REAL LOVE

Authors: Lovely Rita & Jenny Wren

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of Historical Fiction.


Chapter 9

Maggie's intercom buzzed. "John is on line one for you."

"Thanks, Jenny," Maggie buzzed back. "Chris, do you mind if I take this?"

"By all means. Do you want me to come back?"

"No, stay, this should only be a minute." Chris O'Dell smiled back at Maggie and tucking her blond hair behind her ears, settled in her chair. Chris had succeeded in making herself useful at Apple. In fact, she'd moved on from fetching lunches for execs and subbing for Derek Taylor's secretary to becoming Peter Asher's assistant in A&R. Since Peter was out of town scouting a band, she'd been involved in some of the details surrounding the new Pete Best Band album. She still couldn't believe her luck. Here she was in a meeting with the head of Apple records, someone she had become increasingly friendly with – and said meeting was being interrupted by a call from John Lennon. Chris smiled to herself again and tried to look busy, jotting down a few things in the notebook she had open on her lap.

Maggie picked up her phone and pushed the flashing button. "Hi John, what's up?"

"Did you see the paper today?" he demanded.

"Which one?"

"I dunno. All of them! It doesn't matter. The point is they're still using pictures of us that look like they're from bleeding 1964. We're not fresh-faced lads anymore, you know," John said, a hint of Scots in his voice giving his last sentence a comic element. "We want to do a photo shoot."

"You do?" Maggie said, surprised. For men so good at playing to the camera, they hated having their pictures taken.

"Yes. One shoot. All day. And then we're done for good."

"For good?" Maggie had a wary edge to her tone. Maggie loved that John had patched things up with Pete Best, but she was afraid that by interfering to "fix" one thing, she could have broken another more important one – that is, the Beatles. John had now had a taste of recording without the others and he seemed to have liked it. Though he'd reassured Maggie after she'd gotten hysterical on him that he wasn't through with the Beatles, it still made her nervous that he was getting close.

"Oh luv, no. We're not breaking…hang on." Maggie could hear rustling on the other end and a door shutting. "We're not breaking up. I told you I was only talking about a break. We need a break. We are at each others' throats all the time over here."

"But I thought you were done with Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da?"

"Well yes, and things have calmed down a little since then. But still, something's going to give and I just don't want it to be the band."

"So you want to break up to save the band?"

"Luv, break. Not break-up."

"Promise?" Maggie knew there was a difference between a break and breaking up, but what she wanted most was to keep them together - to get them to work through their problems instead of hating each other because of them.

"Yes, luv, I promise. Now, about this photo shoot idea. We thought we'd pop up in random places so there won't be time for crowds to form. We could bring a bunch of clothes and change at each location…"

"Oh my God…" Maggie suddenly interrupted as the impact of what John was saying dawned on her.

"What?"

"The Mad Day Out! You're going to do the Mad Day Out!" Chris looked up at this, possibly because she'd never seen boss of Apple squeal like a little girl before.

"The what? Actually, that's not bad." John said.

"I didn't come up with it, I'm sorry to say."

"Ah, so this was meant to be, then," John said breezily. He'd finally started to become accustomed to parts of his future being a part of his wife's past.

"Yes! I'll set it up – maybe on Sunday?"

"Sounds good, I'll let the others know. Oh, and Paul wanted some war photographer named Don…" There was a crinkle of paper. "McCullin." Maggie heard a muffled knock at the door on John's end. "Hang on a sec." She heard voices, Liverpudlian both, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

"George wants to talk to you. We're doing some rubbish song of his today." John was clearly joking, but Maggie cringed a bit.

"Give me the phone, you wanker," Maggie heard George say to John. Then he said into the receiver, "Luv, can you come to the studio?"

"What, now? I was just about to finish up a meeting and then head home for dinner."

"Now. Yes. Please?"

The Beatles often had no understanding of schedules and commitments and responsibilities. They showed up when they wanted and did what they liked, and if they were bored, they left. They were like overgrown, mustached and bearded children.

