Too Much Rain, Chapter 29
Jul. 27th, 2014 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yes_2dayMike McCartney is pestered about, Linda muses over, and John enjoys rereading the Playboy article. John's invitations to a dinner party go out. Paul and Linda have a serious conversation.
This chapter is a series of several vignettes.
THIS IS ALL FICTION.
Chapter 29
Mike McCartney was on a mission. He had his three daughters in tow, and he was headed for the shopping mall to buy them some summer togs. Rowena was at home with the small boys. Mike’s daughters were in their late teens and early twenties and desperately wanted to wear expensive, trendy clothes, but Mike could not afford them, and had no intention of allowing his daughters to grow up thinking they were entitled to them. However, he was going to spring for some fun summer clothes at a modestly priced department store. It was a bit difficult for his daughters to understand that their cousins Mary and Stella were able to purchase name-brand labels, whereas they were consigned to the copycat brands, but Mike was determined to raise his children to understand that the ability to access wealth came from one’s own endeavors and luck, and not by virtue of the family they were born into.
The shopping expedition was successful, and the girls had put aside their desire for more expensive duds in favor of the excitement of creatively mixing and matching less expensive items. Mike was proud of them. As a spur of the moment treat, he had agreed to pay for them to visit the mani/pedi salon. While they luxuriated, he found a comfortable seat out in the mall promenade, and engaged in some entertaining people watching.
“Mr. McGear?”
Mike jumped. He turned to see a man who had just sat down next to him on the bench. “Yes?” Mike asked. It wasn’t that unusual for Liverpudlians to recognize him, and at least this one had used his independent, not-taking-advantage-of-my-brother name.
“I’m William Fieldstone from the Liverpool Echo,” the man said.
Mike clammed up immediately. He knew without a doubt that this was going to be about his brother. Mike had read the Playboy interview, and had been enraged by it. The very idea of John and Paul in that light! “I see. What do you want?” Mike’s voice was brusque and suspicious.
“I was hoping to get a comment from you on the rumors about your brother and John Lennon.”
“First,” Mike growled in a low tone, not wanting anyone to overhear, “I never speak about my brother to the press. If you have a question about Paul, talk to Paul! Second, Paul and John have answered those questions repeatedly for three years now. I have nothing further to add to their answers, seeing as how it is none of my business. And, I might add, if it is none of my business, it is even less your business!”
“But, don’t you think it is odd that they live so close, and seem always to be together?” The reporter had moved in close and was speaking softly, having ascertained that Mike McCartney did not want to be overheard.
“No, I don’t,” Mike said staunchly. “I’ve stayed at John’s place with my wife and sons, and my daughters were at Paul and Linda’s. There was nothing unusual about the setup. People need to get a life! Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk with you anymore.” Mike got up and walked into the salon, and - although he felt like a fish out of water - he sat in one of the dainty chairs in the waiting area. He gestured for the salon owner to approach him, and he then whispered, “That man out there is a reporter. He is bothering me just because I am Paul’s brother.” The salon owner didn’t need any further explanation about who “Paul” was. “I would appreciate it if you would ask him to leave if he attempts to enter.”
“Of course!” She cried. She now felt like an avenging angel, and she would eject the man immediately if he attempted an approach. Unfortunately, he didn’t, and she was denied the honorable opportunity to defend a Beatle-by-proxy. Instead, the reporter lingered outside for a few moments, and then finally went away.
Paul had put the trauma of reading what he thought were revealing comments that he and John had made in the Playboy interview behind him. The management team was still aflutter about it, though, and were freaking out because they had been instructed not to respond to questions on the topic, nor to react to rumors. It was easy for Paul to put it behind him because he had thrown himself into music. He was working with the band in order to prep them for the upcoming tour, and occasionally John would actually show up too and contribute. Truly, the man was incredibly lazy. Paul smiled fondly to himself at the thought of John. He couldn’t help himself; he was putty in John’s hands. Whatever John wanted, Paul would want to get it for him.
Linda had been strangely silent about the Playboy interview. She had listened patiently while Paul had vented about how the reporter seemed bound and determined to squeeze an admission out of them no matter what, but she had kept her thoughts and feelings about his venting to herself.
Paul had been pretty good at reading Linda’s moods for lo these many years, but somehow, now and on this topic, she seemed impenetrable. He would have pushed for a response, but some part of him believed he would regret it if he did. So he had decided to back off a little and wait for Linda to come to him with her thoughts. One thing Paul knew for sure - her thoughts were not positive ones, or she would have spoken up by now.
While Paul was musing during a brief break in the rehearsal proceedings, John was back at his house, rereading the Playboy interview for the 15th time. Each time he reread it, he felt a little bit better. What had worried him originally was that the reporter’s questions had accented the many ways in which he and Paul behaved like a couple. As the days went by, John found that he was secretly satisfied. In a way, this was the best of both worlds for John. The “truth”, such as it was, was out there for people to see if they would put their prejudices aside, but it was not really out there at all for those who would not or could not put their prejudices aside. In other words, this article ‘outed’ them to only those people open enough to accept it. For years now, John had lived with a niggling frustration that his true life, the part of it he valued most, had to be hidden from the world and lied about forever. Now, it was out there - but still with credible deniability. John was quite happy with the result.
Still, he knew that Paul would not share this happiness, so he kept his secret satisfaction to himself. It was something that he hugged tightly to himself, and whenever he wanted to revisit that feeling, he would reread the interview. He was skimming it again when the back door bell rang. John was surprised. Usually, the only person who used that backdoor was Paul, and he had a key and never rang the bell when he got home. Curious, John went to the back door and was surprised to see Linda standing there. She was holding a covered tray that smelled like recently baked scones.
“Want some company for coffee, John?” She asked brightly.
“Yes of course! Come in!” John stood aside and gestured for her to enter, and then followed her and the waft of baked goods into the kitchen. John set about making coffee, while Linda found some plates for the scones. She hadn’t been to John’s house very often; most of the time John came over to Cavendish. Each time she did go to John’s house, she had been overwhelmed by the expensive perfection. It was the exact opposite of Linda’s oeuvre. She favored comfortable furniture (some might say ‘shabby’), and had never paid much attention to the decorating arts. John’s kitchen looked as though it belonged to a world famous chef, and Linda found this a little amusing. Her kitchen wasn’t nearly as kitted out with expensive appliances and cooking miscellany, yet she was the one who actually cooked. (Linda did not know about John’s cooking lessons and attempts to surpass her cooking skills; she didn’t know because John had not told her, of course, and Paul - bless him - hadn’t noticed there was a competition going on.)
Soon they were facing each other across an expensive custom-made kitchen table, and Linda was frankly surprised at how good John’s coffee tasted. It was - almost - as good as hers.
