She stared out of the window watching the landscape rush by, and said goodbye to the area she had grown up in. She was looking forward to her new start and knew how lucky she was to be getting such a break so soon. Mary was a hairdressing natural. New ideas and skills came easy to her and she had sped through her training, loving every minute. Ann, her supervisor, had become a great friend and it was thanks to her that she was heading towards a top job in a city centre salon complete with full responsibility for running the place, and a nice flat above the premises. She wondered what it would be like, and how good the stylists and trainees would be.

Her dad switched the radio on in time for the pop music show that she loved. "And now for an oldie from last year’s sensations: The Beatles..."

"Turn it up! Turn it up!" She yelled, almost knocking over the lamp and Dansette record player that were next to her on the back seat.

As the sounds of one of her most favourite songs filled the car her dad murmured something remarkably favourable about the music. "It is a shame they didn’t last, some of their songs were actually quite nice." Paul was singing the lead vocals and he reminded her of the reason she had begged Ann to get her a job so far away.

.

She had met her ex-boyfriend in a dance hall one night, during the time when the Beatles were at the height of their popularity. The girls were crowded round him, tugging at his new collarless jacket and stroking his 'mop top' hair. His name was Tim and the sight of him had taken her breath away. It wasn’t just the Chelsea boots and haircut that made him so popular, it was the fact that he really looked like The Beatles’ bass player Paul without even trying. Walking around top to toe in Beatle style clothing did wonders for his pulling power. He had walked straight over to her and asked her to dance, and they had been seemingly glued together from that time onwards.

Unfortunately all of this female attention had gone to his head, and one blonde haired, mini-skirted female wasn’t enough for him. His list of girls could probably have rivalled that of the real Paul McCartney. By the time Mary had found out about all the other girls it was too late and she was obsessively in love with him. She had tried to leave him, but how could she resist the charms of someone who looked the way he did. Eventually she grew tired of all the cheating and begged Ann to get her a job somewhere far away. She was eventually offered the dream job at a place far enough away never to bump into him, so when her training was finally finished, so was he.

.

Eventually Mary found herself stood outside her new salon, being greeted by a Mrs Greaves. who had come to show her around the place.

"As you can see, it’s quite a new place with all the best facilities. And you can move everything around as you like." The woman said, "You’re the new manager now, and I’m quite sure Ritchie won’t mind a few changes to the place if you think that they’ll do the salon good. He would have been here to show you around himself but he’s away on business at the moment. He really isn’t one of those Salon owners who leaves everything to the stylists. He likes to be there to help in any way that he can, and I’m sure you two will get on well. Anyway, I do hope you’ll settle in alright."

Mary said that she was sure she would. "Could you tell me a little about the stylists please, and when will I get the chance to meet them?"

Mrs Greaves smiled. "Well the two regular girls, Pat and Pricilla, are coming over tomorrow afternoon to help you organise the salon ready for the customers on Monday. They’re lovely young girls, used to practice new hairstyles on me before they started their training. I suppose that’s where Ritchie got this thing about hairdressing, having these girls round at the house every night attacking me with rollers and things. Anyway, Cilla’s been looking after the books and things since the previous Manager left and she’ll go through them with you tomorrow."

The woman handed the salon keys to Mary and then took her into the upstairs flat where she would be living.

"There are two ways into the flat." Mrs Greaves told her as she walked up the stairs. "One through the salon, and one round the back so that you don’t have to climb past all the dryers and sinks when you get in home at night after you’ve been out at all those music clubs."

Mary laughed at the idea of being eager to go out at night after a hard day’s work in the salon.

"Oh, I know what you young ones are like for going out dancing. Ritchie comes back at all hours of the morning."