Still, it was George and there was a note of pleading in his voice that made Maggie believe he really needed some support. She hated being in the middle, but George's songs deserved to be respected by the rest of the band. Besides, when a Beatle asked you to come to the studio, you likely did not want to miss what was going to occur.

"Will there be food? You can't make a pregnant lady go hungry." Maggie said, a smile in her voice.

"We'll send out. You can eat whatever you like. Even my biscuits."

This made Maggie laugh out loud. "Wow, George, you must really want me there if you're willing to share your biscuits."

"You're the only one allowed to touch them," he said solemnly. "See you in a bit!" George hung up the phone before Maggie had the chance to tell him to put John back on. It didn't matter though, she'd be seeing them both shortly.

"Want to come with me to the studio?" Maggie asked Chris. "We can finish our meeting in the car on the way over."

"Are you kidding?" Chris thumped her notebook on Maggie's desk and jumped out of her chair. "Let's go!"

On the way out of her office, Maggie stopped at her secretary's desk. Apple didn't always work on a normal schedule and the secretaries often stayed late. "Jenny, can you call a car service for me? We have to stop by the studio. Also, would you get ahold of Derek? Tell him we need to set up an all-day secret photo shoot for Sunday at a bunch of places around London. See if he's got ideas for where and tell him to contact a war photographer named Don…" Maggie paused, trying to remember the right name.

"McCullin." Chris supplied.

Maggie smiled at her. "Right, Don McCullin. He's not to tell anyone who he's shooting. Tell Derek we'll talk more tomorrow morning. See if you can set up a meeting."

"No problem. And I'll have a car for you in a just a minute." Jenny dialed the phone as Maggie and Chris headed towards the door.

"Just a sec!" Maggie darted back into her office and grabbed a handful of the new fan club pins they'd just gotten in. She handed some to Chris. "Offerings to appease the fans," she explained.

The two of them went out to wait for the car and to give the pins to any fans that might be waiting.

"Maggie, is John coming out?" an American voice called. The girl who had been sitting on the curb leapt up.

"Sorry, no, none of them are at Apple today. They might be in tomorrow though, since they're not scheduled at the studio. Would you like a pin?" Maggie offered, knowing it was a poor substitute for a Beatle.

"Thanks," she said, taking the pin. She looked crestfallen. "I should have known they weren't here since there are no other fans camped out. They all seem to know, but I'm kind of new to this. And I have to fly home on Saturday, so tomorrow is my last day. And I have this for John." She held up a drawing of him.

"Oh, that's great!" Chris admired the picture - it was very well-done.

"I can try to get him to come in tomorrow so you can give it to him. If for some reason that doesn't happen, just leave it with the secretary in front and we'll make sure he gets it." Because of what had happened to John in her original timeline, Maggie was conflicted when it came to the fans. Of course, out of all the thousands and thousands of fans John had met over the course of his life, only one of them had turned out to be crazy. But it had only taken one.

John was fearless though and insisted that the fans were important to the band, that they had made the Beatles what they were. Though John could be formidable when he was in a bad mood, he was remarkably patient as long as the fans were respectful. He might be rude to any number of other people – but he'd never dream of treating a young girl with a hand-drawn picture that way. The others were much the same, though George had the least patience for it. He still couldn't understand what the fascination with him was and preferred to be left alone. He most appreciated the fans that treated him like a normal person rather than an object.

The problem with keeping John safe from any potentially crazy fans, though, was that there were just so many of them. Maggie had settled for quietly hiring some plainclothes security to hang around EMI and Apple, as well as their house, keeping an eye on the situation. She could never get away with the unpopular move of not letting fans sit outside the buildings and wait. But at least if one of them were to draw a gun, security would be there to help. It was the best she could do, so she lived with it.

The car service had arrived by now and Maggie and Chris waved goodbye to the girl and turned to get into the car.

"Oh, wait! Can I take your picture?" The girl asked, suddenly remembering that even if Maggie wasn't a Beatle, she was a Beatle wife.

"Sure." Maggie smiled.

"Do you want to be in the picture?" Chris offered, holding out her hand for the camera.

