A/N: Thanks for clicking!

☆Subject: Paul McCartney
☆Setting: Waterfalls Paul's Rye home.
☆Synopsis:Leigh (1.0) undergoes an upgrade~ in herself and her life.

Penny Plectrums- 4540 words, 1 chapter.
Penny was written over 1 and a bit days August, 2019.
Penny is mostly from the point of view of Leigh and covers the reawakening of Paul after Linda's passing.

♡♡♡----♡♡♡♡----♡♡♡♡---♡♡♡

Gazing over this, now beloved, landscape has become second nature.

Once it was foreign.

Endless green spread before her now, her old life was more crackling brown and gum-tree olive grey. Daffodils and bluebells and robin's swapped from wattle and kookaburras. Now this beautiful place was almost home. Almost completely the second version of Leigh 2.0.

Leigh 1.0 had a good run. Five wonderful children, husband that kept a roof over their head, food in their belly's... and Leigh 1.0 provided love, support, later home business duties which, by the way, were neither studied nor natural. Leigh 1.0 became more than a simple nurturer housewife of which she had been for nigh on  twenty years of their marriage. She became integral in the income stream when prior she felt as though she had been the constant dripping tap; wasting money without helping to refill the dam.

Her, and her old life, were friends.

Lover, husband, provider became housemate, handyman and ultimately acquaintance.

His job was the main culprit. How do you do 'marriage' when half of the two are far away for months on end. How do you be intimate when his side of the bed is cold. Sexual want dwindled, a lovers need drowned slowly in miles of nothingness.

Her new lover waved from his spot beside the railway track. The centuries old bridge, her favourite, was where she stood watching over him. She waved and smiled back. Leigh 2.0 shook her head grinning at his naughty boy deeds, and also a smidge in disbelief at the whole darn second life he seemed to offer her.

He was part of Leigh 2.0's healing and rise from the ashes of her divorce.

Her adventures in England had been full of discovery of family ancestors, places and relatives plus a big treat for herself;

The seeking out all the places her favourite band had existed, recorded and played.

Leigh had almost fainted when the family had surrounded her and presented her with her own version of a fabled golden ticket- a plane ticket to England. A holiday to reset and rediscover herself, after the divorce.

A, Leigh 1.0 upgrade, had now been supplied.

All she had to do was download and install.

Months of creating new memories, discovering new people, places and ways of life. Testing her, making her grow up, even though she was. Because being a wife and mother had you bound, held to needs. To responsibilities for others.

New shoes- for the kids.
New clothes- for the kids.
School drop off and pick up, tuckshop canteen volunteering and member of school committees.
Travel- Where are we going always intertwined with... will the kids like it?

She never ever, ever hated or lost sleep over all of this sort of thing but without push or shove she was just.. last. And bowed to others needs always... because that was her job.

In England she bloomed. She flourished in herself and became stronger and more resilient for it. She had only herself to put first, so she did. And it showed.

Confidence regained, Leigh spoilt herself. Looked after herself. Went where she wanted to go, when she wanted to go. Found freedom in doing everything she wanted, or didn't want, to do.

And so it came time to decide.

Stay on in the UK or go back to Australia.

A very hard decision when children, even adult children, are involved. Sister's, parents too; all make such a decision, hellish. You're a world away from family.

So Leigh 2.0, with recent upgrade rolled out, decided to stay on just a smidge longer. Find a job she could do to keep some income rolling in and her new life going strong.

Up until the decision Leigh had been helping Missus Green, recently widowed owner of a pretty bed and breakfast in Sussex for...

Well, for her breakfast.

A cut to the nightly tariff in exchange for an hour or two of help. Leigh loved those simple tasks, things she had done automatically for her family, for her home. So a spot of cleaning and tidying was of no bother. But it wasnt enough. Either in the monetary sense, or challenge for the newly installed version 2.0.

Leigh approached a cleaning agency to see if there were any positions. There weren't. Well not immediately but that in itself had it's benefits. She could obtain personal references from back home. Ask Missus Green too. Her landlady was well respected, and a local stalwart of the community, so a good word from her was wonderful.

Then it came. A telephone interview. Her first interview in decades. A telephone interview was a somewhat bizarre way of hiring a person but that is what the client requested so Leigh settled on the sofa by the telephone and waited for the call...

