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Chapter One: Door Into Summer

Fading through the door into summer... The Monkees


Friday night had finally come. This had perhaps been the longest week of my entire 17 years of life. The full length mirror in front of me reflected my lithe body and gracile arms and legs. I was doing a meticulous job on my make-up and hair. My lips were a light brown-red with eyes of a syenite blue to compliment them. Being born dreadfully English, my skin was a fair lily white. As a stark contrast, my dress was raven black, sleeveless and quite shy of being knee length. Each one of my claw-like fingernails had been French manicured to perfection. Since graduation was only a week ago, I was still sifting through the multitude of gifts that had been bestowed upon me. My parents were the highest upper-middle-class, so for their darling daughter, they could afford the best. Their present had been exquisite diamond earrings, which adorned my ears splendidly. At my throat and at the collar of the tight dress, was my ever-present, finespun gold chain. It rarely ever parted with my neck. As shoes that night, I wore the only semi-formal pair I owned: simple black loafers. Can you blame me? I'm not one to go for shoes, so I only owned four pair, all of them very casual.

I know I wasn't quite suited for the rather disgusting, hazy atmosphere of the Jacaranda, but it was extravagant yet lovely. Deciding against pulling my long, honey blonde hair up, I was ready to go. Good thing, because it was almost time: 7:18.

The newly renamed Beatles were playing tonight. My mum wasn't happy when she found out. She says that anyone that hangs out with John Lennon and his gang was trouble. She also hated my new clothes, which she proceeded to call "only fit for a tart." Downstairs, a bitter diatribe turned to full-frontal assault.

"Natalie Ellen!" she screamed, throwing down the knife she was using to chop carrots. "What is that you are wearing? I've let you go to your ridiculous concert, and this is how you thank me! By dressing like a street rat! That skirt is beyond human decency, young lady!"

"Lay off, Mum. It's the sixties and I'm seventeen. Of course, you're 98, but who's counting?" I toned my voice down several dozen decibels to say the last part.

Looking up from the large pot he was stirring, Dad said, "I think she looks fine, Sam. You'll be good, won't you, darling?"

Smiling at him, I pranced to the door and started my journey. My father had always been kinder and stood up against Mum for me. Slater Street was a stone's throw away from my house on Waldgrave Road making for an easy walk. I joined a gaggle of four of my giggly friends, Ariyan, Lauren, Jennifer and Alison. Since their parents weren't so tight-arsed, pardon my French, they had been allowed to attend several of the Beatles' shows.

"So, Duchess Riley actually joins us tonight. Your parents must have died and made you queen. How on Earth did you get them to let you come?" Ally asked disbelieving.

"Hello to you too, girls. And I don't know why Mum stopped being such an overbearing cow. I told you I'd come and I'm here. So, where are the gorgeous guys you've told me so much about?"

"Oh, they'll be out soon enough," said Ariyan.

"Nice shoes, Ella," Lauren snickered.

I glared at her, and Jenny added mockingly, "Lauren, you know Ella has no taste. Just leave her alone."

Everyone laughed but me. It's not that I couldn't buy new shoes; I just never felt the need to. Most of my friends knew that and it was a bit of a running joke. Since I didn't mind too terribly, I let them keep on with the hope that it would lose its humor after a while. It didn't, but everyone has silly little imperfections, right?

All of the people in my social group were into rock'n'roll and not skiffle. Even though they were almost synonymous, we were very picky music connoisseurs. Our parents hated it because we were all raised to be proper young ladies. All five of us had matriculated with excellent marks, so we were stereotypically typecast as snobby, well-off, know-it-alls. In all honesty, we were well-off and really, we were know-it-alls, too. C'est la vie.

Jenny and Lauren perked up together and whispered loudly, "There they are!"

Five teenagers walked on stage. They were the exact type of people that my mum despised. Even clad in tight pants (drainies), winklepicker shoes, and assorted black apparel, they still wouldn't have bothered my dad. He had become accustomed to the rebellious spirit in the youth of Liverpool. I knew their names through my friends and from gossip at school.

John, the first to walk on, seemed not a person to cross. I knew that he was the leader just from his presence. He was well known throughout the town, mostly by mothers who didn't want their girls associating with him. His hair was slicked back like a Ted and he certainly acted like one. Even so, I admit he was, well, interesting. It was also common knowledge that John attended school at the art college with Stuart Sutcliffe, who, needless to say, came forth next. Stu was handsome and Jenny fancied him. I could see reason why. Um, well, Stu looked very "artistic," for lack of a better word. I figured he must have been somewhat sophisticated because he hadn't bounced up there. Everyone up there had the Teddy boy look going, but Stu made it seem cool. Paul was oh-so-very cute. Lauren and Ally sighed dreamily at the sight of him. I smiled and laughed a little. So far, he was my favorite. Those beautiful doe eyes and cute baby face made him the picture of a perfect boy. Pete, the drummer, came across as being as interesting as old cheese or dirty laundry. Then, a younger looking, dark-haired one came up.

