'Oh, working hard,' grumbled the chauffeur, 'eight days a week.'

When Paul arrived at John's country mansion, he told his friend what the driver had said. 'John said, "Right - 'Ooh, I need your love babe ...'" and we wrote it. We were always quite quick to write.' When they finished a new song like this, Lennon and McCartney would usually perform it for Cynthia Lennon, or whoever else was around, to see what sort of reaction they got, making sure to write down the chords and lyrics. 'We couldn't put it down on a ca.s.sette because there weren't ca.s.settes then,' notes Paul. 'We'd have to remember it, which was always a good discipline, and if it was a rubbish song we'd forget it.'

The first full year of Beatlemania ended in December with Another Beatles Christmas Show Another Beatles Christmas Show, staged at the Hammersmith Odeon, a huge West London cinema that was becoming one of the capital's premier music venues. Once again the Beatles were obliged to act the fool as well as perform, and again there were a host of support acts, including the Yardbirds, featuring Eric Clapton who became an important friend. 'Paul played the amba.s.sador, coming out to meet us and saying h.e.l.lo,' recalls Clapton, who also remembers Paul playing a new tune backstage. It had come to him in a dream at Wimpole Street, and he wasn't sure whether it was an original composition or an old melody that had lodged in his unconscious. Neither Clapton nor his band mates recognised it.

The Christmas show compere this year was Jimmy Savile, night-club owner and DJ. One of Jim's business interests was the Three Coins club in Manchester, which the Beatles played twice, in 1961 and 1963. 'The first time, they travelled over from Liverpool and got a fiver for the whole gig, and they went down well. So they came back [and] got 15 [$23],' recalls Savile, who was best known as a Radio Luxembourg disc jockey. As such, Jim had helped promote the Beatles' career. They rewarded the DJ with what he calls 'the greatest non-job' he ever had.

Because first of all you couldn't hear yourself think think, at all. And the audience, when they saw me come on, knew that I was coming on to introduce the lads, and you could actually taste the noise. The noise was just quite unbelievable! And for the whole of the [20] days I never, ever uttered a word. All I did was just mime all sorts of things, and sort of dived about the stage, and suddenly I would look over to the wings and put my hands on my head as though I can't believe what I'm seeing, and then I'd run off the other side, and the Beatles would run on this side, and that was it. That's how I'd introduce [them].

The DJ also appeared in skits with the boys in Hammersmith.

I was a yeti, and what I did I appeared, having climbed up a ladder with a yeti outfit on, looking at the Beatles who were standing about down there doing bits of things, and of course all the crowd is shouting 'Behind you! Behind you!' It was real pantomime stuff.

After a break in which Paul took Jane to Tunisia, and Ritchie married Maureen c.o.x, the Beatles went back into the studio to record songs for their second United Artists movie, Help! Help! Despite having had little time to prepare, John and Paul were able to write strong new material for the film and its soundtrack alb.u.m, much of which has a Dylanesque quality. There is a new introspection in 'Ticket to Ride', for example, the t.i.tle of which is also a punning reference to Paul's Uncle Mike and Aunt Bett, who were now running the Bow Bars pub in Ryde on the Isle of Wight. To visit Uncle Mike, Paul was obliged to buy a ferry ticket from Portsmouth - literally a ticket to Ryde. Despite having had little time to prepare, John and Paul were able to write strong new material for the film and its soundtrack alb.u.m, much of which has a Dylanesque quality. There is a new introspection in 'Ticket to Ride', for example, the t.i.tle of which is also a punning reference to Paul's Uncle Mike and Aunt Bett, who were now running the Bow Bars pub in Ryde on the Isle of Wight. To visit Uncle Mike, Paul was obliged to buy a ferry ticket from Portsmouth - literally a ticket to Ryde.

John later claimed the t.i.tle song 'Help!' was a cry of anguish at a time when he had lost direction in life, though this wasn't apparent to his band mates. The only sign John may have been unhappy was that he had put on weight, which altered his appearance markedly. One of the curious things about John was how much his looks changed over the course of a relatively short life. His original boyish face fattened and widened around the time of Help! Help!, giving him the full face of Henry VIII. As he lost weight in the latter druggy stages of the Beatles' career, his face became thin, pinched and bony, making him look like a different person entirely, which was appropriate for a man of many moods. In contrast, one could always see the happy boy Paul had been in the confident man he became.

George Martin kept the tape running continuously when the band was in the studio, to capture every precious second of Beatles' sound, with John and Paul's between-songs chatter preserved for posterity as a result. The boys were working on one of John's songs, 'You've Got to Hide Your Love Away', on Thursday 18 February 1965, when Paul broke a gla.s.s in the studio. 'Paul's broken a gla.s.s, broken a gla.s.s ...' Lennon chanted like a child, before asking: 'You ready ... Macca?' using his friend's schoolboy nickname. They were still making music together much as they had when Paul sagged off from the Inny to hang out with John at Forthlin Road, but now the friends were partners in business, too - big business. This very day Northern Songs was floated on the London stock exchange.

The flotation of Northern Songs was tax efficient for John and Paul. High earners were taxed excessively under Harold Wilson's Labour Government of 1964-70, those earning over 20,000 a year ($30,600) suffering a 50 per cent surtax on their income, rising to 55 per cent in 1965, meaning that most of the Beatles' money went to the taxman. By floating the company in which their songs were held - 56 t.i.tles so far - Paul and John created shares that could be sold tax-free. Northern Songs was divided into five million ordinary shares, two and a quarter million of which were offered to the public at seven shillings and nine pence each in pre-decimal money (39 new pence, or 59 cents). The prospectus revealed that the Beatles were contracted to the company until 1966, with Northern Songs having an option to renew for a further three years, with John and Paul obliged to write at least six new songs per year. In reality they were writing many more, and figures showed that Northern Songs was a rapidly growing business. In its first two years, the company reported six-monthly profits rising from 17,294 ($26,459) to almost a quarter of a million pounds. The flotation was oversubscribed, giving Northern Songs an initial paper value of 1.9 million ($2.9 m). The share value then fell below offer price, as speculators took a quick profit. Thinking this might happen, the Beatles bought shares back, a shrewd move as the shares recovered and doubled in value over 12 months, during which time they added another 35 songs to the catalogue. Paul had initially been allotted one million shares in Northern Songs, to which he added bought-back shares, giving him just over a fifth of the public company, worth approximately 300,000 ($459,000), a vast sum at the time. John had the same, with Brian, George and Ritchie all holding smaller stakes. Over half the limited company was still owned by d.i.c.k James, though.

