It wasn't unusual for a stray band member to pop 'round into the offices; Bill and Virginia offered a welcoming environment, full of mirth and the Liverpool warmth Evelyn had grown accustomed to over the duration of her stay, and she noticed people liked to come in every now and again to be apart of it.

Today it was Beatle Paul, in his tight, blue trousers and a grey sweater, with Chelsea boots to suit. He'd come in a little after she had, bringing cuppas and conviviality.

"'ow ye'd break free?" Bill asked Paul. Evie sipped on the bland cuppa Paul had brought her. It needed sugar, too much of it, but she was happy to have the warm liquid regardless

"Ah, a disguise," Paul tapped his pocket, grinning, "I've bought a little mustache and a 'at, so the birds won't guess who I am."

"An' it works?"

"Sure." He nodded. "Well...not today, no, but me cars faster than their little feet."

Bill grinned. "So I s'ppose we'll be flocked wit' gerl this mornin', 'uh?"

"No, no—I parked away from 'ere. I'm not daft, Billy."

"Are ya goin' t'the Cavern tonight?"

"Me an' Virginia are," Bill responded, "Evelyn's goin' t'to see a different gig. There's a lot of gigs in Liverpool," Bill commented absentmindedly.

He was only half in the conversation. Before Paul had come, he'd dug out some papers and began the editing for next week's edition, and as Paul sat and chatted, Bill continued to mark up the pages.

"Yeh," Paul nodded. "There's loads of 'em now. I don't even know 'alf of the blokes anymore, yanno. It seems we meet someone new ev'ryday."

"'ow's that, meetin' all those bands?" Virginia interjected.

Paul grabbed a chair and sat it beside Evelyn's desk. "I like it. We learn a lot from bein' wit' other bands. We all work off each other, I think."

"I like seein' ev'ryone treat each other kindly," Evelyn spoke. She sat the tea down beside a pile of papers and began to sort her day's work.

Admittedly, when she first saw Paul's brown flock of hair outside the window, she was afraid it'd soon be followed by an auburn one. Since her and John had had that row of sorts at her flat, she hadn't found the opportunity to speak to him properly about it. Discussing it in a letter seemed informal and a telegram seemed too professional. She decided she'd rather just wait it out, let him determine if he was still angry with her or if it was just a daft row, and then she'd speak with him.

It'd been a few days; they'd play a couple of gigs since then and not been home. She used the time to sort through her stuff, conduct interviews outside of the Beatles, and allow her attention to shift onto other bands. Knowing John could take away the article so quickly embedded fear in her, and contributed largely to the reason she wasn't going to the Cavern tonight. She wasn't angry with him, she just needed another piece to depend on if his didn't fall through.

"Me too, Evie." He picked up the paper beside her desk and gave it a looksee. "This this week's?" he asked no one in particular.

"Yeah," Evelyn responded. "Mr. Epstein has his piece in there, an' John too."

"Mind if I take it?" he looked over at Bill, "Fer John, ya know?"

"It's yers." Bill waved it off. "Say, is 'e comin' 'er 'is 'e stayin' 'ome?"

"'ome. Said somethin' 'bout Mimi, yanno," Paul shrugged. "George'll be by, I expect. I told 'im too, at least. I don't know if 'is Mum we'll let 'im, though. We don't get t'stay 'ome often. Tomorrow we're going back t'London t'record a radio broadcast an' then we'll be headin' t'Doncaster after that fer an evenin' gig. We won't get t'go back 'ome after the Cavern."

"So why are you 'ere?" Evelyn questioned the young man. She hadn't meant it to sound rude, and it didn't; she was just curious as to why he'd rather be around this office instead of spending time with his own family. Didn't he miss them?

"I talk t'me family often. They're alright, really. I'll stop by there 'fore the show, too."

"Well, congrats Paul, on the number one. 'ow does that feel? It'll be first page news this week."

"Wha'?" Evelyn asked. "'as yer single reached number one?"

"In the News Musical Express and Disc Magazines, yeh. Brian sent over a telegram early this morn t'announce the news. Surely, we'll drive Wooler a bit more mad puttin' the four of ye on the front again."

"'e said it wasn't fair," Virginia told Paul and Paul smiled. "Sod good ol' Wooler," he joked.

