July 9, 1957. Three plus days to get Paul and John to meet. Which would hopefully happen today.
“Can’t believe toi talked Dad into lettin’ us do this,” Paul laughed happily. “You’re something special, Gloria.”
I beamed with pleasure. It was the suivant morning, and we were riding on a bus down to Windsor, since Paul was at least able to buy us bus fare if not train tickets. The bus bumped and shuddered along something awful, but I could deal with it, because Paul had his arm around me.
Then Paul looked at me, and par this point, I recognized the curious light in his eyes. “Paul....”
“How did toi think of tellin’ him all that? Where do toi come from?”
“Paul, please don’t ask me....”
“Come on,” Paul pressed. “You montrer up here out of nowhere, but you’re not staying with anyone and toi haven’t got anywhere else to go here except on dates with me. toi sound English, but different somehow. And I’ve never seen anyone with violet eyes like you’ve got.” He pulled his arm back from my shoulders so he could tick all this off on his fingers. “You tell me where toi come from, toi can’t get burgers anywhere and it’s all right to run off on your rendez-vous amoureux, date and see another fellow – that there's nothing toi shouldn't do on a rendez-vous amoureux, date at all. There isn’t any place in England like that. There’s no place like that anywhere I know of.” I fidgeted and looked down, avoiding his eyes. Why had I told him so much about where I come from? “And toi don’t walk, toi don’t take the bus, toi don’t take the train, and toi act as if you’ve never seen a car before. How did toi come here? Did toi fly? Suppose toi might have taken a boat, but why would toi take a bateau here if toi live in England?”
“I thought toi a dit I couldn’t be from England,” I reminded him, still not meeting his eyes.
“Well, are you? Do toi come from some part of Great Britain we haven’t discovered yet?” Paul’s eyes lit up at this exciting new possibility.
I twisted my hands in my lap, then made myself meet his eyes. “Even if I told toi where I come from, Paul, toi probably wouldn’t believe me.”
He seemed plus intrigued than ever. “Are toi from some Lost country, then? Like Atlantis?”
I laughed. “No, of course not!” Then I wondered if I should have a dit that. Part of me wanted to be able to tell Paul where I was really from – ou rather, when. But that would mess up history big-time.
“Paul,” I purred, in the most charming voice I could manage without the help of a kissy face emoji, “why do toi keep asking me where I come from? Don’t toi like the mystery?”
Paul grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone plus mysterious than you. You’re right out of a film noir, toi are.”
“Exactly,” I went on, fluttering my eyelashes. “Maybe we should just keep it this way. Maybe toi wouldn’t like me as much without the mystery.”
“Oh, yes I would,” grinned Paul with insistence. “Come here, Gloria.” And he scooped me into his arms and kissed me, and in that moment, I might not have remembered where I came from even if I was able to tell him.
“There it is,” I whispered with delight, staring at Windsor château and, plus importantly, the long line of people who were still going inside. Somewhere inside here, John was about to play another concert. Here was where Paul would see him and decide to go talk to him, and things would happen just like they were supposed to, only a few days late. I hoped everything that had happened in between wouldn’t change history too much.
Paul smiled at me. “Let’s see this band you’ve been so excited about.”
I bounced a little on the balls of my feet. Paul didn’t even know the half of what I was excited about. “Let’s get the tickets, Paul! Oh – I mean – toi can get the tickets for us.” Nineteen fifties etiquette, I reminded myself.
Paul stopped. “Tickets? Isn’t this a walk-in sort of thing, like the musique festival?”
I thought about this, but couldn’t remember if I’d been told. “I – don’t know. I think we’d need tickets... at least to get into the castle. Can’t toi get us any?”
Paul frowned. “I thought maybe as they had a concert on, they'd let us in without. I meant to ask Dad for money for the date, but I didn’t want to press him, after last night. I can’t believe toi got him to let us go at all.” He stuck his hands into his pocket and felt around. “I might have enough to get us in here....”