At this stage in his career, Paul left business decisions to others, more interested in making music and having fun than reading contracts. Having been introduced to marijuana, gra.s.s had become part of the Beatles' quotidian lives, creating a problem for director Richard Lester when he came to shoot Help! Help! in February 1965. 'We showed up a bit stoned, smiled a lot and hoped we'd get through it,' admits Paul. 'We giggled a lot.' Like their first film, in February 1965. 'We showed up a bit stoned, smiled a lot and hoped we'd get through it,' admits Paul. 'We giggled a lot.' Like their first film, Help! Help! was a musical in which the Beatles played themselves and performed their songs, while a slightly larger budget meant Lester could shoot in colour, which helped him decide to make was a musical in which the Beatles played themselves and performed their songs, while a slightly larger budget meant Lester could shoot in colour, which helped him decide to make Help! Help! a Pop Art fantasy poking fun at 'the state of Britain in 1965 and Harold Wilson's white-hot, modern society'. a Pop Art fantasy poking fun at 'the state of Britain in 1965 and Harold Wilson's white-hot, modern society'.16 At the start of the picture, the Beatles are seen returning home to four adjoining terrace houses in an ordinary British street. 'Lovely lads, and so natural,' comments a neighbour approvingly. When the camera cuts to the interior we see that the Beatles actually inhabit one huge open-plan bachelor pad fitted with every mod con. There was a surprising personal connection between this outlandish set and Paul's Liverpool family. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry had recently moved into a terrace house in Mersey View on the Wirral. When Ginny's widowed sister Milly moved into the house next door, Harry knocked a secret door through the part.i.tion wall so the sisters could come and go as they pleased without anybody knowing the cottages were connected. The plot of At the start of the picture, the Beatles are seen returning home to four adjoining terrace houses in an ordinary British street. 'Lovely lads, and so natural,' comments a neighbour approvingly. When the camera cuts to the interior we see that the Beatles actually inhabit one huge open-plan bachelor pad fitted with every mod con. There was a surprising personal connection between this outlandish set and Paul's Liverpool family. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry had recently moved into a terrace house in Mersey View on the Wirral. When Ginny's widowed sister Milly moved into the house next door, Harry knocked a secret door through the part.i.tion wall so the sisters could come and go as they pleased without anybody knowing the cottages were connected. The plot of Help! Help! is 'nutty', as actor Victor Spinetti has observed. Ringo owns a ring coveted by an Indian Thug sect led by the homicidal Clang, who pursues Ringo and his fellow Beatles across Britain, Austria and the Bahamas. If the boys were going to make a movie, they figured they might as well go somewhere nice, and their accountant had recently established a tax shelter for them in the Bahamas. They flew to Na.s.sau on 23 February, staying on the island two weeks. Jim McCartney decided to surprise his son by taking Angie to the Bahamas for a belated honeymoon at the same time, which displeased Paul. 'The Beatles arrived several days before our holiday ended,' Angie later recalled. 'Jim said, "Let's go to their press conference and surprise them." But all Paul said was, "What are you doing here?" I felt that Paul was angry that we had turned up when he was there to work.' is 'nutty', as actor Victor Spinetti has observed. Ringo owns a ring coveted by an Indian Thug sect led by the homicidal Clang, who pursues Ringo and his fellow Beatles across Britain, Austria and the Bahamas. If the boys were going to make a movie, they figured they might as well go somewhere nice, and their accountant had recently established a tax shelter for them in the Bahamas. They flew to Na.s.sau on 23 February, staying on the island two weeks. Jim McCartney decided to surprise his son by taking Angie to the Bahamas for a belated honeymoon at the same time, which displeased Paul. 'The Beatles arrived several days before our holiday ended,' Angie later recalled. 'Jim said, "Let's go to their press conference and surprise them." But all Paul said was, "What are you doing here?" I felt that Paul was angry that we had turned up when he was there to work.'

After the Bahamas, the Beatles travelled to Austria. Neither Paul nor any of the other Beatles had skied before and there was a great deal of falling over and general mucking about in the snow, again partly due to pot-smoking. d.i.c.k Lester's patience was tested to the limit. Unlike their first film, in which the boys appeared determined to do their best, they seemed less interested in being actors now than in getting high and having a laugh. For Paul, though, the trip was memorable for John paying him a cherished, virtually unique compliment. 'I remember one time when we were making Help! Help! in Austria. We'd been out skiing all day for the film and so we were all tired,' he reminisced in the 1980s. 'I usually shared a room with George. But on this particular occasion I was in with John.' The Beatles could have had a suite each, of course, but they preferred to share rooms on the road, taking comfort in each others' company. John and Paul were listening to one of their alb.u.ms as they changed out of their ski clothes. in Austria. We'd been out skiing all day for the film and so we were all tired,' he reminisced in the 1980s. 'I usually shared a room with George. But on this particular occasion I was in with John.' The Beatles could have had a suite each, of course, but they preferred to share rooms on the road, taking comfort in each others' company. John and Paul were listening to one of their alb.u.ms as they changed out of their ski clothes.

There were three of my songs and three of John's songs on the side we were listening to. And for the first time ever, he just tossed it off, without saying anything definite, 'Oh, I probably like your songs better than mine.' And that was it. That was the height of praise I ever got off him... There was no one looking, so he could say it.

THE SMASH OF THE CENTURY.

It was a fine time to be in London, which started to 'swing' at least a year before Time Time identified the phenomenon with its famous April 1966 cover story, 'London: The Swinging City'. The death of Sir Winston Churchill in January 1965 can be seen as a watershed, marking the end of the drab post-war period, after which the nation seemed to embrace colour and change. Most British people were much the same, of course, but a creative and cultural renaissance was taking place in the heart of the capital, one that caught the attention of the world, and Paul was at the centre of it. identified the phenomenon with its famous April 1966 cover story, 'London: The Swinging City'. The death of Sir Winston Churchill in January 1965 can be seen as a watershed, marking the end of the drab post-war period, after which the nation seemed to embrace colour and change. Most British people were much the same, of course, but a creative and cultural renaissance was taking place in the heart of the capital, one that caught the attention of the world, and Paul was at the centre of it.

The Beatles may have been the premier British pop band of the day, but they were not the only ones making exciting new music. As other Mersey Sound acts fell by the wayside, new, mostly London-based bands, such as the Stones, the Who and Pink Floyd came to the fore, remaking rock 'n' roll into a more elaborate form of popular music. Rock, as it was becoming known, would be one of Britain's great exports, something the country could do as well as America, with the success of the Beatles in the USA paving the way for these new British bands. It was also partly thanks to the success of the Beatles that talented, young, working-cla.s.s people from diverse walks of life were accepted as celebrities, the likes of photographer David Bailey, actor Michael Caine and Bradford-born painter David Hockney, who along with his friend Peter Blake became a leading light in modern art. Writers grouped together as the Angry Young Men had also paved the way for this cultural change with their plays and novels. A working-cla.s.s accent, which had hitherto been a disadvantage in British life, was now very much in vogue. The sn.o.bby Chelsea Set wanted to mix with such people. 'Anybody who had any sort of character or creativity or charisma was welcome,' notes Lord St Germans, one of the dandies involved in Beatles merchandising, adding that 'it helped to be good-looking'. The young started to dress differently, women wearing bright make-up and short skirts, pioneered by the designer Mary Quant; while men grew their hair and affected an eclectic mixture of modish, foppish and antique clothing. The trend-setters shopped in boutiques in the King's Road and on Carnaby Street in Soho. They met up at night in such fashionable clubs as the Ad Lib, a penthouse above Leicester Square from which one could observe the futuristic Post Office Tower-an icon of the new, white-hot Britain - being erected in Fitzrovia.

