𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧

5 - You Don't Understand Me

28 February, 1961

Paul was probably the only person his age that cared to please his father. Most other people saw the idea of sucking up to your parents as a sort of weakness, something you just didn't do if you wanted to be somebody. Especially if you were an artist, like Paul was. If you were going to go through life continuing to care what your arl fella thought of you, you had no business being a musician, or anything outside of the everyday bloke.

Jim McCartney, once a popular musician himself, had never hesitated to foster a love of music and art in his sons - Paul had warmed especially to the music part - but Jim seen how unpredictable the music industry had become in recent years. In his day, if you could sing with a smile you were all right. The way things were now, though, the only thing that mattered was if you gelled your hair up and pulsed your hips back and forth.

Jim had nothing against Elvis or any of those rock 'n rollers, which was a generous level of indifference for someone of the older generation like himself - but all the same, he didn't want his son getting into that sort of behavior to earn his living.

Jim feared the music industry was beginning to mix too much with celebrity culture; now the idea that a musician and a teen idol could be the same person frightened him a bit too much. Paul could keep up with music if he liked, but Jim wasn't going to let his oldest into the adult world to be someone's idol. If Paul was going to sing, he wasn't going to a single gig without a solid foundation as a day laborer.

Jim Mac was a little late to this, of course - Paul was going on nineteen this year. But he wasn't beyond reformation; he'd slipped away to Hamburg a little too easily last time, and came back looking quite haggard. Something had to change.

Therefore, once Paul's face had regained its color and he'd filled back out (with that sweet Meg always telling him to finish his plate; Jim quite liked Meg, she was always someone he'd been glad his son had met), it was off to the Labor Exchange for Paul. At least for the month, Jim had said.

Soon enough Paul had been placed in an apprentice job at Massey and Coggins, set to become an electrician in only a few years if he worked hard enough at it - a prospect that pleased Jim and bored the shit out of Paul. But despite being boring, the prospect also offered the boy a base level of comfort - this was a steady environment where he knew what to expect each day, where he was promised the same pay every week.

And it made his father happy. Despite the wave of boldness Paul had been riding on when the group left for Germany last year, he couldn't deny the nagging question of dread that had sat in his gut the whole time. The wild life John was eager to jump into was sometimes a little much for Paul, who always thought a bit more level-headed.

To an extent, his father was right. Maybe a life in the music business wasn't for someone like him.

This work wasn't so bad, either. Wind the motor coils, take a break, wash up, have lunch and read the paper, have a cig with some of the others, and wind more coils. It felt like a spoiled thing to do to leave this job and go back to the band. He had no need to change things. If he kept up his work, Massey and Coggins would give him everything he needed - he was a bit afraid of how much he liked that.

This was the way things were going to be for a while, he'd decided to himself. That is, until this morning when he'd got a ring from John, right before he was about to leave, asking him why the fuckin' hell he'd gone and gotten himself a job when they had gigs. Paul had reasoned that work was only during the day, and music was only at night, but that hadn't been enough to reassure John.

This morning he'd given Paul an ultimatum: his job or the group.

So, while Paul was about the only person who still cared to please his father, this time he listened to John, left work for the last time, and made it to the Cavern by noon. John had pretended to be indifferent when he saw Paul walk in, guitar around his neck and a bold grin on his face. He gave a slightly smug nod, I told you so, and carried on with it. And that had been the end of that.