April 1968

Theo Dormer hated blind dates.

They were awkward, and it seemed like nothing good ever came of them. Regular first dates weren't much better, but at least they weren't masterminded by meddling relatives or friends. And he had a feeling that this might be the most awkward date of them all. Alice Edwards. Bloody hell.

It was all his sister's fault. He had a soft spot for Penelope, and she exploited it whenever possible. She'd first brought up the idea a few weeks prior over dinner, saying that he needed to make an exception to his usual grumpy self and go do something fun. She's been miserable ever since she got back from San Diego. C'mon, would it kill you to have some fun, Theodore?

The night of the date, she'd shown up at his flat unannounced and began to rifle through his closet, looking for a suitable outfit. Don't look so gloomy, she'd said as she tossed trousers and a shirt towards him. Most men would be thrilled to go out with her. Then, satisfied that he looked acceptable, she pushed him towards the door. Oh, and whatever you do, don't mention Paul McCartney.

Theo spent the taxi ride wondering what Alice would be like. He knew her brother from Eton, and their mothers played tennis together at the club. But he'd never met her. For all he knew, she was awful. So he decided that the most sensible course of action would be to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Put another way, he was mentally bracing himself for her to be either an insufferable Tory or a coked-out airhead.

It was lightly raining when the taxi dropped him off on a quiet street in Belgravia. He stepped out and stared at the white stucco Regency townhouse, which looked identical to every other building on the road. His dark blonde hair was already beginning to curl at the edges due to the precipitation, and more than one passerby glanced curiously at the tall, handsome-but-not-too-handsome man standing immobile on the pavement.

A car horn blared nearby, startling him into focus. He walked to the entrance of the house and rapped on the door. Three short taps, and two longer ones. After a moment, the door opened to reveal a stunning brunette wrapped in various textures of paisley. Her indifferent expression quickly turned into a playful smile as she recognized him and opened the door further.

Up three flights of stairs was an enormous room that would otherwise have been an attic but instead housed a bohemian members-only club called Lush. The large, garnet-painted room was dimly lit and smoke-filled to the point that it was difficult to see much. A jazz trio played a cover of "Potato Head Blues", and Theo nodded hello to them as he made a beeline to his usual table in the far corner.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he draped it across the back of the well-worn green velvet chair before he settled back to wait. After a moment, he fished out a packet of cigarettes and placed it on the tiny table next to a melty stump of a candle that looked like it might topple over at any moment. His foot tapped nervously against the floorboard, and he finally fished out a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

He sensed Alice's presence in the room before he laid eyes on her. Not in the sense that he was trapped in a romantic comedy and could feel an energetic pull toward his soulmate; rather, the general hum of conversation in the room paused and then increased in volume when she slipped through the fringed curtain. She wore a simple black dress, her long dark hair pulled back with a black headband. She looked effortless and lovely, but it was impossible to know if she had actually put any effort into it.

The hostess pointed towards the corner, and Alice began to walk his way. Faces turned toward her and then away as if they didn't want to be caught gawking. Theo wondered if they knew who she was or if it was just that she looked oddly familiar. Alice didn't register any of the attention as she walked to the back corner with purpose. She had a pleasantly neutral expression that he imagined must be from her stewardess days. Her hips swung in a maddening way, and he hated Penelope a little less for forcing this on him.

He stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray in a hurry and fumbled to stand. Her smile broadened when she finally arrived, and she leaned forward to kiss the air next to his cheek. Then she flashed him a more relaxed grin as she sat across from him in an overstuffed chenille settee.

"I never knew this was here," she said, slightly surprised. Her vowels had the echo of a very posh upbringing and the right boarding school--much like his own--but the edges had been roughed up somewhere along the way.

"I live just around the corner, and I had no idea," she continued, looking mildly delighted. She leaned forward slightly. "Do you come here often?"

Theo couldn't help but smirk. "Do I come here often? You're here less than a minute, and already you're using the oldest pick-up line in the book?"

Alice let out a peal of laughter and crossed one long leg over the other. "Touché, Mr. Dormer. But really, this is marvelous. I'd just about given up on the London scene, but this is a groove."

