The Object of my Affection: My Brother's Band Mate

Happy New Year!

The Cavern was flooded by a wave of bodies on New Year's Eve, 1963.

A sense of anticipation hung in the air, along with the smell of smoke and alcohol. It lingered on the lips of the club's patrons and deep inside the furnishing, as if the place was designed to smell that way. 1963 had been kind to Liverpool and the young residents were excited by the prospect of what was yet to come in 1964.

Brona Harrison, with a drink in hand, pondered this as she sat at the bar. Finding herself sobering to an unacceptable level for New Year's, she managed to slip away from her cluster of friends. The dance floor had been a challenge to cross. Sweaty bodies swaying unpredictably, bony elbows digging in and music that conquered all other sounds. By the time she had reached the bar, she had earned a drink.

Brona sipped her Babycham thoughtfully. Somehow, despite the loud music and alcohol soaked brain, a train of pensive thought raced into her mind. She swiveled around on the bar stool, eyes scanning the scene unfolding before her. Familiar faces stood out. There was many of them, but a few stood particular in her thoughts as she took a moment to reflect on the year that had been.

1963 was simply an extraordinary year.

After a rocky Christmas, she said farewell to her brother and his band mates when they embarked on their first proper tour of England. She hoped by the time they had returned that The Beatles would have been successful. However, her scale of success then was quite different to the unimaginable success that they achieved.

The 24th of March 1963 was a date the brunette would remember forever. Brian Epstein had come into the shop out of the pouring rain. It was a miserable, grey day and Brian wore a bright beam that looked misplaced in the foreground of the wretched weather.

"Go get your coat," he had said. "I'm taking you somewhere."

She laughed at the absurdity of his request. "Brian, I'm workin'."

"Did I say you had a choice in the matter?"

Brona had caved quickly. She couldn't find the grounds for an argument, nor did she try very hard looking for them. She dashed into the back, grabbed both her coat and handbag and begged Conall Scott to cover for her. A few minutes later, much to her surprise, she found herself sitting in between Brian and her good friend Freda Kelly in the box in the Empire. Both her and Frieda were in the dark until the a single spotlight shone down on stage, illuminating Paul McCartney. Gasps escaped their lips and their eyes grew wide.

A wave of emotion surged through Brona as she sat looking down on The Beatles preforming for a bewitched audience. Tears welled up in her eyes involuntary, threatening to fall. A lump was lodged hard in her throat and she felt as though she couldn't breathe. A single tear fell through her lashes, which she was quick to wipe. She looked to Brian, who had squeezed her hand, and shared a wide smile. Then to Fre, who's eyes were gleaming, and they giggled in hysteria.

It finally hit her and it did so like a ton of bricks. She wanted to scream but she was silenced by awe. It was so very dream like. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she knew she'd never had to worry about them again. All the uncertainty and worry that had crippled her had evaporated into the air. No more nasty dreams of an unhappy, penniless George living on her couch. This was it. They had made it.

'63 had blessed her with a new goals and aspirations in her career path. By the end of '62, Brona knew her time at Baker's corner shop was coming to an end. She craved a more exciting, productive and rewarding job. Now that she no longer had to worry about George and the boys, she could finally focus on herself. Unfortunately, a common and head wrecking obstruction blocked her path: she didn't know what she wanted to do. Thanks to John's divine intervention, Brona figured it out.