Blackbird, Fly

By Jerri Willmore

For "William"

Disclaimer- this is only a fantasy, and I do not, by all means, think Paul McCartney is dead.

I guess.

It's not my life in those old pictures
Ones you threw away
For I was always someone else
And always far away
I'm walking in the darkest places
Where the mission meets
Waiting for the ground to open up
beneath my feet.
Alone, Big Country

Willie Campbell turned 20 on October 4, 1960. He was a tall, wiry man with dark hair and large hazel eyes. He lived and worked in and inn by the sea in Edinburgh, Scotland, as the lead singer for the house band, known as the Peppers. They were quite good.



His father was a police officer. When Willie was five his father transfered to the Scotland Yard, in London. He took his wife and two children- William and Susan. Five years later he changed jobs again and moved to Toronto, Canada, with his family. Albert (Al) Campbell was promoted to police sargeant.

William hated life in Canada. At 18, he left home and moved back to London. He never saw his father or sister again. He signed on with Scotland Yard as a rookie police officer. The job didn't suit him, so at 19 he moved to Edinburgh, to be with his mum, Stella, who had left his father. She was also very ill, of lung cancer. After her death he moved into a tiny room directly above the bar/dance hall, where he played guitar and sang every night.



One Saturday at 5pm he came down early, to tune his guitar and hammer out some songs. A lone man was sitting at the bar. Will thought he could use a pint himself and sat down beside him, a man a few years older than himself. He liked to make new friends.

After a few minutes silence, the man turned around and looked him over.

"I'm Will," Cambell said. "I am the house singer here."

"I am Will too, William Adamson," said the man. Unlike Willie, he had a very thick brogue. "In fact I saw you sing last night, you are very good. I am more inclined toward folk music.....I almost would like to do it too, but I have a job and family."

"Oh," Willie said.

"Just dropped in off the ship, to have a wee dram. Glad to meet you, William, I may come by to see you again. I live just over the Forth, in Dunfermline."

"Pleased to meet you," said Will.

That wasn't the last time he met Adamson. He bumped into him again, on High Street in Edinburgh. The older man had a tiny boy in his arms.

"Hello, Willie."

"Hello."

"Here is my boy, named William too. Willam Stuart. Say hello to Willie Campbell, rock and roll star, Stu."

"Well hello there," said Willie. He flashed his dimpled grin and leaned in close, looking the toddler straight in the eye. Stu turned bright red and hid his face with his hands. (He was later to become the leader of Big Country.)

"Carry on," said Will laughing. They said thier goodbyes and he headed up the street, whistling a tune.

"When you grow up, don't be like him," Adamson jokingly whispered to his son. "He's a poofter."



William performed in the house band for two more years. He was very talented and had a bubbly personality. When not doing his own contributions, he sang the songs of Buddy Holly, with whom had an obsession since his death. He had the idea of gathering up tapes of his songs, and sending them to a record company. He was better than Dion or Frankie Avalon- he could write too. This might have gone on forever, and who knows, he might have made it big. But something happened.

The hotel was upgrading and getting wealthier clientelle. William did not get free room anymore, though he remained in the band. In order to support himself, he'd have to get a day job. So he found himself on the dockside of Edinburgh, as part of the maintenence crew.

One day, he was walking down one end of the dock to the other, whistling to himself. A gigantic box hoisted onto the ship loomed above him, swinging like a metronome.

Suddenly, the cable holding it broke, and it came flying through the air in a slant. Look out, Willie! someone screamed.

He never remembered after what came after "look out, Willie." What happened is that he dived to avoid it and it almost missed him, but the corner cought him on the left cheekbone. He spun 'round, almost breaking his neck; he hit the concrete on his face. His ribs were broken too. The pain caused him to black out.

The worst of it came in the hospital after they took the bandages off. He looked at his face with disbelief.

His left cheekbone had been practically destroyed; it caved into his face. He knew that getting the money to fix it would be impossible. The National Health Service might come to his aid; but that would take months, even years.

He no longer lived in the hotel. He took a room in a boarding house, living off disability and trying to keep his thoughts off of suicide. Another hope he had was that a record company would learb of how talented he was, and pay for the cosmetic surgery. He sent several companies demo tapes of what he'd done before. It was a foolish hope, but it kept him alive.

1964 dawned, showing him to be a different man. He'd grown a beard because of the injury, but as the cave-in in his face went further up, he still thought he looked like a freak. So it was shaved off, leaving a mustache. He had begun to wear glasses too, which he hadn't before because of vanity. He rarely left the room except after dark, relying on his landlord to bring up his groceries.

One evening in early 1964, he sat propped up in bed, watching television. Wearily he switched from station to station. Just by chance, he cought Ed Sullivan.

The group on had the strangest haircuts he'd ever seen. He thought the name pretty silly, too. Still, something about the song, "I Wanna Hold Your Hand," got deep under his skin. It put him in a better mood than he'd had in years.

Turning off the television set, he got under the covers and slipped into sleep.

I like the one with the childlike face. Don't know why. It could be m-



William sat alone in his room in November 1966. Four years had gone by since his accident,and nothing had changed. He'd written many letters to various record companies, along with tapes of his songs, hoping they would pay for his plastic surgery. It had all been for nothing. His sole solice was the TV, borrowed from his landlady (television sets were expensive in those days,) and his favorite show was on. It was "The Monkees"

He heard a knock at the door. His landlady, with mail. "Stick it under the door," he said, not wanting to be deterred from the program.

Much later, he picked up the letter, yawning. The return address was from the English government. He couldn't believe what he saw.

He'd been approved for plastic surgery.

The next day, he ventured downstairs, on the way to the train which would carry him to London. He gave his landlady, Nina, a peck on the cheek. They had become very close.

"I'll be calling you," he said. Then he slung his knapsack over his shoulder, and was out of her life forever.



Walking through the streets of Edinburgh that morning on the way to the train station, he composed a song in his head about how this was the last time. That people turned away from him whenever he passed. This was the reason why, untill now, he never went outside except after dark.

In London, they set work on rebuilding his face. First, his shattered cheekbone was filled in with a titanium plate. Before they conducted the surgury, he was given an extensive legal document to fill out, and sign. He thought he had a clue what that was about. My name is Bond, James Bond.

Then his jawbone was operated on. They replaced the left one with a plate made out of titanium.

"You will have to undergo more surgery," the doctor told him. "Plastic surgery."

"Why?" he asked.

"Something very special is planned for you. I cannot say more."

William sat there silently thinking to himself after the doctor left.

He was going to be a spy! He didn't know what else it could be. In all those endless hours watching TV- his sole solace- spy programs had been his favorite. He only hoped that he would be allowed to sing. "The singing spy-" he thought that would make a great TV program in itself.

When, a week later, he was told someone "important" was there to see him, he was almost unbearably excited. The other surgeries had been done and the bandages had come off. His nose had been worked on, making it rounder. His mouth had lost some of his wideness too, and on the whole, his features were a bit too "feminine" for his liking. He wondered why.

He walked into the room which contained only a table and two chairs. The rather fleshy-faced, thirtyish man motioned for him to sit down.

"Make yourself comfortable, William. Shall I call you Bill?

"Call me Will, thank you. I'm a Scot."

"You don't sound like one."

"I spent some time in London, and Canada, thanks. But I'm Scottish to the core."

"I see." The older man nodded thoughtfully. "You know I saw you in concert 6 years ago in Edinburgh. I recall being deeply moved by your songs. I was just on the verge of signing you, but for some reason I didn't."

"Signing me?"

"Yes."

"I wish you had. Then I'd have missed a blind date with that package."

"Yes, I know. Mind if I smoke?"

"Surely."

William crossed his legs. "So, you're from the government, eh?"

"The government?

"I imagine you are thinking of taking me on as a secret agent. That's what it's all about, eh?"

Brian sighed.

"No."

"No?"

"William. Have you ever heard of The Beatles?"

"Of course."

"I happen to be thier manager."

"Oh. Said William flatly. "That's very nice.

There was a long pause, in which William could hear nothing but the soft sighing of the air conditioners.

Then Brian Epstien said, "Paul is dead."

"You mean one of the Beatles? Which one?"

He sighed. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

Brian took out a photograph from his wallet, and showed it to William. William was struck by the look of innocence on the late man's face.

"That's very sad. How did that happen?

"He had a moped crash." he sighed deeply.

