65 Years Ago (A Beatles Story)

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

The suffocating summer pulled me out of my dreams. Making a face at the morning sun, I sat, my pyjamas still clinging to my back. Who knew that 1957 would be so hot? Yes, 1957. I have been in Woolton, Liverpool, in 1957 for two whole months. So far, nothing has happened; I am still stuck, rewound in time. It still hadn't settled in my brain that this was my reality. I truly am stuck in the past, with no one to trust but a mother who I don't even know. She's a very cold woman, nothing like my real mother. She doesn't say much, simply to remind me of my curfew before I go out or to tell me not to eat so much. I suppose she's okay—there have been no more slapping incidents, at least. Speak of the devil:

"Martha! You must get up right this instant; you will miss school!" That woke me up.

"Shit." I cursed under my breath. I was most definitely excited to go to a new school; hopefully I would make some friends and feel a tiny bit less lonely. My thoughts drifted to my July encounter with Paul; maybe I will get to see him today. I had been enrolled in the Liverpool Institute, after all, a school I know that both Paul and George themselves went to.

"MARTHA!"

"Yes, fine, Mum! I'm up."

Returning from the bathroom, I grabbed my uniform from my wardrobe. A navy pinafore that ended at my knees was layered on top of a white, long-sleeve shirt. A navy blue jumper with a white school logo was also required. I gazed in the mirror at my reflection, feeling a little uncertain of myself. I really did look like a girl from the 1950s, and I think that this scared me a little. Now, my face. I was surprised to notice a modest collection of makeup on my dresser, which had obviously been placed there by my mother. I chose a rouge that appears natural but also draws attention to my features. My lips were swept with red lipstick, something that I would never have worn in 2022.

I didn't spot a figure sitting on my wall, disguised by a bush, as I opened the gate and began to walk up the street.

"Martha?" The unseen person spoke out from behind me. My whole mood shifted; I could feel my lips begin to curl and my eyes brighten. I think Paul noticed as he smiled smugly at the floor.

"I haven't seen you all summer," he said to me, making me feel fuzzy. He had thought of me!

"Yes, my mother has kept me very busy so I wouldn't get in any more trouble." Paul laughed, his eyes twinkling, making him look even more beautiful than he already was.

"How much trouble did ye end up in anyways? I couldn't find you after I went to see John."

"A lot. I wasn't allowed to even look out the windows for weeks! Oh, and you must tell me how it went with John." I say, gushing over his new musical opportunity, even though I already knew the answer.

"Yer accent is still so funny to me." I blushed, a little embarrassed and a little smitten. "John liked me guitar skills, so I'm in the band."

"Oh, Paul! That's wonderful." I planted a kiss on his cheek, leaving a crimson lip-shaped mark.

"London, shall we depart?" He said, mimicking my accent and offering his arm.

"Yes. We shall." 

~

The school halls were full of smoke and heavy perfume, suffocating me as I walked to class. I couldn't help but let the anxiety engulf my mind, forcing me to overthink blending in with the other students. I doubt anyone would ever think that I was from the future, but imagine I make a fool of myself. How am I supposed to act in the 1950s? I stepped into the classroom as a dozen pairs of eyes settled on me. Crap.

"Ah! You must be the new student!" A lively-looking teacher made his way from the front desk to where I was standing. "Martha Beasly? Am I correct?"

"Um, yes, that's right." How humiliating to stand at the front of this class with a room full of silent, judgmental pupils.

"Is that a London accent I hear?" What is it with bloody Liverpudlians and me being from London? To them, I am essentially a celebrity. I nodded awkwardly, hoping he would end this conversation and let me sit down with the rest of the class.

"Okay, well, you sit down, and we'll get on with the amazing world of numbers and equations!" The entire class let out a collective groan, but I must admit I quite like maths—clearly not as much as this teacher, however. I walked in between the rows of staring students, sitting myself on the second to last row in an empty seat next to a boy with curly hair, gelled into a teddy boy style. I must admit, he was cute.

"New girl!"

"Hi?" I smiled weekly at him.

"I'm Pete Best. Why'd ye decide to move to this shithole?"

"My father got a job here." It was the truth, but I'd only seen the man once since we had moved here; he is constantly at work, away for work, or thinking about work.

"Ah." Pete replied. The conversation moved to an awkward silence but was thankfully interrupted by the teacher.

"Class! Quiet now; let's begin! Turn to page 394 in your textbooks." I soon began to tune the teacher out, letting my mind wander, of course, to Paul. He seemed to be the only thing on my mind. Ever.

The bell echoed through the room, an obvious feeling of relief emanating from all students.

"See ya later, Martha," Pete said, winking in my direction. He was very sweet, even helping me with some work during class.

I smiled at him. "Bye, Pete."

As I walked out into the hall, I tripped, my books flooding out of my arms and onto the floor. There goes trying not to attract any attention to myself. I could feel hot embarrassment fill my cheeks while my arms gathered the books from the floor. Two pairs of hands began to help me. I looked up and saw Paul and another, younger-looking boy with him. George Harrison! The quiet Beatle, the left-out Beatle, the Beatle treated like a child.

"Martha, you are never not in trouble, ay?" Paul exclaimed. George smiled softly; the sweet Beatle.

"Yes, I know, how embarrassing!" George raised his eyebrows. I'm guessing over my accent. Paul noticed this reaction too and said,

"Yes, yes, George. She's a Londoner; catch up!" This comment made his ears turn pink and his eyes drift to the floor. I felt sorry for him.

"Nice to meet you!" I said, looking into George's eyes. They were deep brown, almost black, and welcoming. He quickly broke the eye contact, smiling at the floor and continuing to pick up the books from the floor.

"He's a tad shy." Paul remarked, speaking for George. I nodded in reply.

"Thanks for the help with the books." Heat began to creep back to my cheeks. My brain began to fill with the realisation of how awkward this situation was.

"No problem, Martha. See ya tomorrow, yeah?" My eyebrows furrowed.

Paul looked confused at my reaction. "I'll be walking ye to school, o'course?"

"Oh, yes. That would be lovely." I beamed.

"Gear. See ya around, love." Before I could even comprehend the fact that Paul had called me 'love', the pair had vanished. My eyes widened, and if I hadn't been standing in the middle of a school hallway, I may have been jumping up and down and squealing. Maybe like how you would imagine a girl to do in a romance movie. It is so weird to think that I am falling for someone I have known about since I was born and is technically 65 years older than me. I must admit that this slightly grossed me out, but I soon got over it as I began to think about my walk to school with him in the morning. 

Gear.

~~~~

An authors note: 

Hope you're enjoying this :). I've never written anything proper before, if you can't tell. I hope it's not too bad! Also let's just pretend that Pete went to Liverpool Institute and that it was for boys and girls haha.

Thanks for reading,     Diana