“To what do I owe this significant honor?” John asked Linda, his eyes twinkling.
“It’s been a while since we had time to just sit down and visit with each other alone,” Linda said. She was circling the real subject she had come to discuss.
“True enough. So how are you holdin’ up?” John asked, a bit mystified by this uncharacteristic visit. Linda had avoided John’s house - or, at least John had felt she had done so - and John had assumed it was because it reminded her too much of Paul’s other life - the life he shared with John.
“I wanted to thank you for the kind things you said about me to the Playboy interviewer, for one thing,” Linda said carefully.
John was pleased by this acknowledgement - unaccountably so. “I meant every word, I wouldn’t have made it through that nightmare without you and Paul.”
“Yeah, we got pretty close during that ordeal, didn’t we?” Linda’s eyes held some kind of plea - it was as if she was trying to convey something to John non-verbally, but he still wasn’t sure what it was. John nodded assent to Linda’s comment, and then she added, “We let it slip away from us though, didn’t we?”
So that was it. She was trying to mend their relationship. John was perplexed by this attempt, because he had never really wanted to have Paul’s wife as a close friend. He couldn’t help but feel jealous and possessive when Linda was around Paul, and so he had always figured that Linda felt the same way when he was around Paul. But, in the interests of peace in the family, John formed a response to Linda’s query. “We did reach a level of closeness then that we hadn’t ever shared before or after.” John’s voice was soft, but also tentative. He wasn’t really sure where this was going.
“I have to be honest,” Linda finally said in a louder, more confident voice. “It hurt me to read that interview.” There. She’d said it.
John was taken aback, but not for long. Of course she would have been hurt by it, for the same reasons that John was secretly satisfied by it. But he wasn’t going to share that thought with Linda. “What about it hurt you, Lin?” John asked softly, consciously using Paul’s diminutive name for her in order to soften the atmosphere a little.
“The interview was almost entirely about your relationship with Paul, and less about the music. And it completely ignores the other parts of Paul’s life. It is upsetting to be treated as though I was just a beard for you and Paul.”
John leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t given any thought at all to how his rival would feel by being marginalized. But then, how long had he - John - been marginalized in Paul’s life? What about the Liverpool Oratorio after-party, or the after-party for the Hall of Fame induction? In both situations, John had been made to stand apart and act like it wasn’t tearing his heart apart. “I know exactly how you feel, Linda,” John said after an awkward silence. “I’ve been living in the shadows of Paul’s life for over ten years now.”
This, in turn, surprised Linda. She hadn’t given John’s plight any thought all those years, any more than he had hers. She was stunned, and didn’t know how to react. John saved her from this awkwardness by adding,
“Have you spoken to Paul about this? You know, he and I submitted an edited version of the interview to Playboy before it was published, but they ignored our edits and ran it their way. Our PR director is furious about it, because Playboy is noted for allowing its’ subjects to make edits. Had they followed our edits, the interview would have been much different.” John felt a need to reassure Linda for Paul’s sake. He didn’t examine his own motives for this; indeed, he didn’t even understand his own motives.
“I haven’t mentioned it to Paul, because I think it would hurt him,” Linda admitted, both relieved and gratified to hear that Paul had tried to protect her from this embarrassment but had been thwarted by the magazine. Paul wouldn’t know how many of Linda’s friends and associates had made comments to her which were at once masquerading as concern while really seeking the titillation of whatever reaction they could get out of her. It was a major drag to be treated like a false front in her husband’s life.
“He would be upset if he thought you were hurt by it,” John agreed. “But just because he would be hurt by it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t tell him. He would appreciate the opportunity to reassure you, and to do what he could to resolve the problem.”
Linda considered John’s advice. It made sense, but then Linda knew how Paul could twist himself in knots over issues like these. She had always been so protective of him; it was odd, because Paul was protective of John, and Linda was protective of Paul. It was a weird dynamic between the two couples. Linda often felt that she had the short end of the stick despite having the title of Mrs. McCartney, and bearing his much-loved children. In the interview, Paul had referred to John as his ‘soul mate’, however indirectly, when talking about ‘Calico Skies’. Of course, while Linda had born during the War, she had spent the whole war in New York State, protected by the Atlantic Ocean and her parents’ wealth. It was John Lennon who was also born in Liverpool while the city was under bombardment by the Nazis. It was John who had also been born ‘under calico skies’. Paul’s comment, made while describing that song, had truly stung Linda. It stung her because Paul clearly didn’t realize how much he had inadvertently revealed. If she brought it up with him, he would tell her she was reading too much into it. But now she really knew, especially after listening to the song ‘7 Levels’ over and over, that John was Paul’s one true love, and while she was someone he loved and needed, she could not share his muse, and thus she could not be his soul mate. Once she had arrived at this perception, she found that she could not un-ring that bell.
Linda sighed heavily. “I am afraid I am losing him to you.” The words came out, almost against her will, and then she and John sat there - time lost in the space between them - for a surprisingly long time before John could bring himself to respond.
“Funny, I‘ve been afraid of that since 1968 about you. I still feel that way. It is hard to share a be-all, end-all lover isn’t it?” John coached his voice to sound objective and unemotional.
Linda smiled at John’s little insight. “Yes. It would be so much easier if Paul were the kind of person you could have a half-love with, but he isn’t. You just want all of him, and it is hurtful when you can’t have it.”
“He has a lot to answer for, that man,” John opined. “But the thing that saves him is that he doesn’t know - he doesn’t know how it feels to be in love with him. He is too busy trying to keep us both happy. He worries himself sick over it.”
Linda laughed. “Serves him right.”
John lifted his coffee cup and the two of them clinked cups. “You’re right about that sister!”
Soon Linda was walking back down the mews, through the garden, and back to her own slightly shabby, slightly disorganized kitchen. She felt much more at home there. She did feel better having shared her fears with John, however tentatively, but it didn’t change her conundrum. She was in love with a man who loved her, but was in love with someone else. She had lived with this for ten years now, and it never got any easier. In fact, it was getting harder with each passing day.
“You know, I’m getting stopped in the mall, at the dry cleaners, at the pub by people asking me about Paul and John,” Mike complained to Rowena one night after the boys were in bed, and the dinner dishes had been cleared. “It is getting to be intolerable. This is worse than the stupid Paul-Is-Dead rumors.”
Rowena had heard this complaint before. She really had nothing comforting to say, or informative to add, so she listened.
“I would say that it couldn’t go on for much longer,” Mike continued, “but the stupid Paul-Is-Dead people are still writing about it, and coming up with more ‘evidence’ for Paul being dead, and it has been almost 25 years since that rumor started. Are we going to have to listen to this new blasphemy for 25 more years?” Mike’s voice was resonating with growing anger. He felt frustrated by his inability to protect his brother or his family from these poisonous rumors.
