"This is it." Ringo said.
Both men were in the back of the limousine that Mal was driving. The 'new' Paul had already started the mustache. He hadn't yet had the dental surgery he'd need to fix his teeth to look like the original's had. Will had lost a tooth a long time ago and he would now get an implant. Ironic because Brits were supposed to have worse teeth than Canadians. But Paul was rich and Will had been poor. Now
he was Paul and he was rich.
They'd pulled up to George Harrison's house, a 1950s deluxe bungalow named Kinfauns in Esher. To him it looked like a typical Canadian suburban home with a big yard, not a rich man's house.
Ringo had figured it would be better for 'Paul' and George to meet for the first time away from John. George had never visited. Not the ten days he was in the hospital nor the last week he'd been out and living in the three story Regency townhouse on Cavendish Avenue in the heart of London that the real Paul and Jane had moved into the previous spring after Paul bought it. Surprisingly he fit into Paul's boots and shoes but not his pants, which were too short, nor his shirts and coats, that were too tight across the shoulders. Not much, but enough to look funny. Jane had taken all of them and given them away. He'd spent time buying a new wardrobe, not like Paul's old one nor like his meager one back in Toronto. He found he liked Carnaby Street and the hip clothes that he adopted. Jane had gone with him, insisting she make sure he didn't go too far away from what the real Paul would buy.
She'd kept the master room and he was in a guest room. "After we break up you can have the big room if you want. But it's my room until I leave, got that?"
"Whatever you want."
"Paul liked living here, close to things, just like with my parents' house. We'll need to show up at the clubs and events that he'd go to."
Now a week after that he was glad to get away from Jane and drive out to Esher with Ringo and Mal. Mal was a good guy. Ringo was becoming his best friend. Jane? He didn't like her. But he knew why. She was cold and distant and he couldn't blame her for that. She'd lost the love of her life and had to pretend he was him. But it was not enjoyable being around her. She tended to criticize everything he said or did, comparing him to the real Paul. He knew that was actually good. He needed help. But he didn't like it.
"How do you think he's going to be with me?" He asked Ringo as they got out. Mal got out too.
"He's a strange one, he is." Mal said. "Don't get me wrong, I love him. But he's not very loose with the lips, if you catch my drift."
"He's called the quiet one for a reason." Ringo said. "He holds things inside. He and Paul were the longest friendship of us all, you know. They rode the bus together as kids, natural allies against the world, you might say, both being unusual kids into guitars and American Rock and Roll. I really have no idea what he thinks of you or how he'll treat you."
Pattie opened the door. She smiled. "Mal, we got a pint and a sandwich for you in the kitchen." She looked at Ringo and 'Paul.' "George is in the studio." George had constructed his own studio as soon as he had moved in. "You know the way, Rich. I'll be in the garden." She smiled again.
He had thought Jane Asher was beautiful, despite her coldness. Pattie was unbelievable in her beauty
and she was friendly. He'd have to watch himself, he couldn't let himself crush on George's wife. But he was.
"Thanks."
She put her hand on his shoulder, "It can't be any easier for you than it is for us. Good luck." She smiled again. Then she went one way and Ringo led him another.
George was sitting on a chair with his guitar plugged into a small amp with the sound low, making it not much louder than if he was playing an acoustic. "Hey, Rich." He said as the two came in.
George then looked at him and said, "Hello."
George looked back at Ringo. "I'm working on John's new song."
George went back to playing a pattern on a series of chords.
Ringo turned to him and said, "John wrote a song while he was filming on location. It's about this orphanage with nice grounds back in Liverpool that he used to climb the wall to play in. That and all these other things John has in his mind."
He listened to the chords. He liked them. He liked John's chord progession and he liked what George was doing with it. There was a Hammond organ in the studio and he said, "D'ya mind if I play along on the organ."
George stopped playing. "You do sound like him. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were him, the way you look and sound. Go ahead, just keep it quiet."
There was a drum kit there too. It even had the Beatles logo on the bass drum. It wasn't Ringo's normal set, he knew that was a Ludwig classic and this was a Pearl kit with the drums red instead of the silver-gray that Ringo preferred. But as he walked to the Hammond and sat down, Ringo sat at the kit.
George started playing the pattern on the chords again and the three men began playing along. He'd always had an ear for picking up keys and chords, but this time he didn't need to use that talent. He'd watched the chords George had played.
George stopped. "You're decent, I'll give you that. Can you do that one?" He pointed at a bass. It wasn't like Paul's that was back at the Townhouse. It was a Fender Precision. It was leaning against a Fender Bassman amp. The chord was on top of the amp.
"Sure, I'll give it a try." It was getting easier and easier to talk like Paul in accent and cadence and word choice all the time.
They jammed a bit on the orphanage song, but no singing. Finally George stopped. "You're not as fancy as Paul. He'd make the bass line into a melody. But you gave it a good bottom."
"And in the groove with me," Ringo said.
"But you need to understand. If we let you actually
record with us, not just put your face on pictures and your voice on songs, you don't get to create. You have to do exactly what John or I tell you to do. Can you do that?"
"I'll play whatever you want."
George frowned at him. "John doesn't like you. I understand Lady Jane despises you. Rich, here, tells me you're all right and he likes you. Me? I don't like Paul being replaced. They explained why we're doing it, but still, it makes no sense to me. If we told the world and went on without him there would be
more interest in us, more radio play, more hits. But I don't know how I feel about
you. I get confused. If I act mean, remember it's the situation that bothers me. But it's best I just avoid you as much as possible."
"He means he's ready for us to go," Ringo got up from the kit. "Let's go, Billy."
George sat down the guitar in a stand, after turning off the amp and unplugging the chord from both ends. New Paul did the same thing with the bass.
As they walked out George was sitting crossed legged on a small oriental rug and was playing his Sitar. It was like Will Campbell, the New Paul, who Ringo liked to call Billy Shears when no one else was around, didn't even exist anymore.
