Two days had passed since the Empire concert, and Connie and George had been inseparable. It was almost like the old days, if the old days had included them sleeping together and making love countless amounts of time, kissing and cuddling until the early hours. George had spent every waking hour with Connie since the two had declared their love to each other, and since he could no longer walk around town freely without the risk of being mobbed, the two of them stayed hidden inside her house. In the house they had plenty of time to spend with each other, talking and joking around, Connie cooking for George whilst he played his guitar.

Even though they hadn't had that conversation yet, it was as if they were some sort of couple. That seemed to be something that was heightened by the fact that they slept together, savouring each other's presence as they squeezed into Connie's single bed, and there was something about waking up wrapped in George's arms that felt so right to Connie. It felt comfortable, safe, like it was where she was meant to be.

That was something she fully realised on the morning before she was meant to go back to London. She woke up, feeling a dull ache in her chest as she instantly understood that the peaceful happiness the two of them had previously been enjoying would soon be ending upon her return to reality. Soon, she would be returning to London, and who knew what would happen then. It wasn't like the last time she visited home though, when she felt hopeless in her despairing lonliness. This trip had re-awoken something within her, a passion for life and a joy for those around her, and maybe her newfound closeness with George was key in her realising that it didn't have to be as bad as it once was. She didn't have to feel so separate from her past life in Liverpool, cutting herself off from her roots to appeal to how the southerners acted. She didn't have to give people power over her, she was who she was, and there was no changing her, not anymore at least.

She forced away any thoughts of going back to London, deciding just to focus on enjoying her last day at home, and it was then that she opened her eyes with a contented sigh, savouring the feeling of George's arms holding her tightly. Through tired eyes, she looked up from where she had nuzzled her face into the crook of George's neck, seeing he was also awake, though for how long she wasn't sure, his gaze fixed on her softly as he watched her. He was looking at her as if he was trying to memorise the details of her face, knowing they would soon be separated, but at the sight of her awake a small smile creeped up onto his face.

"Mornin', love," he said, his voice still rough from sleep, pushing a gentle kiss onto her forehead, making her smile softly as she rested her head back down onto his chest.

"Mornin', Georgie," she whispered, leaning her hand around to stroke his hair, savouring every second of being so close to him, knowing that she would soon be waking up alone again as soon as she was back in London. "I love this,"

"Love what?" he asked, his smile growing at the sight of her content expression.

"Bein' with you like this, it feels... nice, y'know? Like we were both being a pair of idiots this whole time," she sighed. "We've lost so much time not talking to each other properly, and now..."

It was harder than she thought, to try not to think about the inevitable. As soon as the thought of being back in her London flat alone, back at work surrounded by people who didn't understand her, back where she was so far away from the man she loved, she cringed. A grimace crossed her face, one that George noticed and immediately hated, knowing how much she had struggled in the past with living alone down south. He didn't want to think of her suffering, not now she'd finally opened up to him and accepted her feelings, so he pushed another kiss to her forehead, hoping it would act as some sort of reassurance as he interrupted her mid-worry. 

"Quit thinkin' about tomorrow, alright?" he told her, rolling her off his chest so he could look at her properly. "Yeah, we've missed time but we're not gonna do that anymore, are we? I'm not giving up on you that easy, I'm not losing you again,"

"God, no," Connie sighed, shuddering at the thought of them going back to how they were before. "We'll figure something out, promise?"

"Yeah, I've got a perfect way to figure it out, anyway," George smirked, sitting up in bed. She followed him, pulling the sheets up with her to cover up her bare chest, but she was still showing off the multiple bright red lovebites he'd given her the night before, the sight of them making him feel almost proud. "Con?"

"Yeah, Georgie?" she frowned, wondering why he'd gone serious all of a sudden.

"I should have asked you this years ago but... will you be my girlfriend, Connie Lennon?" he asked, and despite the smile on his face she could tell he was nervous.