How wonderful it was to be young, good-looking and successful in London at this time, moreover to be loved and admired by people all over the world, the money absolutely pouring in. Paul was in this happy position. Despite the n.i.g.g.ardly royalty deal the Beatles had with EMI, and the unfavourable terms of the publishing agreement with d.i.c.k James, the star was informed by his accountant in 1965 that he was a millionaire. He was earning so much he kept fat envelopes of spare cash in his sock drawer at Wimpole Street. He'd done the right thing by his nearest and dearest, buying Dad a house on the Wirral, and giving his kid brother an allowance; he'd treated himself to some boys' toys, notably his Aston Martin and Radford Mini de Ville (a souped-up Mini with a luxurious interior); and he'd given Jane some nice gifts, too, bits of jewellery and other fripperies. Now he proved how serious he was about their relationship by taking Jane shopping for a house.

Paul chose a property in Cavendish Avenue, a quiet residential street in St John's Wood, within walking distance of Lord's Cricket Ground, Regent's Park and, most importantly, the EMI studios on Abbey Road. 'He wanted to be right above the shop,' notes Tony Barrow. 'He wanted to do that for the purposes of self-achievement, further climbing up the ladder. You can't do that if you are stuck out in the country.' Paul could also get into the West End easily from St John's Wood, while his chosen neighbourhood retained a village-like atmosphere, community life focused around the shops on Circus Road, where Paul became a patron of the pub, Post Office, greengrocer, cafe and grocery store. To this day he pops into Panzer's for his bagels and enjoys a drink at the Star on nearby Charlbert Street.

As Tony Barrow correctly indicates, buying a house in this neighbourhood represented a further step up for Paul. Step one had been from Speke to a better cla.s.s of council house on Forthlin Road; step two was lodging in Wimpole Street with the Ashers; step three saw him ensconcing himself among rich and distinguished neighbours living in grand mid-nineteenth-century houses built for the gentry. The Honourable David Astor, Editor of the Observer Observer and son of Lord and Lady Astor - whose stately home, Clivedon House, had been used for the 'Buckingham Palace' scenes in and son of Lord and Lady Astor - whose stately home, Clivedon House, had been used for the 'Buckingham Palace' scenes in Help! Help! - was one such neighbour, as were the journalist Woodrow Wyatt, Labour MP Leo Abse and the actor Harry H. Corbett, star of - was one such neighbour, as were the journalist Woodrow Wyatt, Labour MP Leo Abse and the actor Harry H. Corbett, star of Steptoe and Son Steptoe and Son. On the west side of the avenue, behind high brick walls and double gates, stood a series of large, detached mansions with raised ground-floor drawing rooms, kitchens below and servants' quarters in the attics, very Upstairs Downstairs Upstairs Downstairs. There were stables in the back from the days when residents kept carriages. Most had since been converted into garages, and one or two neighbours ran a chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce. It was one of these properties, 7 Cavendish Avenue, that Paul bought for 40,000 ($61,200) in April 1965, then spent a small fortune having done up over the course of the next year. Paul referred to his new house simply as Cavendish. It is still his London home.

As renovations were made to his new home, Paul remained in his garret in Wimpole Street, where was born the most successful song he or virtually any songwriter of his generation wrote, a song that would be covered by more than 3,000 artists and played millions of times on the radio, what Paul refers to as 'possibly the smash of the century'. One morning in 1963 Paul awoke in his garret with a melody in his head that he a.s.sumed was a jazz standard, one of the songs his father used to play that had insinuated itself into his unconscious. Paul went straight to the piano. 'I just fell out of bed, found out what key I had dreamed it in, and it seemed near G, and I played it,' he told journalist Ray Coleman.

I said to myself: I wonder what it is, you know. I just couldn't figure it [all out], because I'd just woken up. And I got a couple of chords to it. I got the G, then I got the nice F sharp minor seventh, that was the big waaaahhhh waaaahhhh. That led very naturally to the B which led very naturally to the E minor. It just kept sort of tumbling out with those chords. I thought: well this is very nice, but it's a nick ... [By which he meant that the melody was so perfect he couldn't believe it had come to him in a dream.] There was no logic to it at all. And I'd never had that. And I've never had it since. This was the crazy thing about this song. It was fairly mystical when I think about it, because of the circ.u.mstances. It was the only song I ever dreamed!

Paul played the tune for friends wherever he went, at the Georges V in Paris, backstage at concerts, to the extent that it became a joke within the band, George Harrison grumbling that anybody would think Paul was Ludwig van-b.l.o.o.d.y-Beethoven the way he went on about that tune that tune. Paul was canva.s.sing as many people as possible to see if it really was an original composition, and played the tune one evening at the home of the singer Alma Cogan. At this point there were no words. Alma's mother came in and asked if anybody would like a snack of scrambled eggs. Paul began to play the tune over with new dummy lyrics, 'Scrambled eggs/Oh my baby how I love your legs/oh scrambled eggs', and this became the working t.i.tle of the song: 'Scrambled Eggs'.

In May 1965 Paul and Jane took up a standing invitation from Bruce Welch of the Shadows to visit him at his holiday home in Portugal. The couple flew first to Lisbon, and were then chauffeur-driven the 160 miles south to the Algarve. Paul occupied himself during the long drive by fitting words to his new tune. The moment they got to the villa, Paul dashed for a guitar like somebody in need of the toilet. 'He said straight away, "Have you got a guitar?" I could see he had been writing the lyrics on the way down; he had the paper in his hand as he arrived,' recollects Welch. Although Paul had written reflective love songs before, notably 'Things We Said Today', the lyric to this new song was surprisingly mature for a man approaching his 23rd birthday, reflecting on a broken love affair.

Why she had to go, I don't know, she wouldn't say.

I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

It was a song of confusion, defeat and regret, emotions one wouldn't imagine Paul had much experience of, from what we know of his young life, and radically different to the upbeat songs that had made the Beatles popular. Here was a lachrymose ballad more suited to artists like Frank Sinatra or Ray Charles (both would cover it). Paul's innately musical mind had somehow conjured a cla.s.sic - a mark of genius - to which he'd finally put words. The words are not brilliant, but the lyric does resonate. Paul has suggested that the song related to the death of his mother, showing how deep that loss ran.

When he got back to London, Paul performed 'Yesterday' for the band and George Martin at EMI where they were finishing the Help! Help! soundtrack. soundtrack.