"Good morning, may I speak to Leigh Summer please" Leigh jiffled with nerves, this lady was her client. She just had to get it perfect. She hadn't realised til that very moment that she had pinned so much hope to this venture, this next step, even though it was just a regular old cleaning job.

"Hello there, this is Leigh speaking"

"Oh great! Well I'm Lucy and I'll be conducting the interview today on behalf of my client" ok.... a client with a client, that's different!

"Now then Leigh, I have been over your resume and although it lacks... umm... paid employment history I love that you have been truthful. Told me all about yourself. I'd rather not ring ten people and then be told they can't live in because they have toddlers! Much better this way, don't you think?"

"This is a live in position?!"

"Well yes. Oh dear, didn't the agency mention that crucial detail?"

"No they didn't but actually, live in is.. actually it's perfect. As you can see from my address I'm currently residing at a B'n'B! Wow what are the odds!?"

"Great! Righteo then. Now my client is requiring a person who can be extremely discreet. A non-disclosure statement would be a requirement, with a need for it to be signed ASAP. Would that be an issue for you?"

"Sorry, what do you mean, non-disclosure?"

"Non disclosure basically means anything you see, hear or read of the employers dealings, both personal and business, is not to be spoken about, copied, photographed, sold or distributed physical or cerebral or in any other in any shape or form. No telling relatives goings on. No talking to the press. No -"

"So basically.. no blabbing, no tattle-tailing."

"Basically speaking, yes. Exactly"

"Not a problem. I'm a clam anyway. As long as the client is all above board and nothing illegal is being done of course"

Lucy giggled, her employer was definitely 'above board'. So hearing Leigh say it, made the thought even funnier. "No Leigh, no funny business. No illegal activities!"

"Wouldn't that be the pits. Get a job, find out it's the Mafia and have to break contract!" Leigh laughed at her little joke, she was now relaxed and enjoyed a few minutes more of Lucy's questions.

"Leigh"

"Yes Lucy?"

"I'll send the paperwork round this afternoon. When can you start?"

"Start? What!? Why?! You mean I got the job?! Don't you want to meet me in person, or check my police record?!"

"Leigh, you know you don't have a police record! And we have your picture-"

"Ugh. That picture is so ugly!"

"Why does every woman say that?!"

"Because it's true! Police license photos, passport photos, head shots for arrests- all horrid looking!" Leigh 2.0 laughed, relieved and extremely excited at her beginner's luck in landing a job!

~☆~☆~☆

The driveway was long, winding, and steep in a few spots. A large suitcase, travel carry-on and umbrella all cumbersome on the trek. The instruction letter Lucy provided stated taxi to the purple letterbox.

The home was situated at Peasmarsh in Rye. What it didn't state was that Leigh should have changed her shoes into hiking boots and channeled a cross country hiker within to traipse down a narrow path through gorgeous woodland. That right there was the saving grace though. That thicket of wonderful mossy rocks, deep brown fertile earth, ferns and gentle sunlight streaming down through silent gently waving leaves was ethereal.

There was a windmill, with a building underneath, higher up on the hill ahead. Tucked in front, and a tad lower at the fore, settled on a green meadow, was a quaint house of painted weatherboard and glass contruction; A real life oasthouse behind it too! What an absolute treat. So England, so perfect.

A rather plain, red brick house with no extravagant features sat off to the right. It was big, although not what she would call~ grand.

Scanning the letter Leigh caught her breath for a few minutes, she set her large case on the ground beside her.

The view was magnificent. So she let sunshine fill her warm and swept her gaze over the brilliant scene before her.

Minutes later, now recovered, she took the right fork in the narrow road toward the red brick abode as the letter directed.

Leigh set her bags down by the front door, she went to knock but the pull of a pair of beautiful horses was stronger than tapping on a door to discover her new employer; a stranger to boot. She was quite nervous in that respect. 

What if they didn't like her.
What if she didn't fit their idea of a housekeeper.
What if, what if!

The appaloosa whinnied and the grey approached at a quick trot. They loved her at once. Gentle words and a steady hand laid a path along both manes down their neck, along their strong backs and ending with a nice pat on the rump. Gorgeous, friendly and eager for her touch. She was nuzzled and pressed against repeatedly as she fed them lush green grass from her side of the fence.

