If there had been sexual harassment laws in 1968, the whole rumor would have never gotten started and I certainly wouldn’t have ended up with the life I have now.  But they say every cloud has a silver lining – mine just turned out to be double platinum!

I had been a Fine Arts major in college with a minor in English. I hoped to go to graduate school to get a degree in Creative Writing, but it was just out of my financial reach at the time. Just getting my BA had been an uphill battle when it came to money, but I had always loved to write, and wanted to write children’s books. Nancy Drew, Judy Bolton, Tixie Belden – they had been my heroines growing up, and I wanted to write stories just like that.

Though the financial road was rough, when it came to my dream of being published, I was exceedingly lucky. I wrote a story aimed at children for my thesis, and my professor loved it, so much so that he had passed it on to a friend who was in the publishing business.  Amazingly, it was picked up for publication. I knew that this was a one in a million chance. Since I was an unknown, I was given a $200 advance, a piddling amount even by 1968 standards.   While I waited for the book to come out and hopefully earn me some more money, I kept my job in Dolan’s department store, where I had worked part-time as a sales clerk in the costume jewelry department all during school.  Now, however, I was working full time.

The job wasn’t bad.  Dolan’s was a good place to work, with excellent wages, something I definitely needed. The exception was the floor manager, Edwin Hess.  He was an oily character – slicked back hair and a pencil thin mustache.  I suppose he thought he looked debonair.  Personally, he turned my stomach.

For some reason, once I started working full time, he started coming on to me.  He had never bothered me when I was a part-time worker.  Maybe it was because I was a student when I worked part-time, and was under 21.  Maybe it was because he knew that I desperately needed this job and was unlikely to challenge him.  What little money I had managed to save had gone towards a fabulous graduation trip to England. 

Every day he would come around to my station, making small talk and finding some way to lightly touch me.  It was enough to make me shiver.  Maybe he thought I was shivering in anticipation of him, but I just got a cold, clammy feeling when he was nearby.

I had been working full time for about a month when he made his big move.

“Oh Andrea, you look so tense.  Here, let me just loosen you up.”  He came up behind me and started rubbing my shoulders.

“Mr. Hess, I’m fine.  There’s no need, really.”  I slipped away from his touch.

“Andrea, how many time have I told you that you must call me Ed.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.  You’re a manager.  It just wouldn’t be right,” I protested.

“Don’t be silly, Andrea,” he oozed.  “I’m more than just your manager.  I’m your friend.  I care about you.”

I forced a smile.  “That’s so kind of you.  Is there something you need from me?  I was in the middle of going over the receipts for...”

“Andrea, my dear, you must be the hardest working employee at Dolan’s.  I never see you taking a coffee break.  You rarely take lunch.  You are so dedicated.  And don’t think it has gone unnoticed by me.”

“Thank you,” I said, retreating further behind the counter.

“How would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Of course you could,” he said, coming closer and lightly touching my shoulder.

“No, I really couldn’t.  It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Not to worry, my dear girl.  I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”   .

My stomach was churning at this point. “It’s a lovely offer,” I lied,  “but I just couldn’t.”

“But it would be a chance for us to talk about career opportunities.  You have so much potential.  I would hate to see it go to waste.”  He covered my hand with his, and it was all I could do to keep myself from jerking it away.

It was clear what he was insinuating.  Having worked at Dolan’s part time for over three years, I had gotten a big salary increase when I started full time.  A better salary than I could get at most places.  Right now money was tight and I really couldn’t afford to lose this job, and he knew it.

My mind was racing.  I would rather have scrubbed toilets than go out with him.  But I couldn’t think of an excuse that would placate him.  So I created one.  A simple little lie that I hoped would get him to leave me alone. 

“It’s not that I wouldn’t love to go out and have dinner with you,” I said,  “but my boyfriend wouldn’t approve.”

“Boyfriend? Andrea, I had no idea.” His eyes widened in mock surprise.  “Why, in all the years that you’ve worked her you’ve never mentioned a boyfriend.  I’ve never even seen you buy a gift for a man.  When did someone sneak in and steal your heart?  If I didn’t know better, I would think you had made him up.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” I giggled, trying not to panic.  He was right, of course, but it wouldn’t do to let him know that.  I hadn’t seriously dated anyone during my college years – I was too caught up in schoolwork.  I needed to make good grades in order to maintain my scholarship.  The remainder of the time I had been working here, earning the cash for other necessities.  I  thought quickly and said the first thing that came into my head.   “I met him when I was on my graduation trip.  You remember, I went to England for three weeks?  That’s where I met him.  He’s English.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I replied earnestly.  “I know it’s a long distance and all.  And my mother certainly wouldn’t approve.  Which is why I haven’t mentioned it to anyone.  We’re kind of keeping it a secret.”

“Some secret,” he replied.  “But if he’s all the way across the Atlantic, it can’t be all that serious.”

“Oh, but it is,” I said solemnly, nodding.  “When we met he just swept me off my feet.  I just looked into his deep brown eyes and...well..  He’s the most charming man I’ve ever met. That is, next to you, Mr. Hess.”  I knew I was laying it on thick, but I knew the best way to deal with this sleaze was to play on his vanity.

“Really?”

“Really,” I said, hoping he was buying the story.   “As a matter of fact, he reminded me of you.  Maybe that’s what attracted me to him.”

“And what other things do we have in common other than our charm?” he said, giving me an oily smile.

Oh shit, this was getting out of hand, I thought.  “Well,” I said slowly, “you’re both very good looking, that goes without saying.  You’re both very kind and caring..  And...”  I searched my brain to think of something else that my fictitious Prince Charming might have in common with this rat.  “…you’re both left handed!” 

“He sounds like a lovely young man.  What’s his name?”