His nerves were unnecessary though, as a  grin quickly erupted across her face in pure joy at being asked the question she didn't realise she'd been waiting for. She practically jumped over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders excitedly, unable to stop herself from smiling so widely. There it finally was, after all the years of painfully crushing on him and he on her without either of them knowing the others feelings, they had finally gotten over the fear. They had finally taken the next step from best friends, and though it was terrifying given their history, it felt so right for both of them, as if it was how they were always meant to be.

"Of course, but only if you'll be my boyfriend?" she asked, still grinning, and as he rolled his eyes at her wit, he took hold of her chin in his hand, bringing her face closer to his so he could push a kiss onto her lips.

She immediately began to kiss him back, and soon found the passion building between the two of them once more, the way it so often did, as if there was an electric current between the two of them, joining them together. Part of her wanted to chase that passion, wanting to take the kiss even further the same way they had done night after night, but instead she pulled away, cracking a smirk as she saw George look almost disappointed. His disappointment faded for a brief moment as she pushed the covers away and he got to glimpse at her naked body, but it soon returned as he realised she was getting up out of bed, wrapping her dressing gown around herself as she tied her hair back into a ponytail.

"Don't look so sorry for yourself, Georgie," she laughed, leaning back over towards him as he remained in her bed, kissing his cheek. "I'm going to go make breakfast,"

"Oh, Con, I love you," he grinned and she snorted out a laugh, finding it so amusing how he never really seemed to change.

With that, she left George behind in her old bedroom, heading downstairs.  She could hear the radio playing, something that signalled to her that her father was already up, not at work for once. He was sat at the kitchen table, the newspaper sat untouched in front of him as he instead was flicking through her work notepad, looking so focused as he read her article plans. He looked rather serious, as though he was reading something on politics or warfare and not a feature on youth culture in Liverpool, though as she walked into the room he cracked a smile, letting out a small snort of laughter. Connie didn't mind people reading her work, clearly not as a published journalist, but she couldn't help but feel self-conscious that he was reading her notes. She decided not to say anything, though she didn't manage to hold back rolling her eyes as she crossed the room, going to the stove to put the kettle on.

"Make your old man a brew, would ya', kid?" he asked without looking up at her. "Are you making that lad of yours breakfast?"

"I was going to," she sighed, wondering how her father coped when she was down south. "And he's not my lad, it's just George,"

"Yeah, well, 'just George' has always been your lad," her dad shrugged, watching her as she got the eggs out of the fridge and began prepping to make eggy bread. "Are you really going to write this in your article, that 'Liverpool is the future heart and soul of British culture if only the hegemonic south would stop ignoring the north'?"

"Yeah, why not? It's true," she shrugged, whisking the eggs. "To be honest, Dad, I know I was sent up here for these assignments, but I'd be surprised if any of them make it to the magazine. I bet this entire week Henry's been getting his claws into the editors and Mr Hill telling them not to publish them,"

Connie had surprisingly not thought of anyone from work for the entire week she'd been back in Liverpool. Not her boss, not Ruby, and certainly not Henry. That was almost ironic, given how the last time she saw him she had him held up against a wall threatening him. Now though, she wondered just what she would be going back to. For a moment she couldn't help but think she might not even have a job to go back to, not if Henry reported her for punching him, though she knew getting fired was highly unlikely. Sure she had hit him, but it had been a provoked act of self-defence after years of verbal abuse and given the opportunity she would do it again. If it meant she had lost her job, she'd be fired with no regrets. The job had brought her plenty of experience and she was sure any other publishing house would readily hire her.

The idea of the New Times turning their back on her was something Connie accepted, knowing her days there as the only non-university graduate and the only northerner were numbered. Her father, however, clearly didn't see it in the same light, instead instantly appearing outraged at her words, throwing her notebook back down onto the table.

"Well they'd be bloody fools if they didn't publish it, who's this Henry bastard for them to listen to?" her father exclaimed, and Connie realised it was the first time she had mentioned the office bias to anyone but the lads. "You're a hard worker, Con, and you're just as smart as any of them, don't let them shit all over you just cause they've been raised in fancy schools and speak as if they were reared by the Queen herself,"

"I don't," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she continued to cook, though she heard her father snort out a laugh.