No longer could she let the old nervous Leigh 1.0 run rough-shot, she had to get on with it, knock on the door and meet her new boss! Leigh ran her hands down her side after checking for grass stains, then felt her hair for any stray wisps misplaced.

Her dark locks were up in a ponytail today. She liked the no nonsense of a ponytail travelling and whilst cleaning... and it was a easy fix to her natural waves. It was her best feature she thought. Her ex called her cute often but she never claimed she was.

She was a tad on the short side, although stilettos turned her short but well shaped legs into 'every-man-likes-them' pins. Good bone structure, a nice nose, a couple of laugh lines and just about right in the weight department- neither stick or thick. Leigh was comfortable in her own skin. She hadn't always been so comfortable but the last couple of months of trekking across Salisbury Plain and the foothills of the mysterious Chalk Horse, plus searching out long forgotten castles, had helped immensely.

She knocked and waited and waited. Leigh knocked twice more, went back and petted the horses, returned to the door and knocked for a third time. With no response she walked a few metres further and sat on a swinging chair at the end of the terrace.

She sat for a long time that day. Wondering if she was at the wrong house, wondering if this was all a terrible mistake, wondering if she would have to sleep outside! A black reed thin cat jumped up onto her lap and settled as she took in the sun dipping ever lower to create pearl and pink waves in the western sky.

It was only then that she heard the steady crunch of gravel on a path to the left of the house. Out of her eyesight the person stepped ever closer with crunching footsteps and a whistled tune bursting free of the persons lips.

Paul McCartney rounded the corner and both of them jumped a good foot at the sight of each other.

"Oh my gawd, I have got the wrong house! I'm awfully sorry. I'll get going. I'm so sor- "

Jesus, shit I forgot, it's Tuesday! Leigh? Of course you are, aren't you? You are Leigh, right luv?"

"Arrr, yes I am but-!?"

"Please don't tear off, you are at the right place. I'm just forgetful when I'm busy" Paul moved forward, hand outstretched "I'm Paul. Well I guess you know that by the look on your face!"

Leigh 2.0 gawked at Paul's hand and shook herself out of the mildly terrifying yet wonderful fact that the Paul McCartney of The Beatles stood before her with a hand outstretched, still. She willed herself not to die of utter devotion, or was it embarassment, at his feet and stepped closer to shake his hand. He grinned knowingly at her cold fish handshake that absolutely shuddered with tremors when enveloped further, in a warm two handed embrace.

"Been waiting long? Stupid question really isnt it, it's hitting dusk and you were due to arrive, what was it, yeah- half three right?"

"It wasn't a problem at all. This place is stunning, the horses entertained me and the black cat and I are lifelong friends now" Leigh giggled as the cat thread through her legs then Paul's then back to hers again.

"Hera"

"You named her from Greek Mythology? Wonderful. Hera" Leigh hunched down and introduced herself properly "Hi Hera, I'm Leigh" Hera meowed and turned over on her belly for a scratch, which she received.

"She's a pain in the bum that one. Up on the sink and such."

"Oh really" Leigh glanced up then picked the black feline up. Talking directly to the cat she spoke like she was talking to an errant toddler " Well Hera, you and I will have to a little pow-wow about that activity"

Paul's face lit up. It was a big tick if the housekeeper was an animal lover and she had introduced herself to the horses and Hera without push. But he knew the real test was inside.

His former neat and comfortable home was currently more garbage tip. The Mount Rushmore of Rubbish you could name it presently. He wondered if Leigh would turn tail and run for the hills at the very sight of it.

Guessing there was no time like the present, Paul opened the door, stepped aside and beckoned the pretty Leigh into, what Stella currently called it in capital letters, The Horrid Hovel.

Leigh shivered as she passed him by and entered the dark, dimly lit room. His aftershave and aura enveloped her immediately. It was Paul McCartney for gawds sake!

Paul turned the light on and muttered a rather sarcastic "Surprise"

Ohhh, I like what you've done with the place!" Leigh was stunned but recovered in an instant and went for light and easy in her reply to that very sarcastic 'surprise' that left his lips.