"He was riding with a friend late at night, drunk. He was on the way to his aunt's house. He'd already been in an accident of that sort, much less serious. He'd hit his face, oddly not unlike your accident, William......(William nodded.) I wish he only were more careful. He rounded a corner and a automobile hit him head-on. He was thrown clear and cracked his skull on the pavement. There was blood everywhere. He had a friend with him; the friend carried him to his brother's house. They were in such a state of shock they did not tell the authorities. His father does not know either. They have a nice little girl....it was a mess."

"So why is it I did not hear of it? I was in surgery, I guess.....

"I suppose you are wondering why you were in surgery?"

William felt sick.

"It isn't to look like him, is it? Though come to think of it, I don't....."

Yes it is." Brian sighed and shifted his feet. "At least for a while. We don't quite know how to break the news without causing a riot. We need someone to impersonate him, at least for a while....

William was staggered. He'd had very little, if any, interest in Paul McCartney. Now he was being asked to become him!

"Do I have to say yes?"

"Before you say no, I'll remind you of this, William. You signed your life away to the British Crown. It was the government which paid for your surgery. Even the Queen is involved."

"Oh, my god."

And if you say no, you'll have your face cut off.

"My answer is aye," he said quietly. For now."

There was a long pause.

"I take that you mean yes."

"I mean yes, indeed."

There was another long silence. William broke it by asking, "Can you tell me where he is buried?"

"Paul is buried on a farm in Scotland he bought shortly before his death. Near the village of Campbeltown."

He thought he'd had enough shocks."Campbeltown???"

"Yes, Campbeltown." Brian looked him over thoughtfully. "I've been thinking. You look like him, you sound like him, and I've been thinking....which hand do you favor?"

"My right hand. But I'm pretty ambidextrous."

"We'll work on that. At any rate, you should know this.....you will possibly will be inheriting the farm that Paul owned, the body is buried there. We would prefer you not to move it."

"I- I would be utterly careful to treat it with the utmost respect, sir," William stuttered." "That's very good news." Brian had appeared to relax a little. "That was enough for now. In a few days, I'll send my people round, to pick you up."

As he watched Brian exit the room, William suddenly thought of his father. Disraught over not hearing from his children anymore- and still living in Canada- he had, some years before, committed suicide.



William was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He'd had to wait untill the swelling went down. He was given a small studio apartment in Mayfair to live in; it overlooked a pub. It was frunished very sparsely, and William felt lonely in it. It was almost like his old days in Edinburgh. When he gazed out the window, he could view one or two men standing in the street corner. He knew why they were there. They never went away.
,br>Then one evening, he heard a knock at the door. Opening it, he saw that it was Brian.

"hello, he said nerviously.

"so sorry to pop in on you like this," Brian said. "I've brought you a bottle of wine, as I think you would need it."

It was the moment William had always been anticipating. And dreading.

Brian and three other men filed into the room. Willaim pulled up a chair as the others sank down into the long, brown couch. No one said anything.

The other three men were the Beatles, of course. William found that two of them were unchanged; but John had on glasses and his hair was shorter.

Brian opened the bottle of wine. William would have gotten up to get some glasses; but his knees were two wobbly.

"So, how do you feel about this?" The voice came from John. Willie turned to look at him. He noticed how pale and pckmarked his face was; also how strained it looked.

William sighed. I don't know if I am happy with this. But I was bought by the British Government."

"And I thought he came to us willingly. Brian."

"Now you know," said Brian. "I have never promised you anything."

"I came willingly," said William."

"Sure," said John.

"Just one thing," he asked. "Will I be allowed to write my own songs?"

Without missing a beat, John look wryly across his glasses and affirmed, "As long as your songs pass muster with George Martin, our producer, that's what we'd want, what everybody'd want. If you're going to be a Beatle, you've got to be a Beatle all the way then! Isn't that right, Ringo, George? But, go easy..... At first, let us handle all that, till you get the swing of being Fab, you know." John twinkled, smiled.



George nodded benignly, seeming a little confused; Ringo was very supportive at the notion.......



The next couple of weeks passed by in a blur for poor Willie, who felt as though he was living in a dream. His flat had several visitors. One was a voice coach; the other taught William how to play the bass guitar. Once "Eppie," (as he prefered to be called,) came over; in his hand was Paul's Hoffner violin bass. William stared at it in awe.

"I only want you to look at it, William," Brian said.

"Then why on earth did you bring it here," Willie said annoyed.

"I don't know," said Brian.

"Can I touch it at least?"

Deep down, he was afraid to.

Brian paused before answering

"Yes."


Another person who frequently came to William's flat was John Lennon. At first William was afraid of him; but the two men gradually hit it off. They finally went down to the pub below the tiny apartment at times.

It was quiet there, in a room in the back they had to themselves. They spent many hours talking about Paul, and life, and getting to know each other.

Probably, Willie thought, because they were both Libras.



Then came the time, after midnight, when he was startle4d awake, He heard an insistant knocking on his door.

Shivering in his robe, he turned the knob. Before him was a man he'd never seen before.

"Don't bother dressing," he was told. "you won't need to,"

So thus, wearing only a robe, Willam followed him to the car, It was cold, but he dared not complain.

After a 15 minute drive, they approached a large house,The tall, metal fence opened by himself. The man let William out, not holding onto his arm (he didn't need to,) and opened the house door, Inside it was pitch black. William didn't ask whose house it was. He thought he could guess.

"Go upstairs, Willie," the man said, "The bedroom is the fourth door on the left. Finish your sleep."

Slowly, William walked up the long set of stairs to the bedroom. Not his bedroom. Passing through the bedroom door, he felt his way to the bed without turning on the light. Falling onto thick blankets and a coverlet, he wormed his way inside and then was dead to the world.

He awakened after noon. Rolling over he felt the form of a dog next to him.

A sheepdog.

What the hell. He put his arms around her and drifted off the sleep again. There in Paul's bed, he'd had one of the most restful nights of his life.

William. You are not to let anyone in. If anyone calls, tell them that youre sick. They don't know that it's you. Willie put down the note he found on top of the overstuffed horsehair couch, sighing. He decided to have a cup of tea before exploring the house. The decor definately wasn't to his taste.

As the teakettle was boiling, he heard a noise. A buzzer intercom. He said into it, "Please go away. I'm sick."

"Can little Willie come out to play?"

It was John.

?"Come in, said William,

"So how was your first night here, Wilfred? Were you able to sleep?

"Like a baby, yes. I was surprised. The dog...was it his?"

"Of course it was his dog. Martha. He'd just bought her."

" "She acted like she was my dog. Strange."

"That so? I didn't want to tell you. Actually, it isn't Martha. She was given away, and replaced with a lookalike. With sheepdogs, that isn't hard to do."

William threw back his head and laughed, for the first time in ages.

"Let's change the subject Willie, talk about music. Do you have any ideas for a song?

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Throw it at me."

"I have a nickname for my.... you know.....I call it my badfinger."

"And....?"I just thought of a song where I sang it was the only part of me that was still me. Not him. Me. "What do you see when you turn off the light....I can't tell you but I know it's mine," he sang.

"Good start. You have a name for it? "Badfinger Boogie, yes."

"Can't come up with a better title?"

He did. The song became, of course, "With a Little Help From My Friends."

As John and William sat exchanging stories and sipping tea, there came a buzz at the intercom. Will answered it. "Paul, let me in---it's fine mate. It's just your butler!", the voice was warm and British.

"What in the h---"

John was grinning. "Oh, let him in. That's just Mal! Come on, you'll be seeing a lot of Mal for a long time."

"What is a "Mal?", Bill raising a eyebrow.....John was up and heading for the door.

"Say, that expression you just made--very Paul! That shows quite some instinct! You've been studying the pictures they brought over.", John undid the latch and the chain, opened the outside door, to allow a tall, burly man with arms filled with grocery bags stepped into the kitchen. He was robust in form but genteel in demeanor.

"Hello!" "Allo!' "'Ello!' the three exchanged greetings as he set an armful of stuffed grocery bags on the countertop.

John made the introduction, "Paul, say hello to Mal Evans, the Beatle's own friendly executioner!"

William braced. John:"Relax! No, really, Mal's a sweetheart, he's been with us since Hamburg, he does it all. Part road manager, part body guard, part business adviser. Part musician at times. So versatle he's scary! And the best part: He knew Paul backwards and forwards...."

William took it in, and after a moment smiled, and said, "Yes, yes, good to meet you Mal. Why, you've brought us some vittles for the lunchtime! Thank you!"

"Mal's a great chef, too." John was pleased to have this meeting over a mid day meal. He hadn't been eating; ihis apetite had been seriously affected by Paul's death. Somehow, sitting here in Paul's kitchen, with the man who might make Paul live again, and make the Beatles go on living, was the first moment, without the shadow of grief, that John had enjoyed in weeks.