Ariyan leaned over to me and said, "That's the one! That's George. Oh, gosh, he's so perfect! He's strong and silent, he is."

Ally must have heard Ariyan's loud commentary because she said; "He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together!"

Ariyan slapped Ally's arm in retaliation. I thought that George was very sexy for that reason. (Being silent, not being thick!) He still was shy and gentle looking, though. Soon, I saw that my mother was right about my dress. It certainly attracted attention, even that of the boys onstage. While Lauren and Ally were making eyes at Paul, George quickly flashed me a charming smile. I cast a sideways glance at my surroundings thinking that he had directed that towards one of the other girls and realized, Oh my God! He's actually looking at me! Rather nervously, I grinned back coyly. Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness about my shoes came over me that never had before.

Don't be daft, Ella, I told myself. You're not supposed to be worrying over a stupid thing like shoes... Makeup, now there's something you need to worry about. Cor, I hope I look all right...

"Ella, did you actually just get attention from George Harrison?" Jenny asked skeptically, snapping my train of nervous thoughts in half.

"Um, I think so," came my rather dazed reply. I was having trouble believing it myself. On top of that, I had a new problem.

"You lucky dog! Natalie, do you know what that means? You have a totally gorgeous guy interested in you!" Ariyan screamed in my ear.

"Hold on, Ariyan, the only true things you said in that sentence was that he's totally gorgeous and that my name is Natalie. You don't know that he wants to have anything to do with me. And does anyone have a mirror?"

"Ella, stop being so pessimistic. You do want him to like you, right?" Lauren said, handing me her compact.

"Yes, but I would also like to have a puppy, but do I?" I replied, scrutinizing my mascara in the mirror. Satisfied that there was nothing seriously wrong with my complexion, I passed Lauren her compact back.

All four girls sighed and shook their heads. We sat through two hours of songs like "That'll Be the Day," "What'd I Say," "Three Cool Cats," and "A Taste of Honey." I'd never been to a concert quite like this. When Paul broke a string, John stood up there making wise cracks and being generally hilarious while Paul took care of the problem. I noticed that they weren't at all what you would describe as being professional. All of them swore quite a lot excepting Stu and Pete who said very little of anything. John and Paul were even drinking, which I thought was going a bit too far. Aside from the classic Teddy boy acting, they were a quintet of charismatic and winning young men. The audience of the show must have had the same 'I don't care' attitude because everyone, including some of my group, was drinking whisky and Coke, a favorite among the teens. It was a lovely night outside, and the show was almost over. The guys were looking tired and sweaty, but it made them even more appealing. After the final number for that section of the show, I'd had enough for one night. Plus, it was a tad late for me. It was a sweet pre-summer night, and the cool evening breeze was inviting compared to the mildew permeated air in here. Each of the performers came off stage and mingled with the crowd. I gathered my purse and smoothed out my dress.

"Oh, Ella, aren't you going to stay any longer?" Jenny pleaded.

"Jen, I'm too tired to stay awake, let alone stay with you all."

"All right, luv. I suppose I'll see you later."

Before I left, though, I went in search of Ariyan who had left to find her boyfriend in the crowd. Little did I know that someone was seeking me out as well.

"Hey, Ariyan!" I shouted to get her attention. She looked over. "I'm leaving. I'll see you next week."

She nodded in reply, then an expression of complete awe crossed over her face. Slowly, she mouthed the words look behind you. Since this is a pretty cliché scene that happens in a sickening amount of movies, you probably have at least a vague idea of what is about to happen. My eyes lit up and I drew in a breath and held it. Behind me was...

John Lennon. Well, maybe it wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but beggars can't be choosers.

"'Ello, luv. If you didn't already notice, there's a little boy who's going absolutely ga-ga over you. I'm supposed to be bringing you to him. If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

"Natalie Ellen Riley, but everyone calls me Ella." It took me a while to remember my own name. George really was interested in me. Either that or John and I were totally not on the same page.

"Okay, then, Ella." He turned around and called out to one corner of the club. "George!"

He came to attention at hearing his name, and shouted back to John, "What?!"