Now I was really in trouble.  It would be just like Slippery Ed to try and catch me in a lie.  If I gave him a name, he’d be sure to search for the guy.  Never mind that it was a foreign country.  He had a sadistic streak and would search high and low to see if he could catch me in a lie, and when he found out that I was lying, he’d take great pleasure in embarrassing me in front of everyone just before firing me for some trumped up reason.  His favorite excuse to terminate someone, which he’d used on several part-timers in the past, was “conduct unbecoming to a Dolan’s employee.”  Which was why we all kissed up to him.

“Oh, well, I can’t tell you,” I said lamely.

“You can’t tell me?”  He said mockingly.

“I really wish I could, but...” My mind was going a mile a minute.  “He’s sort of well known in certain circles, if you know what I mean.  He doesn’t want it to be public yet.  It’s just best if for now I keep it a secret.”

“Really, Andrea.  How intriguing.  A mystery lover from England.”

“Oh, Mr. Hess,” I said, turning red, “he’s just my boyfriend, although maybe some day...” I purposely let my voice trail off and tried to give him a far away stare as if I was imagining Prince Charming and myself getting married and living happily ever after in a castle somewhere.

“Sounds just like a fairy tale,” he said, his voice indicating that he didn’t believe a word I’d told him.

“It is.  A true fairy tale -- he makes me feel like a princess.”

“Well, I hope some day your mystery man won’t be such a mystery.”

“Some day,” I echoed, trying to get back to my books.

“Well, you have a good day now, Andrea.  Careful with those receipts.  I’ll be double checking them later.”  He slunk off towards the shoe department.

“Oh I will,” I said, letting out  a sigh of relief.

***

I put the unfortunate incident behind me.  The rest of the day was quite busy, and it was easy for me to forget about it.  It wasn’t until the end of the day, when I was in the employee restroom, that the whole thing came back.  And in spades!

“Andrea, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”  My co-worker, Leenna, cornered me next to the sink.

“Tell you what?” I asked, rinsing my hands with warm water.

“What?!  My God, how could you keep it such a secret?  I thought we were friends.”

“We are, Leenna.”

“Well then, why didn’t you tell me about Paul McCartney.”

I grabbed a paper towel.  “What about Paul McCartney>” I asked, drying my hands.

“That you met him.  That you’re dating him.  My God!  I want all the details now.  I won’t let you out of the bathroom until you tell.” Leenna prattled on without a breath.  “Where did you meet?  Is he as good-looking in person as he is on those dreamy album covers?  Did you meet the others too?  You must have!  Oh, God, what’s George really like?”

“Leenna, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to get past her.

“Come on, Andrea, don’t be coy with me.  Sarah overhead you talking to Mr. Hess about your English boyfriend this morning, Joanne told me!”

“Mr. Hess?  Oh.”  Now it was getting a little clearer  “Listen, Leenna, I never told anyone that I was dating Paul McCartney.  The idea is crazy!”

“Of course you didn’t tell anyone!  And I completely understand.  It’s a secret.  My God, if word got out that you were dating Paul McCartney, you’d be mobbed.  No wonder he wanted to keep it a secret.”

“Listen, Leenna, I’m not dating Paul McCartney.”

“Oh come on, Andrea, it’s all over the store...”

“It’s what?!”

“Just tell me a little bit.  One little tidbit.”

“Leenna,” I said sternly, “For the last time, I am not dating Paul McCartney.  I don’t know exactly why  Sarah made up this wacky story, but it’s not true.  Not that I wouldn’t like it to be, of course.  I mean, Paul McCartney’s certainly the kind of guy that I’d like to...”

“Oh, go on, tell me what kind of guy he is,” Leenna pressed.

“Leenna!  You’re not listening to me.  I don’t know the guy!”

“Come on, Andrea….”

“Listen carefully, Leenna…I am NOT dating Paul McCartney, okay?”

I sighed, but thought that was the end of it.  Was I ever wrong!

***

The next day started off normally.  Maybe the counter was a little busier than usual and some of the customers more demanding, but I didn’t give it a second thought.

It wasn’t until I took a bathroom break that I realized that it hadn’t all blown over.  I was in a stall, of all places, when I heard two other girls walk in.  I couldn’t figure out who they were, but it didn’t take me long to figure out who they were talking about.

“I can’t believe it,” girl number one said.  “I mean, she’s nothing special.  She’s not even all that pretty.”

“Maybe that’s what he’s looking for,” replied number two. 

“Are you out of your mind?  Look at the women he’s dated.  He could have any woman he wants and he chooses her?”

“You don’t suppose he broke up with Jane because of her, do you?”

“No!  You don’t think…”

“Well, when did they break off their engagement?”

“I don’t know, but you don’t break off an engagement with Jane Asher to date Andrea Bakker!”

At this point, my hand went to my mouth.  I couldn’t believe they were talking about me!

“Well, there must be something special about her.  I mean, Paul McCartney, for God’s sake!”

“Maybe she’s good in bed.”

It was a good thing I already had my hand over my mouth because I gasped at that comment.  I was tempted to come out of the stall and confront them right then and there, but I was too much of a coward.  So I sat there, not moving.

“How can you say that?”

“Well, what else could it be?”

“I don’t know.  I just can’t see...”

“Oh, please don’t.  There, how does this color look on me?”

“That’s great.  Did you just get it down at the cosmetics counter?”

“It’s new.  A whole box just came in.  Old Miss Haines will never miss it.”

“You didn’t!”

“Why not?”

Their conversation continued on for several more minutes, but it was all about lipstick and eyeshadow and no more about me or Paul McCartney.  It seemed like an eternity to me.  I just sat there, as quietly as possible, until I heard them walk out and the door close.  Even then, I waited another minute or two before I allowed myself to stand, flush and go back to the sales floor.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, I could see how red my face still was, just from overhearing them.  How could this have gotten so out of hand?