She knew it had to be bit of a test, the way he ushered her in, the sarky sounding 'surprise' he offered up to her. He was testing her, waiting for her shock-horror gasp. For her eyes to open wider, perhaps tenfold.

Paul burst out laughing, he couldn't stop himself, he was a bit of joke presently, with the kids and such. He set off with Leigh to the semi clean kitchen.

Plates piled in the sink, glasses and dirty mugs lined the draining board. A discarded sandwich, with curled crusts languishing on a timber chopping board. Waving a hand for her to sit Paul set about making a cuppa for the both of them and fiddled with the cooker while drinking his tea absentmindedly. Leigh sat silent and sipped her own. She then curiously watched him tinker and clang in pot drawers and the larder til he nodded and got on with the task of opening a tin with the automatic can opener to make tomatoe soup for dinner.

They ate in silence. He because he was embarassed at the state of things, he should have cleaned, why didn't he clean!

And her... it's Paul bloody McCartney!

☆~☆~☆

Soon she was ensconced in the house. Working like a trojan to begin with. She hit all the usual stuff first. Bathrooms, kitchen, loading the massive piles of laundry in between.

Day three she tackled that very first room she had been welcomed in to. A living room overflowing with 'stuff'

While cleaning she pondered why he stood in a circular plot in the garden, for around ten minutes, every single day. Well three days anyway.

He stood stock still with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, lips drawn tight.. til he was dragged away by his need to release himself in the studio.

He kept music there.

And silence in the house.

"That was her herb garden, my dear" Jacob had responded quietly when she had enquired one day. The man was a jack of all trades-the part-time gardener/ groundsman/ driver/ helper. Ever helpful and ever so funny he was. Leigh enjoyed Jacob and his outlandish take on life.

Leigh noted Paul gave the same sort attention to some sentimental items in the house.

He would stand pondering in front of them, so reflective and closed off to the world then take off back to the windmill studio not to be seen in an age. Leigh never tinkered with those items. She tidied, but never disturbed.

Until one day...

Paul tore down all Linda's art work and photographic shots.

Pictures of Linda, Linda and him, her favourite pets. Frames pushed and stacked haphazardly under the stairwell. Leigh cleaned them all, neatened them so they didn't get damaged, and left them be.

But the next morning they were all hung again.

In the exact same spots from which they came.

He wanted to let go but he didn't want to say goodbye.

"Mister McCartney"

Paul rounded on Leigh and she corrected her pas faux as his jokey scowl

"Paul...Could I plant some herbs in the garden?"

Considering the offer, the meaning, the change it entailed, Paul looked out the kitchen window at the garden circle. He meant to have Jacob do it. Well he'd idly thought about it but maybe a woman's touch would be nicer, less intrusive, less weird  maybe. He wanted something from Leigh, so took the opportunity and presented a question to her.

"I'll say yes...if..."Paul watched Leigh spark to life.

She was great. Didn't harp, didn't natter on, just let him be. She worshiped the load of Beatles stuff he had, though. The gear in the second living room slash storage room. She set everything out, cleaned it, shined it bright and presented it on the walls or tables nicely. Pictures Lin had taken lovingly flocked together to tell one story. A line of concert citys they had been to, vistas recorded by Lin from room balconys they stayed at, were in date order across the fireplace mantle.

She knew her stuff, and, at first, it bothered him, because you don't want a fan poking their nose too far up your arse in your own abode ya know... But she had a light touch, and, to start, well, it all went kind of unnoticed.

The space was one day clean, a few days later the items laid in order. Then came her crazy and sweet midnight foray. She snuck down and hung everything in the dead of night.

Paul smiled at the memory of her terrorised face, wondering if he was going to go mental at her having touched 'his stuff'.

"...You tell me why you don't eat dinner with me? You eat with Wixy and the others" Now he sounded like petulant five year old.

"Because..." Leigh's voice hitched. She wanted to eat with him, of course, but wasn't there some sort of invisible line drawn somewhere in this building.

One that said, she was the housekeeper, and he was the boss.

Wix or Paul Wickens to his mum, and the boys, Rusty, Abe, Brian etc. were like her.

They worked for Paul.

They talked about mundane things and asked her questions of her family. Of Australia.