Ringo said, 'I can't really put any drums on - it wouldn't make sense.' And John and George said, 'There's no point in having another guitar.' So George Martin suggested, 'Why don't you just try it yourself and see how it works?' I looked at the others: 'Oops. You mean a solo record?' They said, 'Yeah, it doesn't matter, there's nothing we can add to it - do it.'

Played solo on acoustic guitar, 'Yesterday' sounded a little like a Dylan song. What made 'Yesterday' distinctively Beatlesque was George Martin's decision to orchestrate it with strings, not in the schmaltzy style of Mantovani, but using a string quartet to lend the song a cla.s.sical elegance. Unable to read or write music, Paul's contribution to creating the string accompaniment was limited to listening to what George did and making comments, though his comments didn't lack perspicacity. Paul made it clear, for example, that he didn't like the way the session musicians hired for the job - two violins, cello and viola - added vibrato. Paul insisted they play the notes precisely. A little vibrato crept in, but not enough to make the recording like Muzak (though 'Yesterday' would be used as that). Arranging this record was a turning point for George Martin in his relationship with the band, after which he made an increasingly significant, creative contribution. 'It was on "Yesterday"", he said, 'that I started to score their music.' Partly as a result, Beatles' records began to become more interesting. Paul knew they had done something special. He went out clubbing that night, running into a friend at the Ad Lib. 'I just recorded this great song,' he told Terry Doran (a car dealer friend of Brian Epstein's, later referenced in 'She's Leaving Home' as the 'man from the motor trade'). 'It's so good!' he told Terry, who thought Paul impossibly conceited.

It was at the Ad Lib around this time that John and George had their first, life-changing acid trip, long before Paul tried the drug. John and Cynthia and George and his girlfriend Pattie Boyd had been to a dinner party at the home of their dentist. After dinner the dentist slipped the drug - then unrestricted and little understood - without warning into their coffee, insisting mysteriously that they stayed where they were. John and George suspected the dentist was trying to get them and the girls into an orgy. The dentist said no, admitting rather that he'd dosed them with LSD. John was furious. George didn't even know what LSD was. Although it had been in existence since the 1940s, lysergic acid diethylamide was only beginning to be used recreationally, its powers as yet little understood. It would come to have a considerable effect on the Beatles' music.

Despite his warnings, the Beatles decided they would have to leave their dentist's house. Their Hamburg friend Klaus Voormann had formed a band with Paddy Chambers and Gibson Kemp, the drummer who replaced Ringo in the Hurricanes. Paddy, Klaus and Gibson were playing the Pickwick Club, and John, George and the girls wanted to see them. George drove them all in Pattie's Mini, which seemed to be shrinking as they travelled across town. After watching Paddy, Klaus and Gibson at the Pickwick, the party moved on to the Ad Lib. 'Suddenly I felt the most incredible feeling come over me,' George recollected. 'It was something like a very concentrated version of the best feeling I'd ever had in my whole life.' To reach the Ad Lib the Beatles had to enter a door on Leicester Place, next to the Prince Charles Theatre, and take an elevator to the penthouse. There was a red light in the lift. As the lift rose, the light seemed to glow like fire. As George recalled, 'it felt as though the elevator was on fire and we were going into h.e.l.l, but at the same time we were all in hysterics and crazy. Eventually we got out at the Ad Lib, on the top floor, and sat there, probably for hours and hours.' Ritchie was there. He listened as his friends babbled about the fire in the lift. John noticed that their table was s - t - r - e - t - c - h - i - n - g. At dawn George drove Pattie, John and Cynthia home to Surrey very, very slowly slowly.

The boys couldn't wait to tell Paul. John had always loved Alice in Wonderland Alice in Wonderland and here was a drug that could send him down the rabbit hole any time he liked. He urged Paul to take LSD without delay. Paul's reaction highlights an essential difference between him and his friend, one that would become more p.r.o.nounced. and here was a drug that could send him down the rabbit hole any time he liked. He urged Paul to take LSD without delay. Paul's reaction highlights an essential difference between him and his friend, one that would become more p.r.o.nounced.

I really was frightened of that kind of stuff because it's what you are taught when you're young. "Hey, watch out for them devil drugs." So when acid came round we'd heard that you're never the same. It alters your life and you never think the same again, and I think John was rather excited by that prospect. I was rather frightened by that prospect. I thought, Just what I need! Some funny little thing where I can never get back home again Just what I need! Some funny little thing where I can never get back home again.

So Paul declined LSD, and kept declining as John and George took more acid trips, growing closer as a result. They were in the LSD club now, and Paul wasn't. It created a rift.

At the end of June the Beatles went on a European tour, after which was the London premiere of Help! Help! 'It looks good but becomes too tiresome to entertain,' as film critic Leslie Halliwell wrote succinctly. Although not as enjoyable as 'It looks good but becomes too tiresome to entertain,' as film critic Leslie Halliwell wrote succinctly. Although not as enjoyable as A Hard Day's Night A Hard Day's Night, Help! Help! did well at the box office; the eponymous single was number one and the alb.u.m, with its striking semaph.o.r.e cover, would also top the charts. Buried on side two of the UK release, between 'I've Just Seen a Face' and the closing track 'Dizzy Miss Lizzy', was Paul's 'Yesterday', which was a strange way to present such a great ballad, but then again the song sounded different to everything the Beatles had previously recorded. did well at the box office; the eponymous single was number one and the alb.u.m, with its striking semaph.o.r.e cover, would also top the charts. Buried on side two of the UK release, between 'I've Just Seen a Face' and the closing track 'Dizzy Miss Lizzy', was Paul's 'Yesterday', which was a strange way to present such a great ballad, but then again the song sounded different to everything the Beatles had previously recorded.

The stage debut of 'Yesterday' took place in the unlikely setting of a TV variety show broadcast from Blackpool, the seaside resort north of Liverpool. Blackpool Night Out Blackpool Night Out was an independent television programme presented by comedian brothers Mike and Bernie Winters, broad family entertainment featuring comics, dancers and singers. Televised live, the show was watched by millions of people across the country. So it was that the band took the stage at the Blackpool ABC on Sunday 1 August 1965 to promote was an independent television programme presented by comedian brothers Mike and Bernie Winters, broad family entertainment featuring comics, dancers and singers. Televised live, the show was watched by millions of people across the country. So it was that the band took the stage at the Blackpool ABC on Sunday 1 August 1965 to promote Help! Help! Halfway through their set, George announced that Paul was going to sing the next song alone. He made the introduction with a sarcastic reference to another popular TV show, Halfway through their set, George announced that Paul was going to sing the next song alone. He made the introduction with a sarcastic reference to another popular TV show, Opportunity Knocks Opportunity Knocks, in which neophyte acts tried to break into the big time by winning the votes of a television audience: 'And so for Paul McCartney of Liverpool,' George said, in impersonation of presenter Hughie Green, 'Opportunity Knocks!'