***

I had just walked in the door late that evening when the phone rang.  I didn’t even put down my purse, I just ran to answer it.

“Hello, I’m looking for Andrea Bakker.”

“This is Andrea.”

“Hi, Miss Bakker, this is Joe Simmons from the Morning Telegraph.  I was wondering if you might have a few minutes to talk with me.”

“I’m really not interested in a subscription.  I just don’t have the time to read the paper in the morning.”

“Miss Bakker I’m not selling subscriptions.  I’d like to do an interview with you.”

“An interview?  With me?  ”

“Yes, I understand you were recently in England on a graduation trip.”

“Yes…” I said cautiously.

“I thought it might be nice to put a little something together on your trip.  You know, what you saw, what you thought of the country, the people you met.”

It couldn’t have gotten this far, I thought to myself.  “The people I met?”

“Yeah.  You know, any interesting friends you might have made...”

My purse fell to the floor.  I was incredulous. “Mr. Simmons, I don’t know what you’ve heard or who you’ve heard it from, but I had a perfectly ordinary vacation.  Nothing exciting or out of the ordinary happened to me.  I doubt any of the Telegraph’s readers would find it all that interesting.”

“Come on, Miss Bakker, it’s not a secret any more.  Everyone knows about you and Paul McCartney.”

“Mr. Simmons, I don’t know who your sources are, but they are incredibly wrong.  Not only am I not dating Paul McCartney, I don’t even know the man.”

“Miss Bakker, it would really be easier if you’d just cooperate...”

“Cooperate! About what?  A pack of lies?”

“You know, you could make some good money if you wanted to sell your story.”

“Sell my story!  There’s no story to sell!  Has everyone gone crazy?”  My voice was rising.  Even if I had been dating Paul McCartney I certainly wouldn’t sell my story to a newspaper.  What was he thinking? 

“Miss Bakker, really, if you’d just listen...”

“No, you listen.  There is no story.  I don’t know Paul McCartney!  Good bye!”  And for the first time in my life, I slammed down the phone.

How could my little fib have gone so  astray?  I collapsed in the nearest chair, hardly believing the conversation I had just had.

I hadn’t been sitting for more than a minute when the phone rang again.  I anxiously snatched it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Andrea Bakker?”

“Yes,” I replied cautiously.

“Hi Andrea, this is Kate Kollock from Channel 6 News...”

I groaned.  This could not be happening to me.

“I was wondering if you might be interested in sitting down with me and talking about your experience in England with the Beatles.”

Well, at least she was up front about it.  “Miss Kollock, it’s very nice of you to call, but I have nothing to tell you.  I had no experience in England with the Beatles.”

“Ummm...so you’re not willing to discuss it at this time?”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Any comment on your relationship with Paul McCartney?”

“Any comment?!?  No comment.  There is no relationship!”  And for the second time that evening I hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

***

I thought things might calm down the next day.  I figured it had been a slow news day if they were calling me.  Who would seriously be interested in Paul McCartney’s girlfriend, or not his girlfriend?  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

As I drove to work, I had the radio on and heard my name as the morning news program mentioned that I was dating Paul McCartney.  I quickly changed the station, but it seemed every local station mentioned my name during the morning drive.  I couldn’t understand how this could be considered news, particularly since there was no story!

After what I heard on the radio that morning, it should have come as no surprise that my counter was flooded that day.  Co-workers wanted to know all the details of my romance.  Customers wanted to hear all about Paul, but didn’t want to buy anything.  And the phone was ringing off the hook at the store.  I didn’t make a single sale that day. All of this was carefully noted by  Mr. Hess.

I was relieved when it was time to go home.  I didn’t have a break all day.  I couldn’t even eat lunch in peace.  All of the girls were all over me, wanting to hear about Paul and the Beatles.  And when they found that I had nothing to say, they shunned me.

It continued on that way for the rest of the week.  And when payday came around, I was called into Mr. Hess’s office.

He sat there proudly behind his oversized desk.  “Andrea, do have a seat.  I must tell you that I am very disappointed with your sales total this week.”

“Mr. Hess, you must understand...”

He held up his hand to stop me.  “I know, I know.  All of this useless hubbub over your relationship with Mr. McCartney.”

“I never asked for this Mr. Hess.  I’ve told everyone time and time again that I am not involved with Paul McCartney.”

“I’m just wondering why your dream lover hasn’t come out in your defense.”

I had no answer for that, especially since it would have just given him more ammunition to use against me.

“Have you heard from your Prince Charming lately, Andrea?”

“No,” I said.  “But that shouldn’t matter.  My personal life is just that. Personal.”

“And your business life is just that too.  Unfortunately, due to your conduct, Dolan’s has been under siege.  I must write you up for that.  And I must also warn you that if this sort of thing continues, I’ll be forced to take more serious action.”

***

The weekend was no better.  The phone was ringing off the hook.  Now it wasn’t just the local reporters, but it seemed as if the news had traveled as far as Philadelphia.  Reporters from there were calling too.

Then my mother called wanting to know what was going on.  She’d been getting calls too!  I couldn’t believe that the story had traveled from rural Pennsylvania all the way to Brewster, New York!

Mom had a good laugh over it when I told her the whole story.  But mom always did have a sunny way of looking at things.  It was what kept her going all these years.  I knew life hadn’t been easy for her.  She raised me alone and did a fine job of it.  She scrimped and saved and got me into college.  And now that I was finally no longer a financial burden on her, I had gotten into this crazy story. 

The only really good news that I got was a call late Sunday afternoon from Sharon, the woman who was an editorial assistant with  my publisher, and assigned to my book.  I was thrilled to hear a friendly voice.

