July 1957

"Come on, Con, hurry up," Cilla sighed, bored, leaning against the bathroom counter as Connie scrubbed her left hand in the wash basin.

"She won't," Florence muttered as she stood by the mirror, re-braiding her long brown hair. "D'you want a paper towel?"

Connie nodded, lifting her hand out from under the tap as Florence handed her a towel, drying her hand and holding it up to the two girls with a frown. Both Cilla and Florence leant round to look, both of them biting their lip and looking between each other.

This had become some weird sort of ritual for the girls. As a natural left hander, Connie could never quite wrap her head around why some of her teachers would punish her for using her preferred hand for writing. It wasn't an enforced rule that she be right handed, or at least it wasn't anymore, but most of her teachers were quite old fashioned when it came to writing, especially her English teacher who'd been known to cane her for using her left hand. If he even saw the telltale smudges on her left hand, it didn't matter if she was struggling through trying to work her right hand, she would still get punished, so she made sure to at least try and remove the evidence. 

"I really don't fancy a bollocking from Mr Stewart today," Connie moaned, remembering the last time their English teacher had caught her writing with her left hand. It had been six of the best ones, and she didn't want them again.

"You could just use your right hand," Cilla suggested with a shrug.

"Cill, she can't even write her name with her right hand," Florence reminded her. "It's actually quite funny, innit, that you want to be a writer but yet you can't even write like most people,"

"Paul's left handed too and he says it's the same over at the lad's school," Connie told them both without looking at them, instead focused on pulling her jumper sleeve over the smudges. "He had to restring his guitar a few weeks back so he could actually play it properly,"

"Yeah I remember, you rang me up ranting about how he was tuning it all night in the bathroom," Cilla reminded her, making Florence laugh.

That was when the bathroom door slammed open and in walked two other girls. They both had long blonde hair, though Connie could tell that neither of them were natural blondes. She really hated the trend of girls dying their hair to match the colour she had naturally, ever since it was made popular by some actress. What she hated more though was the male reaction to blonde hair. Paul was always going on about how much he loved girls with blonde hair - "except you, Lennie," he'd always say, far too quickly - and although George would stay quiet on the matter she knew he agreed. Even John shared the opinion, being rather crude about his preferences with girls to the extent that if Connie didn't know him she'd have punched him for being so rude.

Those girls wouldn't have been his preference, however, Connie could tell as soon as they entered the room. She often found herself doing that out of habit as horrible as it was, comparing the girls at her school to the sort of girls her cousin went on about. Paul might have liked them as they were undeniably pretty, but Connie couldn't imagine herself feeling overly thrilled if he brought them round to her house. There was something about them that Connie just didn't like. She knew they went with the popular crowd, and they somehow managed to get away with wearing their skirts shorter than uniform codes permitted, but there was a look in their eyes that Connie didn't trust. Maybe it was something to do with how both of them seemed to be much better off than Connie. The two gave off a strong middle class vibe, one that intimidated Connie ever so slightly, not that she would ever admit that. However, her suspicions were furthered only when the taller one flashed her a smile that was far from genuine.

"Hi, Connie," the girl grinned at her, probably trying to seem friendly but if anything it was quite unnerving, especially considering how she seemed to speak a lot clearer than Connie with a lack of strong scouse accent. "I'm Angie, and this is Jenny, I don't think we've ever really spoken before,"

"Right, hello," Connie said, forcing away her suspicions as she put on a smile, glancing at her friends. "This is Cilla and Flo-"

"Is it true you're friends with Paul McCartney and George Harrison, from the boys school?" her friend Jenny interrupted, her arms folded across her chest as she flicked her dyed fringe out of her eyes, her accent matching Angie's, the two of them making Connie realise how broad Liverpudlian she actually sounded.

"Yeah, I am," Connie's eyes narrowed, unsure as to what the girls wanted even though she'd already decided she didn't like them.

"When are you next seeing them?" Angie asked, her eyes lighting up. "Do you see them often?"