Theo looked around the room, debating if he should say that he was a founding member of the fledgling club and that he'd spent more nights than he cared to admit listening to music and drinking his worries away.

"It's a jazz club," he said, angling his chin towards the band playing an old Duke Ellington standard. "It's been open for about a year. At first, it was just a few jazz fiends like me, but now it's a scene unto itself. Still, it's quiet and one can hear oneself think."

The barman stopped by the table to take their drink order. He slapped Theo on the back and talked excitedly about an upcoming show at The Ophelia Lounge in Pimlico. Theo hadn't heard that the Four Lollies were touring again, and the barman quickly jotted down the details on the back of a scrap of paper.

Alice flashed him a crooked smile as the barman retreated. "I suppose Penny gave you a guilt trip about how I'm absolutely wretched and require cheering up?"

Theo leaned an elbow on the tiny table and looked at her with a twinkle in his eye.

"She twisted my arm," he admitted. "Practically drove me here herself."

Alice giggled. "Funny, that. Because she told me that her older brother was a miserable sod who desperately needed some fun. I've never heard such a sad story, to be honest."

It was Theo's turn to laugh as the waitress approached with the drinks. He held up the tumbler of whisky in the air.

"To pity drinks?"

Alice smiled and clinked her glass gently against his. "To pity drinks."

They spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing amidst a series of cocktails and a half-dozen cigarettes each. Alice spoke animatedly about the recent protests against the war in Vietnam and listened attentively as he explained the ill effects of the Commonwealth Immigrants Act that parliament was considering.

"The Immigrants Act is my father's wet dream," she said with a mischievous smirk, and he nearly spit out his drink. "I presume you didn't vote for him, then."

Theo laughed and shook his head. "I most definitely didn't vote for him. Did you?"

She took a drag and shook her head. "I'd hoped he'd get thrown out last year, to be honest, but he always manages to end on his feet. I suppose it runs in the family, but sometimes I wonder if it's a blessing or a curse."

He was surprised by how easy it was to talk to her, though he was keenly aware that she hadn't given away much about herself. More than anything, though, Theo couldn't get enough of how she looked at him. It was like he was the only person in the room. The trouble was that he wasn't sure if she was actually that interested or if that's how she looked at everyone.

They both looked up when the jazz trio announced they were taking a short break. Theo heard his name called as the portly jazz pianist sauntered over to say hello. They chatted for a few minutes as the musician asked Theo for feedback on the set they'd just played. Alice observed him throughout the conversation with a slightly furrowed brow like she was trying to work something out in her head.

"I thought you were a barrister," she said once they were alone. "Penny said that you're an incredibly successful barrister--"

"Mildly successful," he interrupted with an embarrassed grin.

"--Really, the best barrister ever to live, your sister said. Human rights law, is it?"

He hesitated. "Well, mostly representing asylum-seekers and, on occasion, civil liberties cases. That sort of thing."

Alice reached for her cigarette and leaned forward, resting a slim arm on the rickety table. "So why is that musician--who is very bloody good, by the way--asking you for pointers on their set?"

"Oh," Theo said and then hesitated again. "Well, I'm a barrister by day and an amateur jazz writer by night."

"Amateur jazz writer?"

He nodded. "I'm shocked Penny didn't tell you about it. She loves to take the piss. I publish-- well, it's sort of an independent newsletter about the local jazz scene."

Alice looked intrigued. "Sort of like the fan magazines they do in San Francisco?"

"Yes! Precisely that. I based it on that model, actually, but it's not about psychedelia and all that-- just jazz. I'm afraid I'm insufferable about it all. I use a pseudonym and everything. Fly under the radar."

She nodded like it all made sense and glanced at the musicians playing again in the opposite corner. "Alright, so in your professional opinion, are they any good? Because, in my decidedly unprofessional opinion, I'd buy a record if they were selling it."

He leaned forward conspiratorially. "You're listening to three-fifths of The Pollyanna Quintet, which was one of London's greatest jazz acts in the past decade."

"Was? Past tense?"

Theo nodded. "See the drummer? He was seriously involved with their vocalist, a woman called Stella. But she slept with the trumpet player, and she... well...."

He trailed off, not wanting to be indelicate, but Alice didn't seem to be fazed by the mention of a pregnancy out of wedlock.