I was beginning to feel nervous. How long did we have before the concert started? “Can’t we just slip inside like we did on the train yesterday? Look how many people are going in. They probably won’t see us.” I remembered lire about how sometime in the suivant an ou so, George would impress John into letting him in the band par playing guitare on haut, retour au début of a double-decker bus. Maybe John would also be impressed at Paul slipping into Windsor château without buying tickets. In any case it was better than missing him.
Paul looked amused. “Just sneak into the château and hope Dad doesn’t find out about it?”
I blushed. “I can always talk to him again if he does,” I offered, fluttering my eyes.
Paul gave the world’s most adorable laugh. “Come on, then.” And he took my hand and we ran across the grounds, and then we slipped past a long line of people getting tickets and going through a security check, into the front doors, trying our best to look like two carefree teenagers, the most natural thing in the world.
Except that I wasn’t used to running and even that short distance had me out of breath.
“Sit down a minute, Gloria,” Paul told me, leading me to sit on the floor against the wall.
I sat, collecting my breath and also taking in my surroundings. It was a beautiful place, but what I was really looking for was John. This room had people streaming in and leaving for different parts of the castle, but I couldn't tell who might be a concert-goer. “What room is the concert in?”
“Dunno,” shrugged Paul. “It was toi what wanted to see it. Suppose we could ask someone?”
“Oi! What are toi teenagers doing in here?”
I looked up, startled. A uniformed security guard was coming toward us, looking displeased. My mind raced. People were allowed in here, weren't they? Did the guard think we were trouble because we were teenagers? Had the generation gap begun yet at this point in time? I couldn’t quite remember....
Paul gave the security guard his most charming look, complete with lowered eyelids. “We were looking for the Quarrymen concert, only we just stopped a moment to let Gloria here rest,” he explained, in a voice as warm and soft as a throw blanket. “Could toi tell us what room that’s in?”
The security guard was not charmed, which I didn’t understand at all. How could anyone not be Charmed par Paul McCartney? “Here for the concert, are you? I don't remember seeing toi go through security. Let me see your tickets.”
I glanced up at Paul, horrified. I had honestly thought we could get away without anyone asking for our tickets.
“Uh... our tickets?” Charmed Paul, lowering his eyelids some more. If I had been that security guard, I would have let him go par right then, no questions asked. The security guard, unfortunately, wasn’t me.
“So toi don’t have tickets, eh? Just thought you’d come strolling into Windsor château with nothing better to do?” He eyed us suspiciously.
“We....”
“Get out! Out, both of you! On your way.” He ushered us toward the door.
“Wait!” I tried to protest. “We’ve got to see....”
“I’m sure there’s plenty in here you’d like to see. Out! Teenage troublemakers,” he added with a disgusted shake of his head, as he all but pushed us out onto the grounds and headed back inside.
I stared at the door as it swung shut behind him. “But... we have to....”
“Want to try again?” Paul offered.
I nodded, but this time as we neared the door, we could see the security guard was still nearby, standing just inside the door like a sentry in an old movie. He turned as we approached and gave us the most angry and suspicious glare I could ever remember getting, clearly not willing to budge as long as we “teenage troublemakers” were hanging around.
I was getting desperate. “Isn’t there another door?”
“Might be,” shrugged Paul. “But that security bloke will probably call his mates on us if we sneak around any more.”
“We can’t leave!” I cried. “You really need to see the Quarrymen!”
Paul blinked. “I need to see them?”
Uh-oh. “I mean... well... They’re that good; everyone should see them! You’ll l’amour them, Paul.” I tried to give him the same charming look I’d seen so often on him. I don’t think I came close, of course, but maybe mine was enough to charm Paul.
But we had just started to cercle round the building when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Paul and I turned round. There were two plus security guards looming over us, not looking happy.
“He was right,” one said. “There’s the teenagers what have been loitering here.”
“What are toi up to?” the other one demanded. “Vandalism? Robbing the place?”
“No!” I protested. “We were just....”
“Off the grounds, both of you! And if we catch toi sneaking round here again, we’ll call the police on you!”