"I'm serious, Con," he continued, and his tone sounded almost pleading. "Promise me you'll take no crap when you get back? And that you'll stop trying to sound like your one of them, cause you're not, alright?"

"Yeah, alright, Dad," she sighed, knowing how much he hated the fact that she had diluted her scouse accent, even though she'd slowly been slipping back into her old accent the more time she spent around the boys.

She hoped handing in her new articles would act as a reminder to everyone about her roots. Maybe they'd then see that she wasn't like them in her upbringing, but that was okay, because she could write just as good as the rest of them of not better in some cases, not to mention her contacts meant she had easy access to the biggest band in Britain when the rest of them couldn't score an interview. She was an asset to the magazine, and she just hoped they would see it that way too.

That was when George appeared in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his face tiredly, dressed in a pair of jeans and a turtleneck jumper, ruffling his hair into place. With one look at him Connie couldn't help but think how good he looked, and just how lucky she was, though the sight of the high collar reminded Connie of the marks on her own neck, the ones George had made. She quickly adjusted her dressing gown to cover them, and George must have noticed as he smirked at her, kissing her cheek before sitting down at the table next to her father, pulling the paper over to him as he glanced over the headlines as if he was checking that he wasn't on the front page.

"George, tell her not to take any shit at work will ya'?" Her father instructed, nudging George with his elbow as he gestured towards Connie, who was far too busy making breakfast to pay any attention to either of them. "I bet she'll listen to you more than she does me,"

"I doubt it, Mr Jones, you know how stubborn she can be," George said rather matter-of-factly, not looking at Connie until she put a plate of food down in front of him, which was when he gave her a teasing smirk. "Thanks, love,"

"How domestic," her father muttered jokingly though Connie scowled at him. "What are you doing tonight, last day of freedom by the Mersey?"

"Dunno," Connie shrugged, sitting down across from George with her own food. "Lads have a meeting with Brian at NEMS, but I was thinking of maybe having some mates over tonight? One last house party?"

"As long as you tell that bloody McCartney not to throw up in my sink again," her father warned, making both Connie and George laugh.

"I thought it was the wheelie bin?" George commented just as the door went and in walked Paul with a grin, oblivious to him being the topic of conversation. "Speak of the devil,"

"Where was my invite to breakfast?" Paul exclaimed in place of a greeting, leaning over to Connie's plate and stealing her crusts.

"Oi, you bloody swine!" She gasped, hitting his arm, making both George and her father laugh as the two of them noted how nothing really seemed to change between Paul and Connie. "What do you want anyway?"

"I've come for lover boy," Paul gestured over to George, who scowled at the nickname, one he knew Paul and John found hilarious. "Car's outside to take us to Brian's and we're gonna have to run cause the house is surrounded,"

"Well if you don't run will you tell those girls to stop trampling my grass," Connie's father told the two Beatles, though neither of them took his annoyance seriously. "They're making a right mess of the garden,"

"Yes sir, sorry Mr Arthur Sir," Paul apologised dramatically, struggling to hold back a laugh, especially as Connie elbowed him, rolling her eyes. "Come on, George, we don't want to be late,"

"I'll see you later," George promised Connie, getting up from the table, kissing her forehead as she grinned up at him.

Connie sat and watched as her best friend and boyfriend left through the back door, taking off through her garden at a run, getting ready to avoid all their avid fans waiting for them. It still felt odd to think of her feelings for George being out in the open, let alone her think of him as her boyfriend. Thinking of George with that title - boyfriend - felt so strange, the butterflies going mad in her stomach, a stupid, lovestruck grin stuck on her face as her gaze stayed fixed on where George had once stood. She only snapped out of it when she heard her father's exasperated sigh, and as she glanced over to him in confusion with narrowed eyes, she saw he was chuckling at her.

"What?" she asked, still frowning.

"Nothing, just nice to see you happy," he explained, still smiling at her. "Your mother would've loved them two, especially George,"

Connie couldn't help but smile at that, and it was a thought that stuck with her throughout the rest of the day, even once her father left for work and she had gotten ready for the day, ready to begin writing her articles. It was nice to think that someone she was so close to would have been liked by her mother, someone who she felt so connected to despite only having her in her life for such a short amount of time. In fact, she'd known George nearly longer than she'd had her mother for, which made her feel a little sad, knowing that the two people who meant the most to her never overlapped in her life.