"Get your arse over here! Ella is waiting for you!"

This was a different way to meet someone. At least I was meeting him at all. After a few stabilizing breaths, I prepared to try to look as attractive as was possible. God, where is a good pair of heels when you need them, said my subconscious. George wasn't quite as, um, intimidating up close. His once slicked back hair was falling in his fawn-hued eyes. He wasn't carrying himself very self-assuredly. Awkward was a bit strong of a word because no matter how shy and diffident he was, George still had an aura of masculinity and desirability that I don't think he was aware of. I glanced down at the ground and twisted a lock of hair in my fingers.

John broke the silence in which we were looking each other over. "I'm going to leave you two alone. I think George has something to say to you, Miss Riley." With that, we were left alone.

"Hi, Ella, luv, um, would you like to take a walk with me?" asked George. He had the lower class-Liverpool accent, which was looked down upon. I couldn't care less. I could also tell that it was hard for him to gather the courage to say that.

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine also," he added.

He was so cute when he was nervous.

"I would love to," seeing that if I took any longer to reply he would explode with anxiety. Whatever good judgement I had earlier possessed must have been taking a coffee break. Most people would find it rather risky to agree to what I just had only a second ago. Maybe it was simply a delightful twist of fate.

Wanting to ensure that they knew, I smiled haughtily at each of the girls. They were in complete disbelief. He walked out and I followed.

"I guess I haven't exactly properly introduced myself, have I? I'm George Harrison of Speke." He took my hand in a prince-like fashion and kissed it.

I smiled and said, "I surmised as much."

"I hope I didn't seem totally ridiculous on stage staring at ya like that."

"I'm glad that someone finally took an interest in me. My mum isn't happy about the way I look or anything else I do for that matter."

"Sorry, luv. Sounds like John's Aunt Mimi."

"She must be awful."

"Well, she's just looking after John not much unlike your mother looking after you."

"Whose side are you on, anyways?"

"Yours, of course," he said with a laugh," but it helps to see other people's point of view."

"I see that you are a bright person as well as being handsome."

He turned 72 shades of red, but it was too dark to notice.

"Thank you, luv. We might want to start getting you home. Your mum might worry."

We kept walking until we had reached my driveway. He glanced quickly at his wristwatch and sighed.

"Ella, are you seeing anyone right now?"

"No, I'm not that popular."

"Well, would you like to come to the Cavern tomorrow with me? John, Paul and their girlfriends are going, too."

I was overwhelmed. George Harrison was asking me on a date to the most happening club in the whole area.

"That would be wonderful!"

"Okay," he said looking relieved, "I'll pick you up at five."

"Five is fine"

George looked up at my house and said, "Wow, you live there? I don't think a posh girl like you should be messing around with a Scouse like me."

"Well, I do, so there," I defended playfully.

He laughed. "All right, see you tomorrow, then."

"Bye, George."

This was perfect. My feet never touched the ground on the way to the door.

"Natalie, who is that boy?" My mum was watching through the window.

"He's George Harrison, and what does it matter to you?"

"Don't you sass me like that! He doesn't look like a proper young man. Is he part of that band you went to see? Tell me the truth." Wow, how do parents do that? She hit the nail on the head that time.

"Well, yes, but he's really sweet and shy," I said trying make him sound innocent.

"That's what you think! He'll butter you up to get you in bed with him, and then drop you like a bad habit!" I had never heard anything like that out of her mouth. Uh oh, she had to be really pissed.

"What?! He wouldn't ever do anything like that! I've had it, Mum! You can't keep spying on me! I want my own life!"

"Fine! Throw away everything for one dirty little scruff. See if I care!"

That did it. I ran up to my room, slammed the door, and flung myself hard on the bed. Sobbing quietly, I heard a knock on the door. "If you're not Mum, come in." It was my dad.

"Elly, sweet, I know your mother gets like that sometimes, but she is only trying to protect you," he whispered while stroking my back trying to calm me down.

"She's going the wrong way about it then. George is a really nice guy. Just because he's in a band doesn't make him dangerous!"

"Mum doesn't care. You're her little girl. She doesn't want to lose you."

I sighed, "Thank you, Daddy. I just don't get it; I'm 17 years old!"

"It's okay. I know. In the meantime, I'm behind you all the way." He gave me a kiss, "Goodnight, princess."

"Goodnight, Daddy."

With that, he left my room and I drifted into a lucid-dreamed sleep with thoughts of my mother's harsh words and my absolute dream of a date tomorrow.


© KMW

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