Rowena wondered if she should actually say what she had been thinking for some time. She decided it wasn’t the right time because Mike was too angry. Later, when he was in a calmer mood, she might be able to tell him.
“I wish there was something I could do about it,” Mike mused, his voice dropping back into a more reasonable tone.
“I know you do, Mike, but you can’t. So it is best to ignore it like Paul and Linda do. I don’t know how they are able to ignore all the gossip that goes on around them, but somehow they do. If they can do it, we can do it.”
Mike doubted that Paul and Linda were as philosophical about the rumors as they appeared to be from the outside. He suspected Paul was very upset about it, but helpless to change the situation. Mike remembered how much the PID rumors unsettled Paul, and it was only after several years that Paul had grown to accept that he was stuck with the rumors and there was nothing he could do about it. Rowena hadn’t been through that experience with Paul, and just didn’t know how hard it had been for him. Still, Rowena’s advice was good. There truly was nothing he could do about it, so he would have to try to ignore it.
John had not forgotten his determination to throw a dinner party, and he had decided to use their imminent departure on tour to be the purpose for the party. He would invite a group of his and Paul’s friends (and Linda of course), and he was going to surprise everyone by making the food himself. He also had an ace up his sleeve. He dialed the number that he now knew by heart.
“Hello?” Came the voice on the other end.
“Jason! This is John.”
“Oh, I’m spoiled to talk to you twice in one month!” Jason’s genuine delight came through the telephone line to John as if it were an audible sound.
“Remember when I said I wanted to see you and Gerry? Well, I’m throwing a start-of-tour party at my house in London in two weeks, and want you two to come and stay with us for at least the week leading up to it. Is that possible?”
Jason was thrilled to be invited, and since Gerry was semi-retired now, he knew he could drag the man on to a plane. “Yes of course!”
“I’m hoping you can help me with the food,” John said excitedly. “I have some items for the menu, but you are the world’s expert on dinner parties, and I really want and need your input on this.”
Jason admitted that this sounded incredibly fun to him, and then hung up to share the good news and the plans with Gerry.
Later that evening, Paul dropped by after rehearsal in time for dinner. It was John’s night with Paul, and he listened with pleasure as Paul described the progress made that day. John was cooking as Paul talked, and John felt how domestic and right it felt to have Paul sitting at the kitchen table talking about his day while he, John, made dinner. If my ‘70s rock fans could see me now, John chuckled to himself. He then spooned out the vegetable casserole on to two plates, and soon they were eating.
“Ummm, John, this is great,” Paul said as he plunged into the casserole with vigor. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he had the fragrant food in front of him. “What is this?”
“It’s a recipe I found in a French cookbook,” John said as matter-of-factly as he could.
“What’s the crunchy stuff on top?” Paul asked as he prepared to stuff a whole forkful of it in his mouth.
“It’s an au gratin made with gruyere cheese, Provencal herbs, and baguette crumbs,” John explained proudly. His reinvention as a domestic god was well in hand, he thought.
“You’re turning into quite the cook, John,” Paul complimented generously.
“Yeah, who’d have thunk it?” John joked. But he was very, very happy. “By the way, we’re throwing a dinner party in two weeks.”
Paul swallowed and looked up in surprise. “We are?”
“Yeah, I thought it would be fun to have a party with our friends before we disappear on tour for four months.”
Paul digested this information. “O-kay,” he said slowly. What was John up to? He wondered. “But do you think it is wise for us to throw a dinner party together under the circumstances? Don’t you think it would send a mixed message?”
John shrugged. “I’ll say it is my dinner party at my house, and then you and Linda can be ‘guests’.” John had already thought this through.
Paul relaxed. “Well, that’s alright then. That makes sense. Who are you inviting besides us?”
“Well, I’ve asked Jason and Gerry to come and stay with us for the week of the party, and Jason is going to help me with the arrangements.”
“You mean, stay with you, don’t you?” Paul’s eyes were twinkling.
“Come on, Paul, Jason and Gerry know all about us, we don’t have to pretend with them.”
“I was just pointing out how easy it is to slip and say ‘us’ if you’re not careful. Inviting all these people is a calculated risk, because there will be so many opportunities for us to misspeak.” Paul’s voice was calm and logical, but John had been starting to get angry until Paul said ‘us to misspeak.’ It was a relief to know that Paul included himself in on the tendency to lump John and him together as a single unit.
“We know how to carry it off, Paul. We’ve done it for over 30 years now.”
“It will be fun to see Jason and Gerry again,” Paul said cheerfully, changing the subject abruptly. “So they’re staying here then?”
“Yup. I moved in with them for a few weeks once, and it is time to repay the favor.” John thought fleetingly of the miserable circumstances of that New York visit with Jason and Gerry, and then pushed it out of his mind. Thank god that horrible blip was behind them.
“I hope you intend to invite George and Judy Martin. They’ve been very kind and generous to us,” Paul suggested.
“Yeah, definitely them. I want to invite Neil, too, but I’m not sure if he will come.” John’s face looked downcast.
“Why wouldn’t he come?” Paul asked, sincerely surprised by John’s comment.
“Because he doesn’t ‘approve’, and I think he’ll be upset that we are pretending to others that we aren’t together, while trotting Linda out as if she were a beard.”
“Linda’s not a beard!” Paul’s voice was loud and angry in response.
“Calm down, Pud. I know that, and you know that, but you must realize that people are saying that about Linda behind all of our backs. If they think or they know that we’re hiding a love affair, what does that make Linda in their eyes?” John had been waiting for an opportunity to raise this issue with Paul, since he doubted very much that Linda would do so.
Paul was stumped. “Is that what they think?” He asked in an uncertain voice.
“Many of them do, of course they do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were making comments to Linda, and asking her intrusive questions. Haven’t you spoken to her about this?” John pretended to be surprised by Paul’s failure to consider this aspect of the rumors.
“No,” Paul said slowly. He was simultaneously asking himself if that was why Linda was so weird about the Playboy interview. “She seemed kind of…distant…about that interview and all the gossip it started, though. Do you think this is bothering her?”
“Paul, I would be shocked if it wasn’t. You know, she is very protective of you and wouldn’t want to upset you by it, but I bet she’s even a little embarrassed about being put in the role of scorned wife, living a lie.”
“Christ, John, this never occurred to me! If it’s true, it’s horrible! I need to do something…”
“Babe, not tonight. Don’t go barging over there while you’re upset, and force her to go into protective mode. You need to wait until the moment is right, and then ask her about it when you’re both calm. She needs you to be the protective one for her right now.” John’s voice was firm. Inside, the mean part of him was pissed off that he was enabling Paul’s relationship with Linda, but the good part of him was proud of him. John hoped that Linda would have his back like this if the situation were reversed. And, ultimately, John knew that Paul could not be happy without Linda by his side. Since he loved Paul, he wanted him to be happy.
