65 Years Ago (A Beatles Story)

The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill

Paul and I reached a dimly lit alley, where flickering street lamps cast eerie shadows on the cobblestone floor. However, a bright sign flooded into the darkness. Reading, 

The Cavern.

The entrance was flooded with queuing people: teenagers dressed like they were twenty, old men with tailored suits and polished shoes, and a group of sixteen-year-old boys all crowded around a lighter.

"Paul!" One slurred, clearly drunk. His eyes cast to me. "Who's this bird you've brought with ye?"

Paul rolled his eyes, "Martha, this is Eric Griffiths. He's usually 'armless, you know. Just gets a bit rowdy when drinking." He laughed, shoving his friend.

"You guys ready?" A boy spoke up, whom I recognised from the fete, it was Ivan.

The club was empty, but the atmosphere pulsating from the boys was loud and infectious. I looked at Paul; his face was mixed with excitement and terror. I nudged him, and he smiled, his ears turning slightly pink.

"Hey, Paul. I ain't ever seen you act like this over a girl." John said, slapping Paul roughly on the shoulder, chuckling to himself. "You've got little Mcharmly flustered!" His gaze flickered to me. "I'm John."

"Martha, nice to meet you." I was about to extend my hand when Paul slid his arm around my waist, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

"Well.. I'll go get set up then." he walked away.

Paul's hand remained gently on my hip as he guided me to a table near the front. I watched him walk up to the stage, and the anxiety of being alone in a club began to settle on my chest. The number of people had now gradually begun to grow, including a few that I recognised from school. Carol was one of them; she was with a selection of heavily done-up girls. All of them were squealing with excitement; I presumed they were big fans of the band! I glanced back at the stage, where Paul was conversing with several boys I hadn't been introduced to yet, as well as Pete Best. He smiled and waved eagerly at me. I laughed, waving awkwardly back. A girl sat beside Carol, scowled at me, and beckoned me over with her hand.

"Hello?" I started, but was cut off.

"Do you know my Pete?!?!" Her hands were closed in a fist, and her face was gradually becoming more and more red.

"Erm.. a little bit. We sit together in maths. I don't like him or anything, is he yours..?" I say, attempting to smallen her anger.

The girl sighed, "Yes! He is mine; he simply doesn't know it yet." She gazed off dreamily. "Pete 'as been my lifelong love ever since primary school, you know!"

Carol chuckled into her glass and said, "Yer Martha right? I can't seem to remember where I know you from."

"We met at St. Peter's fete in the summer."

Carol grinned. "Oh yes I remember now! You ran off with that Paul boy." I tried to keep my emotions at bay, but sadly, Carol saw my face and squealed. "Martha!!! Oh my goodness, you two would be sooo cute together!"

I looked at my shoes, "We are just friends."

Carol rolled her eyes and was about to speak again when a booming voice reverberated from the stage: "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you for the very first time, The Quarrymen!"

The crowd began to applaud, and a few of the girls were even whistling. I laughed to myself, feeling second-hand embarrassment. All the boys, except one, looked insanely excited. Paul. I could feel from here the anxiety that surrounded him. His eyes met mine, and they did not leave my gaze even as John breathed in deep and began to sing. Our eyes remained in sync, the air thick with tension. My heart raced, and I couldn't help but wonder what this meant to him. Was this merely a coping mechanism for his fear over the performance, or did he like me? His eyes were beautiful, I had never had the chance to really study them before. Hazel, and sparkling. Soft, but the beginnings of smile lines surrounded them. They were perfect.

"Just friends, my arse," Carol whispered in my ear, a prominent smile clear in her voice.

I batted her away with a grin on my face, turning to look at her. "He was just worried about the performance."

She laughed, her pretty blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders. "Yeah, right."

"Truly, I promise." She rolled her eyes playfully. I looked back around to the stage, but Paul was no longer looking at me but at John, so I did the same. He was singing That'll Be the Day, which was one of my favourite songs. He winked at me, making me raise my eyebrows in surprise. One of Carol's friends actually screamed, how embarrassing.

"John just winked at you!!" She shouted as she waved her hands in the air. "I wonder what your children will look like!! I mean, I always thought John and I were destined for each other, but I'm fine with Eric, or Ivan, or..." She continued to ramble until Carol put her hand over her mouth.

The night flew by, and before I knew it, it was 1am. The band was beginning to grow tired, but the crowd was still screaming and begging for more. The majority were very underage and very drunk, yet they were somehow still being served. Carol and her girls were slurring their words and giggling tipsily. I had decided not to join them with alcohol for this exact reason. I appeared to be the only sober and aware person left. I could feel a yawn begin to creep across my face. I attempted to stifle it but failed miserably.

"Hey there," A man who appeared to be two or three years older than me began to speak: "You seem tired; why don't I take you home. I can drive." He smiled smugly and wrapped his arm heavily around my shoulder, which I attempted to shove off but couldn't.

"No, thank you; I'm happy here."

"Come on, babe. Don't be boring." He persisted, trying to tug on my hand.

"No. I said no." I exclaimed, feeling panic rise within me. My eyes darted around, desperately searching for help, but Carol was too drunk, and nobody else either cared or noticed. The man continued to be overly pushy with me, and I couldn't breathe. If no one notices, what will happen? I continued to refuse, but I could tell this wouldn't stop him from his aggressive actions.

"Hey!" A loud voice shouted from the stage, causing the rest of the band to stop and forcing me to shove my fingers in my ears. "You get off her." It was Paul.

~

I was still slightly shaking; nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I had, of course, heard stories. What kind of woman hasn't? But never had a man done anything of the sort to me. Paul and Pete had brought me to the small room tucked behind the stage. It was cosy, with a carpeted floor, a small table, and walls adorned with mirrors.

"Paul, Pete!" John popped his head around the door. "You coming to the party at Eric's? His parents are in Blackpool." Pete's eyes lit up and he looked at Paul, practically with puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, Pete, you can go." Pete grinned and bounded off after John, who had already left.

"Do you not want to go, Paul?"

"No, no. I'm fine here with you, London." I looked at my shoes. "I can't believe that 'appened to you; I understand if you wouldn't want to come here again."

I grabbed his hand with mine, "Don't be silly; the rest of the night was great!"

He smiled, "It was, wasn't it. I was pretty darn good." He said, mimicking a posh accent and wiggling his eyebrows. We laughed together, and the conversation moved to a silence that wasn't awkward but pleasant. I enjoyed his company and was still slightly in awe that this whole thing had even happened. The time-travel, I mean. It had been about half a year; if you can even believe that, I certainly can't. I hadn't seen my Mum for half a year, or my Gran, or my friends. But then again, I do quite like my new life. 

"Love, do you want me to walk you home?"

~~~~

thanks for reading - sorry i haven't been updating, i've been ill. will try and update more often from now on :)

-diana