Yesterday - A Beatles Fanfic

Chapter The Sixth

The soapy water circled around Jessie's feet before disappearing down the drain, dragging the mud and grime with it. She was still getting used to looking down and seeing her tiny body - not that she was much different as a teenager. Perhaps it was a good thing she hadn't changed much. It meant she could still almost wear her normal clothes.

She stepped out of the steamy shower and wrapped herself in a soft, clean towel. It was massive in comparison to her body. She looked at her clothes on the bathroom floor. They were still damp and muddy.

Poking her head out the door and clutching the towel around her tightly, she called out. "Uh, slight issue."

John was in the next room and came into the hallway. "Yeah?"

Jessie held up her t-shirt and let it drop to the tiles with a heavy slap.

"Oh!" John realised. "Hang on... Ah, Ringo!" He yelled. "What's the smallest clothes ye' got?"

"Just gimme a minute!" They heard a muffled shout. A few moments later he appeared, carrying a small bundle of clothes. "Try these... otherwise ye' could ask Paul if 'e's got a skirt!" He winked cheekily.

"Shut up, Rings." John hissed. "She's just a little kid!"

Jessie snorted with laughter and closed the bathroom door again. In her hands were a pair of jeans and a short sleeved shirt. She dried herself off and pulled the shirt over her head. It was quite large on her, but it would do. The worn blue cotton was soft and smelt like laundry powder and aftershave. The sleeves ended up coming down to her elbows, and the bottom hem fell low enough to cover the important parts. Doubtfully, she stepped into the jeans. They would have been fine if she rolled the legs up, but even with a belt, they still promptly insisted on falling back down to her ankles.

Holding the jeans up at the waist, she emerged from the bathroom again. "Yeah, nah. I don't think this'll work." She tugged at the waistband. She could probably fit another half of herself in the jeans, and still be able to do them up comfortably.

John snapped his fingers and walked down the hallway a bit. He pushed a square board in the ceiling aside and pulled down a wooden ladder.

"I didn't know ye' 'ad an attic," Ringo remarked.

"We might as well not 'ave one, for all it's used," John replied, disappearing into the roof.

For quite a while all Ringo and Jessie could hear was a lot of scraping and scuffling noises, along with the occasional whack, accompanied by muffled swearing. Then they both jumped as a box fell at their feet in a cloud of dust with a dull thud. John slid down the ladder with ease, pushing it back up and replacing the square board. He heaved the box up and carried it to the room he shared with Paul.

"Mimi isn't really one to throw out old clothes. She always said that they'd be needed some day. Actually, I'm surprised that there's still boxes up there! She must've forgotten 'bout them." He explained, setting the box on his bed and opening it.

Ringo pulled the first item of clothing out. "I bet this was your favourite, huh John?" He grinned, dangling a misshapen mauve knitted sweater under John's nose.

John flushed red. "It was a present! I 'ad to keep it!" He insisted.

"Sure thing, Johnny boy," Ringo said cheekily. "Hey, these look more your size." He held up a faded pair of old jeans from when John was a small child.

Jessie took them and turned around, quickly dropping the massive pair, and pulled on John's old jeans. They didn't fit badly at all! They were a tad too long, but at least they didn't fall down.

"Well," she spun on the spot. "Better?"

"Ye' definitely look a lot better than when I found ye'," Ringo said. "That's for sure!"

When they went back to the living room, Paul looked up, and did a double take. "Ye' sure you're not a lad, Jessie?"

"Don't worry." She grinned. "That, I am positive that I'm not."

"And you're okay wearin' that?" He said. "If ye' really wanted, we could get a dress or somethin'."

John rolled his eyes. "Just stop fussin', Paul. If she wants to dress like a lad, let 'er!"

Then, out of the blue, George said. "How old are ye', Jessie?"

Jessie hesitated for a moment. She couldn't tell them the truth. Not yet. They'd never believe it. "Seven." She answered.

"That's a funny accent ye' got. Ye' from Ireland or somethin'?"

Jessie smiled. This seemed to be one thing that hadn't changed in fifty years. "No, not Ireland."

"Well, you're not American." Paul added. "That's for sure. Not British either."

"Canadian, maybe?" Ringo guessed.

She shook her head. "Still no."

John snapped his fingers. "You're Australian! That has to be it!" He grinned.

Jessie was a little offended. "No way! I'm a Kiwi!"

John slapped his hand to his forehead. "New Zealand! I should've guessed!"

"Are all li'l New Zealand girls like you then?" George asked. "Or is it just you that wears lads' clothes?"

For her own sake, she just decided to agree. "Uh... Yeah. They're like me," she said. Well, that's half true. Give it a couple of decades or so...

"Well, lads." Ringo announced. "Looks like we got a little Kiwi bird on our hands!" He grinned at the joke he made.

* * *

It was later that afternoon, and the lads had a recording session in an hour, but they were debating what to do with Jessie.

"We'll 'ave to bring 'er with us." Ringo said, glancing at the girl in the living room. "Ye' can't leave a little kid home alone. It ain't right."

"But what about the fans?" Paul whispered. "They'll go crazy if they see us, she'll freak out!"

"I dunno, Paul." George put in. "To me, she seems a little... Different."

"Different?" Paul asked. "How?"

George thought for a moment. "She doesn't act like any kid I've met. She gets our jokes, dresses like a lad, and seems a hell of a lot smarter and mature than she should be."

"What are ye' sayin' George?" John said. "That she ain't a little kid? She looks pretty young to me."

"I'm not sayin' anythin'." He sighed. "I'm just sayin' that we should keep an eye on 'er. Bring 'er to the studio. It'll be good for 'er."

Meanwhile, oblivious to the discussion in the hallway, Jessie had found the guitar she 'borrowed' by the front door. She was slouched on the sofa examining it.

"What on earth..." She whispered, squinting at the body. Engraved in tiny letters were the words, 'tune me right, and you'll be young or old, then back again. Use me wisely, and you'll have all the time in the world.

"Tune me right?" She murmured. For the first time, she noticed two small extra pegs on the head of the guitar. Jessie sat the guitar upright on the ground to get a closer look. They looked to be made of a different metal to the other six. She narrowed her eyes, and could make out numbers printed into the metal on one peg. It hit her. Dates. They were years. One number was lined up to a notch on the guitar; 1965.

"Time travel." Jessie whispered. "It is possible." She looked at the second extra peg. This didn't have dates on it, but had a symbol on either side. One was a simple double quaver note, but the other had a jagged line. Electric current, she thought. It's a symbol for an electric current. She turned the peg until it clicked, the music note facing up. "Don't need anymore... Mishaps." She muttered.