“Andrea, I’m so sorry to call you on a Sunday afternoon.  But I’ve been trying and trying all week long to get in contact with you, and your line is always busy or you don’t pick up.”

“Sharon, I’m the one who should be apologizing.  You shouldn’t be working on a Sunday.”

“This isn’t really work.  I have some good news for you.”

“I could use some.”

“We’ve moved the book up.  It should be out October.  Mid-September if we’re really lucky.”

“Wow!  What happened? I mean, you told me not to expect anything until the spring!”

“You’re a promising author, Andrea.  I hope you’ve been working on your next book, because we’d be anxious to see a manuscript.  We’d be anxious to see whatever you might have lying around.  It wouldn’t have to just be fiction, you know.”

A warning bell went off in my head.  “What would I write besides children fiction?” I asked cautiously.  

“Well...have you ever considered an autobiography?”

My heart sank.  The only reason my book was being pushed through at such a pace had nothing to do with my skills or talent, it had to do with that stupid Paul McCartney rumor.  It had some how reached New York City.  “Don’t you think I’m a little young to write my autobiography?”

“But young people want to read about other young people.”

“Sharon, this wouldn’t have anything to do with a nasty rumor that seems to have made it’s way all the way to New York City, would it?”

“Well, Andrea, I have been told that you are quite close with the Beatles.  And I wish you’d told me about this sooner.  There’s a great market for that type of thing right now.”

“Sharon, the closest I’ve ever been to the Beatles recently was holding the Sgt. Pepper album!”

“Personally autographed, I’ll bet.”

“Autographed?!  Has the whole world gone mad?  I don’t know the Beatles!”

“Hmm...well even if you don’t, this is a great opportunity for you.  And for us.  We want to get this book out quickly, while the public is still hungry to hear about you.  If you’re smart, you’ll play along with this too.  It could mean great book sales, and even better money.”

“Sharon, how can I make money off of a lie?”

“Plenty of people do it, Andrea...”

I sighed.  “I don’t know.  It just isn’t right.”

“You think about it, Andrea.  But if I were you, I’d get writing.”

***

The madness continued.  I was certain that after the first week things would die down.  They didn’t.  Another week went by.  I was still getting calls from reporters. But now they were from as far away as California.  I even got a call from a radio station in Quebec.  For the most part, I left my phone off the hook.

Yet another week went by. Still the calls continued.  Fans continued to flock to the store to check me out.  Co-workers shunned me, either because they thought I was too high and mighty for them because I wouldn’t talk about Paul or they were afraid of the wrath of Mr. Hess.  I was constantly getting dirty looks from him.  Not a day went by that he didn’t seem to take pleasure in pointing out how my performance was slipping.

A full month passed and there was still no sign of the madness letting up.  And I knew that my time was running out at Dolan’s.

On a Friday morning, five weeks after the whole thing rumor had exploded, I was called into Mr. Hess’ office.  I knew it couldn’t be good, especially after all the warnings I had gotten.  But it wasn’t my fault.  Or was it?  I had created a fictitious boyfriend to keep him off my back.  I just never imagined that a fictitious boyfriend would turn out to be Paul McCartney and that the entire world would want to know about it.  How did the real girlfriends manage?

I knocked on his door and poked my head in.  “You wanted to see me, Mr. Hess?”

“Yes, come in, Andrea, and shut the door.  Do have a seat.”

I sat down and waited for the worst.

“Andrea, you used to be such a wonderful worker.  But ever since you took up with that McCartney fellow, well, to be blunt, your work has gone to hell in a hand basket.”

“Mr. Hess…” I began. 

He held up his hand to stop me.  “Yes, I know, it’s not your fault.  How often you’ve told me that when I’ve called you in here before.  But still...Customers flood to your counter, but they never buy anything.  The press are camping outside our doors.  It’s a distraction to our true paying customers, as well as to our employees.  You’ve caused quite an upheaval at Dolan’s and we simply cannot have it any more.”

“So you’re terminating me?  For dating Paul McCartney?  When I’ve told you I don’t even know the man?”

“Andrea, all these weeks you’ve been protesting your innocence.  Are you telling me now that you are indeed dating that mop top musician?”

“Mr. Hess,” I said, trying to find the strength that I needed to battle this. “I am not dating Paul McCartney.  But you’re saying your firing me because YOU think I’m dating him.  I find it highly irregular to terminate me just because you think I happen to be dating a famous man.”

“Miss Bakker,” he said, taking a tone that told me there was no way I’d have a job by the end of the day no matter how much pleading I did,  “I don’t think you’re dating Paul McCartney. I’ve never thought you were dating Paul McCartney.  As a matter of fact,  I don’t think you’re dating anyone. What I do think is that you have an incredibly overactive imagination, which has led to total and utter chaos in the store. Your conduct here has been most unbecoming.  I was one of your staunchest defenders, but I can no longer let your antics, be they real or imagined, disrupt this company.  You are terminated, effective immediately.”

I held the tears in and stood, trying to be as strong as I possibly could.  “Thank you, Mr. Hess.  I will just go get my things from behind the counter and leave.  I expect that my final paycheck will be mailed to me within the next week.”

“It will indeed. Please wait a moment and I will have someone from security escort you to get your belongings.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“But it is.  And it’s company policy.  We want to make sure that things that don’t belong to you don’t leave the premises.”

I stood there silently as he called for a security guard to come and get me.  He hung up at phone and looked at me.  “I’m really sorry that it had to come to this, Andrea.  You had so much potential.  And you threw it all away on some wild dream.”

If he expected a reaction from me, I wasn’t about to give it to him.  I stood there, biting my tongue and saying nothing.

“Are you proud of yourself, Andrea?”