That wasn't something she wanted to fixate on though, so instead she tried to push away her sadness and instead focus on how happy she was with George. As soon as she'd focused on those feelings, savouring the excited buzzing in her stomach when she remembered George asking her to be his girlfriend and her anticipation at seeing him again once their meeting was over, and with a positive mid-set she managed to get stuck into her writing.

Usually in London it took her a couple of hours to plan, write, edit and re-write her articles, but writing at home was a much nicer atmosphere and reminded her why she liked writing so much. It was much easier to write at her kitchen table with her record player playing her favourite songs with no one around to bother her. As a teenager she was used to being interrupted by the lads if they ever decided to spontaneously come round to hers, but writing in London had forced her to get used to being disrupted by negativity, mostly from Henry, and it was nice to write and not have to worry about someone reading over her shoulder and making a snide remark for once.

She was so engrossed in her writing that she was actually surprised when her attention was pulled away by the screams coming from the street. She got up from the table and ran into the living room to look out the window to see a black car pulled up outside Paul and Connie's houses, a mob of teenage girls surrounding it as the four Beatles sprinted from the car and to the alleyway leading to the back gardens. Then came the noise of the back door slamming open and shut, followed by the murmurs of annoyance and witty bravado as the lads came through into the living room, all of them seeming rather blasé about the chaos.

"God I thought they were going to tear you apart, they're wild," Connie remarked, watching as her friends straightened themselves back up, John and Ringo neatening their suits whilst Paul went over to the mirror to ruffle his hair back into place, George pushing past the lot of them to hug Connie.

"Hiya," he greeted her, an excited grin erupting across his face, and Connie could tell he wasn't just happy to see her; something was going on.

"We've got news," John announced in place of a greeting, rolling his eyes as George kissed Connie's cheek. "Put her down, George!"

"Don't be an arse," Connie shot at him, ignoring the way Paul and Ringo faked disgusted reactions to the affection between the new couple, George wrapping her hand around her waist. "What's the news then?"

"Brian's making us become southerners," Ringo told her, the other three sighing in despair, though Connie frowned at him, not entirely understanding exactly what he was saying.

"We've outgrown Liverpool," Paul sighed dramatically. "We're all moving down to London to be closer to the studio and it'll be easier for work commitments,"

Paul's explanation made Connie grin, letting out an excited gasp as she realised what that meant. The lads were all moving to London, she wouldn't have to be alone anymore. The main source of discontent living down south was that she didn't have any of her close friends near her, but that was about to change. She knew exactly how they felt, having to move away from their home town and all their family for work, but at least they wouldn't have to do it alone, having each other for company and moral support. They wouldn't have to suffer the loneliness and isolation that she did, and she'd never have to suffer it ever again either.

"God, lads, that's brilliant! I mean, I know it's crap leaving Liverpool but it'll be worth it!" Connie exclaimed, wrapping her arms around George even tighter. "When are you moving? Where are you gonna live?"

"Eager, aren't ya?" John raised his eyebrow at her, holding back a laugh at his cousin's excitement. "Paul's gonna live with his bird and Brian's suggested a flat for me and Cyn to move into with Jules,"

"And me and George were just gonna find somewhere together," Ringo told her.

"Dunno where to start looking though," George added with a shrug.

"Don't bother looking," Connie told them both firmly, making them give her a funny look, especially as she pulled out of her embrace with George to establish her seriousness. "Move in with me, both of you,"

"You what?" George asked, letting out a small laugh of disbelief.

"There's plenty of room in my flat, there's a spare bedroom, cheap rent and it's not too far from the studio," she explained, watching the realisation hit both of them as they exchanged a look, realising that it actually wasn't a bad idea. "And it might be nice to actually not live alone anymore,"

"Con, you can't be..." Ringo began but drifted off, realising he didn't really want to oppose, not as he glanced over to George, offering the younger man a shrug. "What do you think?"