"Well... you're my employer, aren't you" As soon as she uttered the sentence she felt ridiculous. He was ever so nice when he was 'On'.

'Off' was when he was reflective and sombre as he thought of his lost love. It was natural of course, Linda was a phenomenal person even from where she stood, a stranger looking in.

"Well that's just dumb. Will you eat with me from now on?"

"Sure. Thank-you"

"Leigh, we live under the same roof. You wash my underpants for heavens sake"

"I don't want to overstep, and if ever I do, please tell me"

"You don't.. ever. Actually while we're at it. I want you to overstep. Tread your way all over me. I know I've been a nutter over the garden and the pictures. I'm.. I'm trying to sort myself" He then leant on the island bench beside Leigh wondering why he had to ask her to do all that.

Women should be comfortable and feel nice and relaxed around him not be walking on eggshells wondering if he was going to have a spaz over a photo frame moved two inches to the right. She touched his arm by accident whilst moving the teatowel, her fingers felt his flesh for bare moments. She felt the heat of him rising off his forearm. She curbed her inner fangirl and actually squeezed his arm in comfort. Just comfort, for his loss and loss of way. The hand then lay for a moment and he looked down upon it with unabashed surprise because he was wanting it to stay longer, just a few seconds more would be ever so nice.

Leigh took said hand away and started the drying up.

It was gradual. They hardly noticed. Leigh ate breakfast and listened to Paul read the comics out loud. Paul watched her plate his dinner and move with both hers and his, to join him at the table. She liked sweet white wine.

She ate slowly while he pigged out. He was always in a hurry, she would laugh at his hurry as he shoveled it in then one day, she settled a hand upon his wrist. Immediately he pulled up the wolf-like consumption and took the time to taste what she had prepared for him.

She honoured Linda in so many little ways. Finding a photo in a discarded book, she would frame it. She replenished the heady fragrant candles with the scent Linda preferred, she placed the herbs within a frame of marigolds in the shape of an L in that herb garden.

And when it was time to tour...

She waited for the nightly phone call even though he wasn't sure why he rang.

She sent Heinz Baked Beans when he said he was missing them.

She even caught a flight to Louisville, Kentucky, all connecting flights and rental car chaos included, when Paul requested her presence.

Even though he had room service and aides a plenty, on tap.

Mammoth Cave National Park was visited and suddenly he was on a date with his housekeeper. They roamed all over the place, taking in the views, chatting about the tour. Paul realised it was the first time she had ever delved into his schedule or what he did, who he was.

"How come you're such a fan but I never see you leering in the studios windows?"

Leigh shrugged but she knew why. He was Paul McCartney twenty four seven when he went beyond the letterbox. She didn't want him to feel like he had to present a show to her or regale her with stories of John, George and Ringo. Recall to her all of all their wonderful or scary escapades. "You're so busy, I don't want to interfere. I have a job to do too you know" she laughed.

"You're not working now..." His grin was full of new found affection and sunnier days.

"Nope. I am definitely not working now" They were standing close. Together they viewed the splender in front of them from an lookout that sat perched above the River Styx Spring.

It was a lovely easy hike from the Sunset Terrace Rooms where he had put the band up for a mid tour breather.

Paul took her fingers and entwined them with his, and her heart sung.
"... Could I perhaps go to one of your concerts while I'm here. Would there be any tickets left?"

"You don't need a ticket, you're with me"

"So you know a guy who knows a guy that can get me in then?" Leigh 2.0 smiled and squeezed his arm with her free hand. Paul then kept her hand in his the whole walk back.

Leigh was willing time to simultaneously slow down for the moment and speed up to get to the concert... Or, better yet, the next moment he blessed solely upon her.

Perhaps she should just be.

So she was.

Paul worked his charm that afternoon at the park. Holding her hand as they traversed a tricky part of the trail, encouraging her to talk, really talk. About things she liked or didn't, or what she wanted, or dreamt of. About her kids, her Australian adventures with kangaroos. He remembered he loved that feeling he was getting from being with her. Comfort in company; And he cherished the fact the Leigh didn't push herself on him or dare him with dresses too high or tops too low. She didn't tease or go 'oops' with some silly girly flirty stuff.

