In My Life

I'll be on my way

Paul wasn't exactly sure how long he had spoken to his father, but he knew it was long enough to skyrocket the McCartney's telephone bill, and also long enough to leave his bottom completely numb from sitting on the cold, hard floor. Some time during the conversation, company had showed up in the form of the fat calico cat that frequented their part of the Reeperbahn. Lucy, as John and George had decided to call her, inspired by one of their favourite songs 'Lucille', jumped through the gap in the side of the telephone box where a pane of glass used to be, and lovingly rubbed her body against Paul's legs as if she sensed he needed some affection.

The moment he reached out to scratch her head, she unapologetically climbed onto his lap where she made herself comfortable, purring loudly and blinking slowly at the boy. Though Paul preferred dogs over cats, it comforted him to run his fingers through the beautifully patterned fur. The warm weight of the cat's body, as well as the sound of his father's voice, made him feel calmer than he had in weeks. When the telephone call ended, he gratefully hugged Lucy who stoically allowed him to bury his face into her black, orange, and white coat.

When Paul got up to return to the club, Lucy seemed to decide her job was done, as she gave him one last head bunt before strutting off with her tail held high. Paul watched her until she disappeared around a corner of the deserted street, and then walked in the opposite direction towards the club. He still felt rather miserable, but the unexpected display of camaraderie made him smile through his tears. Somehow, Lucy's presence had soothed him, almost like his mother's hugs had been when he was a little child. The comparison made him feel a bit silly; how could be possibly compare his mother's love to the attention of an alleycat, however comforting that had been? He shrugged the thought off and sauntered back to the Top Ten Club, listening to the echo of his footsteps in the quiet Reeperbahn.

It was early in the afternoon when he snuck into the attic they called home whilst staying in Hamburg. The words 'Please, nobody see me' repeated themselves over and over in his head like a mantra. It almost seemed to work too - almost. The place was eerily silent and seemed to be deserted. But just before Paul could disappear into the safety of the bathroom, George appeared out of nowhere like a Jack-in-the-box, cheerfully shouting, "Ey up, wack! Alright, Paul? Been lookin' fer ye everywhere!". It would have been comical if Paul hadn't been trying to avoid this very situation.

"Well, ye found me, George. Anything I can help you with, mate?" He didn't face his friend, but continued towards his intended goal, where he drew some cold water from the faucet. He was just about to bend over and wash his face when George met his gaze in the mirror. "Jus' wanted to wish you a happy bir-" George's eyes flew wide open at the dishevelled state of Paul's face. "Bloody hell, what's happened to you?" Then, after a slight hesitation, "Have ye been cryin'?"

For a moment, Paul found himself at a loss for words. He obviously couldn't tell George about the things he had discussed with his dad, but he also didn't want his friend to think he'd been weeping for no specific reason, so he searched for a viable excuse that would explain his messed up state. He didn't know for sure if his encounter with Lucy gave him the idea, but before he could stop himself from telling one of the lamest lies he ever came up with he blurted out, "Our moggy died..."

Paul reckoned George knew the McCartneys didn't have a cat, but his expression indicated he didn't. A wave of guilt washed over Paul as he watched the eyes of his band mate mist over. He knew very well that George considered the loss of a pet a perfectly good reason to cry, so his lie solved that problem, but Paul certainly didn't want his friend to get upset over a non-existing moggy. Before he could chastise himself too much, Paul found himself enveloped in a tight hug, which George followed up with the suggestion to go out for a drink or two. So naturally, they spent the rest of the afternoon telling each other stories, and drinking so much they were both utterly kaylied by the time they showed up for that night's performance.