"I'm pretty sure she sees Paul plenty," Florence commented, making Connie and Cilla snicker whilst the two other girls exchanged a confused look. "Y'know she lives next door to Macca?"

Since when Florence had started calling Paul 'Macca', Connie wasn't sure, though it amused her to no end. It also seemed to amuse the girl Jenny, who let out a short laugh, looking over to her friend who seemed rather excited by that prospect, nudging Jenny with her elbow as she grinned at Connie once more.

"And your brother is in that band isn't he, the Coalmen?" Angie asked and her question irritated Connie to no end as she realised what she was doing.

"It's the Quarrymen, and John's me cousin, not me brother," she corrected her, knowing Cilla and Florence were both watching her carefully, the two of them knowing how much she hated people talking to her about her family. "Is that what you want, me to set you up on a date with John?"

"Oh, no, no of course not," Angie shook her head, and there was something about the small smile she shot to Jenny that put her on edge; was she laughing at her, was she insulting John? "But would you set me up on a date with George?"

Surprisingly Connie hadn't expected that. She thought the girls would be more interested in John since he was older, or Paul since he was famed amongst her peers for his cute looks, but George? He was cute, of course, and he was very sweet, but Connie hadn't even considered that girls would be interested in him, something that made her instantly feel protective over him.

He was nine months younger than her, not that she patronised him over that fact, but she'd always seen him as a little brother, so why was she so bothered by Angie asking over him? George's love life was nothing to do with her, and she was sure he'd be thrilled that someone was taking an interest, but part of her just hated the situation. Why did she have to be put in this position by a girl who'd clearly never cared about her until she saw how she could benefit from her? To set this girl up with George went against every instinct within her, because even though she didn't really know Angie, she didn't trust her, not with her George.

"I'm not doing that," Connie told them both, narrowing her eyes as she kept eye contact with Angie, who's face was a picture of shock, clearly not expecting to be told no. "If you wanna go out with George, ask him yourself, alright?"

Neither of them seemed happy with Connie's reaction, both of them exchanging a look of annoyance, as if they couldn't quite believe they were being denied. Angie looked downhearted, glaring over to Connie in an attempt to patronise her, not that she would back down.

"Don't pretend you're my friend just to get to my mates, alright?" she continued firmly, ignoring the way that Jenny was staring at her, instead turning to Florence and Cilla, nodding her head towards the door just as she heard the shrill ring of the school bell telling them that lessons were beginning once more. "English?"

Her two friends nodded eagerly, Florence handing Connie her satchel backpack as she shot Cilla a look. The two of them knew how short Connie's temper could be, and just how protective she was over her friends, especially George. They both knew how much Connie hated feeling as if someone had the upper-hand on her, hated feeling controlled by people who thought they were better than her which was exactly what Angie and Jenny were trying to do, as covert as they were being. Basically, Connie's temper was a ticking timebomb, and neither of them wanted to deal with it at that point in time, and so the two of them began to lead her over towards the door out into the corridor.

"Maybe it's a good job, I'm surprised anyone can understand you with that accent," she heard Jenny mutter snidely, followed by a short laugh from Angie.

Connie clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into the palm of her hand painfully as she attempted to keep her cool, and if it wasn't for Cilla wrapping her hand around her arm to stop her from storming back over there, she wasn't sure she'd have kept her temper under control. Instead, as she gritted her teeth, Connie turned her head ever so slightly, not giving either of them the full satisfaction of turning back to fully face them.

"I might sound a scouser, but at least I have something interesting to say to make the lads you crush on be me mates," she glared back at them.

Before she could stop herself, she'd flashed them both her middle finger as she left the bathroom, realising she was late for English. Any attempts she'd made to hide being lefthanded was now for naught, as she noted that she would now still get the cane, though this time for being late.