"Mal, I don't care what you fix for supper. William, I'm happy enough at this moment to enjoy eatin' a bloomin' Shepherd's Pie!"

"Is that what all the doctor's had in mind, cuttin' on me so much lately? I mean, talk about a "carvin' knife"? Last operation I told them to gimme a spoon and I'll slag down me leftovers....." What little Willie had in the way of a brogue came out then.

"I think this is al going to work out so well, William. I am VERY happy." John had kept a serious face most of his life. But, the grin that came naturally to his face that day was beautiful indeed.



For the next week or so, Willie saw no one. He spent his time watching TV and reading. The silence was starting to feel eerie.

Then one day a note came along with the milk. It was actually just the daily newspaper, with a message scribbled on it.

"Billy-let's see what you can do.
Open the newspaper with your eyes closed
and write a song about the first article you see. Don't cheat.
I'll be by in a couple days to hear how it goes.
John

William had always loathed being called "Bill" or Billy;" but he took the newspaper in and decided to try it out anyway.Is that the best you can do these days?" asked John, rather rudelyhe.

William had read an article in the paper about runaways, and that had inspired him to write his song, "She's leaving Home."

"Daddy, our baby's gone?" said John, tauntingly.

"I do the best I can with what I've got," said Willie. He sighed.

"Would you like me to change it?" "only if you want to, Willie, said John. "Tell me, how have you been otherwise?" "I stepped outside last night to get some air. A wee girl, ten or so, was standing across the road. she called out "Oh, Paul, is it you?" amd I completely lost it. I screamed at her to get away and she ran. I thought I heard her crying. I thought to myself, "did I do that?"

IF I were you I'd keep episodes like that to a minimum, William."

"What's happened to your voice, Paul?"

George Martin and Willie sat at a piano at Abbey Road studios, hammering out an actual McCarney song, "When I'm 64." He had not yet summoned the nerve to sing songs he;d written himself.

"It's more nasal, that's all."

"It;s nothing."

"Could it bethe cocaine? John told me you had tried it."

N-yes, yes." l's

The first night he'd walked up to Abbey Road from Paul's house, he'd been stopped on the street. To his fear, it was a reporter.

"Will the Beatles ever tour again?" he was asked.

"No, said Willaim softlu, scratching his chin and nervously ducking to hide his face.

Then Willam got a call at home. From Brian. "Are you happy in the house, or would you like some changes made?

"I thought you'd never ask. There's a shower in the bathroom. Why?"

"Paul hated to take baths."

"Well I don't, I would like to have a bath put in. And- could you make it double size? "I'll see what I can do. Anything else?

"I would like a small building built aout back."

What for?"

A wee place for myself- like a clubhouse I had as a kid. This isn't my home, after all."

Over the next few days, workers came to the house to install the new tub. Then, under Brian's orders, they went into the back yard, to work on a dome-like structure. When William saw the building materials, he was appalled. This was a perfect metaphor for his life.

It was made of glass.



Despite John's obvious brotherly affection for William, the two rarely sociallized while they were around other people. No one as yet saw anything unusual in this. But one thing that brought him and John closer together was an incident at Abbey Road studios.

"Willie, come here," John whispered. Willie could hear him clear across the room. So could George Martin.

"What is wrong?" asked William, after he'd walked over.

"I need to leave, to lie down. At your house, Paul."

"I just overheard you call Paul Willie," said Martin, bewildered.

"Oh, that's been his nickname lately." John looked dowm at his trouser fly.

William led John to the car. "What's wrong?"

"I was given something that I thought was an upper, turned out to be acid instead. It is way too much, even for me."

"Oh."

"Willie, would you try it? I need the company."

"Just a little, I suppose."

"That's good," said John.

They sat on the floor in cross-legged position, in Lennon's living room. Cynthia and Julian were asleep. "I know man," said Willie, as stoned as John. "I know," said John.

They forgot whatever it was they "knew" later, almost immediately.

Now Willie stood at the stoop of the house of Paul's father. He'd come up to Liverpool earlier; slept in the guest bedroom.

Beside him stood Mike McGear. Mike drew on a smoke and exhaled it.

In the nerveous silence, Willie turned to him. "You never told me, man, what you feel about this."

Mike sighed.

"I don't like it one bit. I want my brother to be alive. I will not see you as my brother, of course, but I am offering you my friendship."

William sighed too, deeply relieved.

"I wonder how it is the old man does not know I am really Paul."

"Keep it down."

"Isn't everyone in the front of the house?"

"The little girl, Ruth. Your stepdaughter. She's everywhere."

"Yeah, I feel uneasy with that little girl. The way she looks at me. As though she knows."

"Would you consider not being quite so polite to her? The real Paul wasn't."

"Well, I never."



On the way back from Liverpool on the train, Willie composed a new song in his head. It was about the street Penny Lane. He'd fallen in love with the place.

"It certainly has promise," said John. Now I want to tell you something about Mal. He has an idea for a song, would like to share it with you."

"Sure," said William.

Willie and Mal sat at Paul's piano, in the music room at the top of Paul's house.

"Sargeant Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band? That's the idea you have, for the title of a song?"

What do you think of it, Mal?."

"Sounds corny to me," said Mal.

"Sargeant Pepper," he continued slowly, means the devil."

Oh............ Willie looked at Mal nervously.

"Let's just concentrate on the song," he said.


(of course William had once fronted a band called The Peppers, and that is why he came up with the title.)

In William's glass sanctuary behind Paul's house, the Beatles sat, drawing on joints and talking.
"you know William," John said, we'v been thinking of taking a stab at making another movie."

"How nice," Willie said.

"Don't you realize, because of your work with us you will decide what it would be about?"

Willie was tongue tied.

"What is your greatest desire, Wilfred?" said John. It can be based on that."

"True love, or...to meet the real James Paul McCartney."

"Look in the mirror," said John sarcasticly.

"I canna see him even as I sleep. It's not funny."

"What other ideas do you have?

"How about a cartoon about Rupert Bear? I loved the cartoon comic strip."

"We can do a cartoon later. What is your favorite book, William?"

"Lord of the Rings."

"No way wer'e doing a movie based on that," George muttered.

"I'd like to play Frodo," said William.

"Why, is it because you've got the cuteness?" scoffed John.

"No, it's because he carries a burden," William said.

"You're gonna carry that weight a long time," joked John. "Who am I to be?"

"Gollum," said William, laughing.

"What about me," asked George. "Gandalf?"

"yes, said William.

"You are not aware that I am the perfect Gandalf," said John.

"Ringo should be Sam," Willie said, "as he is the only one here to keep his mouth shut." They all laughed.

"Brian told me," John then continued, "He arranged a special trip for you. A chartered plane, anywhere you want to go."

"Is that so?"

"You are departing after the album is done. Better make up your mind, Willie." "Jamaica" No. San Francisco." "Is that so," John said softly. He looked to know more than he was telling.

"I'll put in a call to M. Tolkien," John also said.



Shortly thereafter, he actually aquired some experience with acting, in the video, "Strawberry Fields Forever." William was also let off of his tight noose and allowed to attend parties, or have people over at "his" house. He met a young model who had been friends with the old Paul, Maggie, and they started dating. It had little potential on his part as he was still supposed to be with Jane (he wondered what happened to her,) and of course she had no way of knowing who he was.

Events flew by him. The next thing he knew, he was attending the party after completing "Day in The Life," (which was about the man who'd cradled Paul after his moped accident- he was now dead from an accident himself!) John playfully threw his arm around William's shoulder and said the party was to celebrate his birthday, though it was really in October. John had made a mistake about his birth date, and was too stoned to remember he wasn't supposed to be Paul. The viewer of this scene was one of the Monkees, who later wrote it into a song.



William walked into Brian Epstein's office. The next day would be the Seargeant Pepper shoot; the day after that he would board for his long-anticipated flight to California.

"You are looking good these days," Brian said.

"Thank you.

"William," Brian said, there is someone you will need to meet in San Francisco."

"Who?"

"Jane Asher," Brian said.

"Jane?" asked William. "I'd always wondered what had become of her."

"She is supposed to be on tour. That is a lie, of course. She has been recovering. We have been writing each other back and forth over the last 6 months. She finally is in such a state that she would be able to see you. It would be difficult for her, I know."

"And how."

I've sent her an extremely detailed report concerning your life story. A hundred pages worth. I daresay she knows you better than you know yourself. She seems, I daresay, to wantto go on with the facade of being your girlfriend."