Mike picked up the post, and shuffled through the mail until he came to a smallish envelope made of extra luxurious bond paper. There were engraved initials on the flap side: JWL. His curiosity piqued, Mike immediately opened it, and pulled out a robin’s egg colored blue card. It said, in gold engraved print:
Mike stared at it for a few moments. That was nice of John to think of Rowena and me, he thought. It would be great to hang out with John and Paul before they left on tour, and Mike was also glad that he would be able to talk with Paul about those ugly rumors…
Neil Aspinall’s invitation came later than the others. Instead, John had called Neil before dropping the invitation in the mail.
“Neil, I am throwing a dinner party on June 6th, and wondered if you would want to attend,” John stated, his voice revealing none of the stress associated with the call.
“That’s nice of you,” Neil said in response. He had felt for some time now that he had reacted badly to the news about John and Paul, and really he should have been pleased that they trusted him enough to tell him. But he had also been uncomfortable about the unchallenged rumors, and the game of chance they were playing with the press. He worried what long range impact this would have on Apple.
“I would love to see you there, but I want you not to feel awkward about it,” John was saying. “If you would feel awkward, I won’t be upset if you don’t feel you can come.” John had rehearsed what he was going to say several times before ever picking up the phone.
“Why would I feel awkward?” Neil asked, trying to reassure John that he wasn’t going to let the surprising information about his old friends interfere with his relationship with them.
“Because, only a very few of the people invited - you, the Martins, Ringo and his wife, George and his wife, a couple of friends of ours from New York - know about Paul and me, and so we will be acting as though the rumors aren’t true. And of course Linda will be there.”
Linda. Neil had forgotten all about Linda. This whole experience must be very difficult for her. Neil assumed she must know the truth, and then having to lie about it to all and sundry in order to protect her philandering husband’s reputation and career…why on earth would she want to live like that? To John all he said was, “I would be honored to attend your party, John, and believe that I can behave myself.”
John felt a rush of relief run through him and said, “Then your invite is in the mail!”
George Harrison had ambivalent feelings about attending the Lennon party. First, Olivia felt awkward about Linda; she felt that Linda would be on display at the party, a la, See? Those stupid rumors are untrue? When in fact the rumors were true. It seemed very unfair to Linda. And second, George had just come to terms with the idea that Denis O’Brien had defrauded him, and that he was probably wiped out financially again. It would be far too embarrassing to George if John and especially Paul should discover this information. He didn’t want people asking him questions about the problems with Handmade Films, either. On top of that, John and Paul’s new album, and their recently announced tour, had kept them at the top of the heap, whereas George’s star was in its descent again.
On the other hand, George was glad that John had included him. George had a sneaking suspicion that it was Linda who had insisted upon including him at the McCartney parties, and if not only Linda, Paul. Getting an invitation directly from John meant something special to George. He doubted he could turn down the invitation for this reason alone.
Mary and Stella were curled up on opposite ends of the sofa in the sitting room of their shared flat. It had been the first time in a long time (because of their busy separate schedules) that they had been able to just sit together and share some girl talk.
“Man, that Playboy interview was hairy,” Stella had opined in her direct way. “That reporter was relentless. He just wouldn’t stop. Somehow, altogether, he made it seem obvious that there is something going on between them.”
Mary sighed. She worked at McLen and had inside knowledge. “You know, they were given the opportunity to edit the thing, but the magazine didn’t use their edits. The PR director is having fits, but Daddy won’t let him retaliate against the magazine. He wants us all to ignore the gossip.”
“Why would the magazine not print their edits?” Stella asked, perplexed. “That makes no sense.”
“Well, the PR director thinks that the magazine hired this Pulitzer Prize winning reporter to do the interview, and the reporter threatened to return his fee and disassociate himself from the interview if the edits were made. He thinks the magazine was afraid of losing its credibility.”
“Hmmm…” Stella said. “I tried to get Mum to talk about it with me, but she just kept pretending that it was no big deal. When I first read the damn thing, I wanted to throttle Dad! How could he put her in that situation? But now you tell me he tried to change it, so I guess I can stop being mad at him now.”
“Dad is being dad about it,” Mary said.
Stella knew what Mary meant. “He’s such an ostrich sometimes,” she agreed.
“Sometimes I wonder if Mum and Dad are drifting apart. They used to tell each other everything. Now it seems that they are holding things back from each other. It isn’t a good sign.”
Stella responded to Mary’s comment with a moment of uncomfortable silence. This was not a subject she wanted to entertain. Her world had always revolved around their tight little family, and she did not want to acknowledge even a single crack in that impermeable edifice. Instead, she changed the subject.
“John having a dinner party. I never thought I’d see the day,” she joked.
Mary giggled. “I think it’s cute. It’s like he is trying to copy Mum.”
Stella laughed out loud. “I never thought of that! I bet he is! People think Mum clings to Dad, but no one clings to Dad more than John does!”
“So, are you going to attend?” Mary asked her sister.
“Of course!” Stella declared. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. It’s sure to be endlessly entertaining. Are you?”
“Yes,” Mary said. “Mum called and urged us to go. I think she wants us there for moral support.”
Linda didn’t know what to think about John’s dinner party. He had never given one before, and yet he hadn’t consulted her about it. She felt a bit put out by that, although she honestly didn’t know why. She never consulted John about her parties. But still…
…But then again, the invitation clearly stated that it was John’s party, and John’s alone, and that it was being thrown at “his” house. Along with her presence on Paul’s arm, and Paul’s daughters and brother there, the party might go a long way in deflecting the rumors.
The rumors. Paul had actually opened up to her about the gossip that morning. He had asked her if she was feeling embarrassed about the rumors. Linda had told him no, because it was her reflexive impulse to protect him whenever possible at work again. But then Paul had surprised her.
“Linda,” he had said, “let’s be honest about this. It has occurred to me that people may think the rumors are true, and if they do, they might think that you were not a ‘real’ wife to me. That would be their natural assumption, don’t you think?”
Linda, taken aback, had agreed.
“You know that it isn’t true, don’t you? Nothing could be further from the truth. You are very important to me, and I love you very much. I could never go on without you.”
“I know you love me,” Linda had responded. “But I’m grateful you told me. You can never hear that enough.”
Linda’s take away from that conversation was that Paul always had the capacity to surprise her with his empathy and insight. All this did was make her love him more. She did not know she had John to thank for Paul’s uncharacteristic direct response to the effect the rumors might have on her.
This chapter is a series of several vignettes.
THIS IS ALL FICTION.