'Thank you, George,' muttered his friend, now alone on stage with his acoustic guitar. A spotlight focused on Paul as he mimed to the EMI recording of 'Yesterday', a song so sad that the girls in the audience momentarily ceased screaming. At the end John led the other band members back on stage, handing Paul a joke bouquet of flowers that came apart in his hand. 'Thank you, Ringo,' Lennon said snidely to McCartney. 'That was wonderful.'

SHEA STADIUM.

From Blackpool to New York! The show the Beatles played two weeks later at the William A. Shea Munic.i.p.al Stadium in New York City was nothing less than the first ever stadium pop concert.

Hitherto, British pop bands worked their way up from clubs to dance halls before establishing themselves on a national circuit of cinemas and theatres. Some - the Hammersmith Odeon, the London Palladium - were larger and more prestigious than others, holding around 3,000 people, and occasionally bands played the Royal Albert Hall, which seated over 5,000, but few artists ever played anything larger. The Beatles, being unique, had played to bigger audiences in North America - 18,700 at the Hollywood Bowl; 20,000 at Empire Stadium in Vancouver, big arenas by modern standards - but no music act, British or American, had ever attempted to put on a show in a sports stadium. No act had the pulling power to fill so many seats and, technically speaking, it was impossible to amplify a band adequately in such a capacious venue.

It was Sid Bernstein who had the chutzpah to make history. Having successfully booked the Beatles for two shows at Carnegie Hall on their first visit to the United States, the ebullient New York promoter realised he could have sold those seats many times over. He started talking to Brian Epstein about putting the boys on at Madison Square Garden in '65. The Garden then held 17,000 people.17 When he did his sums, Sid saw that even this venue wasn't large enough to accommodate all the New Yorkers who might want to see the boys perform. 'I'm changing my mind. I'd like to do them at Shea Stadium,' Sid told Brian over the telephone, referring to the home of the New York Mets. When he did his sums, Sid saw that even this venue wasn't large enough to accommodate all the New Yorkers who might want to see the boys perform. 'I'm changing my mind. I'd like to do them at Shea Stadium,' Sid told Brian over the telephone, referring to the home of the New York Mets.

'How big is that?' asked Epstein.

'Fifty-five thousand seats,' replied Sid. This meant that the Beatles could play to as many people in one night as they could over three weeks at Carnegie Hall. When Brian had digested the data, he expressed cautious excitement.

'I don't want an empty seat in the house, Sid.'

'Brian, I'll give you $10 for every empty seat.'

Neither Sid nor Brian needed to worry. All 55,600 tickets - priced around $5.00, plus taxes - sold. Not only would the Beatles at Shea Stadium be the biggest show any act had played, it would be the Beatles' highest-earning single engagement at $180,000, worth about $1.2 million in today's money (or 802,352).

Sunday 15 August 1965 was a beautiful late summer day. Fans started arriving early, girls dressed in light dresses, tanned from the long holidays, many accompanied by their parents. Gradually the layers of bleacher seats filled, the noise level escalating as thousands of girls decided to start screaming early. They carried on screaming through the sunny day, through all the support acts - a peculiar selection of singers, jazz bands, disco dancers and celebrity announcers - enjoying a collective and prolonged hysterical fit. Many got so worked up they fainted. Late in the afternoon the Beatles boarded a helicopter in Manhattan and were flown out to the gig, everybody crowding the windows to peer down at the horseshoe-shaped stadium. In the sulphurous gloaming, 55,000 fans looked up at the red, white and blue chopper hovering overhead and, realising the Beatles were on board, many took flash pictures 'to create a momentary display of dazzling light that lit up the evening sky', as Tony Barrow later wrote. When they landed, the boys were transported to the stadium in a Wells Fargo armoured truck.

Around a quarter past nine, when the temperature had dropped and it was properly dark, Ed Sullivan, whose company was filming the show, sidled on stage to make the introduction. 'Here are the Beatles!' White noise. 'Here they come.' Louder noise. Unlike a modern stadium show, where the audience's first view of the act is the moment they appear on stage, the Beatles ran out of the tunnel under the stands, as if they were about to play a baseball game, sprinting across the diamond to take their places on the stage. Another way in which this seminal stadium show was arranged more like a sports event than a rock concert, as we have become accustomed to, was that fans weren't permitted to sit or stand in front of the stage. Everybody was seated back in the bleachers, though virtually the entire audience was on their feet now, screaming, many girls trying to scale the mesh fence penning them back while fatherly cops tried to persuade them to be sensible and get down.

John, Paul, George and Ringo, wearing beige, army-style tunics with black trousers and Wells Fargo badges, looked happy and excited. Ever the professional, Paul paused to thank Mr Sullivan for his introduction, then joined the others in their usual short, frantic set, a set that looks puny and amateurish in such a vast s.p.a.ce when viewed today on DVD, especially so in comparison to the thunderous stadium concerts Paul McCartney now plays. Each short song was prefaced with a few corny words of introduction. 'We'd like to carry on with a song from Yesterday and Today Yesterday and Today,' said George, for example, referring to the Capitol alb.u.m of that name. 'This one is a single as well, and it features Paul singing a very nice song called "Yesterday".' The sound was appalling, like listening to somebody singing down the telephone from Australia. Normally the Beatles used 30-watt Vox speakers on stage; for Shea they had special 100-watt speakers, but the music was essentially relayed via the PA system, as used for baseball announcements. Also, the acoustics in an open-air stadium are different to a theatre. Sound is blown about with the wind. And, of course, there were no Jumbo screens to help the fans see the performers. Despite all these shortcomings, almost everybody at Shea had a great time. Among the thousands straining to see and hear were Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, who went on to perfect the stadium rock tour with the Rolling Stones in the Eighties and Nineties. A bank of white lights were shining directly at Paul, making him sweat profusely on what was already a warm evening. The show was being filmed by cameramen standing directly in front of the stage. Nevertheless, all the Beatles had a ball, with John behaving much as he had back at the Kaiserkeller when he got over-excited: pulling faces, speaking in tongues and stopping short to comment on what he saw. 'Ah! Look at 'er. Ah!' he said as he watched cops chase a stray fan running across the diamond. By the time they came to the last song, John was playing the organ with his elbows and laughing his head off, George giggling along with him. Paul, 'sweating cobs' under the lights, as they say in northern England,18 remained focused, as if he had done it all before, though even he had to laugh at the end. remained focused, as if he had done it all before, though even he had to laugh at the end.

After New York the Beatles played a series of arena concerts across North America, working their way west to California where five days had been set aside for rest and recuperation. The boys ensconced themselves in a house in the Hollywood Hills, where they hung out with actor Peter Fonda and members of the Byrds, and where John and George turned Ritchie and Nell on to LSD. 'I played pool with Neil Aspinall, ' recalls Don Short, one of the friendly Fleet Street journalists invited to hang out with the band in LA. 'Neil Aspinall played like a demon genius. He potted every ball. He said later that he saw every ball as the size of a football - I was totally unaware of what they were up to.'