Although he still remembered, as clear as day, a night a few months back...

It was June, the summer weather was the hottest they had had and the nights were balmy with not a breath of wind. Paul stumbled upon Leigh in the moonlight.

She stood with eyes closed.

She was cooling off. Her limbs looked sleepily relaxed as she ran a wash cloth dipped in cool water over her neck, across her sternum and down her arms.

They were unusually sharing the downstairs bathroom, as the upstairs one had sprung a leak...

Well Paul had needed a leak, didn't he. It was late. One or two in the morn- late, and he just opened the door, burst in in that late night leak hurry you get.

He had accidently stumbled in on Leigh, semi lucid in that sleepy dreamlike way. Seconds it took her, it felt more like minutes to him, for her to yelp in fright. All he could see and think about, was the wash cloth pulling slowly across the top of her breasts, gauzy pyjamas barely covering her. Legs he hadn't realised that were so shapely.

He knew he was in trouble right then and there. If she had been just the housekeeper nothing more, his eyes would have diverted, the door pulled back shut.. but his eyes didn't, his eyes drank in the sight... and lingered.

With a blush and quick nod Leigh fled for her room but not before seeing that interest in his eye...

Paul excelled at the next show. With the best pit stop he'd had in years still fresh in his mind there was more zip, more fire, more spark in his step. More strength in his voice, perfection in his playing. Because for the first time in a long time he was trying to please someone special instead of going through almost mechanical movements and scripted parts that the show contained. He bounced and grinned more than he had in an age. And he wasn't feeling near as guilty as he suspected he would not so many moons ago, if he was to feel this way again.

Linda was always there, and would continue to be, but Leigh was real, someone who never pressured, someone who thought before she spoke. Someone deliberately measuring her words for maximum effect. When she spoke he listened because it was always going to be good.

Leigh watched Paul finish up the show. Teetering on tip toes, adrenaline from the music, and him, still coursing through her. The fans were going wild, streamers and smoke and applause all mingling and celebrating everything that he gave the world. Wix scooted in close "He's walking on sunshine tonight. You did that. You made him feel good"

"Isn't he always that good?"

"He's always a pro but those few days at the Park.. with you. Man, a blind man could tell you were filling him up with life again" Wix grinned extra wide and ducked off to follow Abe, Rusty and Brian deeper backstage. He was drenched in sweat, as was Paul, when he eventually escaped the deafening applause, tumbling in happiness off the stage.

"That show was phenomenal" Leigh grinned in delight and continued on as he handed off his beloved Hofner "You are phenomenal" Leigh slung a towel around Paul's neck and went with the feelings that she had been harbouring. She tugged him closer, so that he teetered over her... and kissed him.

She kissed him.

Leigh 2.0 dragged a compliant Paul McCartney to her lips and kissed him. And he met her willingly, taking everything she offered. Then, when she released him, he pressed his lips, tugged wide with a grin, back onto her own.

Wrapping his arms around her he picked her up and stretched back to straighten, lifting her off the floor in the process. He felt life and love and want of another day rumble awake, calling, beckoning him. He should be buggered from the almost four hour set but he wanted the feeling of her pressed against him too much to give in to fatigue.

☆☆☆~~~

Epilogue

Paul clambered up the thin path to join Leigh on the bridge over the train tracks. The various coins he laid along the track were now waiting for the noon train. She smiled as he snaked his arms around her, she sighed as his body pressed especially close, snug all along her back. He loved showing her what he had waiting for her later. He loved pressing into her, loved listening to her breath ratch up a notch as she pressed herself back tight and snug into him humming in pleasure. Feeling him hard and wanting. She always felt like jelly when he did that. Legs wobbly, heart racing.

The train passed by with a flurry of wind which whirled and washed over them, the locomotives horn blasted and the sun glint off the coins as they flicked, scattered and spun in the air.

Paul loved his unique plectrums and he loved Leigh 2.0.

Paul was photographed in the Hamptons a few days prior to my writing this little short story..

...He had been laying pennies on a train track ❤

Theres a Place...

Waterfalls: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-411854/The-home-Heather-loathed.html

3830 words 1st day 21st Aug 18
4495 words 2nd day 22nd!

Pretty Kentucky