Chapter 29
Mike McCartney was on a mission. He had his three daughters in tow, and he was headed for the shopping mall to buy them some summer togs. Rowena was at home with the small boys. Mike’s daughters were in their late teens and early twenties and desperately wanted to wear expensive, trendy clothes, but Mike could not afford them, and had no intention of allowing his daughters to grow up thinking they were entitled to them. However, he was going to spring for some fun summer clothes at a modestly priced department store. It was a bit difficult for his daughters to understand that their cousins Mary and Stella were able to purchase name-brand labels, whereas they were consigned to the copycat brands, but Mike was determined to raise his children to understand that the ability to access wealth came from one’s own endeavors and luck, and not by virtue of the family they were born into.
The shopping expedition was successful, and the girls had put aside their desire for more expensive duds in favor of the excitement of creatively mixing and matching less expensive items. Mike was proud of them. As a spur of the moment treat, he had agreed to pay for them to visit the mani/pedi salon. While they luxuriated, he found a comfortable seat out in the mall promenade, and engaged in some entertaining people watching.
“Mr. McGear?”
Mike jumped. He turned to see a man who had just sat down next to him on the bench. “Yes?” Mike asked. It wasn’t that unusual for Liverpudlians to recognize him, and at least this one had used his independent, not-taking-advantage-of-my-brother name.
“I’m William Fieldstone from the Liverpool Echo,” the man said.
Mike clammed up immediately. He knew without a doubt that this was going to be about his brother. Mike had read the Playboy interview, and had been enraged by it. The very idea of John and Paul in that light! “I see. What do you want?” Mike’s voice was brusque and suspicious.
“I was hoping to get a comment from you on the rumors about your brother and John Lennon.”
“First,” Mike growled in a low tone, not wanting anyone to overhear, “I never speak about my brother to the press. If you have a question about Paul, talk to Paul! Second, Paul and John have answered those questions repeatedly for three years now. I have nothing further to add to their answers, seeing as how it is none of my business. And, I might add, if it is none of my business, it is even less your business!”
“But, don’t you think it is odd that they live so close, and seem always to be together?” The reporter had moved in close and was speaking softly, having ascertained that Mike McCartney did not want to be overheard.
“No, I don’t,” Mike said staunchly. “I’ve stayed at John’s place with my wife and sons, and my daughters were at Paul and Linda’s. There was nothing unusual about the setup. People need to get a life! Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk with you anymore.” Mike got up and walked into the salon, and - although he felt like a fish out of water - he sat in one of the dainty chairs in the waiting area. He gestured for the salon owner to approach him, and he then whispered, “That man out there is a reporter. He is bothering me just because I am Paul’s brother.” The salon owner didn’t need any further explanation about who “Paul” was. “I would appreciate it if you would ask him to leave if he attempts to enter.”
“Of course!” She cried. She now felt like an avenging angel, and she would eject the man immediately if he attempted an approach. Unfortunately, he didn’t, and she was denied the honorable opportunity to defend a Beatle-by-proxy. Instead, the reporter lingered outside for a few moments, and then finally went away.
*****
Paul had put the trauma of reading what he thought were revealing comments that he and John had made in the Playboy interview behind him. The management team was still aflutter about it, though, and were freaking out because they had been instructed not to respond to questions on the topic, nor to react to rumors. It was easy for Paul to put it behind him because he had thrown himself into music. He was working with the band in order to prep them for the upcoming tour, and occasionally John would actually show up too and contribute. Truly, the man was incredibly lazy. Paul smiled fondly to himself at the thought of John. He couldn’t help himself; he was putty in John’s hands. Whatever John wanted, Paul would want to get it for him.
Linda had been strangely silent about the Playboy interview. She had listened patiently while Paul had vented about how the reporter seemed bound and determined to squeeze an admission out of them no matter what, but she had kept her thoughts and feelings about his venting to herself.
Paul had been pretty good at reading Linda’s moods for lo these many years, but somehow, now and on this topic, she seemed impenetrable. He would have pushed for a response, but some part of him believed he would regret it if he did. So he had decided to back off a little and wait for Linda to come to him with her thoughts. One thing Paul knew for sure - her thoughts were not positive ones, or she would have spoken up by now.
While Paul was musing during a brief break in the rehearsal proceedings, John was back at his house, rereading the Playboy interview for the 15th time. Each time he reread it, he felt a little bit better. What had worried him originally was that the reporter’s questions had accented the many ways in which he and Paul behaved like a couple. As the days went by, John found that he was secretly satisfied. In a way, this was the best of both worlds for John. The “truth”, such as it was, was out there for people to see if they would put their prejudices aside, but it was not really out there at all for those who would not or could not put their prejudices aside. In other words, this article ‘outed’ them to only those people open enough to accept it. For years now, John had lived with a niggling frustration that his true life, the part of it he valued most, had to be hidden from the world and lied about forever. Now, it was out there - but still with credible deniability. John was quite happy with the result.
Still, he knew that Paul would not share this happiness, so he kept his secret satisfaction to himself. It was something that he hugged tightly to himself, and whenever he wanted to revisit that feeling, he would reread the interview. He was skimming it again when the back door bell rang. John was surprised. Usually, the only person who used that backdoor was Paul, and he had a key and never rang the bell when he got home. Curious, John went to the back door and was surprised to see Linda standing there. She was holding a covered tray that smelled like recently baked scones.
“Want some company for coffee, John?” She asked brightly.
“Yes of course! Come in!” John stood aside and gestured for her to enter, and then followed her and the waft of baked goods into the kitchen. John set about making coffee, while Linda found some plates for the scones. She hadn’t been to John’s house very often; most of the time John came over to Cavendish. Each time she did go to John’s house, she had been overwhelmed by the expensive perfection. It was the exact opposite of Linda’s oeuvre. She favored comfortable furniture (some might say ‘shabby’), and had never paid much attention to the decorating arts. John’s kitchen looked as though it belonged to a world famous chef, and Linda found this a little amusing. Her kitchen wasn’t nearly as kitted out with expensive appliances and cooking miscellany, yet she was the one who actually cooked. (Linda did not know about John’s cooking lessons and attempts to surpass her cooking skills; she didn’t know because John had not told her, of course, and Paul - bless him - hadn’t noticed there was a competition going on.)
Soon they were facing each other across an expensive custom-made kitchen table, and Linda was frankly surprised at how good John’s coffee tasted. It was - almost - as good as hers.
“To what do I owe this significant honor?” John asked Linda, his eyes twinkling.
“It’s been a while since we had time to just sit down and visit with each other alone,” Linda said. She was circling the real subject she had come to discuss.
“True enough. So how are you holdin’ up?” John asked, a bit mystified by this uncharacteristic visit. Linda had avoided John’s house - or, at least John had felt she had done so - and John had assumed it was because it reminded her too much of Paul’s other life - the life he shared with John.