"Bloody hell," she said, her eyes wide. "And I thought the Beatles had their drama."

She blinked, looking surprised that she'd said that out loud. She and Theo stared at each other for a moment as if an unspoken barrier had been breached.

He offered a crooked smile. "For what it's worth, I thought their Boxing Day programme was awful. More like the Magical Misery Tour, if you ask me."

Alice barked out a laugh and then put a hand over her mouth. "It was awful, wasn't it?"

"Black and white psychedelics? Genius."

"I thought perhaps it was just me holding a grudge, but I didn't understand it at all. Went right over my head."

"I'm not sure there was much to understand. The end credits were alright, though."

"Were they? I didn't make it that far."

They looked at each other again before bursting into laughter. For a solid five minutes, each time one of them would get their silliness under control and try to say something, they'd both dissolve into giggles again. Theo leaned back into the chair and watched her, noting that her expression was looser and more genuine than it had been. He'd been around many emotionally unavailable people, and he knew she fit squarely into that category whether by circumstance or personality trait. The fortress-like walls she'd erected around herself were almost palpable, and he had a mad desire to give her a hug.

"So you were a stewardess, is that right?" he asked once they could talk with straight faces. "Penny said you used to fly everywhere."

Alice nodded. "Used to be, yeah. Then, when I-- well, for the past year, I decided that I needed to lay low. Fly under the radar, as you put it."

"I hope you were hiding in a CIA safe house," he said.

"Almost," she replied. "I spent a month holed up at my grandmother's place in the country. I didn't talk to anyone, just slept and went riding every day. It was like I had years of sleep to make up for. Oh, and I stuffed my face with scones. My grandmother finally cut me off and told the cook not to make any more."

Alice rummaged through her purse until she produced a half-smoked joint. "Do you mind?"

Theo shook his head, wondering if he should ask her to turn him on, but decided she needed it more than he did. She took a drag and inhaled deeply, exhaling the smoke away from him. She held the joint toward him, and after a brief pause, he reached over and took it.

"So," he said as he inhaled. "You hid out with the landed gentry... and then what?"

"Oh," she replied, waving a hand in the air. "Then it all got very predictable. I dyed my hair blonde and went to California for a bit. And now I'm back."

He squinted slightly as he tried to imagine her as a blonde, which made his brain want to short-circuit. He passed the joint back to her, then leaned back in the chair.

"So what're you up to these days? Surely it's not all flower arranging and luncheons and charity events like Penelope."

Alice hesitated a moment before uncrossing her ankles and sitting up straighter. "I'm working on a secret project."

"I'm still not convinced that you're not a CIA asset. Alright, then, what's your secret project?"

She grinned. "If I tell you, I'd have to kill you."

"Well, we certainly wouldn't want that." He watched her eyes flit between his for a moment before she leaned forward, her voice conspiratorial.

"Have you heard of Zarby?"

Theo squinted, trying to figure out where he'd heard the name. Because he had. Then, suddenly, he realized that his secretary had been going on about it for weeks.

"The new clothing shop? It's somewhere mad and unexpected-- Battersea?"

"Shoreditch."

Theo snapped his fingers as it all came together in his mind. The papers had been full of gossip about Zarby, which had been christened as the place to be seen--even before it opened. The gossip columns were full of speculation about who was behind it.

"That's you?" he asked, surprised.

Alice nodded. "That's me. And you cannot tell a soul. Penny doesn't even know."

Theo tilted his head to one side, his blue eyes on her. "Why's it top secret? Is it a money-laundering operation, and you're single-handedly propping up an unjust regime in South America?"

Alice shrugged and took a final drag of the joint. "It's easier if no one knows I'm behind it all."

She settled back on the settee and told him about the day she'd decided to buy an abandoned warehouse and gut it. She was convinced that the right sort of place could convince the with-it set to make a pilgrimage--just like they had with Carnaby Street and the King's Road. Then she'd flown around the world to commission clothing from designers in California, Berlin, Tokyo, Marrakesh with the goal of curating a selection of clothes that London had never seen before.