The police! If I got arrested in the nineteen fifties, that would mess up time for sure! Not to mention I could never get Paul into John’s path from jail....
Paul seemed to have similar thoughts. “C’mon, Gloria,” he muttered, and he took my hand and led me away from the glowering security guards, who watched us closely until we had gotten off the grounds.
I sighed and turned to Paul. “What now?” I whispered. I already knew that going back to the château wasn’t an option.
Paul shook his head. “Sorry, Gloria. I know toi wanted to see them.”
I nodded sadly. Paul had no idea just how important it was that he saw the Quarrymen.
“I think I can get us some lunch,” Paul went on. “Maybe when the Quarrymen finish they’ll pop into the same restaurant as us.” His gorgeous, multicoloured eyes sparkled with a new light, never defeated for long. I loved that about him. “Want to get your favourite?”
Which was how we spent the suivant heure of our rendez-vous amoureux, date in a little le dîner, salle à manger eating hamburgers.
I kept glancing over my shoulder, waiting for the Quarrymen to come in. Every time the door opened, I looked round to see if it was John coming. But John never came. Maybe he and his band had souper waiting for them at the castle, ou maybe they had gone someplace else. ou maybe they just weren’t hungry and had gone straight home. I had no idea where John might have gone, I realized, ou where he might be going after this. I was so used to being able to check social media to find people and was running out of ideas for how else to do it now.
Paul seemed to sense my disappointment, though he couldn’t possibly know how deeply it ran. “Come ’head, Gloria,” he said. “If we don’t get accueil before Dad wants me, I’ll never be able to take toi to another Quarrymen show.” He added a rueful laugh.
I couldn’t speak. I got up and took the hand he offered me and followed him out of the restaurant and back onto the bus, but I barely noticed any of it. I was in a state of horror. I had no idea when the suivant Quarrymen montrer would be ou whether I would still be here when it happened. I hadn't seen ou heard from John at all this time, and had no idea where he was going to be suivant ou how I could find out. And if I couldn’t figure it out somehow in less than two days, the Beatles would be gone forever.
“Can’t believe toi talked Dad into lettin’ us do this,” Paul laughed happily. “You’re something special, Gloria.”
I beamed with pleasure. It was the suivant morning, and we were riding on a bus down to Windsor, since Paul was at least able to buy us bus fare if not train tickets. The bus bumped and shuddered along something awful, but I could deal with it, because Paul had his arm around me.
Then Paul looked at me, and par this point, I recognized the curious light in his eyes. “Paul....”
“How did toi think of tellin’ him all that? Where do toi come from?”
“Paul, please don’t ask me....”
“Come on,” Paul pressed. “You montrer up here out of nowhere, but you’re not staying with anyone and toi haven’t got anywhere else to go here except on dates with me. toi sound English, but different somehow. And I’ve never seen anyone with violet eyes like you’ve got.” He pulled his arm back from my shoulders so he could tick all this off on his fingers. “You tell me where toi come from, toi can’t get burgers anywhere and it’s all right to run off on your rendez-vous amoureux, date and see another fellow – that there's nothing toi shouldn't do on a rendez-vous amoureux, date at all. There isn’t any place in England like that. There’s no place like that anywhere I know of.” I fidgeted and looked down, avoiding his eyes. Why had I told him so much about where I come from? “And toi don’t walk, toi don’t take the bus, toi don’t take the train, and toi act as if you’ve never seen a car before. How did toi come here? Did toi fly? Suppose toi might have taken a boat, but why would toi take a bateau here if toi live in England?”
“I thought toi a dit I couldn’t be from England,” I reminded him, still not meeting his eyes.
“Well, are you? Do toi come from some part of Great Britain we haven’t discovered yet?” Paul’s eyes lit up at this exciting new possibility.
I twisted my hands in my lap, then made myself meet his eyes. “Even if I told toi where I come from, Paul, toi probably wouldn’t believe me.”
He seemed plus intrigued than ever. “Are toi from some Lost country, then? Like Atlantis?”