"Are you sure?" George asked Connie, his eyebrows creased together in caution, not wanting to feel as though anything was rushed or forced, but truly it wasn't. Regardless of their newly established relationship, they'd been best friends for nearly ten years, and she was more than happy to open her flat up to both George and Ringo. "It's not easy being a Beatle, let alone living with two of them,"

"Georgie, I know what it's like, I've lived next-door to that swine for ages," Connie laughed, gesturing over to Paul, who pulled a mock-horrified face. "You've all practiced in my back room more times than I can count, and I've watched you go from playing empty pubs to the packed Cavern to posh London gigs. I know the journey you're all on, and I'm not afraid to go on it with you. It doesn't have to be forever, but please, both of you, move in with me,"

***

"I can't believe you invited George and Ringo to move in with you," Florence marvelled, shaking her head as Connie told her friend all about the earlier event, the two of them stood in the kitchen as Connie poured them both a drink, the noise of the party carrying through the open living room door.

Connie had gone through with her idea of having one final house party, except it was much calmer than the ones she remembered from her teenage years. Instead of a wild night like her birthday party or her farewell gatherings, this one was calm, just a few mates, and though they were all drinking there didn't seem to be that youthful desperation to get drunk like there had been in years before, rather it was just a nice gathering of friends, exactly what Connie needed before leaving Liverpool.

It was only a small gathering. John had brought Cynthia, Ringo had brought his girlfriend Maureen, making Paul the only Beatle who didn't have a partner there, his girlfriend Jane down in London. Other than the Beatles and their various partners, Cilla had come with Bobby, and Florence had come with Rory, so pretty much everyone Connie cared about was under one roof. She hadn't waited long to tell Florence about that day's revelation, pulling her into the kitchen to tell her alone about George and Ringo moving in with her, and the surprise of it clearly hadn't sunk in.

"You don't like anyone in your own space, how the hell are you gonna cope with two lads cluttering up your flat?" she continued, letting out another laugh.

"They won't clutter it up," she rolled her eyes, swirling the whisky round in her glass to mix it in with the ginger ale she'd just poured in. "It's just a temporary thing anyway until they find somewhere better, it just saves them being stuck looking,"

"Yeah that and you just want George round you all the time now," it was Florence's turn to roll her eyes, raising her eyebrows suggestively. Connie shot a glare over to her friend before letting out a snort of a laugh. "I'm still in a state of shock to be honest, Connie Lennon and George Harrison, together at last,"

"Don't be dramatic," Connie sighed out a laugh, unable to stop a grin spreading across her face as she thought of George being her boyfriend.

Connie was just about to say something else, until the noise of a loud knock at the front door rang through the house, making both girls frown at each other in confusion. No one ever used the front door, with Connie unable to remember the last time she had ever entered her house through it. They weren't expecting anyone else, her father had a key, only used the back door and wasn't due home until much later on, and even though the Lennon-Jones and McCartney houses were surrounded by fans none of them had ever dared to knock on Connie's door since most of them remembered her fiery ways from school. The identity of this newcomer was nothing but a mystery to both Florence and Connie, and as the two went back into the living room she saw the rest of the group were just as baffled.

"Didn't realise you had that many friends, Con," John remarked as Connie crossed the room past where he was sat on the floor. She kicked at his leg gently as she went past him, scowling at him. "Tell whoever it is to bugger off,"

Connie went to the window, drawing back the curtain half an inch, careful not to show to whoever was outside that the biggest band in Britain was sat about the living room. The gap in the curtain was just enough to at least try and make out the nervous looking figure stood on the front step, and as Connie realised who it was she let out a quiet curse of surprise. Out of the corner of her eye she saw everyone looking confusedly at each other, with George getting up from his seat on the sofa, but she ignored everyone, instead heading into the hallway. As she quickly unlocked the front door, flinging it open, Ruby was revealed, stood nervously until she saw Connie, a relieved smile growing on her face.