“I don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Mr. Hess.”

“Suit yourself, my dear.”

Thankfully at that point there was a knock on the door and a security guard came in.  “You needed security, Mr. Hess?”

“Yes Robert, please escort Andrea back to the costume jewelry counter so she can get her things, and then escort her out of the building.”

“Yes, Mr. Hess.”

“And don’t forget to get her company credit card.”

“Of course not, Mr. Hess.”

“Good bye, Andrea. And good luck.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hess,” I said coolly, walking out of the office with the security guard on my heels.

“And Andrea?” Mr. Hess called after me.

“Yes?” I said, stopping in my tracks.

“My dinner invitation is still good.  You can always call me here if you decide to accept.”

I said nothing, but marched down the hallway, and out onto the sales floor.  Tears were starting to burn in my eyes and I was fighting like hell to keep them back. It seemed as if everyone was staring at me, looking and pointing.  Did they all know that I had been fired? 

I walked as quickly as I could down the escalator and toward my counter.  But it wasn’t my counter any more.

Once there, I brushed past Leenna, who was standing there, and went to get my purse.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Home.”

“Is Mal taking you?”

“Who?”

“You don’t know?  He’s been looking for you.  Someone told him you were up in Mr. Hess’ office, so he might have wandered up that way.”

“Leenna, what are you talking about?  I’m leaving.  I just got fired.”

“You what?!?  But why?”

“Because of the mess around here.  You see that very nice security guard over there?  He’s waiting for me.”  I opened my purse and rooted around for my Dolan’s company credit card.

“But you can’t go yet.  Mal’s been looking for you.”

“Who is Mal and why is he looking for me?”

She gave me an incredulous look.  “Mal Evans.  The Beatles’ Mal Evans.  Didn’t you know he was coming?”

“Leenna, what are you talking about?”  I turned to the guard, credit card in hand.  “Here you go.”

“Hey,”  the guard asked, “Is Mal Evans really looking for you?”

“He sure is,” Leenna jumped in.  “I knew you were lying when you said you didn’t know Paul McCartney.  Mal sure seemed to know you!  Hey, that’s him on the escalator.”  She started waving her arms around.  “Over here!  She’s over here, Mal!”

Heads everywhere turned my way.  I wanted the ground to swallow me up.

“I’ll go get him,” the security guard said.

“I don’t believe this,” I said, shaking my head.

“Oh, Andrea!  I’m so jealous! Paul’s probably sent Mal ahead for you.  Maybe he’s got some secret rendezvous planned.  It’s all so romantic!  Oh, if the two of you get married, you’ve just got to invite me.  Or even if you don’t, you have to introduce me.  I can’t believe after all this time…you know, I was really beginning to believe that you didn’t know Paul, but now...oh Andrea, you’ve just got to get an autograph for me.  I have all their albums.  I just love George.”

“Leenna,” I sighed,  “for the final time, who is Mal Evans?”

“I am.”

He stood right in front of me – this hulk of a figure in horn rimmed glasses.  He was intimidating, yet at the same time reminded me of a huge stuffed Teddy Bear.  He looked very familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

“You must be the infamous Andrea Bakker,” he said with a thick accent.

“I must be.”

“I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world.  I don’t have a job any more.”

“Could we go somewhere more private?”

“I was just about to be escorted out of the building, wasn’t I, Robert?” I said, nodding towards the guard who was standing by his side. 

“I’m afraid so,” Robert replied.

“Good-bye, Leenna.  You take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Andrea. Don’t forget to mention me to George.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Mr. Evans, if you want to talk to me, let’s go.”  Head held high, I stoically walked through the center of the store and out the front door, Mal on one side and Robert on the other.  Once out on the sidewalk I turned to Robert.  “Thanks for all your help.  Please be sure to report back to Mr. Hess that you successfully got me out of the building without an incident.”

“I will.  I’m sorry.  Just for the record, he’s a real rat and you should never have been treated like you were.”

“Thanks, Robert.  I really appreciate it.”

“You need a ride home?” Mal asked me, once Robert had walked back into the building.

“What?  Oh, no, my car’s around back.  I’m sorry, it’s been a really crazy morning.  You wanted to talk to me?  Do I know you?  You look familiar.”

“As I said, I’m Mal Evans.  I work for the Beatles, that’s probably why I look familiar.”

My insides turned to jelly as it slowly started to sink in.  “You work for the Beatles?”

“Yes.”

Dread started to fill me.  “Oh God, don’t tell me that this insanity has crossed the Atlantic.”

“It has.  That’s why I’d like to talk with you, but I don’t think the sidewalk is the best place for it.”

“Oh God,” I said again.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“Perhaps we could go somewhere for a cup of tea?”

“If people see you with me...they’re going to think...Oh God.”  My mind was really racing.  Could you get arrested for pretending to be the girlfriend of a Beatle?  But I wasn’t pretending anything!  I was denying it.  How could it have all come to this?

“Are you all right? You’ve turned quite pale.”

“Your...they...he’s not going to prosecute me?  I really didn’t do anything.  I don’t even know how it all got started...I mean...I can’t go to jail.”

“Hey, calm down.”  He put his big hands on my shoulders.  “It’s going to be okay, but we can’t be standing here like this.”

“You’re right.  Ummm...the only place that I get any sort of privacy these days is my apartment.”

“Fine, we’ll go there.  My car’s right over there.  I’ll have the driver follow you.  Is that all right?”

“Yeah, I...My car’s around the back.  It’s a beat up, very dirty white Volkswagen...umm...it’s a...well... a car.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you and follow you home.  Are you going to be all right to drive?”

“Yeah, sure...it’s just been some morning.”

He laughed.  “That I can understand.  Go on then.”