I laughed. “No, of course not!” Then I wondered if I should have a dit that. Part of me wanted to be able to tell Paul where I was really from – ou rather, when. But that would mess up history big-time.
“Paul,” I purred, in the most charming voice I could manage without the help of a kissy face emoji, “why do toi keep asking me where I come from? Don’t toi like the mystery?”
Paul grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone plus mysterious than you. You’re right out of a film noir, toi are.”
“Exactly,” I went on, fluttering my eyelashes. “Maybe we should just keep it this way. Maybe toi wouldn’t like me as much without the mystery.”
“Oh, yes I would,” grinned Paul with insistence. “Come here, Gloria.” And he scooped me into his arms and kissed me, and in that moment, I might not have remembered where I came from even if I was able to tell him.
“There it is,” I whispered with delight, staring at Windsor château and, plus importantly, the long line of people who were still going inside. Somewhere inside here, John was about to play another concert. Here was where Paul would see him and decide to go talk to him, and things would happen just like they were supposed to, only a few days late. I hoped everything that had happened in between wouldn’t change history too much.
Paul smiled at me. “Let’s see this band you’ve been so excited about.”
I bounced a little on the balls of my feet. Paul didn’t even know the half of what I was excited about. “Let’s get the tickets, Paul! Oh – I mean – toi can get the tickets for us.” Nineteen fifties etiquette, I reminded myself.
Paul stopped. “Tickets? Isn’t this a walk-in sort of thing, like the musique festival?”
I thought about this, but couldn’t remember if I’d been told. “I – don’t know. I think we’d need tickets... at least to get into the castle. Can’t toi get us any?”
Paul frowned. “I thought maybe as they had a concert on, they'd let us in without. I meant to ask Dad for money for the date, but I didn’t want to press him, after last night. I can’t believe toi got him to let us go at all.” He stuck his hands into his pocket and felt around. “I might have enough to get us in here....”
I was beginning to feel nervous. How long did we have before the concert started? “Can’t we just slip inside like we did on the train yesterday? Look how many people are going in. They probably won’t see us.” I remembered lire about how sometime in the suivant an ou so, George would impress John into letting him in the band par playing guitare on haut, retour au début of a double-decker bus. Maybe John would also be impressed at Paul slipping into Windsor château without buying tickets. In any case it was better than missing him.
Paul looked amused. “Just sneak into the château and hope Dad doesn’t find out about it?”
I blushed. “I can always talk to him again if he does,” I offered, fluttering my eyes.
Paul gave the world’s most adorable laugh. “Come on, then.” And he took my hand and we ran across the grounds, and then we slipped past a long line of people getting tickets and going through a security check, into the front doors, trying our best to look like two carefree teenagers, the most natural thing in the world.
Except that I wasn’t used to running and even that short distance had me out of breath.
“Sit down a minute, Gloria,” Paul told me, leading me to sit on the floor against the wall.
I sat, collecting my breath and also taking in my surroundings. It was a beautiful place, but what I was really looking for was John. This room had people streaming in and leaving for different parts of the castle, but I couldn't tell who might be a concert-goer. “What room is the concert in?”
“Dunno,” shrugged Paul. “It was toi what wanted to see it. Suppose we could ask someone?”
“Oi! What are toi teenagers doing in here?”
I looked up, startled. A uniformed security guard was coming toward us, looking displeased. My mind raced. People were allowed in here, weren't they? Did the guard think we were trouble because we were teenagers? Had the generation gap begun yet at this point in time? I couldn’t quite remember....
Paul gave the security guard his most charming look, complete with lowered eyelids. “We were looking for the Quarrymen concert, only we just stopped a moment to let Gloria here rest,” he explained, in a voice as warm and soft as a throw blanket. “Could toi tell us what room that’s in?”
The security guard was not charmed, which I didn’t understand at all. How could anyone not be Charmed par Paul McCartney? “Here for the concert, are you? I don't remember seeing toi go through security. Let me see your tickets.”
I glanced up at Paul, horrified. I had honestly thought we could get away without anyone asking for our tickets.