William shivered. "I don't want a fake relationship," he said.

"You can discuss that with her" Brian leaned forward conspiratorily. "She has asked me to pass on just one request to you." "What?"

"Shave your mustache off."

Shave your mustache off. Those words rang in Wiliam's head as he stood before the mirror. His hand shook a bit as he slowly applied shaving cream to his face.

After his mustache was removed, he gazed into the mirror sadly.

"Hello, William," he said.

He didn't see Paul at all.



The plane William was on slowly came to a stop at San Francisco airport. As he went down the stairs, he looked out with some uneasiness. Was jane waiting for him? And if so, what would she want with him anyway?

This was his first trip outside of England in decades. However, to cover up Paul's death he was supposed to be "officially" touring in Europe and in Kenya, Africa. So an actor who looked like Paul- and William himself- was photographed there with Mal Evans, and the pictures had been released around the world.

"Hey, Paul!"

Wearing his sunglasses, he didn't expect to be recognized except by the person who was to pick him up. It turned out to be a man.

"I'm Paul Kantner," the man said, pumping William's hand when he came up to meet him. "Didn't you recognize me?"

"I know I should have," said William.

"I have the right person, don't I?"

"No," William slipped, "Oh, yes, yes."

"Well let's go, said Kantner, looking at him strangely. "we wouldn't want want Grace to be disappointed."

"You mean Grace Slick, right?

"Where have you been, Paul?



William stayed the next few days at the house occuppied by The Jefferson Airplane. He wasn't very comfortable, but the others seemed to welcome him with open arms. Often he wandered the streets of San Francisco with one member of the band or another.

Paul Kantner took him aoside after five days after they'd eaten in the main dining area. "Jane called about you," he said.

Willie tried to conceal the surprise on his face. "You mean my girlfriend, right?"

"Who else?" She has saoid she is staying at the Phoenix inn here, it appears that you have made plans to join her there. Doone ran't you remember?"

"Of course," William said. He was such a good actor.

The phone rang for "Paul" the following day. Jorma, who was a member of the group, handed it to him without comment and left the room.

"Willie," said a high-pitched, breathy voice on the f courxse line.

"Uh, Jane, is it you?"

"None other. Yo ou feel ready to meet me?"I suppose I have to "Of course," he said.

"I'm coming over. I would like you to act as naturally as possible."

"I'm looking forward to it. "

"So am I," she said. Then she hung up.


Willie looked down at Jane later that day, as she stood in the doorway. She had a curious extression on her face; as though she were a butterfly collector who had just cought a rare and unusual specimen.

"let's gom" she said simply.

Her gaze traved across his face again, as though she could not believe what she was seeing.
"You will dirve?" he asked.

"Didn't you rent a car?" asked she.

"No"

In silence they drove. They pulled into the driveway of The Phoenix hotel; William was surprised that she had not sgtopped along the way to get them something to eat or drink.

His heart was pounding as she opened the doror to let them in.I can handle this.


"WSould you like a drink?" she asked him, finally.

"Yes, thank you," he saide."

They sat sipping thier drinks silently, for some munutes. Finally, Jane looked over at William.

"I need to know from the start, he said. "What do you want with me?"

"I don't know how to tell you this," said Jane. "but first let me give you some background history. Right before Paul had his
"Oh, I'm sorry," William breathed.

"I've been recovering here. I was in a hospital untill recently. I was going to arrange that I'd broken up with you- him- and had moved to the states. But Brian sent me your detailed life history. along with some photographs. I must say, William, that I know you better than you know yourself."

She paused, to refill her glass.

"So I must say, I like you William. I like you a lot. I am illing to go along with this, for the time being."

"You mean being in a false relationship."

"That may be so, but I say we should get to know each other thoroughtly, and find out what happens."

He said nothoing.

"William, do you like me?

She got up and crouched down in front of him, her eyes studying his face again. He found ht could not brethe.

"I must say one thing," said he, "if you htink I'm beaurtiful, it's because of the plastic sergury."

She looked directly into his eyes. She murmured, "Oh, it's not your outward beauty I'm thinking about."

She kissed him; very quickly, but they both could fieel the spark between them.

"Do you want us to go to bed?" he blurted.

"No, she said,d rawing away from him; "Let's see what is on TV."Batman."



Willie and Jane stood in Union Square holding hands; Willie's was sweaty. He looked over and noticed the sunglasses she was wearing; they were round and covered the entire upper half of her face, almost like two insect eyes. "Where did you get them," he asked suddenly.

"I don't remember," she said, "but don't you have a pair yourself? You should put them on." "I left them back at the place," he said.

Willie and Jane had spent the last week in the hotel room, working on getting to know each other better. They seldom left the place; when they did they felt uneasy.

"You know what?" he said to her suddenly.

"What?" she said.

I've been walking the streets with my sunglasses off and I wasn't mobbed by fans. I was in the Haight with the Airplane bass player and I wasn't bothered. As though people know I am not......

"Hush," Jane said.

They sat on the couch sharing a big jug of wine that night. She sat a little away from him, her shoulders hunched slightly, as though she were afraid of him touching her.

"Remember what I told you about Paul and I breaking up? About how we had a quarrel over the phone and he went up to Liverpool with Tara Browne and got killed?"

"Yeah."

He'd bought two houses for us, one in Scotland. I wouldn't have left him but for a very important reason, we both know what it was."

"What was it?"

Suddenly she had tears on her face. Without another word, she got up and went into the bedroom.

William followed her, carrying a napkin. Normally he wouldn't have; but they'd gotten too familiar with each other.

She took the napkin from him and blew her nose. "Hey, she said, "How do you feel?"

He couldn't answer. His face was flushed, except for a few white places. The same expression was on hers.

"You feel it," she said, "don't you?"

"Yes," he whispered, "yes."

She drew im to her. "Kiss, me, oh my God." He did so, wrapping his arms around her, they went under the covers.......

William and Jane stood together as they waited for his plane to arrive. They sais little; but Jane had his hadn in hers and continually twisted and squeezed it.

"I am coming to London soon," she said quietly. "I need to get my affairs in order."

He'd awakened on the couch that morning, nude under blankets. In his mind, peicing the night before together was difficult. But they had a friendly conversation when she awakened= over delivered chinese, thier breakfast= saying little about the night before.

"It's time," said Jane suddenly. His plane had arrived.

He stooped and pecked her on the cheek, then was gone.

In his pocket was Jane's sunglasses, he'd asked them to hold them for her. He'd forgotten to return them.



"Paul? Would you mind turning this way, please?"

He turned to look at the photographer, a girl. She had blonde hair, and stood there rewinding her camera, after taking some shots of Willie and the other Beatles.

"You spoiled my last shot," she said. "You were looking somewhere else."

"I'm very sorry," he said.

"Now would you mind all joining your hands together and shaking them, as though you were signing a business deal?" She's pushy, that one. They did just that.

"That's fine," she said.

After the session William went away by himself to smoke a cigarette. Sitting alone in a chair of the lobby where the photograph was taken, he was surprised to see the lady photographer at his feet.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello," said he.

"I want to apologize for what I said earlier," she said. "Actually," she continued, I think the early shot was the best one, come to think of it. You looked...kind of lost. I think I will keep it."

"Thank you," said William.

"Would you be interested in using me later?" she asked, cocking her head and leaning forward.

"I don't know," he said. "I'll have to ask John."

Later he turned to John and said:

"Do you remember that blonde woman who took pictures of us? She asked me if we would like to use her again. I told her that I would ask you."

"Her? That Linda? I don't think so."

"Why? Because she's bossy?"

"That, and because she had the temerity to come on to me. She knew about....Cynthia."

"Oh. Is she a groupie, I take it?"

"Yes, and I would leave her alone, William. She's a predator, that one."

"Oh, said Willie, flushing slightly, "She has nothing to worry about. I'm taken."

"I see," said John, looking as though he was afraid to inquire further.

It was a week later, however, that Willie met Linda again. It was in a club called "The Bag Of Nails." He'd gone there by himself; he sat alone, and saw across the room Linda standing with a group of people.

Suddenly she looked over at him, and looked him straight in the eyes. Yes, thier eyes met across a crowded room. She had a strange look on her face; lonely, yearning and hungry. He'd seen it in his own often enough, when he looked in the mirror.

And so, he waved her over. Might as well be nice.

"Hi," he said, "Is it Leslie? Linda?"

"Linda," she said. "I couldn't help but notice how beautiful you look."

Then she.said, "I didn't know you were prone to blushing, either."