I walked on shaky knees around the side of the building to the back parking lot for employees.  My hands were trembling as I opened the car door.  What was going to happen to me now?  How was I going to pay the rent?  I got in and sat there for a moment.  What the hell did Mal Evans want with me?  Did the Beatles really know about this craziness?  They must, otherwise why would he be here?  I started the car and drove slowly out of the lot and out to the main street where Mal and his driver were waiting.  They saw me and pulled away from the curb.

I didn’t go over 25 mph the whole way home.  It wasn’t that I was afraid I’d lose them, I just didn’t trust myself to go any faster.  I was a nervous wreck and becoming worse with every passing minute.

***

It still only took about 15 minutes to get home.  I pulled into my parking space and Mal’s car pulled up right alongside me.  I took a deep breath and got out.  You can handle this, I told myself.

“Hi,” I said uneasily, as Mal emerged from his car.  “I’m on the second floor.”

“Okay.  Are you sure you’re all right?  You really don’t look well at all.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, but I don’t know if I was telling him or trying to reassure myself.  “Just follow me.”

I started up the front steps.  I must have been visibly shaking, because before I knew it he was alongside of me and had taken my arm. 

“Let’s keep you steady here.  You’re not going to faint, are you?”

“I don’t think so.  I’ve never fainted before though,” I said breathlessly.

“Light headed?”

“A little.  But mostly jittery.”

“Come on then, let’s get you inside.  A nice cup of tea will fix you up.”

I didn’t think a nice cup of anything would help at this point.  But I wasn’t going to argue.

Before we even got to my door, I could hear the phone ringing.  Word must already be out that I had gotten fired.  This would mean more reporters, more crowds, more calls.  Was this ever going to end?  I unlocked the door and he followed me in.

“You sit down,” he commanded.  “Don’t bother with the phone.”

I was happy to listen to him.  I slumped in the nearest chair.

“Where is the kitchen?” he asked.

I pointed.

“Okay, you just stay there and rest.  I’ll make us some tea.”

I didn’t even know if I had any, but it didn’t really make a difference.  What the hell was I going to do? 

The phone stopped ringing.  I took it off the hook and wrapped it in the towel that was on the floor next to it.

What had happened to my life?  How could all of this gone so far?  What was I going to do?

I just sat there, trying to keep myself together, staring off into space.  And that’s how Mal found me when he came back into the room a ten minutes later.

“You’re not very well stocked.  And you Americans just don’t know how to make tea.  You don’t even have a teapot! But this will do in a pinch.”  He handed me a cup.  “Drink it.”

I took a sip.  It was awful.  I hated tea and the only reason I had tea bags in the house were for guests.

He sat down on the sofa across the room from me.  “So, tell me the whole story.”

“I don’t know where to begin.  I don’t really know the whole story.”

“All of the papers in England are saying that you are Paul’s girlfriend.  I happen to know differently. .”

“I never said I was Paul McCartney’s girlfriend.”

“I know.  I think the press loves you even more because you keep denying it.  Makes you all the more noble or something, protecting the man you love.”

“I’m not being noble. I’m telling the truth.  But no one believes me.”

“I know that too.”

“Why don’t they believe me?”

“You make good copy.   Paul makes good copy. And then there’s this.”  He pulled out a piece of newspaper that had been folded into his back pocket and handed it to me.

It was an article on Paul from a tabloid.  There was a photo of him and some woman walking down a street.  The photo had been taken from behind them. Paul just had his head turned, so you knew it was him, but you  could just barely make out the back of the girl’s head. I suppose from behind, the woman did look a little like me.  She was my height and had medium length blonde hair. 

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Paul and his former girlfriend.  Notice a resemblance?”

“From behind, a little.  But she’s got a much better figure.  I could never get away with a miniskirt like that.”

“But the story is that you’re dating Paul, and then someone snaps this photo.  Now they’ve got proof.”

“But it’s not me!”

“I’ve heard that tune before.  Just tell me how this all came about.”

I sighed.  “I think it all started about a month ago.  I graduated college this past June  As a graduation gift, my mom arranged to have me spend three weeks in England.  When I came back, I started working full time at Dolan’s to make ends meet.  You see, I want to write children’s books.  And I have one that’s about to be published...”

“I know that too,” he said, a bit impatiently.

“How do you...”

“Research.”

“Anyway, I was working full time at Dolan’s.  And the floor manager, Ed Hess, started coming on to me.”

“He’s the one who fired you today?”

“Yes, he’s a real sleaze.  I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you told him you were dating Paul?”

“NO!  He asked me out to dinner and insinuated that it would be in my best interests not to turn him down.  I had no excuse not to, if I wanted to keep my job.  So I told him I couldn’t go because my boyfriend wouldn’t approve, just to get him off my back.”

“And you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Right.  He pointed that out.  Said he never knew I had a boyfriend.  That I hadn’t mentioned one in all the time that I’d been working there.  So I told him that I met him when I was in England.  That he was British and that we were keeping it a secret from my mom.  Then he asked me his name.”

“And then you told him his name was Paul McCartney?”

“NO!  I told him it was such a secret that I couldn’t tell him his name.  That he was well known and I could say nothing more.”

“And from that he deduced it was Paul?”

“I don’t think so.  I don’t think he believed me at all.  And from what he said to me today, he never believed me.  But one of the girls overheard our conversation and some how came to the conclusion...”

“That you were talking about Paul.”

“And from there on in, it just grew and grew.  I never imagined that anything like this would happen.  You’ve got to believe me.  I was just trying to get out of a really sticky situation.  And all that I ended up with was getting fired anyway.” 

It was at that point that I began to cry.  Once I started, I couldn’t stop.  It came pouring out of me and I was sobbing.