“I wanted to thank you for the kind things you said about me to the Playboy interviewer, for one thing,” Linda said carefully.
John was pleased by this acknowledgement - unaccountably so. “I meant every word, I wouldn’t have made it through that nightmare without you and Paul.”
“Yeah, we got pretty close during that ordeal, didn’t we?” Linda’s eyes held some kind of plea - it was as if she was trying to convey something to John non-verbally, but he still wasn’t sure what it was. John nodded assent to Linda’s comment, and then she added, “We let it slip away from us though, didn’t we?”
So that was it. She was trying to mend their relationship. John was perplexed by this attempt, because he had never really wanted to have Paul’s wife as a close friend. He couldn’t help but feel jealous and possessive when Linda was around Paul, and so he had always figured that Linda felt the same way when he was around Paul. But, in the interests of peace in the family, John formed a response to Linda’s query. “We did reach a level of closeness then that we hadn’t ever shared before or after.” John’s voice was soft, but also tentative. He wasn’t really sure where this was going.
“I have to be honest,” Linda finally said in a louder, more confident voice. “It hurt me to read that interview.” There. She’d said it.
John was taken aback, but not for long. Of course she would have been hurt by it, for the same reasons that John was secretly satisfied by it. But he wasn’t going to share that thought with Linda. “What about it hurt you, Lin?” John asked softly, consciously using Paul’s diminutive name for her in order to soften the atmosphere a little.
“The interview was almost entirely about your relationship with Paul, and less about the music. And it completely ignores the other parts of Paul’s life. It is upsetting to be treated as though I was just a beard for you and Paul.”
John leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t given any thought at all to how his rival would feel by being marginalized. But then, how long had he - John - been marginalized in Paul’s life? What about the Liverpool Oratorio after-party, or the after-party for the Hall of Fame induction? In both situations, John had been made to stand apart and act like it wasn’t tearing his heart apart. “I know exactly how you feel, Linda,” John said after an awkward silence. “I’ve been living in the shadows of Paul’s life for over ten years now.”
This, in turn, surprised Linda. She hadn’t given John’s plight any thought all those years, any more than he had hers. She was stunned, and didn’t know how to react. John saved her from this awkwardness by adding,
“Have you spoken to Paul about this? You know, he and I submitted an edited version of the interview to Playboy before it was published, but they ignored our edits and ran it their way. Our PR director is furious about it, because Playboy is noted for allowing its’ subjects to make edits. Had they followed our edits, the interview would have been much different.” John felt a need to reassure Linda for Paul’s sake. He didn’t examine his own motives for this; indeed, he didn’t even understand his own motives.
“I haven’t mentioned it to Paul, because I think it would hurt him,” Linda admitted, both relieved and gratified to hear that Paul had tried to protect her from this embarrassment but had been thwarted by the magazine. Paul wouldn’t know how many of Linda’s friends and associates had made comments to her which were at once masquerading as concern while really seeking the titillation of whatever reaction they could get out of her. It was a major drag to be treated like a false front in her husband’s life.
“He would be upset if he thought you were hurt by it,” John agreed. “But just because he would be hurt by it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t tell him. He would appreciate the opportunity to reassure you, and to do what he could to resolve the problem.”
Linda considered John’s advice. It made sense, but then Linda knew how Paul could twist himself in knots over issues like these. She had always been so protective of him; it was odd, because Paul was protective of John, and Linda was protective of Paul. It was a weird dynamic between the two couples. Linda often felt that she had the short end of the stick despite having the title of Mrs. McCartney, and bearing his much-loved children. In the interview, Paul had referred to John as his ‘soul mate’, however indirectly, when talking about ‘Calico Skies’. Of course, while Linda had born during the War, she had spent the whole war in New York State, protected by the Atlantic Ocean and her parents’ wealth. It was John Lennon who was also born in Liverpool while the city was under bombardment by the Nazis. It was John who had also been born ‘under calico skies’. Paul’s comment, made while describing that song, had truly stung Linda. It stung her because Paul clearly didn’t realize how much he had inadvertently revealed. If she brought it up with him, he would tell her she was reading too much into it. But now she really knew, especially after listening to the song ‘7 Levels’ over and over, that John was Paul’s one true love, and while she was someone he loved and needed, she could not share his muse, and thus she could not be his soul mate. Once she had arrived at this perception, she found that she could not un-ring that bell.
Linda sighed heavily. “I am afraid I am losing him to you.” The words came out, almost against her will, and then she and John sat there - time lost in the space between them - for a surprisingly long time before John could bring himself to respond.
“Funny, I‘ve been afraid of that since 1968 about you. I still feel that way. It is hard to share a be-all, end-all lover isn’t it?” John coached his voice to sound objective and unemotional.
Linda smiled at John’s little insight. “Yes. It would be so much easier if Paul were the kind of person you could have a half-love with, but he isn’t. You just want all of him, and it is hurtful when you can’t have it.”
“He has a lot to answer for, that man,” John opined. “But the thing that saves him is that he doesn’t know - he doesn’t know how it feels to be in love with him. He is too busy trying to keep us both happy. He worries himself sick over it.”
Linda laughed. “Serves him right.”
John lifted his coffee cup and the two of them clinked cups. “You’re right about that sister!”
Soon Linda was walking back down the mews, through the garden, and back to her own slightly shabby, slightly disorganized kitchen. She felt much more at home there. She did feel better having shared her fears with John, however tentatively, but it didn’t change her conundrum. She was in love with a man who loved her, but was in love with someone else. She had lived with this for ten years now, and it never got any easier. In fact, it was getting harder with each passing day.
*****
“You know, I’m getting stopped in the mall, at the dry cleaners, at the pub by people asking me about Paul and John,” Mike complained to Rowena one night after the boys were in bed, and the dinner dishes had been cleared. “It is getting to be intolerable. This is worse than the stupid Paul-Is-Dead rumors.”
Rowena had heard this complaint before. She really had nothing comforting to say, or informative to add, so she listened.
“I would say that it couldn’t go on for much longer,” Mike continued, “but the stupid Paul-Is-Dead people are still writing about it, and coming up with more ‘evidence’ for Paul being dead, and it has been almost 25 years since that rumor started. Are we going to have to listen to this new blasphemy for 25 more years?” Mike’s voice was resonating with growing anger. He felt frustrated by his inability to protect his brother or his family from these poisonous rumors.
Rowena wondered if she should actually say what she had been thinking for some time. She decided it wasn’t the right time because Mike was too angry. Later, when he was in a calmer mood, she might be able to tell him.
“I wish there was something I could do about it,” Mike mused, his voice dropping back into a more reasonable tone.