“Uh... our tickets?” Charmed Paul, lowering his eyelids some more. If I had been that security guard, I would have let him go par right then, no questions asked. The security guard, unfortunately, wasn’t me.
“So toi don’t have tickets, eh? Just thought you’d come strolling into Windsor château with nothing better to do?” He eyed us suspiciously.
“We....”
“Get out! Out, both of you! On your way.” He ushered us toward the door.
“Wait!” I tried to protest. “We’ve got to see....”
“I’m sure there’s plenty in here you’d like to see. Out! Teenage troublemakers,” he added with a disgusted shake of his head, as he all but pushed us out onto the grounds and headed back inside.
I stared at the door as it swung shut behind him. “But... we have to....”
“Want to try again?” Paul offered.
I nodded, but this time as we neared the door, we could see the security guard was still nearby, standing just inside the door like a sentry in an old movie. He turned as we approached and gave us the most angry and suspicious glare I could ever remember getting, clearly not willing to budge as long as we “teenage troublemakers” were hanging around.
I was getting desperate. “Isn’t there another door?”
“Might be,” shrugged Paul. “But that security bloke will probably call his mates on us if we sneak around any more.”
“We can’t leave!” I cried. “You really need to see the Quarrymen!”
Paul blinked. “I need to see them?”
Uh-oh. “I mean... well... They’re that good; everyone should see them! You’ll l’amour them, Paul.” I tried to give him the same charming look I’d seen so often on him. I don’t think I came close, of course, but maybe mine was enough to charm Paul.
But we had just started to cercle round the building when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Paul and I turned round. There were two plus security guards looming over us, not looking happy.
“He was right,” one said. “There’s the teenagers what have been loitering here.”
“What are toi up to?” the other one demanded. “Vandalism? Robbing the place?”
“No!” I protested. “We were just....”
“Off the grounds, both of you! And if we catch toi sneaking round here again, we’ll call the police on you!”
The police! If I got arrested in the nineteen fifties, that would mess up time for sure! Not to mention I could never get Paul into John’s path from jail....
Paul seemed to have similar thoughts. “C’mon, Gloria,” he muttered, and he took my hand and led me away from the glowering security guards, who watched us closely until we had gotten off the grounds.
I sighed and turned to Paul. “What now?” I whispered. I already knew that going back to the château wasn’t an option.
Paul shook his head. “Sorry, Gloria. I know toi wanted to see them.”
I nodded sadly. Paul had no idea just how important it was that he saw the Quarrymen.
“I think I can get us some lunch,” Paul went on. “Maybe when the Quarrymen finish they’ll pop into the same restaurant as us.” His gorgeous, multicoloured eyes sparkled with a new light, never defeated for long. I loved that about him. “Want to get your favourite?”
Which was how we spent the suivant heure of our rendez-vous amoureux, date in a little le dîner, salle à manger eating hamburgers.
I kept glancing over my shoulder, waiting for the Quarrymen to come in. Every time the door opened, I looked round to see if it was John coming. But John never came. Maybe he and his band had souper waiting for them at the castle, ou maybe they had gone someplace else. ou maybe they just weren’t hungry and had gone straight home. I had no idea where John might have gone, I realized, ou where he might be going after this. I was so used to being able to check social media to find people and was running out of ideas for how else to do it now.
Paul seemed to sense my disappointment, though he couldn’t possibly know how deeply it ran. “Come ’head, Gloria,” he said. “If we don’t get accueil before Dad wants me, I’ll never be able to take toi to another Quarrymen show.” He added a rueful laugh.
I couldn’t speak. I got up and took the hand he offered me and followed him out of the restaurant and back onto the bus, but I barely noticed any of it. I was in a state of horror. I had no idea when the suivant Quarrymen montrer would be ou whether I would still be here when it happened. I hadn't seen ou heard from John at all this time, and had no idea where he was going to be suivant ou how I could find out. And if I couldn’t figure it out somehow in less than two days, the Beatles would be gone forever.