I don’t know when Mal came over to me, but at some point, there were a pair of strong arms holding me.  Even though I didn’t know him, I didn’t resist.  I collapsed into his arms, and continued to sob as he held me to his chest, rocking me back and forth and gently stroking my hair.

I don’t know how long this went on.  But something in my brain finally clicked off the tears and I took several deep breaths.  I was exhausted.

“You’ve been through a hell of a lot over these past couple of weeks,” he said softly.

I sat up.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to just fall apart here.”

“I’ve seen worse than you.”

“So what now?” I asked.

“Good question.” He thought for a moment.  “Want to come back to London with me?”

“I hardly know you.  And besides,” I looked down at his left hand, “aren’t you married?”

He laughed.  “I didn’t mean it that way.  What you think I am, some sort of pervert like that guy you used to work for?

I shook my head.  “You’re definitely not a pervert.  I should thank you for letting me fall apart on you.”

“My pleasure.  But seriously, why don’t you come to London with me?”

Now it was my turn to laugh.  “What, and leave all this?”

“Yeah, leave all of it.  Start out fresh.”

“I can’t afford to start out fresh.  I’ve got this apartment to pay for, my car, and no job.”

“You could get a job in London.”

“Doing what?”

“We always need help at Apple.  That’s the Beatles’ new company.”

“Even I know that.  I thought they closed down shop.”

“Just the boutique.  There’s still plenty going on in the office.  We can always use some extra help.” 

“So I should just pack up and go with you? You’re leaving out an awful lot of details.”

“Not really.  You could share a flat with one of the girls at the office, so you’d have a place to stay.  Or until you found a place you could stay with Lily and me.  Getting a work visa is no problem – I’ll just get Alistair to pull a few strings.  He can fix anything.  And I’m sure Neil could find a job for you.  Just fly back with me.  I’ll even cover the cost of the flight.”

I shook my head.  “You’re pretty amazing.  But what about my apartment here?  My car?  And all my stuff?”

“Couldn’t you sublet?  This is a college town, I’m sure you could find someone to take the flat.”

He was right on that count.  With classes starting up again in a couple of weeks, students were looking for apartments.  I could rent my place out with little problem.  I could always sell the car.  But what was I thinking?  What would I do?  What would my poor mother think?  I couldn’t just go to London like that.

“I’m not saying you don’t have a point Mr. Evans...”

“Hey, any girl who cries on me can call me Mal.”

“You do have a point, but just picking up and moving out.  I mean, it’s a more than a little crazy.  What do I know about England?  What do you know about me?”

“I know more about you than you probably do,” he confided.  “Believe me, we’ve been doing our research.”

I sighed.  “I don’t believe this.  Why would you be interested in me?”

“It’s part of my job.  Especially when the world thinks your dating Paul.  And speaking of whom, he’d like to meet you.”

“Me?”

“Can you blame him?  He wants to meet the girl he’s been dating.”

I took a deep breath.  “Paul McCartney wants to meet me?”

“Look, I know this has all been a whirlwind for you.  And believe me I know about whirlwinds.  I’ve been involved with the Beatles since the beginning, or almost the beginning, depending on how you look at it.  And I’m probably not the best one for this particular job – this sort of thing is usually left to Neil, but he just got married and I got this gig.  But what I’m trying to say is that when you’re in the eye of the storm, sometimes it’s best just to ride it out and go with it.  Believe me, the ride I’ve been on has been pretty incredible. Why don’t you try it?”

“Mal, it’s all too much.”

“I know...listen, why don’t I leave you to think about it a bit.  I have to make some overseas calls myself.  Think about it and I’ll come back tonight.  Okay?”

“Okay, but I don’t know if I’ll have an answer for you by then.”

“That’s okay too.  You going to be all right if I leave you?”

I took a deep breath.  “I don’t have much choice here.  I’ve got to make some sort of plan.  If you come back around 7:00 tonight, I’ll treat you to pizza.”

“Offering me dinner after you’ve been fired.  No wonder why Paul is so taken with you.  No wonder why the press is so taken with you.”

I blushed.  “It’s the least I can do for you after all of this.  And leaving your wife for this mess...well...”

“I’ll be back later.  You do your thinking, and if you can, try to take it easy.”  And with that he was gone.

***

I tried to rest as he had suggested.  I lay down and took a nap for a while, but it was not a peaceful sleep.  I had wild dreams and woke feeling just as tired as I had when I lay down.

I did seriously consider Mal’s offer.  Why not pack up and leave?  What did I have here but chaos?  I could sublet my apartment, and now was the perfect time.  Selling the car wouldn’t be all that hard either.  I could store what I wouldn’t need at my mom’s and take whatever else I had with me.

But what was I thinking?  A whole new country?  Where I knew no one?  And what would I do?  Although Mal had said he’d get me a job, what if he couldn’t?  What would I do there? 

So I called home, figuring my mother would be the voice of reason for me.

Hearing her voice when she picked up the phone was reassuring.  “Hi Mom.”

“Andrea!  You sound tired.  Has that McCartney boy being keeping you out too late?” she teased me.

“Mom!”

“Oh honey, it will all blow over soon enough.  There are hardly any reporters hanging around the house any more.”

“Mom, I got fired today.”

“Oh Andrea, I am sorry.  It’s been a rough time for you.  Why don’t you come home?  There’s no need to stay in Pennsylvania any longer.”

“I know...I’ve been thinking about leaving.  I’ve had a job  offer.”

“Andrea,” my mother could hear the uncertainty in my voice.  “What’s going on there?”

“I’m thinking of going to London.”

“London!  Now you’ve got me thinking that the rumors are true.”

“Mom, you’re not going to believe this, but Paul McCartney, who I am not dating, wants to meet me.”

