Chapter Text
“I’m working late tonight, boys. But Mr. Maxwell will be there tonight to look after you both.” Jim McCartney handed Mike his coat when he said those words. They were getting ready to go to school. Paul’s heart froze. “But dad, I’ll turn 15 in two weeks time, I can look after Mike, we don’t need a babysitter.”
But he knew his pleading was in vain. Ever since his mother died, leaving an 8-year old Paul and a 5-year old Mike with a father who needed to work a lot of overtime just to be able to make ends meet, Jim McCartney had hired a babysitter for his two boys. Sometimes auntie Millie or auntie Jin would look after the motherless McCartney boys. And Paul liked that; they brought love, warmth and laughter to the house, although they couldn’t replace his mother.
Paul had loved his mother. Deeply. She had been so loving and caring, always waiting for her boys to come home from school with a cup of hot steaming tea, a warm hug and a kiss. And she had such high hopes for him. Called him her beautiful, talented, intelligent boy. And he wanted nothing more than to please her and make her happy. Her sudden death had left Paul sad, lonely and bewildered. Now he came home to an empty, cold house, with his little brother in tow, alone until his dad would come home from work.
His father tried very hard to be there for him and Mike. Unlike most widowed men of his generation, he didn’t send his sons away to be raised by an aunt. He wanted the three of them to stay together, and raise his sons by himself, even if that meant that after school the boys would be alone in the afternoon. But he didn’t want to leave his young sons alone in the evening when he had to work late. Sometimes his sisters came around to take care of Paul and Mike, but they weren’t always available to look after his boys.
It had worried him a lot and one day he talked about his worries with Mr. Maxwell, a single man who lived a few houses further down on Forthlin Road. He offered to babysit Jim’s boys when Millie or Jin couldn’t make it. Jim had hesitated, because he didn’t know Mr. Maxwell very well and he didn’t really have the money to pay for a babysitter. But when Mr. Maxwell said he wouldn’t be asking any money, that he would be happy to have some company at night and that taking care of the boys would give him something to do, Jim had accepted the offer.
“Dad, please, we really don’t need Mr. Maxwell looking after us. I’m old enough to look after Mike and myself” Paul tried again. “Paul I’ve told you so many times before, I’m not going to leave you boys alone at night until you’re sixteen. Besides, Mr. Maxwell likes to come over. It gives him something to do at night. And he doesn’t ask any money for it. It just makes me feel better knowing there’s somebody looking after you both. Now get your coat or you’ll be late for the bus.”
Paul knew there was no fighting his dad over this. He sighed as he left the house with Mike. They caught the bus in seconds flat. And as he sat down, looking out of the window as the bus drove off, he thought: “of course Mr. Maxwell likes to come over. And dad might not be paying him, but I am. I’m paying him big time”. He ran his hand through his nearly black hair, his big hazel eyes focusing on his little brother. He knew he had to endure Mr. Maxwell tonight. For Mike’s sake. He would do everything to keep Mike safe. And at least he would have a little time to play his guitar before Mr. Maxwell would come to their home. He loved his guitar, he could tell his guitar everything, it was his confidante in a world where he really needed a friend to share his sorrow with. With a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he looked out of the window, as the bus drove through the drizzle of a grey Liverpool, on his way to school, to the Liverpool Institute.
***
John walked out of the door at Menlove Avenue. “Glasses John!” Mimi shouted when she noticed he wasn’t wearing them. Grumbling he took the hated glasses out of his pocket and put them on his aquiline nose.
Today was going to be his first day at his new school. His old school, the Quarrybank Grammar School, had to close its doors. The roof was leaking, the heating didn’t work and the toilets were constantly clogged. And since there was no money for the repairs, they decided to close the school and divide the pupils over other Liverpudlian schools. Now John had to take a long bus ride. And he hated busses. Luckily Pete and Colin were assigned to the same school, so they could ride the bus together.
John waved as he spotted Pete coming out of his house across the street. And after joining Colin, who just came around the corner, the three 16-year old young men walked to the bus stop to catch their bus.
John loosened his school tie. If the Quarry Bank Grammar school tie had been horrible, this one was even worse. “You look really stupid with that awful tie” he told Pete, “it makes you look like a sissy-boy”. “Speak for yourself, Lennon” Pete replied. “I guess we will get used to it” Colin said. “I will never get used looking like a sissy-boy” John grumbled. “I can’t wait to get home this afternoon and get rid of this stupid uniform, put on my drainies and play some rock ‘n roll.”
As they sat down in the bus, John was looking out of the window, thinking how horrible his life was. Living with his aunt who didn’t understand that all he wanted was to be a rock ‘n roll star. No scratch that. Not just any rock ‘n roll star. He was going to be the greatest rock ‘n roll star of Liverpool. No scratch that. The greatest of England, the UK, the whole bloody world! He was a rock ‘n roll genius, but no-one seemed to notice that, certainly not his aunt. She repeatedly told him “it’s all good and well playing the guitar John, but you’ll never make a living out of it”.
John ran his hand through his auburn hair and with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he looked out of the window, as the bus drove through the drizzle of a grey Liverpool, on his way to school, to the Liverpool Institute.
***
As Paul climbed the steps towards the entrance of the Liverpool Institute. Mike, trying to keep pace with his older brother, kept chattering about his upcoming English literature test today. Paul had helped him with his homework yesterday. It was Mike’s first year at the Liverpool Institute and he was having a little trouble keeping up with some subjects. He was a clever kid, but not nearly as clever as Paul, who was in the top of most classes. Luckily for him Paul was always more than willing to help him study and would explain things over and over again until Mike understood. As a result he felt confident about his test today.