“I know you do, Mike, but you can’t. So it is best to ignore it like Paul and Linda do. I don’t know how they are able to ignore all the gossip that goes on around them, but somehow they do. If they can do it, we can do it.”
Mike doubted that Paul and Linda were as philosophical about the rumors as they appeared to be from the outside. He suspected Paul was very upset about it, but helpless to change the situation. Mike remembered how much the PID rumors unsettled Paul, and it was only after several years that Paul had grown to accept that he was stuck with the rumors and there was nothing he could do about it. Rowena hadn’t been through that experience with Paul, and just didn’t know how hard it had been for him. Still, Rowena’s advice was good. There truly was nothing he could do about it, so he would have to try to ignore it.
*****
John had not forgotten his determination to throw a dinner party, and he had decided to use their imminent departure on tour to be the purpose for the party. He would invite a group of his and Paul’s friends (and Linda of course), and he was going to surprise everyone by making the food himself. He also had an ace up his sleeve. He dialed the number that he now knew by heart.
“Hello?” Came the voice on the other end.
“Jason! This is John.”
“Oh, I’m spoiled to talk to you twice in one month!” Jason’s genuine delight came through the telephone line to John as if it were an audible sound.
“Remember when I said I wanted to see you and Gerry? Well, I’m throwing a start-of-tour party at my house in London in two weeks, and want you two to come and stay with us for at least the week leading up to it. Is that possible?”
Jason was thrilled to be invited, and since Gerry was semi-retired now, he knew he could drag the man on to a plane. “Yes of course!”
“I’m hoping you can help me with the food,” John said excitedly. “I have some items for the menu, but you are the world’s expert on dinner parties, and I really want and need your input on this.”
Jason admitted that this sounded incredibly fun to him, and then hung up to share the good news and the plans with Gerry.
*****
Later that evening, Paul dropped by after rehearsal in time for dinner. It was John’s night with Paul, and he listened with pleasure as Paul described the progress made that day. John was cooking as Paul talked, and John felt how domestic and right it felt to have Paul sitting at the kitchen table talking about his day while he, John, made dinner. If my ‘70s rock fans could see me now, John chuckled to himself. He then spooned out the vegetable casserole on to two plates, and soon they were eating.
“Ummm, John, this is great,” Paul said as he plunged into the casserole with vigor. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he had the fragrant food in front of him. “What is this?”
“It’s a recipe I found in a French cookbook,” John said as matter-of-factly as he could.
“What’s the crunchy stuff on top?” Paul asked as he prepared to stuff a whole forkful of it in his mouth.
“It’s an au gratin made with gruyere cheese, Provencal herbs, and baguette crumbs,” John explained proudly. His reinvention as a domestic god was well in hand, he thought.
“You’re turning into quite the cook, John,” Paul complimented generously.
“Yeah, who’d have thunk it?” John joked. But he was very, very happy. “By the way, we’re throwing a dinner party in two weeks.”
Paul swallowed and looked up in surprise. “We are?”
“Yeah, I thought it would be fun to have a party with our friends before we disappear on tour for four months.”
Paul digested this information. “O-kay,” he said slowly. What was John up to? He wondered. “But do you think it is wise for us to throw a dinner party together under the circumstances? Don’t you think it would send a mixed message?”
John shrugged. “I’ll say it is my dinner party at my house, and then you and Linda can be ‘guests’.” John had already thought this through.
Paul relaxed. “Well, that’s alright then. That makes sense. Who are you inviting besides us?”
“Well, I’ve asked Jason and Gerry to come and stay with us for the week of the party, and Jason is going to help me with the arrangements.”
“You mean, stay with you, don’t you?” Paul’s eyes were twinkling.
“Come on, Paul, Jason and Gerry know all about us, we don’t have to pretend with them.”
“I was just pointing out how easy it is to slip and say ‘us’ if you’re not careful. Inviting all these people is a calculated risk, because there will be so many opportunities for us to misspeak.” Paul’s voice was calm and logical, but John had been starting to get angry until Paul said ‘us to misspeak.’ It was a relief to know that Paul included himself in on the tendency to lump John and him together as a single unit.
“We know how to carry it off, Paul. We’ve done it for over 30 years now.”
“It will be fun to see Jason and Gerry again,” Paul said cheerfully, changing the subject abruptly. “So they’re staying here then?”
“Yup. I moved in with them for a few weeks once, and it is time to repay the favor.” John thought fleetingly of the miserable circumstances of that New York visit with Jason and Gerry, and then pushed it out of his mind. Thank god that horrible blip was behind them.
“I hope you intend to invite George and Judy Martin. They’ve been very kind and generous to us,” Paul suggested.
“Yeah, definitely them. I want to invite Neil, too, but I’m not sure if he will come.” John’s face looked downcast.
“Why wouldn’t he come?” Paul asked, sincerely surprised by John’s comment.
“Because he doesn’t ‘approve’, and I think he’ll be upset that we are pretending to others that we aren’t together, while trotting Linda out as if she were a beard.”
“Linda’s not a beard!” Paul’s voice was loud and angry in response.
“Calm down, Pud. I know that, and you know that, but you must realize that people are saying that about Linda behind all of our backs. If they think or they know that we’re hiding a love affair, what does that make Linda in their eyes?” John had been waiting for an opportunity to raise this issue with Paul, since he doubted very much that Linda would do so.
Paul was stumped. “Is that what they think?” He asked in an uncertain voice.
“Many of them do, of course they do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were making comments to Linda, and asking her intrusive questions. Haven’t you spoken to her about this?” John pretended to be surprised by Paul’s failure to consider this aspect of the rumors.
“No,” Paul said slowly. He was simultaneously asking himself if that was why Linda was so weird about the Playboy interview. “She seemed kind of…distant…about that interview and all the gossip it started, though. Do you think this is bothering her?”
“Paul, I would be shocked if it wasn’t. You know, she is very protective of you and wouldn’t want to upset you by it, but I bet she’s even a little embarrassed about being put in the role of scorned wife, living a lie.”
“Christ, John, this never occurred to me! If it’s true, it’s horrible! I need to do something…”
“Babe, not tonight. Don’t go barging over there while you’re upset, and force her to go into protective mode. You need to wait until the moment is right, and then ask her about it when you’re both calm. She needs you to be the protective one for her right now.” John’s voice was firm. Inside, the mean part of him was pissed off that he was enabling Paul’s relationship with Linda, but the good part of him was proud of him. John hoped that Linda would have his back like this if the situation were reversed. And, ultimately, John knew that Paul could not be happy without Linda by his side. Since he loved Paul, he wanted him to be happy.