***

School was over, and since the boys school was one of the first stops both Paul and George had managed to get the very back seats on the top deck of the bus. Usually the top of double decker buses would be filled by smokers, but for once it was mostly full of school kids, so the two lads piled their bags onto the seat by the window, saving it for Connie who'd be getting on at the next stop. Until she got on, however, the boys had just themselves for company, and there was something Paul really wanted to ask George.

"What do you think of Connie?" he asked rather suddenly, his tone taking George back slightly. He'd been planning how he was going to ask George that question all afternoon, but it hadn't really come out the way he'd wanted it to.

"She's great, a real great lass... why?" George answered, unsure as to what Paul wanted him to say.

"Just wondering," he shrugged, looking off out of the window as the bus slowly approached Connie's stop.

"D'ya fancy her or something?" George asked despite not really wanting the answer, because not only was Connie great, but she was pretty too, and any pretty girl in their right mind was more likely to go for someone like Paul than himself.

"No, course not!" Paul exclaimed as he fought back laughter. "She's like an older sister to me, an annoying one at that too. Anyway, she said she can't be arsed with dating, apparently she's got this really protective older cousin who's threatened to fight any lad who comes near her,"

"Seriously? That's ridiculous," George shook his head, though he was secretly quite glad. "You ever met this cousin?"

"Nah, but she pretty much worships him," Paul told him, as the bus jolted to a stop. The two of then glanced out of the window once more, only to see the girl in question sprinting down the road to the stop. "Speak of the devil, but seriously, she proper loves her cousin John. She doesn't say it but she goes on about him a lot, I think he means a lot to her cause he's from her mum's side and..."

Paul drifted off, knowing how much Connie hated talking about the loss of her mother, once telling him that if she spoke of it, it would feel far too real and she'd rather just ignore any sense of grief. Not that she enforced that on him too, as she was more than happy to be a shoulder for him to cry on after his own mother died the year before. Their losses had bonded them, growing closer as if they were siblings through the sad circumstances. The two of them barely spoke of their losses, only occasionally on significant dates or whenever Connie was feeling especially morbid about life, but he knew if he ever did want to talk to her about anything she'd listen. That's what he meant when he told George she was like an annoying older sister, because not only did she tease him and poke fun out of him, but in a moment's notice could change and become rather maternal towards him.

Not that he'd ever tell her how glad he was to have her friendship. If Paul ever told her she'd never stop teasing him over it, calling him a soppy bugger and ruffling his hair, but he was truly grateful. The friend he'd found in Connie was one of the greatest things that had come from his family moving to Forthlin Road two years before, and he was remined of that as he saw her reach the top of the bus stairs, her face flushed bright red from running, her hair pulled into two messy bunches tied back by black ribbons and her grey jumper sleeves rolled up to her elbows revealing the tell-tale red mark across her wrist.

"Alright, lads?" Connie called, flashing a grin as she shoved past another student to get closer to her friends, pushing her way down the bus aisle much to the annoyance of the other school kids, not that she cared.

"Caned again?" George asked before Paul got the chance to, and there was something in his voice that sounded genuinely concerned, as if he was upset for her even though she merely shrugged as he brought it up.

"Mr Stewart just hates me," she told them both as she moved their bags and took her seat. "He said he was caning me because I'd been using my left hand and because I was late, but he didn't do the same to Florence and Cilla even though they came in at the same time as me,"

"Lateness isn't becoming of a lady, Lennie," Paul jokingly scolded her though she merely rolled her eyes and hit his arm gently. "So, what else happened then?"

"Nothing, business as usual, same shit different day," Connie shrugged except Paul and George still looked at her with a frown. "What?"

"You look angry," George dared to tell her. "Not angry like you've just been caned either, you're used to that by now,"

"Thanks, Georgie," she rolled her eyes again even though she was silently cursing herself that her friends could so easily read her since Paul was nodding along with George.