"Er-" he said to cover up his discomfort-"What do you say, I'll take you away from all this. My friends and I are going to another club."

For he'd just noticed that Mal Evens and Neil Aspinal had quietly joined him.

"Sure," she said. The other two men simply nodded

The four of them hailed a taxi, and went to the other club. When they were there, Willie and Linda said little to each other. He accompanied her in the taxi back to her hotel; but didn't so much as kiss her on the cheek.

He was still thinking about Jane.



William turned over in bed. He fully expected to find the dog lying on the other side; she often slept under his arm; instead of that it was a woman with long hair. As he draped himself around her and fell into a deep contented sleep, he remembered the moments leading up to this....

He didn't want John to know yet what had occured between himself and Jane. He wondered whether John wouldbelieve it for one thing. He hardly believed it himself. Nonetheless, he almost mentioned it to J ohn when they were having joints together uup in the "music room" of what was now his house.

Willie, I've gotten this report on you." John said, after he'd taken a draw. "it says you are not very polite to your fans. Please tell me why is that."

"Ah, but they do indeed see something special in you too," John said. "You underestimate yourself. They look at you and see something special."

"Yeah, right," said William.

And then he saw Jane again standing on his doorstep the following day. He'd remembered what John had said about them seeing something in him, something unique, and Jane's eyes showed something too.

"I have been waiting for you," said he. "Come in, you look nice by the way."

She sighed. "I've been in Denver to see some friends of mine." She stepped in to look around. "Looks the same. I am so surprised."

She set down her purse and inhaled deeply.

"It stinks," she said, giggling a little.

"I know. Martha isn't housebroken."

"Is that so, didn't look like it when both Paul and myself picked her out. We were sure it was taken care of."

"It was a different dog, Jane. Of course."

"She was replaced then," said Jane in a flat, hard voice.

"Of course." 'What are you going to do?" Willie said, changing the subject.'Are you staying here?"

"Yes," she said quetly.

And so it was.

She looked him in the eyes and he knew that she felt the same way about thier relation ship thathe did. Everything was going tobe all right.

"look at that," William said a couple of days later. He and Jane were on a long country road. Before them in the distance a light shone; A house window.

"I don't know what you mean," Jane said. Half asleep, she stirred in her seat, then gazed ahead.

"It's the farmhouse, isn't it? You didin't expect it to be lit?"
"No, he said, "I did not."

"I put in a call to the caretaker next door," she said.

"I know, he sighed. "I know."

She smiled.

Later that night, in the dark, he awakened with his arm around her. He felt as always, that it had only been a dream; that he would awaken with his arm around the dog instead. He couldn't understand what she saw in him, and never could.

They were good company together. They talked for hours, quietly; they discussed almost everything, William's girlfriend Maggie and the girl he'd met in the club excepted. Thier lovemaking was satisfactory also, though Jane was often the aggressor. He felt he was a little too tentative toward her, not knowing why. Sometimes he would see what almost looked like awe in her eyes. He never asked why. Once she'd asked him who his woman had been before her; he had told her of his former girlfriend Marie in Scotland, leaving out the others. It was one of the few times he wasn't honest.

Once, Jane told him of a dream she had been having repoeatedly.he was a witness to her lover's accident, soring high abouve him as he and Tara sped down the deserted Liverpool road. She wouwould watch him turn his moped ,go around the corner and run into the car head-on. She would feel nothing untill she awakened.Sometimes she would be in tears as she recounted this.

One afternoon, John, in his car with Cynthia, passed Jane and William standing in the dooway of thyier house. They were kissing, laughing quietly and whispering together.

"Oh, my God", John said in shock.

"What was it?" Cynthia asked.

"It's nothing," said John. "Nothing..."



John was at a party in William's house a week later. He noticed that she was sitting in his lap, as she had sat in Paul's lap years before. His arms were wrapped tightly around her. Afterwards, when she had gone up to bed and the other guests had left, John and Willie sat before the fireplace, rolling joints and smoking them. Neither spoke for a while.

Finally John let out a sigh. "You and Jane.

"I know."

"You were not even to cross paths with her. She was to remain in America indefinately. I know it is none of my business, but waht is between you?"

"I know."

"So how is it that you got together?"

"You may not know this, but she and Paul had all but split up when he died. But she was still devastated by his death. While she was in the States Brian sent her photographs of me and my detailed biography. She was attracted to me, God knows why. She came to San Francisco, we met, and.....

"And she is not simply looking for Paul in you?"

"No! Of course not. I am nothing like Paul, actually."

"I've noticed."

"I believe I'm going to ask her to marru me, if things stay as good as they are. I'll buy her a ring for Christmas as a surprise. An emerald ring..."

"Don'r rush into any decisions, Willie. She and Paul fought like cats and dogs."

'I'm not Paul." "Obviously." He looked as though he was about to say something, but didn't.

"And....?"

"How would the two of you like to go to India?"



William and Jane sat on the couch, her head in his lap. The TV had just started transmitting its test pattern, and Jane yawned.

"How would you like to go to India?" he said.

"Planning a trip there?" she asked.

"yes. We all are. John told me we could all use a vacation."

"I would love it. You know William- I've been thinking. It was when I first saw your photo that I decided I wanted to meet you. I was struck by how lovely you looked. You still look nice now, but don't know....something is missing."

"It's my nose, isn't it. It fitted my face a lot more before the surgery. I hate my nose job."

"I do too."

"I've been thinking- what if I staged my death and had my nose built up again? Then I could be a busker or even start a band of my own- no one would know it's me. I would like you to be in it too, you'd have to be in disguise yourself. I know you are very good at piano, you could play keyboards maybe....

"I don't know," said Jane. "What would be the name of it?"

"I was thinking of 'Phoenix,' That would be a good name."

"If it was," she said laughing, "they'd know it's you."





John turned to William as they sat together in William's sun/cum/music room. "I don't know how to break this to you," he said.

"It's bad news, isn't it?" William said.

"No, it's good news. I am working on a song, based on a dream I had. The dream was about you."

"What was it about?"

You were standing atop a hill. All around you were people who had been your fans- I gather- they had found out who you were, and what had happened to your predescesor. Some were crying and screaming, some were screaming threats, but most were pointing and laughing. And you know what? You were smiling and laughing yourself. You didn't have a care in the world."

"Oh, that sure sounds like me."

"Here are the lyrics, John said. "I would like them set to music."

Willie wondered if John had detected his sarcasm.

"In the dream....was I stoned?"

"I believe that in the dream....you'd entered a state of awareness where you didn't care anymore."

"I see," said Willie, prickles forming on the back of his neck. "The lyrics sound interesting. "I'll see what I can do with them.....

A very relaxed William stuck his head under the bath water. He could feel as though he could live there, as he sunk down untill his head was totally sumbmerged. He didn't hear the phone ringing outside, in the hoitel where he wasstaying in Bangor, Wales. They were there to see the Mararishi who would teach them Transidental Meditation. Later they would see him in India. "Meditation ought to be good for you Wills," John had said.

He surfaced from the water and heard it for the first time. I hope Jane get it. Jane didn't get it. Heallowed the phone to ring itself out. Minutes later he arrived from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Just as he lit a cigarette, the phone rang again. He picked it up.

When he was out of the bath, the phone rang again.

"Paul?" The voice said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Brian's secratary. I'm sorry, but...Brian has just been found dead." "Brian?"
"Brian Epstein, of course."

"Oh no. Oh no. How did it happen?" "He was found dead of an over dose."

"Call me back later. I need to inform the others."

William burst into tearswhenthe other Beatles were assembled in his room. He did not know why.

That's terrible," said John.

"And do you know what?" said George. I never told you this, but Brian's secretary told me earlier that he'd gotten a strange phone call, a week ago. It said that Brian would soon meet with an accident."

All of the others gasped.

'And I guess that means we will be cutting our visit here short too," George added.



William and Jane walked to the end of the path in front of his house, arms tightly linked. In front was a taxi waiting for her, to take her to an hotel in Bristol. She turned to him.

"Are you going to be good while I'm away?" she asked.

"When have I not beengood?" he said.

"I've noticed you being short with the fans in front of your house a couple of times. For mys sake, please be kind to them."

William sighed. "You know how difficult it is for me Jane, I'm impersonating a dead man. We'd discussed this before. I don't know how I can cope. It hurtsto be around them."

"Do it for me," She said. She reached to kiss him on the cheek. He cought her mouth and they kissed passionately. Little did they know it would be the last time in many, many years.

There was an awkward silence.

"Gotta Go, she finally said.