Though he still refrained from trying LSD, Paul did get laid in Los Angeles, according to starlet Peggy Lipton, his squeeze from his last trip to the coast. Paul invited her over to the house for dinner, to John's amus.e.m.e.nt, as the actress recalls: 'I got the idea that he thought Paul was an idiot to take a girl so seriously he'd actually invite her to dinner, when all he really needed to do was f.u.c.k her after dinner.' Again, the chief point of interest is that Paul was prepared to cheat on Jane, whom he was still with. He'd just given her a diamond pendant for her 19th birthday, and was planning to move into Cavendish with her when the decorators were finished. Considering what was on offer to the Beatles, it would of course have been amazing had Paul remained faithful on the road, and it seems he was far from that. On his return from America, Paul confided to his Uncle Mike how wild he had been out west. 'He said to me, "Have you ever tried four in the bed?" when they came back from America and [the girls] were laid on by the studios. I said, "Four in a bed?" He said, "Yes." Three gorgeous blondes and him.' To which Uncle Mike could only exclaim: 'Gor blimey!'

This was also the week the Beatles met Elvis Presley at his house in Bel Air. Expectations for the meeting were high. Elvis had been Paul's number one musical hero as a boy, likewise John, though both had a low opinion of the work Presley had done after being drafted into the army. The Elvis the boys were about to meet was now 30 years old and settled into an undemanding life of routine and mediocrity, acting in a seemingly endless series of jukebox movies, the likes of Paradise, Hawaiian Style Paradise, Hawaiian Style, which he'd just finished shooting. In this, as in everything he did professionally, Elvis was the p.a.w.n of his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who exploited his artist without a care for the music that originally entertained and inspired so many people. In many ways Elvis was an example of how not not to conduct a career. to conduct a career.

When the boys entered Elvis's home on North Perugia Way, the King was watching a mute TV, simultaneously playing electric ba.s.s to a record on the jukebox. The Memphis Mafia were gathered around him, the Beatles bringing their own gang of cronies. On this occasion the gang included Neil, Mal, Tony Barrow and NME NME journalist Chris Hutchins, who'd helped arrange the meeting. Brian and the Colonel were also present, 'watching over their stars like parents', as Hutchins observed. After some desultory conversation, the boys picked up instruments and played along with Presley, Paul sitting on the sofa next to his hero. He wasn't overwhelmed. Indeed, he joked that Brian might be able to find El a job playing ba.s.s in one of his Mersey Beat bands. They also talked of cars and touring, exchanging horror stories. 'We've had some crazy experiences,' Paul told Presley. 'One fellow rushed on stage and pulled the leads out of the amplifiers and said to me, "One move and you're dead."' The King concurred that it could be real scary out there. As they left the house after what was a relatively short and stilted meeting, John Lennon quoted from the movie journalist Chris Hutchins, who'd helped arrange the meeting. Brian and the Colonel were also present, 'watching over their stars like parents', as Hutchins observed. After some desultory conversation, the boys picked up instruments and played along with Presley, Paul sitting on the sofa next to his hero. He wasn't overwhelmed. Indeed, he joked that Brian might be able to find El a job playing ba.s.s in one of his Mersey Beat bands. They also talked of cars and touring, exchanging horror stories. 'We've had some crazy experiences,' Paul told Presley. 'One fellow rushed on stage and pulled the leads out of the amplifiers and said to me, "One move and you're dead."' The King concurred that it could be real scary out there. As they left the house after what was a relatively short and stilted meeting, John Lennon quoted from the movie Whistle Down the Wind Whistle Down the Wind, in which Alan Bates's fugitive character is mistaken briefly for Jesus Christ by a gang of children. 'That wasn't Jesus,' he told the lads, 'that was just a fella.' In later years Paul put the best perspective on the summit, saying: 'It was one of the great meetings of my life.' It was Elvis after all, the man who had inspired them, his career in decline as theirs was ascendant. 'I only met him that once, and then I think the success of our career started to push him out a little; which we were very sad about ... He was our greatest idol, but the styles were changing in favour of us.'

Elvis's highest-placed single in the Billboard Billboard chart that year was 'Crying in the Chapel', which reached number three in May 1965. The Beatles scored five US number ones in the same year, the fourth of which was Paul's 'Yesterday'. Never released in Britain as a single, but put out by Capitol in the USA, 'Yesterday' spent four weeks at the top of the chart that autumn. Over the years it would become the most successful Beatles song of all, the first to receive five million airplays in America and counting. chart that year was 'Crying in the Chapel', which reached number three in May 1965. The Beatles scored five US number ones in the same year, the fourth of which was Paul's 'Yesterday'. Never released in Britain as a single, but put out by Capitol in the USA, 'Yesterday' spent four weeks at the top of the chart that autumn. Over the years it would become the most successful Beatles song of all, the first to receive five million airplays in America and counting.

8.

FIRST FINALE.

SUMMONED TO THE PALACE.

In a few short years Paul McCartney had become one of the most famous people in the Western World, the Beatles as recognisable as the President of the United States, the Queen of England, and the biggest stars of sport and film. The Beatles were moreover a living cartoon, followed daily by the public as avidly as they read the comic strips in the newspapers. The lads were a source of entertainment not only to people in Britain and North America, but throughout Western Europe, in Asia, South America, even behind the Iron Curtain, where Beatles records were banned, along with other forms of degenerate Western culture, but traded avidly on the black market. The Beatles were not the first global pop icons, Elvis had that honour, but even Elvis hadn't been feted so lavishly so far and so wide. It had all happened in the blink of an eye.

At home perhaps only the Queen was more famous, and in 1965 the boys became the first pop stars to be honoured by Her Majesty as Members of the Order of the British Empire, another way in which the Beatles broke new ground. In the future Her Majesty would bestow chivalric awards on numerous rock and pop stars, in recognition of the export income they earned, for their charitable works and to mark their popularity. When the fab four received their MBEs on 26 October 1965, they were the first pop stars to be invited into Buckingham Palace in this way and, just as it is hard now to comprehend how famous the Beatles were all those years ago, it is difficult to comprehend the fuss caused by the Queen's decision to bestow the award upon the band, albeit that it was the lowest cla.s.s available in the circ.u.mstances, a lesser honour than the humble OBE and a full five ranks below a knighthood. Some old soldiers sent their hard-won military medals back in disgust (even though the military system is separate), while a large crowd of over-excited schoolgirls gathered outside the Palace to shriek the Beatles through the iron gates, the clash of pop and pageantry broadcast on TV as national news.