For those few minutes, she looked younger and more relaxed. It was like someone had physically taken the weight off her shoulders, and she could breathe properly. For those few minutes, he could see a sliver of the woman hidden behind the walls. Unlike the polished persona she projected, this woman was complex and sarcastic and perhaps a little bit dark. And it was those parts that he wanted to know more.

Theo was just about to suggest they order another round when one of his Eton friends walked up.

"Alright, Dormer?" his friend said, beaming with the silly grin of someone tipsy enough that the world was a lovely place indeed.

Theo offered him a hand. "How're things, McCleary? Haven't seen you at the club since I won that last match."

Matthew smirked and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid I can't be seen there ever since that particular defeat. I've been hiding in the country licking my wounds."

He was about to say more but noticed Alice sitting across from them.

"So sorry, I didn't see you there; I'm..." he trailed off and looked slightly confused. "Have we met before? You look so familiar. I'm Matt McCleary."

Alice smiled politely and shook his proffered hand. "I'm afraid I have one of those faces that seem familiar. People always ask, and I feel guilty for letting them down."

The two men chatted for a moment longer. Then, with a final glance at Alice, Matt pushed off, muttering that he was sure he'd seen her before.

When Theo turned back towards Alice and realized that her vibe had changed altogether. Gone was the levity from before; in its place was the realization that she couldn't escape who she was for even an evening.

"Does that happen often?" he asked softly.

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. "Less often now. I'm hoping my father is taken down by a coup d'etat and everyone forgets about me."

They both ignored that her claim to fame wasn't her father, it was Paul McCartney.

She leaned back in her chair and reached a hand back to rub the back of her neck. "But I suppose I brought it on myself."

"Did you?"

Her smile faltered for a moment as she considered it. "Actually-- no, I don't know why I said that. It just seems like one of those things one says, doesn't it?"

They stared at each other for a moment, and Theo sensed that he'd managed to form just the tiniest crack in her armor. He also really wanted to lean across the table and kiss her. But, just like that, the walls were back up, and Alice straightened.

"I should go."

Considering how unexcited he'd been for this blind date, Theo felt incredibly disappointed by those three words. But of course, she wanted to go. She'd only agreed to meet him because Penelope had made him seem like the saddest bachelor in all of Britain. She was probably headed off to some sort of ridiculously hip party where she'd have a laugh about the bloke she'd met.

"My day is jam-packed tomorrow," Alice continued. "And I still have a few more hours of work tonight."

Theo stood and helped Alice up, saying everything one says in situations like this. Oh, yes, tomorrow is a busy day at court, what a good idea to call it a night. Jolly good, cheerio.

She gathered her purse, and he helped her with her coat. She fastened the top button and then turned towards him.

"What did Penny really tell you?" she asked. "About me, I mean."

Theo hesitated for a moment. "She told me she wanted to introduce me to the nicest girl she'd ever met and that I wasn't allowed to muck things up."

The smallest of smiles appeared briefly on Alice's lips before she looked down at the floor.

"What did she tell you?" he asked.

She looked up. "She said her brother was the smartest fellow she knew, even if he was a tad insufferable regarding music. But I assured her that I prefer insufferable people."

"A match made in heaven, then," Theo joked. Alice looked down at the floor for a moment before pulling her coat more tightly around her. She leaned forward to brush his cheek with a whisper of a kiss that probably meant nothing... but that he would spend hours analyzing later.

"Nice to meet you, Theo," she said softly. "I'm sure I'll see you round."

Heads turned as Alice walked across the room and through the violet-fringed curtain. Her heels echoed on the staircase, reminding her of the last time she'd left Cavendish. She burst into the deserted street and inhaled raggedly, feeling the cold air hit her lungs like daggers. Staring at the pavement, she wrapped her arms around herself.

She stood there for longer than was sensible, her thoughts and emotions swirling madly inside her head until she felt like she might burst. A door nearby slammed shut, pulling her into the present. She looked up, and after one last deep inhale, she turned towards her flat.

She hadn't wanted to meet Theo, but Penny had somehow convinced her. But she was glad she'd gone. He'd been a breath of fresh air. She knew that she could have set a second date or even suggested that they go back to her place.

But she wasn't ready.