Beneath the warm covers, he at first did not want to pick up the ringing phone. It stopped, Then a few minutes later it rang agaoi. He rolled over and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Is Jane there?"

"No, she's not. Who is this?"

"It's Howard. William, hasn't she told you about me?" It was as though he'd been electrocuted; he sat straight up in bed.

"How is it that you know my name?"

"She told me. I'm her....friend. Aren't you the double what keeps up the pretense of being her boyfriend? That's what she told me-but it is difficult keeping your hands off her, isn't it?"

He was speechless. The man on the phone continued, "She was supposed to meet me at the pub before we checked into our hotel room. Probably she stopped to visit some friends. Done that before, sorry I was a bother." The line went dead.

And that's what happened," William said to John.

John averted his eyes;and William thought he could guess what he was thinking.

"I was hoping she'd left him," John said finally. She and Howard go way, way back. She cheated on the real Paul with Howard you know. He wrote "'m looking though you" about that."

"What am I going to do, John." I don't know, but you can take your mind off of it with this. You migtht get her back. Look, we have been thinking of starting a new company. Paul's royalties, have been coming in, and we thougth tht it would be a fair way of using them. The company will benifit the disadvantaged in the world. And we came up with a name."

At that, John took four children's lett6er blocks- Julian's out of his pocket. He aranged them in front of William onthe table. "Paul," it said.

"Now watch, said John,as he rearranged the blockes. William staredat the seemingly nonsense word.

It read:



APUL



William stared at the blocks. "How is it pronounced? Like Apple?" he said.

"Yes," said John. "It is the only word from the letters of his name which makes sense at all."

"I am still unclear as to what the company will be for," said William. "A record company, I take it? What else?"

"We've thought of shooting another movie, William. Our plans to make one on the Lord Of The Rings didn't pan out of course, so we thought we would go to you and give you carte blanc on what it is to be about."

This was the worst time in William's life for him to be thinking about making a movie. Still he had an idea. "Why don't the four of us go on vacation and shoot what whatever happens. I could use a vacation you know." (This was just off the top of his head.)

"A vacation where?"

"Why not just buy a bus and drive it all over the British countryside. Our fans will eat it up. We could paint it psycedelic colors, I suppose...."

"I don't believe that would be a bad idea at all," said John.

"I would like to ask Jane, but no. I'd like to kill her instead...."

"Willie, let's not talk about that for now. Let's talk about the movie. The hippie tourbus, that's an interesting idea....."


William heard from Jane that night; he sounded distant, and she picked up on it.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "You know about Howard."

"I do," he said. And then he related what he'd said to him.

"William, I am so sorry. But you know, we go a long way back. I was going to let him go soon, but didn't know how to tell him. I wanted to let him down easily..."

"I don't know if I can forgive you," said William. "Are you calling me from his bed?"

She didn't answer.

"Isn't that a pity. You know what? I just bought you an engagement ring. An emerald one. I suppose you'll never wear it...."

There was a long silence, then she broke it.

"No, please give it to me Willie. We need to at least go through a facsimile of this. But you have my permission to date any woman in London. Just be discreet about it."

He stared at the phone openmouthed.

"All of London is waiting for you Willie," she said. Then she hung up.



And so it was.

He he tried to keep; busy over the next few weeks. One project was the film, of course. He was given carte blanche in directing it as ithad bneen his idea. Also, the others felt sorry for him.

In one scene, he and the others were given white suits to wear. He noticed that flowers had been painted on the lapels- and his was black. He hadn't requested thisat all. He thought ofhaving his flower painted over; but there wasn't time.

Another thing William hadn't planned on was that thier movie was broadcast, on television, in black and white. This upset him, as the film had been his baby, as it were. Little did he know that it was because of the flower on his lapel....Someone in the "know" at BBC had done it.

He'd been dreading Jane's return. She finally came home right before Christmas. "I'm so sorry," she said, almost inaudabkably, as she walked in the door.

On the pillow of her bed in the guest bedroom was an envelope, containing her ring.

The day after that, they were out driving together- they still had to go out together for the sake of appearances- and having stopped at a pub, Willie had had too much to drink. They were in the car waiting for the gate to his house to open when a girl came running up.
"I would love to have your autograph," she said.

As he signed it the best he could, the girl gushed, "how can I ever repay you?"

"How about a kiss?" he said.

He had been hoping for a light peck on the cheek; instead she give him a long slurpy wet one.

After he and Jane haddriven though the gate, he looked over to her. To his shock, she was crying.

"look," he siad, "I didn;t enjoy it even more than you did. Let's call the engagement off."

"No," she said, wiping her nose, "Let's keep up the facade for just a short while longer. I know that we have to. A Christmas party hasbeen planned for our engagement, and we are expected to come....."



At the party, he was stood there without expecting to have a particularily good time, gazing at the people. Suddenly he saw a woman across the room, walking in with a man. It was the photographer he'd met months earlier. He decided to say hello to her, as just being with Jane was uncomfortable now.

"Linda?" he said.

"Hello," said Linda. "Long time, no see."

"How have you been doing?" said William.

"Surprised you asked that. I've been doing fine."

Jane didn't even bother to look at them. If she was upset she hid it well.

Linda's friend Jay Marks- he was a journalist- looked on with interest.

"What is this?" he murmured to himself. "I thought he was engaged to someone else."

Someone overheard him thinking aloud. "Don't you know?" he said. "That's not the boy she fell in love with. That's just his replacement. It's all very hush-hush you know." "WHAT?" said Jay. What?"

The person continued, "The man she loves died over a year ago. That's just a double who's posing as Paul, so sales aren't hurt by the tragedy. I'm friends with the Beatles. Please tell no one what you just heard."

"Very funny," said Jay. "You have a sick sense of humor."



A few months after that, William and Linda lay together in bed. It was 1 am; he could hear her breathing a little faster than usual, and the soft hum of the air conditioner. It was pitch black in the Beverly Hills hotel room.

And then she turned to him and said:

"Mind if I ask you something?"



In Febuary of that year he and the others had flown to India. He'd previously looked forward to going there with Jane. A honeymoon before the honeymoon as it were. Now, obviously, it was different. in fact, William became angry at John when he told William he'd invited Jane to attend.

("You maneuvering swine," said William.)

He and Jane tried to stay out of each other's way; in between he tried to enjoy himself, with varying success. He had one vivid memory of walking through a clearing singing, playing an acoustc guitar. Unfortunately the song, "Obli di- Oblida" was a song John did not care for. In the end he and Jane decided to leave early, as keeping up the facade was too painful for them.

Willie couldn't understand what had happened between himslf and Jane. While they hadn't actually exchanged "I love you"s, he'd had the feeling that her feelings for him had run deeper than that of the origanal Paul. He had expected to marry her even.

He'd rented the the same apartment that he had previously when first coming to London. And he took girls there. It helped him overcome his bas basic shyness with women. The only problem was, he could tell none of them his true identity. Ad he'd hadted it when they looked upinto his eyes and brathed another name.

He'd met Linda again in New York when promtiong A (or Apul, as he thought it to himself.) He was in a hotel bedroom with her when she looked up at him. "Are you really Paul?" she'd asked

Instead of asking, "Why do you want to know?" he sang "Close your your eyes and I'll kiss you." She did, and he did. To his surprise, he really got into it. It felt like kissing Jane.

After a pleasant day together afterward, they made plans to see each ohter again. No they lay together quietly, in the dark.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Normally he'd have fended off this question. But not now.

"my friend, Linda continues, "told me that at a party we attened someone told me you were a double. Are you?"

"es," William said.

Linda sat up in bed and screamed. It was a shocking sound. As he grabbed her by the shoulders she burst into tears, deep sobs which came from the bottom of her guts. He held her and to his surprise started weeping too. It was the first tears he'd ever shed over this thing.

In the arms of a goddamn groupie.

"Linda, why are you crying?" he asked, finally. "He was a stranger to you.You didn't know him at all."

"I know," she siad, hccupping. It's just that it's so horrible."

They lay close together in the dark, nose to nose.

"I don't know you at all myself," he siad. I don't know your middle name,or your sign either."

"Louise. And my sign is Libra."

"That's my sign too...."



Willie felt that he had truly connected with Linda. He was wondering if he had fallen in love with her, even. But after what had gone down with Jane he didn't want to rush into another serious relationship. sO THUS,So, thus, another girl cought his eye.

Francie Shwartz had just arrived from New York city. The script for a movie was on her person. It was about a homeless man she knew; she came hoping the man she knew as "Paul" would give it some financial backing.