"Yes!" The girl stood next to Maggie, who put an arm around her. They smiled, Chris snapped the picture and handed back the camera.

"Thanks!"

Maggie half-wondered if that picture would show up in some future book or blog, a thought that always made her feel a bit funny. Like an interloper or a fraud. But she shrugged it off knowing this was the life she'd chosen and even fought for. And she loved it, unwanted fame by association and all. Getting into the car, Maggie and Chris drove off. The fan sat back down on the curb, next to her purse, which was still hanging on the iron fence that fronted Apple. Maggie had said the Beatles wouldn't be back tonight, but you never knew. One would probably show up the minute she left. Or maybe she'd give it another hour or two and then try to find her way to EMI. The girl got out her sketch pad and started doing a sketch of Maggie. She'd bring it tomorrow along with the one of John.

"Luv, you made it!" A relieved Beatle kissed Maggie on the cheek and handed her a packet of biscuits.

"Of course! Did you think I wouldn't come?" Maggie opened the package gratefully. She was hungry all the time now that the nausea from her first trimester had worn off.

"No, it's just that I could really use some fans tonight. You know how that lot is." George waved in the direction of the studios.

"Well, you know you're my favorite Beatle. Now how about an autograph?"

With a wicked grin, George whipped a pen out of his back pocket. "A good Beatle is always prepared!" He grabbed her wrist and carefully wrote his name on her forearm.

"Now how am I supposed to sell this on eBay?" Maggie asked, laughing.

"What's eBay?" George asked, but before Maggie could answer, George spotted Chris.

"Hello, Chris, good to see you." George gave her a kiss on the cheek as well. "Would you like an autograph as well?"

Maggie rolled her eyes. George was an incorrigible flirt. The Quiet One indeed. Wasn't it always the quiet ones you had to look out for?

"I'd love one – is Ringo around?" Chris said with a wink. Maggie snickered. Clearly the girl could handle herself.

George looked at them both and with a helpless laugh threw his arms around both of their shoulders. "I like her," he said to Maggie. "You should bring her 'round more often. Come on, then. I want you to hear something."

The three of them walked into Studio Two where Ken Scott, the studio engineering was busy bustling around, setting up mics. George's acoustic guitar sat on a stand.

"We're going to record some takes of 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps'," George said.

"HELLO LUV," a voice boomed over the loudspeaker from the control room. Maggie looked up and saw her husband waving madly from the window. Paul's face appeared too. He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her. Maggie grinned and waved back. She looked back at George who seemed a little subdued.

Maggie took George's arm and pulled him aside. "They're just children begging for attention. Don't let them throw you off. This song will be really great. It already is really great. They will get that when they hear it."

"They already heard it when we did the demos my place, so I'm not sure they do get it."

"They will, trust me."

"I wanted to do this song acoustic, but maybe it needs something more."

"Why not do it both ways? Record the acoustic version and then try making it faster, more electric."

"Are you giving me a hint?" George peered at her, looking for clues in her expression.

"That would be cheating, wouldn't it?" Maggie wagged a finger at him. "You'll figure it out. But right now, I want to be sure you get the acoustic version down. Play it for me?" Maggie batted her eyelashes, pretending to be flirtatious.

"I always play it for you, luv." George said seriously. His tone snapped her out of her playfulness. Maggie blinked and looked up at him. He blushed a little, looked down, and then squeezed her arm before heading back to where his guitar was set up. Maggie stared at him, not knowing what to think about what he'd just said.

Chris had dragged a chair over near where George was set up and Maggie sank into it gratefully. Maggie was afraid that at four months or so pregnant, if she sat on the floor she'd never be able to get up. Chris, on the other hand, sank gracefully down to the floor near Maggie's feet. They both looked expectantly up at George.

"Come on, Beatle, play us a song!" Maggie commanded. "Dance, monkey!" George grinned at her, all traces of whatever had just passed between them gone.

George Martin's voice was soon heard over the loudspeaker, asking for a soundcheck. And then they were rolling.