As they entered the large entrance of the impressive building with the Roman pillars, their ways parted and Paul wished Mike good luck on his test. “I think it’s gonna be a walk in the park after all your help yesterday, Paul” Mike said, flashing his brother a big, grateful smile. “See you later!”
Paul watched his little brother walk away and kept watching him until he was out of sight. He then dragged his feet towards his own classroom. Maths, his least favorite subject. Not a good start of the day that, Paul knew, was bound to end even worse. Well, nothing to be done about it. And with a big sigh Paul entered the classroom.
***
John looked at the impressive building in front of him. Roman pillars and steps leading up to the immense front doors. It looked like a Roman temple. Not that he’d ever seen a Roman temple, but it looked like he imagined a Roman temple would look like. Quite a change from the worn down buildings from his old school. He climbed the steps together with Pete and Colin, while they looked at the other boys entering the school. “They all look rather smug and serious, don’t they” John said as he turned to his friends. “Not to worry though, Johnny’s on the case. We’ll soon show them how to have fun!” Pete and Colin laughed as John’s face showed a wicked grin and the three young men entered the building through the doors at the top of the stairs.
Once inside, they saw boys of all ages neatly and quietly walking along the corridors; no running, no shouting, no fooling around. Just lines of law-abiding boys and young men walking to their classrooms, just softly speaking to each other. “Hey kid”, John stopped one of the boys, who looked up to John with anxious eyes. “What’s your name, kid” John demanded.
“Eh, George” the skinny boy answered. “Well, eh George, can you tell me how to get to the classroom of Mr. Klein. He teaches Maths. I’d rather skip that lesson, I hate Maths, but I guess I’ll better introduce myself to him on my first day”. The boy called George gave him the directions to mr. Klein’s classroom and hurried away. John, Pete and Colin strolled through the corridors and up the stairs until they reached the right classroom.
As he entered John saw a room full of curious faces looking at him. Mr. Klein, an enormous man with a voice like thunder, showed him his desk and asked him his name. “Well Mr. Lennon, let’s see what you’ve learned at that lousy school of yours”. John had never paid much attention at Maths; it was his least favorite subject after all. And as Mr. Klein started to question him about things he was sure he never ever heard of, he sighed deeply. Not a good start of the day.
***
Paul tried to pay attention to what Mr. Weiss, his Maths teacher was explaining. He found it very difficult to concentrate on what the tiny, older man with the squeaky voice and round glasses that stood on the very end of his nose, was saying. He was a nice man, Mr Weiss, but Paul didn’t like Maths very much and his mind kept wandering to what would happen later that day, when he was at home with his brother and Mr. Maxwell. How he wished he could make his dad see that they didn’t need a babysitter anymore. How he wished there was someone who he could confide in, talk to, share his problems with. But no, he had to carry that weight all alone.
Suddenly the classroom door flew open and Mr. Klein, one of the other Maths teachers, entered. “Mr.Weiss” his thundering voice disturbing the silence, ‘I’ve got a new pupil for you. It’s one of those new lads from Quarry Bank Grammar School. I’m not sure what they were teaching those boys, but it sure wasn’t Maths! He’s at least 2 years behind, so I think he’s better off in this class”.
Paul looked up to see Mr. Klein standing next to Mr. Weiss. They looked like David and Goliath. “Okay Mr. Klein” Mr. Weiss squeaked, “what’s his name?” “Lennon, John Lennon”, Mr. Klein’s loud voice made Mr. Weiss wince. Paul’s eyes wandered over to the new boy. His heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know why. The boy, more like a young man, had auburn hair in a perfect Elvis hairdo, a strong aquiline nose and a wicked grin on his thin lips. He looked around the classroom in a fearless, haughty way.
His eyes stopped at Paul’s face and his eyes suddenly seemed to open a little wider. Paul felt himself blush a little and quickly stared at his hands. When he looked up again he saw John’s eyes were still fixed on him. Their eyes met and there was a strange feeling in Paul’s stomach. It wasn’t a scary feeling. It wasn’t a bad feeling. It was a comforting, warm feeling. A feeling of belonging, like he had known this young man, John, all his life.
He saw a smile cross John’s face and looked down at his hands again. What on earth was happening to him? And then, suddenly, John sat at the desk next to him; it was Ivan’s desk, but he wasn’t at school today. Tucked up in his bed with the flu. Damned Ivan! “So what’s your name?” a nasal voice beside him asked. Paul looked up from his hands that were playing anxiously with his pen. Softly he said his name “Paul, Paul McCartney”.
***
John couldn’t answer any of the questions Mr. Klein asked him. He was very, very sure he’d never heard any of these terms before at the Quarry Bank High School. They must have a complete different Maths terminology at the Liverpool Institute. Mr. Klein barked at him. At least it seemed to John like he barked. He even looked like a dog. A bulldog. “Didn’t they teach you anything at that lousy school of yours or are you just plain stupid?” Next thing John knew he was dragged to his feet and shoved out of the classroom. Mr. Klein walked him to another classroom, where he was introduced to a tiny man with a squeaky voice.
A room full of young boys, a good two years younger than him, he guessed, looked up at him. His eyes wandered around. Suddenly his eyes stopped at the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. Nearly black hair in a perfect Elvis hairdo, a sweet little nose, full sensual lips, and his eyes…..big doe eyes with amazingly long eyelashes and perfect eyebrows……
The boy blushed a little when he noticed John’s eyes on him and looked down. So sweet! God, what was he thinking? John gave himself a mental shake. It’s a boy for heaven’s sake! But then the boy looked up again and their eyes met. John felt a warm feeling spread across his body. A feeling of recognition, a feeling of belonging. A feeling that told him that this beautiful creature was going to be very special for him. And as he sat down at the empty desk next to this gorgeous young man and asked his name, the soft melodious voice saying “Paul, Paul McCartney” made him feel butterflies in his stomach.