He noticed her as she walked into the offices. She was surprised to seehim looking down at her.

She thought, is this who millions of chicks have been moaning and groaning over? This is him?

He in turn saw a woman with penatrating dark eyes which seemed to see through him.

"Hi, she said quiwtly. So it's you."

"Yes," he said.

"I have this screenply...." "W can discuss it over dinner," Willie said. he noticed that he was unshaven. He dragged her up the stiars, singing out "It's F*** day," to cover up his feeling of nerveousness.

She asked him a question when they were in each other's arms.

"Are you in love with me?"

"I don't know," he said.



He poured her a glass of wine, thae evening of that day. He'd brought her over to his house, and they were in his living room.

She brushed her bangs off of her face; having cut her hair short, one of her best features. Or so he thought.

"I know I shouldn't be asking this," she said; but why aren't you with Jane instead of me?"

William groped in his head for an excuse.

he said nothing, but let her eyes wander to a photo of William and Jane in happier days on the mantlepiece, in happier days. They were strolling with thier arms about each other's waists. He saw the guilty look in her eyes.

"Oh, don't worry," he said; "She's probably in the arms of another man."

He was to spend a month with her. Sometimes he would think she was almost the right girl for him; other times he did not, and tried, unconciously, to drive her away.

There was the time, for example, when he came home from a recording session late at night. To his surprise he saw her up waiting for him. He'd told her she could go to bed before he got back. He was tired and in a bad mood.

"You know," he said, "sometimes I think chicks like to be knocked around a little."

"They do?" she said, her eyes widening.

"I even struck Jane a couple times," (of course that wasn't true,) }and she liked it. It turned her on."

And that Linda Eastman I'd told you about? I've a feeling that we really connected."

"Why aren't you with her then," she asked, "instead of with me>"



"Hello, son," said Paul's father, later, on the phone.

"hi," said William.

"You have a cold? Sounds like you have a stuffed up nose."

Anyway," he concluded before he could answer, "We've been missing you up in Liverpool. When can you come up here, hope it will be this weekend."

Fraqncie was gazing at him at the time; he knew that he would have to invite her along.

"I can come up," he said, "but I have to tell you something. There's a girl, see....

Willie's car pulled out if the driveway; it was early in the morning. They went down the road, he trying to keep his mind on the driving despite her studying his face, like she was a collector who'd captured a rare species of butterfly. Jane had looked at him that way once, and with her he'd found it far less annoying.

He had a feeling of dread as he approached the house of the man sho was supposed to be his father. The fact that the father and all his relatives wer very friendly to him, he knew, would make things worse.

His feeling was confirmed the the following day. He and his girlfriend stayed at a hotel, but thery still came to Jim's house to visit. While he and Fran were in the back yard enjoying a pint and chatiting with a couple of his "relatives," a young man walked up to them.

"Paul, I visited the pub around the corner and most of your friends are there. Why not stop by, give them a hello?

"Sure, he said.

"I'll catch up with you later," Fran said.

So there he sat surrounded by people he'd never met before. Nursing his drink= a strong one- he tried to field off thier questions.

"Paul, why so quiet?" he was asked.

It proved to be too much for him.

He sniffled quietly, hoping no one would catch him, or thingk that he was catching a cold.

"Why are you crying, mate?" he was asked.

"You don't know who I am," he muttered, so low that he barely could be heard.

"Of course we know who you are".

"You don't," said Willie.

"I don't understand what was meant by that," his persistant "mate" said to him. He groped around in his head for an excuse.

"Why don't you see me as just plain Paul instead of Paul the Beatle", he said. "Also I have lent you money over the years; I was never paid back." (John had told him just that.)

That very second, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Clancy's here," he was told.

"I don't know a Clancy." Then he saw her in the doorway. He must been misunderstood when he said her name.

"What on earth is the matter?" she asked as she led him out. Her sympathy was the undoing of him.

"It's all too much," he said. With that he sank to the sidewalk, holding his face in his hands.

"Paul, come on, she said. "you are making a scene."

In the car he turned to her and said "Everybody thinks I'm him and I'm not. I'm just me."

And of course she misunderstood.



Willie and Francine sat in his bedroom, on a morning a few days afterward. For once in the past week he felt peaceful, and was almost considering giving her a chance.

he That moment, the buzzer rang.

Jane's here," said one of the girls outside.

"That's rediculous,"" he said angrily. She would call first."

But then he heard footsteps comoing up the stairs. Quickly he stepped into the hallway to meet her.

"Look Jane, he said. We have an agreement..."

"I see how it is, Willie, she said softly. I will call you in a day or two.I understand that you are busy now, go back to what you were doing." She turned and headed back down the stairs.
,br> William exhaled and reentered the room, where Francie was waiting, and staring at him like she'd never seen him before.

"I know it is none of my business," she askedillie, "But why did she call you Willie?

"oh, that's always been my nickname," he said. "you know...."

He looked down at his trousers.

"Uh huh," she said.



He now knew that he'd have to get rid of her. Driving past the house of his sometime girlfriend Maggie, he suddenly had an idea.

"There's someone I need to see, " he said to Fran sitting beside him.It will just tke a minute."

"I havn't seen you for so long," Maggie cried when she met him at the door.

"I am just checking to see how you are doing," he siad to her. "And if you make no mention of our meeting, I will reward you, I promise."

After 15 minutes of chatting with her, he said goodbye and headed down the driveway. Messing up his hair, and undoing his shirt collar .In the car, Francie looked very upset.

"Why, Paul, why?" she asked

"I don't know he said between clenched teeth.

Oh, he hated having to do this.

That evening, he overhead her weeping again and talking on the phoine with her mother. He went to her and put his arms around her. "Don't cry," he said as gently as possible. "I'm a cunt."

Next day, when he rolled over in bad, he saw that she was gone.



Well, this is it," Jane sais.

"Is it?" asked William. They were sitting in Willie's mini- cooper in the outskirts of Hyde Park.

"I was only going along with your instructions," he said. "If that bothered you you should have told me sooner."

"Will," she said, "At first it was all an act with you. Though I was attracted to you from the very beginning. If only I hadn't met you before..."

'What about Howard?"

"I didn't weant to hurt his feelings That is all."

"You are telling me that you love me, I take it."

"Yes, and I still do. So...."

"Jane, there is someone else."

'Who?" Little Fran?"



"No. A photographer."

"And what does she have that I don't have?"

"She knows who I am."

'Oh, my god," said Jane. The still air in the car grew cold.

"Shall I drive you home?" said William.

"No thanks, I'll get out and walk. But first, kiss me goodbye."

He looked for an escuse to get out of there.

"Oh look, he said, "a man over there is selling popsicles. Let me buy you one."

Two girls who had watched Jane's departure from William's house stared at them later.

"Oh look," one of them said, "they are holding hands and eating ice lollies."



"We still see each other, and love each other," Jane told a television interviewer a week later, "but it hasn't worked out. perhaps we'll be childhood sweethearts and get married at age seventy."

William got on the phone and dialed. ""Linda?' he said.

It was only later, with her and her daughter cosily enconsed at his home, that it occured to him. Jane never had returned her ring.



Sally was proud and ran with the crowd

Independent and beautifulOh how beautiful

Spend all her days

Drinking coffee and reading plays

Oh how beautiful
Oh now Sally

Sally don't you cry

Oh how she cries

Wiping the tears from her eyes

Hard runnin' cries

She's never satisfied.

Billy's a man who sings with a band

On the road doin' one night stands

Over the ( )Spends all his time Playin' games with his mind

Chasin' women who drink and ( )

Oh now Billy why do you cry

Oh how he cries

Wiping the tears from his eyes.

Hard running (drive) (?)

Too late now

To make it up somehow

Too late now

They missed the boat somehow

Sally and Billy are over the hill

Neither of them understands

I guess they never will

Both of them dreamin' of what might have been

Pray to Jesus religiously

Oh dear Lord

Too late now

They missed the boat somehow

Billy and Sally don't cry.... Billy and Sally don't cry

Billy and Sally don't cry.....


"John, what on earth are you singing?"

He turned around.

"Like it?"

"All I can say is, thanks for calling Jane Sally."

"You don't like it."

"I don't enjoy being made upset, John."

"I was just imagining ten years hence. It was so vivid that I had to write a song about it."

"Hasn't it occured to you that I have a new girlfriend? And that wer'e very happy?"

John said nothing.

Willie couldn't unders understand the tension between Linda and John. Both were born under the same sign and cared for his welfare, or so itseemed. But they appeared to hate each other.