As soon as she entered her flat, she flicked on the lights. She bloody loved it. Unlike her flat in Soho or the house on Cavendish, it was hers. She'd paid in cash using her grandmother's maiden name, and it had been her hideout for months. She'd heard that Paul had looked everywhere for her, but the search party apparently hadn't extended to Belgravia. She smiled at how bloody furious he must've been when he couldn't figure out where she'd gone.

Walking further into the living room, she threw her keys onto a table, accidentally upsetting a pile of newspapers that Mrs. B must've left for her. She knelt to pick them up and replaced them messily on the table. She was about to turn around when she looked down and, for just a moment, felt like it was impossible to breathe.

On the cover of one of the papers was the bold headline: "It's Great To Be In Delhi, Say Beatles." Above it was a picture of three Beatles sitting in a circle. George was playing sitar, the instrument mostly obscuring his face. Next to him was John, wearing a billowy patterned shirt and a blissed-out half-smile. He hugged his knees to his chest and looked more content than Alice had ever seen him. And next to him was Paul, who wore a t-shirt and a long necklace with some sort of silver medallion. His hair was swept across his forehead, and his expression was somewhere between underwhelmed and contemplative.

There had been a time not long ago when a photograph of Paul would have caused her to burst into unladylike tears. That night, though, she didn't feel the urge to hire an assassin, chop off his knob, or even cry. Seeing the photograph didn't feel good, but it also didn't feel catastrophic.

And she'd take whatever wins she could get.

Peeking out just beneath the paper was a colorful postcard. Alice frowned and pulled it out, taking in the art deco illustration of an Indian palace. Turning it over, she read Cynthia Lennon's loopy handwriting.

You'd bloody hate it here xx

Despite herself, Alice smiled. Poor Cyn. She'd been so keen on the trip, hoping that things would be less shitty between her and John. She and Alice had managed to stay in touch, unbeknownst to anyone else. Cynthia had managed to sneak out to the countryside with Julian several times, and they'd spent hours walking the grounds.

The phone rang, startling Alice. She glanced at her watch, surprised that it was already one in the morning. She hurried to pick up the receiver, worried that her grumpy upstairs neighbor would start to complain again.

"Yes?"

For months, every time she picked up a phone, she'd wondered if it was Paul. She wouldn't have been able to handle it if it had been, but without fail, she would wonder if it might be.

"Dutch, you have to come over." Teagan's voice echoed through the receiver, oddly garbled like she was calling from Moscow and not a few streets away. There were voices in the background, and it sounded like she was hosting quite the fete.

"I'm already in bed," Alice replied wryly as she kicked off her heels and gathered up the newspapers. "I was sleeping; how dare you call this late."

"No, you're not," Teagan replied. "You're on your living room phone-- the one with the dodgy receiver. And you never sleep anymore. All you do is work."

Alice laughed and padded across the room as far as the telephone cord would allow. Just close enough to the rubbish bin, she threw the pile towards it and cheered softly when it all landed successfully inside.

"What're you doing over there?" Teagan demanded. "Wasn't tonight your date with the boring solicitor?"

"He's a barrister and not boring at all," Alice replied, rolling her eyes.

Teagan covered the phone with her hand and said something to someone, her voice even further muffled. Then she was back. "That sounds promising. Will you see him again?"

Alice walked back to the receiver and sat on a Louis XIV chair. She'd found it at auction and had it re-upholstered in a fuschia brocade. "We'll see."

Normally her friend would have hounded her for all the details but seemed to intuit that Alice wasn't up for it. "Alright, doll. We'll be up for ages if you change your mind. Solitude isn't good for the soul, you know."

They said goodbye, and Alice hung up the phone, staring at it for a long moment before she stood up. She unzipped the back of her dress so she had more room to breathe and pulled off her tights before walking into the room she'd converted into a small office. It was minimalist and functional, the only room in the flat devoid of the knick-knacks she'd collected from around the world. The desk was covered with P&L projections, invoices, and sketches for custom furniture for the shop.

Alice paused at the door for a moment, taking it all in. She felt the familiar whoosh as her brain emptied itself of all her worries, and all she could think about was Zarby. With a satisfied grin, she walked over to the desk, pulled out the chair, and got to work.