"Yes, definitely." Evelyn nodded her head. "Especially since they're number one now! That's very thrilling," Evelyn couldn't suppress the grin on her face. "Paul, d'ya think you could ring John fer me? I'd like t'discuss somethin' wit' him."

"Sure," he winked at her. Paul reached around to her telephone and put in John's line number. He held the phone between his shoulder and his head, looking off into the distance as he awaited someone to pick up. "'ello, Mimi," he spoke kindly, "Can I speak t'John? Business matters, you understand."

Paul developed a better accent, a more polished form, and became more proper when he was speaking with whomever this Mimi was. He'd even taken to sitting a bit straighter in his chair.

"Yes, 'm aware. I promise it won't be long."

He handed her the phone. "Jus' wait an' don't say anythin'; if she thinks it's a gerl John's tryin' t'speak wit' she'll hang up."

Evelyn nodded.

"Paul?" John's voice filled the silence. "What does Brian bleedin' want now—"

"It's Evelyn, from Mersey Beat."

He laughed. "I know where ye'r locates. Why're ringin' me 'ome?"

"Uh," she looked at everyone in the office, and decided not to say anything about what had happened a couple nights ago. Not now, with Paul sitting right next to her. She'd wait until she saw him in person; that'd be better anyhow.

Besides, he didn't even sound peeved anymore.

"I jus' wanted t'say congrats on the record. That's very impressive."

"Ta," he replied simply.

"You're welcome. Also, John," she adjusted the phone on her shoulder. "I was thinkin', what wit' an that an' the Helen Shapiro tour, you could write somethin' about that?"

"The box wasn't enough?"

She could sense he was having her on, but she still felt poorly. "Oh, yes, yes, it was but I think the girls would greatly appreciate something fresh about the tour an' the album you're recording."

"So when's it due?"

"Friday?" she looked over at Bill. He wasn't paying attention to the layout of the paper, but on her conversation. Paul, who sat next to her, couldn't be bothered with the business and read the back pages of this week's paper. Bill nodded at her choice.

"Evelyn, we don't even get back by then. That's daft."

"Ye could ship it back."

"Jus' write it fer me. I'm sure ye'll do better tellin' stories than me anyhow."

She sat back in her swivel hair. "Are you sure?" she asked in disbelief. This was what she had expected to be presented with when she took the job, what she wanted to do.

"Yeh. Evie?"

"Yes?"

"Don't blander me name will ya?"

She laughed. "I promise. John?"

"Yessssss?" he drawed out his 's.'

"I've got the box 'ere in the office. If you want me t'stop around to yers I can 'er you can pick them—"

"I said keep 'em. I decided it was shite anyways, an' I didn't want t'do it anyways. I think he won't use the shite against me."

She heard a shrill, "John!" in the background. John quickly followed it with a "Shirrup Mary." Evelyn could only wonder what happened in that house.

"Listen, I've t'go but I'll see ya tonight, won't I?"

"Well-"

"Bye, Evie."

"Bye," she told him, before the line went silent. She replaced the phone back in its cradle and looked at Paul.

"Tell John and the others I'm sorry I couldn't make it tonight."

He nodded his head. "Will do, luv. Jus' know next time around we'll make sure t'it that ye'r there."

"Thank you, Paul," she grinned at him. He  returned it, tenfold, before George popped through the door, moving the Liverpudlian's attention elsewhere.

"'is mum let 'im come out t'play!"

George groaned. "Shirrup Paulie." He gave his mate a once over and grinned smugly, "Yer da' dress ya this morn'?"

"Oh sod off," Paul slumped down into his chair.

Despite her best efforts, Evelyn couldn't suppress a laugh and George appreciated the audience. "'ullo."

"'ello, George."

She was beginning to understand why everyone liked them so damned much, if she hadn't know before. It was become more realistic the more she saw them and interacted with them. While she didn't want to depend on them for the security of her job, she definitely didn't mind them being apart of it.

This job still felt like a privilege and she would continue to treat it as such.

———

I added the song above because I listened to while writing the majority of this chapter, and it reminds me a bit of Evelyn. Perhaps in the future Paul wrote it with inspiration of her with help of John? Who knows it, who knows it? 

Anyways, thanks for reading and putting up with this slow and short chapter. I hope to post more around the same time next week!