*****
Mike picked up the post, and shuffled through the mail until he came to a smallish envelope made of extra luxurious bond paper. There were engraved initials on the flap side: JWL. His curiosity piqued, Mike immediately opened it, and pulled out a robin’s egg colored blue card. It said, in gold engraved print:
John Lennon
Invites you to a Start of Tour Dinner Party
At His Home
On Saturday June 6, 1992
Beginning at 7:00 p.m. with Cocktails
Dinner at 8:00
R.S.V.P.
Invites you to a Start of Tour Dinner Party
At His Home
On Saturday June 6, 1992
Beginning at 7:00 p.m. with Cocktails
Dinner at 8:00
R.S.V.P.
Mike stared at it for a few moments. That was nice of John to think of Rowena and me, he thought. It would be great to hang out with John and Paul before they left on tour, and Mike was also glad that he would be able to talk with Paul about those ugly rumors…
*****
Neil Aspinall’s invitation came later than the others. Instead, John had called Neil before dropping the invitation in the mail.
“Neil, I am throwing a dinner party on June 6th, and wondered if you would want to attend,” John stated, his voice revealing none of the stress associated with the call.
“That’s nice of you,” Neil said in response. He had felt for some time now that he had reacted badly to the news about John and Paul, and really he should have been pleased that they trusted him enough to tell him. But he had also been uncomfortable about the unchallenged rumors, and the game of chance they were playing with the press. He worried what long range impact this would have on Apple.
“I would love to see you there, but I want you not to feel awkward about it,” John was saying. “If you would feel awkward, I won’t be upset if you don’t feel you can come.” John had rehearsed what he was going to say several times before ever picking up the phone.
“Why would I feel awkward?” Neil asked, trying to reassure John that he wasn’t going to let the surprising information about his old friends interfere with his relationship with them.
“Because, only a very few of the people invited - you, the Martins, Ringo and his wife, George and his wife, a couple of friends of ours from New York - know about Paul and me, and so we will be acting as though the rumors aren’t true. And of course Linda will be there.”
Linda. Neil had forgotten all about Linda. This whole experience must be very difficult for her. Neil assumed she must know the truth, and then having to lie about it to all and sundry in order to protect her philandering husband’s reputation and career…why on earth would she want to live like that? To John all he said was, “I would be honored to attend your party, John, and believe that I can behave myself.”
John felt a rush of relief run through him and said, “Then your invite is in the mail!”
*****
George Harrison had ambivalent feelings about attending the Lennon party. First, Olivia felt awkward about Linda; she felt that Linda would be on display at the party, a la, See? Those stupid rumors are untrue? When in fact the rumors were true. It seemed very unfair to Linda. And second, George had just come to terms with the idea that Denis O’Brien had defrauded him, and that he was probably wiped out financially again. It would be far too embarrassing to George if John and especially Paul should discover this information. He didn’t want people asking him questions about the problems with Handmade Films, either. On top of that, John and Paul’s new album, and their recently announced tour, had kept them at the top of the heap, whereas George’s star was in its descent again.
On the other hand, George was glad that John had included him. George had a sneaking suspicion that it was Linda who had insisted upon including him at the McCartney parties, and if not only Linda, Paul. Getting an invitation directly from John meant something special to George. He doubted he could turn down the invitation for this reason alone.
*****
Mary and Stella were curled up on opposite ends of the sofa in the sitting room of their shared flat. It had been the first time in a long time (because of their busy separate schedules) that they had been able to just sit together and share some girl talk.
“Man, that Playboy interview was hairy,” Stella had opined in her direct way. “That reporter was relentless. He just wouldn’t stop. Somehow, altogether, he made it seem obvious that there is something going on between them.”
Mary sighed. She worked at McLen and had inside knowledge. “You know, they were given the opportunity to edit the thing, but the magazine didn’t use their edits. The PR director is having fits, but Daddy won’t let him retaliate against the magazine. He wants us all to ignore the gossip.”
“Why would the magazine not print their edits?” Stella asked, perplexed. “That makes no sense.”
“Well, the PR director thinks that the magazine hired this Pulitzer Prize winning reporter to do the interview, and the reporter threatened to return his fee and disassociate himself from the interview if the edits were made. He thinks the magazine was afraid of losing its credibility.”
“Hmmm…” Stella said. “I tried to get Mum to talk about it with me, but she just kept pretending that it was no big deal. When I first read the damn thing, I wanted to throttle Dad! How could he put her in that situation? But now you tell me he tried to change it, so I guess I can stop being mad at him now.”
“Dad is being dad about it,” Mary said.
Stella knew what Mary meant. “He’s such an ostrich sometimes,” she agreed.
“Sometimes I wonder if Mum and Dad are drifting apart. They used to tell each other everything. Now it seems that they are holding things back from each other. It isn’t a good sign.”
Stella responded to Mary’s comment with a moment of uncomfortable silence. This was not a subject she wanted to entertain. Her world had always revolved around their tight little family, and she did not want to acknowledge even a single crack in that impermeable edifice. Instead, she changed the subject.
“John having a dinner party. I never thought I’d see the day,” she joked.
Mary giggled. “I think it’s cute. It’s like he is trying to copy Mum.”
Stella laughed out loud. “I never thought of that! I bet he is! People think Mum clings to Dad, but no one clings to Dad more than John does!”
“So, are you going to attend?” Mary asked her sister.
“Of course!” Stella declared. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. It’s sure to be endlessly entertaining. Are you?”
“Yes,” Mary said. “Mum called and urged us to go. I think she wants us there for moral support.”
*****
Linda didn’t know what to think about John’s dinner party. He had never given one before, and yet he hadn’t consulted her about it. She felt a bit put out by that, although she honestly didn’t know why. She never consulted John about her parties. But still…
…But then again, the invitation clearly stated that it was John’s party, and John’s alone, and that it was being thrown at “his” house. Along with her presence on Paul’s arm, and Paul’s daughters and brother there, the party might go a long way in deflecting the rumors.
The rumors. Paul had actually opened up to her about the gossip that morning. He had asked her if she was feeling embarrassed about the rumors. Linda had told him no, because it was her reflexive impulse to protect him whenever possible at work again. But then Paul had surprised her.
“Linda,” he had said, “let’s be honest about this. It has occurred to me that people may think the rumors are true, and if they do, they might think that you were not a ‘real’ wife to me. That would be their natural assumption, don’t you think?”
Linda, taken aback, had agreed.
“You know that it isn’t true, don’t you? Nothing could be further from the truth. You are very important to me, and I love you very much. I could never go on without you.”
“I know you love me,” Linda had responded. “But I’m grateful you told me. You can never hear that enough.”
Linda’s take away from that conversation was that Paul always had the capacity to surprise her with his empathy and insight. All this did was make her love him more. She did not know she had John to thank for Paul’s uncharacteristic direct response to the effect the rumors might have on her.