Connie thought she'd get away with not telling the boys about her experience with Angie and Jenny, but in truth it had bothered her so much that she'd been frowning all afternoon over it. It seemed rather stupid to her that two girls who didn't usually care about her were now willing to act as if they were her friends the moment they thought they could get some gain from her. Jenny's last comment about Connie's accent had bothered her too, but it hadn't bothered her as much as the thought of either of those girls going on a date with George had. She wasn't sure why she cared that much, it wasn't like he was her boyfriend, but part of her viewed him as hers, her George, her George that she had to protect and keep safe from girls like that, girls who didn't know him nearly as much as she did and just liked him for his cute looks that would surely mature into a rather handsome appearance.

Connie really didn't want to tell either of them about those girls. She wouldn't mind telling John since he'd probably find it quite funny and laugh with her over their ignorance, but to tell George and Paul felt almost wrong. It wasn't like she could keep it from them, however, since they'd both noticed she was mad about something and she hated lying to them.

"George, how would you feel about going on a date with some middle class bint who came up to me in the toilets today?" she asked him rather bluntly and he instantly flushed bright red, especially as Paul began to laugh, slapping him on the back. "Some girl I've never spoke to before came up to me in the toilets and asked if I'd set the two of you up on a date,"

"And what did you say?" Paul questioned eagerly, as if he was certain she'd tell him that she'd arranged George's first date.

"What do you think I said?" she raised an eyebrow and as he realised what had happened he sighed dramatically, looking to George disappointedly, and for a moment a look crossed George's eye, one Connie feared was disappointment too and she immediately felt awful, as if she'd put her own pride first before considering the feelings of her best friend. "Unless you want to, of course. She's quite short, skinny like a string-bean, pretty sure she's on the hockey team, and she's blonde,"

"Bloody hell, Hazza, jackpot!" Paul hooted, hitting the younger boy on the back enthusiastically, his excitement far surpassing George's, who'd flushed as dark as beetroot. "You can't get any better than that, why'd you say no?"

"God I'll set her up with you, shall I?" Connie groaned, clipping him round the side of the head gently before turning her attention back to George. "I just thought it was bloody rude of the bint to never speak to me and then use me for me mates, but... shit, sorry, Georgie, I could always tell her I've changed my mind if you want to meet her? She's not as bad as I make out, I'm probably just bitter cause she got better than me in the science test last week, though I'm pretty sure that was a one-off so don't expect you're gonna get a proper clever bird,"

George wasn't exactly sure what to feel. On one hand, he was rather flattered that someone was interested in him. It was the first time something like that had happened, and it made him feel rather excited that a girl really thought he was nice enough to want to go out on a date with him. He'd been looking at girls in a different way for a while, noticing their beauty in the way they walked, the way they giggled amongst each other, the way their bodies were slowly changing and maturing to the point his mind often turned to lustful thoughts. If he was having those thoughts he couldn't help but wonder what the girl Connie was talking about was thinking of him. Clearly her thoughts must have been in a similar place, and his mind was racing with all the possibilities that would entail. 

However, at the same time he could see just how much the situation irked Connie. The two had been friends for just over a year and in that time he'd learnt she really hated the feeling of people thinking they were better than her, or the feeling of someone using her, and the whole situation with the girl in the toilets seemed to fulfil both of those. As much as he loved the idea of going out on a date, he knew how much it would annoy Connie. To her, it would feel like backing down to that girl, and part of him cared far too much about his best friend's pride than he did his own feelings. 

"Nah, you're alright, I've got my eye on someone else anyway," he told her, trying to seem casual as he played off the little white lie, knowing both Paul and Connie had bought it considering their reactions; Connie letting out a whistle and Paul hitting him on the back once more. 

"Look at you, playing the field," Paul said in admiration, his choice of words making Connie scoff. 