While many onlookers didn't think the Beatles deserved to be honoured for essentially having fun and getting rich, others saw the pragmatic sense in what was at root a political gesture orchestrated by the nation's publicity-conscious Prime Minister. Harold Wilson saw correctly that the Beatles were good for Britain. As McCartney himself says, 'most people seemed to feel that we were a great export and amba.s.sadors for Britain. At least people were taking notice of Britain; cars like Minis and Jaguars, and British clothes were selling ... in some ways we'd become super salesmen for Britain.' George expressed this same thought more cynically, as was his way: 'After all we did for Great Britain, selling all that corduroy and making it swing, they gave us that b.l.o.o.d.y old [medal].' John sent his MBE back in 1969, 'in protest against Britain's involvement in the Nigeria-Biafra thing19 ... and against "Cold Turkey" slipping down the charts'. Ritchie also became disenchanted with the Royal Family, stating in 2004, after Paul had got his knighthood but he had been pa.s.sed over: 'I'm really not into Her Majesty any more, I'm afraid.' ... and against "Cold Turkey" slipping down the charts'. Ritchie also became disenchanted with the Royal Family, stating in 2004, after Paul had got his knighthood but he had been pa.s.sed over: 'I'm really not into Her Majesty any more, I'm afraid.'

After smoking a cigarette in the toilets of Buckingham Palace (not a joint as Lennon later claimed) the Beatles were presented to the Queen in pairs to receive their MBEs. Paul and Ritchie went up together. 'How long have you been together as a band?' Her Majesty asked politely, as an equerry handed her the presentation cases. In reply the boys sang a s.n.a.t.c.h of the music hall song, 'My Old Dutch': We've been together now for 40 years An' it don't seem a day too muchl The Queen looked at the young men with amus.e.m.e.nt, the beginning of a long and surprisingly warm relationship between Paul and his Queen.

RUBBER SOUL.

The Buckingham Palace invest.i.ture took place during the making of an important new alb.u.m with George Martin, whose situation at EMI had changed significantly. After a long-running dispute over pay, Martin had quit as head of Parlophone that summer to start his own company, a.s.sociated Independent Recording (AIR), striking a deal with EMI whereby he would continue to produce the Beatles on a freelance basis for a producer's royalty. It may or may not be coincidental that, with his enhanced financial stake in the band (though not an overly generous one), Martin became more involved in the creative process from this point, increasingly adding the orchestral touches that are a hallmark of the Beatles' mature work and that do so much to raise the band above the pop herd. Indeed, their next alb.u.m together was the breakthrough.

Working with George, the boys had got into the habit of delivering two LPs a year to EMI, and at the end of 1965 the company wanted a Christmas release. So it was that they went into Studio Two at EMI Abbey Road on 12 October, with few songs prepared, and worked like the devil to crash out a new record against deadline. Bearing in mind the circ.u.mstances in which it was made, the LP Rubber Soul Rubber Soul is hugely impressive, the best work they had yet done, musically and lyrically rich, inventive, fun and exciting to listen to, a true turning point. The alb.u.m t.i.tle was a twist on a self-deprecating remark Paul had made after recording his song 'I'm Down' that summer. 'Plastic soul, man. Plastic soul,' he said at the end of a take, meaning his performance wasn't soulful enough. A rubber soul would have more bounce, and is hugely impressive, the best work they had yet done, musically and lyrically rich, inventive, fun and exciting to listen to, a true turning point. The alb.u.m t.i.tle was a twist on a self-deprecating remark Paul had made after recording his song 'I'm Down' that summer. 'Plastic soul, man. Plastic soul,' he said at the end of a take, meaning his performance wasn't soulful enough. A rubber soul would have more bounce, and Rubber Soul Rubber Soul explodes with energy. Placed together with the alb.u.m that followed it, explodes with energy. Placed together with the alb.u.m that followed it, Revolver Revolver, and the singles made at the same time, the Beatles closed the first half of their career, when they had essentially been a good little dance band, recording up-tempo love songs with adolescent lyrics, and became a far more ambitious creative unit. As has often been observed, with Rubber Soul Rubber Soul and and Revolver Revolver it was as if the Beatles stepped out of the black and white world of the early 1960s and began broadcasting in colour, with a concomitant new exuberance in their appearance and interests. it was as if the Beatles stepped out of the black and white world of the early 1960s and began broadcasting in colour, with a concomitant new exuberance in their appearance and interests.

An Indian theme first insinuated itself into the Beatles sound at this stage. While shooting Help! Help! George Harrison had taken time out to chat with the musicians hired to play in the movie's Indian Restaurant scene. Subsequently, he had taken up the sitar, which he now played inexpertly but effectively on John's song 'Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)'. George Harrison had taken time out to chat with the musicians hired to play in the movie's Indian Restaurant scene. Subsequently, he had taken up the sitar, which he now played inexpertly but effectively on John's song 'Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)'.

There are of course 'John songs' and 'Paul songs' on Rubber Soul Rubber Soul, both men increasingly writing on their own as well as in partnership. How much help they gave one another is sometimes disputed. While 'Norwegian Wood' is considered very much a John song, for example, McCartney's recollection is that they finished it together. Paul also claims a significant hand in writing 'In My Life', while Lennon said McCartney only helped with the bridge. By comparison, 'Drive My Car', a motoring metaphor for s.e.x, was a true collaboration, based on a melody by Paul, with John writing most of the lyrics. Paul's ba.s.s and piano are superb. The travel theme segued into drug references on 'Day Tripper', which would be released as a double A-side single with Paul's 'We Can Work it Out', hitting number one. The words of the latter can be read as an insight into Paul's dominant, my way or the highway personality. In the lyrical dialogue, apparently recounting a lovers' spat, Paul repeatedly implores his girl to 'Try to see it my way', warning that if she doesn't they will be finished. John Lennon wrote the middle eight, appealing counter-intuitively for reason in this fractuous relationship, life being too short to fuss and fight, making 'We Can Work it Out' even more interesting. Working together in this way, Lennon and McCartney were truly complementary writers.

Side One of Rubber Soul Rubber Soul closed with 'Mich.e.l.le', one of the most beautiful and commercially successful songs Paul ever wrote. It was based on a party trick of improvising a smoochy love song with cod French lyrics to a finger-picking tune closed with 'Mich.e.l.le', one of the most beautiful and commercially successful songs Paul ever wrote. It was based on a party trick of improvising a smoochy love song with cod French lyrics to a finger-picking tune a la a la Chet Atkins. Coming over all French at a party was a good way of pulling girls. When John and Paul faced the problem of filling this new alb.u.m quickly, John suggested Paul develop his party trick. He turned for help to Janet Vaughan, French teacher wife of his old school friend Ivan, who was living in London and often saw Paul socially. One evening, when Ivy and Janet went round to Wimpole Street to visit Paul and Jane, Paul asked Janet to help him with a song he was writing. Chet Atkins. Coming over all French at a party was a good way of pulling girls. When John and Paul faced the problem of filling this new alb.u.m quickly, John suggested Paul develop his party trick. He turned for help to Janet Vaughan, French teacher wife of his old school friend Ivan, who was living in London and often saw Paul socially. One evening, when Ivy and Janet went round to Wimpole Street to visit Paul and Jane, Paul asked Janet to help him with a song he was writing.