There was for example that incident which occured at Apple headquarters. Willie and JOhn were having a meeting and he had taken his girlfriend along. Suddenly John started asking William probing questions about why he and Linda were together. The fact that her real last name was "Epstien" had not been lost on him.

"It's either that," he said thoughtfully, "or the fact that she found out who you really were and didn't run out of the room screaming in hysterics. You made the best of the situation, that's all."

Of course this hurt William beyond belief.

Linda, seeing the loiok on his face, cut in. "No, it is that you are jealous, isn't it? in fact aren't you gay? I heard the rumor you and Brian Epstien...."

John sprang towaqrd Linda, fist at the ready. Willie got between them just in time. Af girls who were hanging around outside and looking throught the window turned to each other and giggled.

Later that week, William related to John about a dream he'd had.

"I was driving to the farm," he said, "and Jane was waiting there- it was when we first got together. And I'll be damned if the light in the farm didn't get any closer. I wrote a song about it."

After William finished, John looked up. William was surprised to see John's eyes filled with tears.

"I don't think that was a song about Jane, Willie," he said.



A week after that, William was in a bad mood. He looked over at John, whos eyes were avoiding his.

"You know I'm not happy about the song."

"I don't know why you have a problem with the choir, Willie," said John,"Considering who the song is really about."

"I know said William, but..."

"Callers to WABC in Detroit are continuing to claim that Paul is dead." (Said another voice.) "They say that he died in 1966, and clues in the albums..."

Both men turned thier heads to the radio, amazed.

Willie crossed the street with his head down. The light bouncing off of the asphalt burned his eyes. He wished that the photo shoot would be over with as soon as possible.

"Keep in step," said John, "now what is the problem with you?"

"It's my new sandals," said William, they hurt."

"Have you thought about taking them off?"

On the radio it continued-

"Listeners are claiming that clues have been put in the albums starting in 1967"

Said William, "what are they talking about?"

"I'm sorry," said John, "you didn't know."

Jane, squinted her eyes to look at William, who was unaware of him atthe photo shoot. Another photographer was setting up his tripod as she she approached him. The shutter clicked just as she walked by.

"You ruined my shoot!" Oh Jane. I didn't recognise you."



"William," said John- after they sat reminincsing-"I believe it is time to make yourself scarce."



He woke from a sound sleep with the phone ringing; and he picked it up.

"Willie?" said a soft voice. Jane.

He looked over at Linda guiltily and said: "I'm sorry, Jane, but it's over."

"Wille. It's not that of couse. My father is dead."

He was stupified.

"He's always liked to have a glass of wine afer dinner. Nothing wrong with that, untill he was found a dead man. I suppose they someone poisened his wine, though they are ruling it a suicide."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Only that I'd told him that we'd broken up. And after that we got back together and he noticed how happy we were- and that you looked like a different man. I believe he talked." William said nothing.

"I would be careful William, that's all that I could say."



Said William to the person who'd been closest to him- "I believe I'm leaving the group."

John, when William told him, sat there staring. He looked at at William as thought for the first time in his life he knew who he truly was.

"We can't let you go," he said.

"you used me," William said. "You put clues in your music without cunsulting me about it. I've done good work for this group, and now I am the greatst laughingstock of all time. YOu didn't even think to tell me."

"It couldn't be avoided'"

"What was it, catharsis for you? The clues?" My life was ruined. I've hadto comfort my wife, who was more upset than me. If I were single I could have borne it. No, I am leaving and if I am not let out of my contract I will be suing to leave the group.

"Don't you wonder, that if it wasn't for us you would be nothing?"

"No. I'm forming my own group."

"Without your own name?"

"That can't be avoided."

"Thought up a name?"

"Blackbird, or The Phoenix. I don't know which-"

"Wings." said John quietly. "Just call it Wings"

"Goodbye," said WIlliam, "You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

John stared at the door which had been closed in his face.

"Oh,shit," he said.



The phone at William's house kept ringing over and over. Unfortunately it was located in the outhouse, unbeknownst to the person who was calling him. John Lennon.

So thus, William got a telegram in the mail from John. It was completely unexpected.

Very sorry over the way I'd treated you. Let's put it behind us. There is a friend of mine for a long time who I would like you to meet. He knows...you know and if you asked him to be in your band, I am sure he would say yes. His number is.....

William had been having a bad week. Something had just happened. It had been with a fan.

He'd always had a difficult realationship with fans. After all, they weren't his fans, (in part), they were someone else's. And there was a young American from Utah who'd been following him around, even up to his farm, though he'd told her not to.

He saw her sitting quietly on a bale of hay just before his house gate, He got out of the jeep he'd been driving, and slowly came up tp her.

Don't hit me, please!" she cried out when she saw the look on his face. "I'm leaving!

Then William did something to her that was worse than hitting.

"Look at me," he quietly told her. "I'm not what you thibnk I am. The person you think I am is dead. He's buried here, in fact. Would you like me to take you to see his corpse? No? There is nothing for you here. Go home, girl."

With that, he gave her a small shove.

She got to her feet then, her face pale with an unreadable expression.

Then she stepped forward and raised her hand-

Or so he thought, later he couldn't be sure-

He slapped her, much harder than he'd intended to. he lost her footing then and went down, landing on her face, as he had all those years ago.

Then she looked up, her face bruised and bloody, her expression seared into the back of his skull.

Behind he coudl hear Linda slowly walking back to the Jeep. Making retching noises.

Later he couldn't get the incident out of his mind, though she didn't place charges, and when looking back, didn't clearly remember what happened. Se'd had such love in her eyes- even if it was directed at someone else- and then he'd-

Well he was going to start his own band. That woudl help him put it behind him. He wouldn't be hitting any more fans, to be sure.

So thus, he now called the number on John's telegram, The phone on the other end rang and a sleepy sounding voice picked it up.

"This is Paul," William said.

"Paul who?"

"McCartney"

"You daft idiot, he's dead," the other man, slamming down the phonme.

So he knew.

Willam picked up the reciever, and called the number again. "This is William," he said."I know that you know."

"William," the other man said in a stunned voice. "The William?

"What on earth do you want with me?"

"I'm starting a new band."

"Isn't it lucky for you I'm unemployed. I'm sleeping in my manager's office in fact. Where do you want us to meet?" London?"

"Would you mind driving up here?" It's pretty primitive."

"Not at all."

Well I look forwrd to seeing you then."

"I'll be up within a couple of days. Goodbye William."

"Goodbye, Denny," William said.



William hadn't, as of yet, ventured down to the cellar. Brian had told him Paul was buried there. Finally he did one day; he turned on the light and looked around.

The floor was close packed; it didn't look as though anyone was buried there. But on the floor he saw a few candles and holders, and a stick of used incense, too. Oh George. The Beatles had been there, before he and his family arrived.

He had an idea then. He went upstairs ande fetched a blanket; then laid it on the cellar floor and sat down, cross-legged. He'd tried meditating, before, but never like this.

Later his stepdaughter came looking for him; she opebneed the door and peered down. Seeing the expression of bliss on his face, she turned alarmed, and went to see her mother.

Linda was stunned. She knew very well what was down there. But she kept a straight face.

'He's just meditating," she said. "he always does that."



In the evening, that day, they sat at the table, plates of leg of lamb in front of them, William picked at his food.

"I can't eat this," he said. "It feels like I'm eating a corpse."

Linda gave him a look. Not in front of the girls. Just at that moment, Heather spied the little lamb she'd been playing with, and had made her special pet. It was inside the hose, as she let it in from time to time.

"Wer'e eating her cousin" said the bright girl.

The family never ate meat again, after that.



A week had passed. Denny had come over; now it was the end of the day. All four people were to make the long journey to London that night, in William's Land Rover. There, after a good night's sleep, William would meet up with record execs about his new band.

They climbed in, Linda and the two girls taking the back seat, a blanket over them. William handed the car keys to Denny. "You drive, he said. "I'm tired."

Denny took them, as though they were already old pals.

A few minutes down the road, Linda suddenly spoke up.

"I'm sorry, but I left the light on."

"That is okay. Don't turn around, Denny. The worst thing is a burnt-out light bulb."

Some impulse caused William to open the window, and stick his head out a little. He wanted to see if it was true. It was. Suddenly he stared, transfixed.

Once he'd written "The Long and Winding Road," about driving to a distant light which never came closer. Now, it was happening in reverse. This was where he belonged; it was where Paul lay. It was his home. Now they were leaving; he didn't know when they would be back. His eyes followed the light- at the end of the dark road- till it was gone.