"If a girl said something like that she'd be called a slag, but George is a legend 'playing the field'," Connie rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms across her chest. "No offence obviously, Georgie," 

"None taken, Con," George nodded, knowing she was right and instantly feeling bad that his small lie had caused some friction between her and Paul, not that the latter was really bothered, considering the dumb grin and puppy-dog eyes he was gazing at Connie with. George glanced out of the window awkwardly and, much to his relief, noticed that they were at his stop. "Right, well, see you both Monday morning," 

With that, George got up and ran down the bus stairs, and with a grin Connie waved him off, still waving off out of the window as soon as he reached the streets, and Paul noticed she didn't take her eyes off him or stop smiling until he'd turned the corner to his road. He wondered if jealousy had anything to do with her rejecting the girls offer of a date with George, but he decided to drop it, knowing she looked far too serious from her caning to put up with any jokes. He just hoped that he could tease her for that on another day. 

Instead, he carried on their conversation, telling her all about the girls he liked, making sure to put emphasis on the ones he knew went to her school, and though he could tell the topic bored her, she made no attempt to shut him up. That was one of the best parts of Connie, the fact that she was a great listener, even if she didn't really give a shit about the conversation at hand. It was only when they were off the bus and walking towards Forthlin Road that he mentioned the girl from the school bathroom and she shot him a small glare. The glare seemed to confirm the jealousy to him once more, not that he dared comment on that. 

"Can we change the subject, I'm sick of talking about nothing but bloody birds," Connie grumbled as the two of them turned onto their road, and as exhausted as she was from the long day, she knew she wouldn't be able to get rid of Paul just yet, the younger boy more than likely to invite himself round to hers for a cup of tea. 

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, adjusting his school bag on his shoulder as they walked. "What you doing this weekend?" 

"Dad's taking me fishing and then I'm going to meeting my cousin John for tea at his mum's," she told Paul, trying to hide the excitement in her voice even though she knew it wasn't really working. 

It had been a long time since Connie had spent a weekend with her father. He seemed to avoid being in their house as much as possible, taking on endless night shifts and weekend over time just to stay out of the house. She didn't resent him for it, knowing how hard it was for him. It was the house he'd moved into with her mother after he was discharged from the war, the house that led him to call Merseyside home after he'd decided to move out of Yorkshire and instead move to Liverpool to marry the pretty nurse who'd saved his life, the house where the two of them had been happy together, especially after Connie was born, right up until it became the house in which he found out his wife had been murdered whilst at work. Up until that moment it had been a wonderful place, but after her mother's death Connie's father rarely spent more than two consecutive nights in the house, even then sleeping downstairs on the sofa rather than the master bedroom, because he couldn't bring himself to be in the place so full of memories that seemed to leave him feeling even more heartbroken. 

His heavy work schedule meant he could ignore the pain of grief, but it also meant he rarely saw his only daughter, though she never complained, knowing he had his own way of dealing with it all and being more than capable to look after herself. When the two did get chance to see each other though, it was like old times that seemed to bring life back into their family, rather than it just revolving around bittersweet nostalgia. Her father's promise of a fishing trip had her buzzing all week to the point that she was surprised Paul didn't already know, certain that she must have mentioned it to him several times already.

What she'd not told him was of her plans to go to her Aunt Julia's to have tea with her and John and her step-cousins. John's mother was always very welcoming to her, especially since she'd been friends with Connie's mother, Jolene, back in the day. John's Aunt Mimi who he lived with wasn't overly keen on Connie, however, thinking she was too common with her broad scouse accent and working class roots, deciding she was a bad influence on John even though it was more often than not the other way around. She never really went over for tea at Mimi's because of that, no matter how close she was to John, but whenever he was going to Julia's she was normally invited along too, and that Sunday was no exception. 

"Shame you're going fishing, I was gonna invite you along with me, I'm going to this village fete tomorrow down at Woolton," he told her, and she could tell he was just as thrilled for his plans as she was for hers. "There's a few skiffle bands playing, should be good," 

Connie nodded with a small sigh as they reached her house, silently deciding that her weekend plans were still superior. As much as she loved Paul and skiffle music, she would much rather be spending the day with her dad down by the river than with Paul in some field down on the nicer side of town, not knowing at the time how monumental that day would turn out to be in history, and how in hindsight, it was the beginning of everything. 

***

Word count:4506

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