There was only a momentary pause. “That hardly comes as a surprise, Andrea.  It seems as if every magazine and newspaper has run something about the two of you.  Why wouldn’t he want to meet you?”

My mother could make sense out of the most senseless situations. It was one of the reasons I loved her so much.  She had always encouraged me no matter how hard the circumstances were.

“So you think I should go?”

***

Mal arrived before the pizza did.  He had a six pack of beer and a bottle of wine with him. 

“Didn’t know what you liked to drink.  Your kitchen gave me no idea.”

“Yeah, the cupboard is a little bare.  With the way things have been going around here, grocery shopping just hasn’t been a real pleasure.”

“Understood.  So which do you want?” he asked, as he made his way into the kitchenette.

“Wine,” I replied.  “I don’t have any wine glasses, but...”

He opened the cabinet and pulled out a tumbler.  “I know, but this will do.  And I’ll just drink the beer out of the can.  Vile stuff any way.  You Americans don’t know anything about beer.”

“I’ve always thought it was vile myself.  Make yourself at home.”

“I have,” he said.  “Hope you don’t mind.”

I laughed.  “Why should I?  You’ve had your life all messed up because of me.”

“No more messed up than usual.”  He handed me the glass.  “Here’s to you and Paul.”

“Cheers,” I said, clinking my glass with his can.  I had just taken a sip when there was a knock on the door.  “That must be dinner.  I didn’t know what you liked on your pizza, so I just went with plain.  I hope that’s okay.”

“Fine with me.”

I grabbed my purse and went to open the door.  “Hi there, how much to I owe you?”

“Four dollars.”

I rummaged around, looking for some singles, but only had a five.  The kid was going to get a decent tip tonight.  “Here you go.  You can keep the change.”

“Thanks!  Hey, aren’t you the one who’s dating Paul McCartney?”

“I am the one they say is dating Paul McCartney.  Unfortunately, I don’t even know Mr. McCartney.”

“Could you get me his autograph?”

I sighed.  “I don’t know Paul McCartney.”

“If you don’t know Paul McCartney, how can you be dating him?”

“I’m not dating him!  Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”

“I didn’t read it, I saw it...”

But before he could get the rest of the sentence out, I closed the door.  Yes, it was rude, but the dollar tip should make up for it. 

“So how long has this been going on, then?”  Mal asked.

“Seems like forever, though it’s probably only a little over a month.  I still can’t believe anyone is really interested in me.  How many times do I have to say I don’t know the man?”  I put the pizza box down on the beat-up coffee table.  “I’ll go get us some plates.  I hope you don’t mind eating out here.  I don’t really have a dining room.”

“Andrea, stop worrying about the little things.”

“I’m not,” I called back to him.  I grabbed two plates and some napkins.  “As a matter of fact, I’ve decided to take your advice and just go with it.”

“And does that mean what I think it means?”

“It means,” I said flopping down on the floor and opening the pizza box, “that I am putting this apartment up for rent, selling my car to my mom, who has graciously agreed to take the old clunker, which is actually newer than her old clunker, and packing up whatever belongings you might think I’ll need and going to live in London for a while.  That is, if your offer still stands.”

He grinned.  “I didn’t think you’d be this easy to convince.”

“Believe it or not, it wasn’t me.  I was my mother.  She said I should go for it.  Take the opportunity while it’s being presented to me. ‘Cause something like this will never happen again.”

“Smart woman, your mother.”

“Smart woman indeed.  So where do we start?”

“I’ll give Alistair a call and have him get you a work permit.  You get this place rented and pack your bags.  I’ll get you a plane ticket.  I’ll also figure out who you’re going to room with.  You could, of course, just move in with Paul,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Very funny!”  I replied, nearly choking on my pizza.

“How long do you think all of this will take you?”

I looked around.  “I don’t have all that much.  I planned on renting this place furnished.  I mean, I bought the stuff that’s here from other students who  lived in the building.  Whatever else, I’ll have to pack into the car and leave with my mom.  And that’s it.  I really don’t think it will take all that long.  I could probably get this place rented within a week or two.”

“So we could get you to London by the beginning of September?”

“I guess so...I mean if all goes well.  I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

“Stranger things have happened.  Trust me, luv.”

“In your world, but in mine...”

“Your world became part of mine the minute the press got wind of this thing.”

“And now they’re really going to love it.”

“Hey, it might calm down once you get to London.  Once you stop denying that you know Paul and get into the Beatle routine.  You never know.”

“You certainly don’t!” I exclaimed.  “Listen to be honest, I don’t know all that much about the Beatle world.  It’s not that I don’t like their music, I do, but I just never had time...well, maybe you could tell me what to expect.”

“Expect?  Expect the unexpected.  All the rules are broken here.  But I can give you an idea of what you’ll be doing.”

“That’s a start.”

Mal spent the rest of the night talking about Apple and what the group was trying to do with their own corporation.  They were tired of being run by others, and after the years of abuse, it was easy to see why.  But what they had wanted to do hadn’t been as simple as they had thought.  The boutique that they’d opened had lost thousands.  The music side had seen some success. There was just too much work and not enough people to help out. 

Mal explained that they needed someone to help Neil Aspinall, who would be my “boss. to organize things, to go through the piles of mail, to find if there was anything worthwhile there.  And this wasn’t to be a nine-to-five type job.  Whatever needed to be done, and whenever it was needed, I was to help do it.  Chaos reigned and I was to help dig them all out of this mess.  I thought it sounded fascinating.  Or maybe it was just the way Mal drew me in, with the outrageous tales of the goings on.  This was going to be so different that the usual boring days at Dolan’s, at least the days before the rumor had started.

After Mal left that evening, I found myself unable to sleep, anxious to get started on this new journey.  Finally, I had found an upside to this craziness that had become part of my life.

Part Two Coming Soon!