I think what happened was that Paul said he'd written a song and could I think of a Christian name of a girl - I can't remember exactly how he put it - and then an adjective that went with it, and I think I thought of 'Mich.e.l.le my belle'. We went through different French Christian names, and then we tried to find something that would rhyme and that would qualify that. Then he said, 'I want to say after that "These are words that go together well,"' having decided on the belle. So I just translated it: 'Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble. ' And that's it, really.

Paul's other 'love songs' on Rubber Soul Rubber Soul are almost as strong, though different. As 'Mich.e.l.le' is sweet, 'You Won't See Me' and 'I'm Looking Through You' are bitter, the latter sang with anger: are almost as strong, though different. As 'Mich.e.l.le' is sweet, 'You Won't See Me' and 'I'm Looking Through You' are bitter, the latter sang with anger: I'm looking through you, where did you go?

I thought I knew you, what did I know?

You don't look different, but you have changed.

I'm looking through you, you're not the same.

Songwriters, like novelists, write from the point of view of characters that are often entirely or partly imagined, so it is rash to read a song too readily as autobiography. Yet Paul has made it clear in interviews that 'You Won't See Me' and 'I'm Looking Through You' give a contemporaneous insight into his relationship with Jane Asher. This is intriguing because Jane is one of only a handful of the Beatles' close a.s.sociates who, apart from a handful of brief comments, has never told her story, a policy of discretion she adopted in the first flush of her romance with Paul and has stuck to, despite repeated requests by journalists and authors, myself included.20 Her silence has inhibited the normally garrulous McCartney, who has said little about his time with Jane, but he has revealed that he wrote 'I'm Looking Through You' at Wimpole Street at a time of tension in the relationship, essentially because Jane insisted on pursuing her acting career, which took her away from London, whereas Paul wanted her to wait at home for him. Her silence has inhibited the normally garrulous McCartney, who has said little about his time with Jane, but he has revealed that he wrote 'I'm Looking Through You' at Wimpole Street at a time of tension in the relationship, essentially because Jane insisted on pursuing her acting career, which took her away from London, whereas Paul wanted her to wait at home for him.

When Paul met Jane she was only 17, a former child star living at home with her parents, not sure what direction to take in adult life. In the early days Jane allowed her older, more worldly boyfriend to take the lead. Paul decided what they did, where they holidayed, even what clothes Jane wore, and she seemed happy with this. Almost three years had pa.s.sed and the girl had grown into a young woman approaching 20, with her eyes set on a career as a stage actress. Paul and Jane still seemed well suited, but Jane was no longer as biddable as she had been, or as other Beatles partners were. 'I thought they were adorable together. She was wonderful. She was a very calm person and, in the middle of all this, you felt that she was a wonderful balance for him, and you felt that she was his equal, for sure,' comments artist Jann Haworth, who along with her husband Peter Blake had got to know the Beatles socially in recent months.

It didn't ever feel to me as though Paul was the big deal and she was trembling along behind, whereas you felt that a bit with Pattie Boyd and some of the other gals. I mean Cynthia was left standing still, basically, by John. Whereas you felt Jane was an absolute equal to Paul and had a very supple mind. She wasn't a dumb girl. She was really smart.

When Paul was in London recording Rubber Soul Rubber Soul, Jane was in Bristol rehearsing a play. After Christmas she went into a Bristol Old Vic production of The Happiest Days of Your Life The Happiest Days of Your Life, which kept her down in the West Country. One can imagine Paul calling Jane's Bristol digs, becoming suspicious if told that she was out, demanding to know where she was, who she was with, the jealous boyfriend of 'You Won't See Me'. The conflict was serious enough for the couple to separate briefly. 'It was shattering to be without her,' Paul admitted, and they soon patched it up. But Paul was not faithful.

Several women have attested to affairs with the star during his time with Jane, and when he came to work on his authorised biography in the 1990s, Paul admitted: 'I had a girlfriend and I would go with other girls, it was a perfectly open relationship.' A true open relationship would mean Paul and Jane were both free to see other people, but it seems the relationship was more open on his side than hers. Certainly Jane had more reason to be insecure about what Paul was up to. He was a member of the most famous group in the world, the best-looking Beatle to many eyes, and one of only two bachelor Beatles left. Girls threw themselves at him. 'You'd go down a club and half the girls on the dance floor would all immediately manoeuvre their partners so they were dancing right in front of Paul, and they would let their dresses ride up and everything. It was astonishing,' comments the writer Barry Miles, who became a friend at this time. 'All he would have had to do was say, you know, "Let's go" and off. The boyfriend would have been left standing!'

Miles was an enthusiast for American beat literature, who wanted to open an alternative London bookshop. One of his friends was the art critic John Dunbar, who was married to singer Marianne Faithfull (who in turn had a hit with 'Yesterday') and wanted to open an art gallery. With investment from their friend Peter Asher, who was coining it now as a pop star, Miles and Dunbar opened an art gallery c.u.m book store named Indica (after the cannabis plant) at 6 Mason's Yard, Piccadilly, between a gentleman's toilet and the Scotch of St James nightclub. Miles's bookshop was on the ground floor, Dunbar's art gallery in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Paul became friendly with the two young men via Peter Asher and started hanging out at Indica. Having completed Rubber Soul Rubber Soul, and conducted a few concerts in December 1965, the last British shows the Beatles played as it turned out, Paul had the luxury of taking the first three months of 1966 as a holiday, part of which he and Jane, now reconciled, spent helping get Indica ready for its opening, painting the walls and putting up shelves. 'I remember once he and Jane arrived and there were about 50 people following them,' recalls Miles, who became both Paul's pal and cultural guide. 'It was very hard for him. He hated that really. He loved going on buses and generally being part of the city, behaving like a normal [person].'

Paul had an interest in literature and often quoted, or misquoted, Shakespeare, but he didn't have the time or inclination to read seriously. The books at Indica - modern poetry and literary fiction mostly - were therefore only of peripheral interest. Although he wasn't a great reader, Paul did have a voracious appet.i.te for meeting new people and imbibing their ideas, and Miles and his friends were instrumental in expanding his cultural horizons. 'Through us he met all the art people, people like [the art dealer] Robert Fraser,' recalls Miles. 'He got to meet David Hockney [and] Claes Oldenburg, [when] he was over for his first show. He met Richard Hamilton through Robert Fraser.' Fraser was a hip young art dealer who accompanied Paul on a shopping spree to Paris, where he acquired two works by Rene Magritte. Paul later bought a third Magritte, a picture of an apple ent.i.tled Le Jeu de mourre Le Jeu de mourre that inspired the Beatles' record label. These were judicious purchases, relatively cheap in 1966 at two or three thousand pounds each, forming the basis of an extensive art collection. With Fraser's advice, Paul also commissioned art, hiring Peter Bla