looks about six inches long and is clearly plastic) and went to work "stabbing" himself with it due to the fact that he thinks John/Thisbe is dead. He's screaming "Die! Die! Die!" the whole time and this has whipped the fangirls into a literal frenzy. One of them flailed her arms so much she knocked me in the back of the head, and one turn around and I saw it was the same little annoying one from earlier. She was wailing "OH PAUL DON'T DIE!" and I hauled back and slapped the ever-loving I don't even know what out of her. "Quit hollering at my fiancé!" I screamed. "Got it, bitch?"

"You just pulled a me!" Vi exclaimed. "Good going, Allie! I never thought I would see you do that."

"These fans piss me off, constantly screaming at them like that," I said. "They need to leave all four of them alone."


PAUL: I met our girls backstage, the others at my heels. "Did I really see that correctly?" I asked Allie. "Did you really haul back and knock the hell out of one of the fangirls?"

"Indeed I did. She wouldn't stop shrieking your name and I was getting sick of having to listen to it," she said, leaning against my shoulder. I was still wearing my outfit from the skit and felt rather ridiculous, but obviously she didn't care.

"Well, I applaud that," I said. "I hate the things all of you ladies have to put up with because of who we are. It's not fair to any of you."

"Oh well," Allie said with a sigh. "I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world. But I could do without all the obsessive fans."