Maggie smiled as she watched George play the intro in the style he'd learned from Donovan in Rishikesh, and then closed her eyes as his voice and the song swirled around her. No matter how many times she heard this one, she still loved it. She'd always love the fast version with Clapton's mournful guitar solos, but the gentle, acoustic version on the Anthologies, with its extra verse, captivated her.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open. This wasn't just LIKE the version on the Anthologies – it WAS the version. She looked up at George, who had his eyes on her. Note for note, phrase for phrase, it fit exactly with the song she'd sung along to hundreds of times. And all along he'd been singing it to her.

Now it was Maggie's turn to blush and look away, though she wasn't quite sure why. It was hardly a love song. When she looked back, George was focused on his guitar, his long fingers skillfully picking the notes of the outro, until he ended on a strummed chord.

When the sound had finally died down, George called up to the booth, "Let's hear that back!"

Maggie and Chris hung out at the studio for the rest of the evening. The rest of the band came down from the control booth and set up for more recording. George had taken Maggie's suggestion to heart and ran the band through the song at a few different tempos. Pattie Harrison showed up just as things were being packed up for the night. She'd been visiting her sister in London and stopped by to see if George wanted to go out for dinner when he was through at the studio, but when she saw Maggie there, she insisted that everyone come along.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Chris whispered to Maggie.

"Of course! I'm going to see if Ken and George M. want to come along too," she replied, gesturing to the sound booth above.

"Oh, would you like me to do it? It'll save you a trip up the stairs."

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all. Better than standing around awkwardly." Chris gave her a wink.

Maggie knew what she meant. She could easily remember the day she'd first set foot in this studio. The day she'd met John. Much of that day had been awkward – the rest of it had been wonderful. Looking around, she saw John and Paul, heads close together, deep in discussion. George had his arms around his wife, who was giggling at Ringo, who was miming an apparently funny story. It was amazing how quickly she'd come to love the people in this room. That first day felt both like it was yesterday and a million years ago.

Dinner was a typically festive affair. The Beatles were always fun socially, even when they weren't seeing eye to eye in the studio. Ken Scott had come along for dinner, and though he'd seemed a little uneasy at first (EMI staff still always seemed a little surprised when they were invited out), he had relaxed once the first round of drinks had been served, and he and Paul were amiably arguing about tape loops.

Chris was happy to find herself next to Maggie and across from Pattie and George. Pattie someone she'd secretly admired for years. In fact when Chris had lived in LA, back when she'd been considering the move to London, she'd imagine being best friends with Pattie. Her daydreams about sitting in Pattie's kitchen laughing and gossiping were a little embarrassing now when faced with the real thing; while George was friendly and borderline flirtatious, Pattie seemed slightly aloof. Still, Chris felt the need to try to connect with her, if only to justify her place at this table. Surely if Ken could fit in, she could - and he was as much of an outsider as she was, for all that their days revolved around the Beatles.

"I love the way you do your makeup," Chris blurted out to Pattie. Pattie looked confused, even flustered.

"Thank you," she said after an eternity.

"Do you think you might someday show me how to do my makeup?" Chris said, stumbling over her words a bit. At this, Pattie looked more amused than annoyed. Chris wanted to sink into the floor. She'd been trying to be friendly but she felt like a total fool.

"I'm a friend of Derek's," Chris added, trying to make it seem like she wasn't a stalker or crazy person. "I've been working with Maggie and with Peter Asher in A&R. I've only been in London a short time, so I don't know that many people. Perhaps we could get together some time?" Chris couldn't believe her own nerve.

"Yes," Pattie said regally, "That's a possibility." Chris wasn't sure how to read this, but she'd take it. George was fun to flirt with, he was after all, a Beatle - but Pattie Harrison was the one Chris really wanted to get to know better.


A/N

We're going to do things a little differently and just post chapters when we have them. So there might be several at once. And we won't have a posting schedule. Chapter 10 is coming right up!

One of our big inspirations here is Chris O'Dell's book, which we love. The last scene is based on an actual conversation she had with Pattie.

Also, Jenny Wren and I were lucky enough to meet Pattie at a talk she gave in DC a few months ago. She was SO nice and it was a real thrill to meet her!