"Hi, Consta- I mean, Connie! Thank God I got the right house!" Ruby exclaimed in relief, moving to hug Connie, a gesture that made her stiffen slightly, not used to being shown affection by her co-workers, let alone be called her nickname by anyone from London. "I'm so sorry to intrude, I got your address through Mr Hill and I know you're probably wondering what I'm doing here but-"

"No, it's good to see you," Connie nodded with a smile, though she shot a nervous glance in the direction of Paul's house. "You better come in before they notice the doors open and try and bother us,"

"Who are they all?" Ruby asked confusedly as Connie shut the front door. 

"Who is it, Con?" George called from the living room.

"Oi, Lennie you better not've let fans in you're as bad as my bloody dad," Paul's voice came from the living room and as he came to stand in the doorway looking into the hall a look of relief washed over him, one that was not mimicked by Ruby, who in turn looked rather panicked to unpreparedly come face-to-face with the pretty-looking Beatle. "Oh, 'ello, love,"

"Oh, erm, hello," Ruby greeted hesitantly, clearly starstruck. "Sorry, I didn't realise you'd have people over,"

"It's alright, don't worry, I was famed for my house parties back in the day so I was bullied into a gathering before I leave again tomorrow," Connie shrugged. "Come on in, I'll introduce you to everyone,"

That was an unexpected twist to the evening. Connie had never once been social with Ruby outside of work in nearly four years of living in London, and now the southern girl was stood in Connie's living room, taking in every detail of it. In four years Connie had maintained her status as an enigma, but not now, not as Ruby was stood in her house, spotting the details of the room like the empty alcohol bottles, the framed picture of her mother by the record player accompanied by a vase of flowers, the family photographs on the mantel next to her father's war medals, the newspaper clipping of the Beatles from when they first left for America, because as much as he complained about them, Arthur Jones was actually really proud of the boys. Knowing Ruby was looking at everything as if it was an explanation for the person Connie was, she grew self-conscious, glancing down at John who had his eyes narrowed at her, as if he knew exactly how Connie was feeling. He cleared his throat dramatically, getting Ruby's attention, which was when she seemed to notice that the living room was filled with some of the most famous faces Liverpool had to offer. It was then her turn to become self-conscious.

"Alright, what's a posh southern bird like you doin' here?" John grinned at her, and though the rest of the room stifled a laugh, Connie noticed the slight red tinge grow on Ruby's face, matching her fiery hair.

"Don't be an arse, John," she muttered, turning to Ruby as she gestured over to the rest of the people in the room. "I know you've met them before but that's my arse of a cousin John, his wife Cyn, then there's Ringo and his bird Maureen, my old neighbour Paul, my mates Florence and Rory Storm minus his Hurricanes, Cilla and her lad Bobby, and then there's my George," 

Ruby gazed around the room, trying to stay calm when in reality the person she thought she knew was turning out to be completely different. She always thought of Connie as a lone ranger, seemingly isolated from everyone around her, but in truth she was anything but. This was more people than she had kept in contact with from both school and university put together. 

Connie could tell the amount of strangers was overwhelming to the London girl, and so she took hold of her arm, pulling her into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. She gestured for Ruby to take a seat as she began to make her a cup of tea, picking up her own previously abandonned whisky glass as she leant against the kitchen side waiting for the kettle to boil. With a small frown, she took a sip from her glass, trying to figure out just why her co-worker was in Liverpool.

"Your George?" Ruby eventually asked, breaking the silence, and Connie rolled her eyes, realising that she'd picked up on the hint of her new relationship. 

"Look, not that I'm not pleased to see you, but what the hell are you doing here?" she questioned, ignoring the girl's previous remark as curiosity got the better of her. 

"Oh well... I just wanted to apologise," Ruby began, struggling to meet her eye. "I'm not going to lie, Const- Connie, I was really worried you wouldn't come back to work after this trip, and I wouldn't have blamed you," 

"This trip was for work," she pointed out, instantly feeling embarrassed at the idea that Ruby had been thinking about her and feeling sorry for her. "I wouldn't've come home if not for the lads' concert," 

"I know but, well, if I was you I would have abandoned the New Times months ago the way you're treated," Ruby continued, and now it was Connie's turn for her cheeks to grow red. "I wanted to apologise for the way Henry has been treating you, and the fact that I just sat there and laughed it all off. I remember you told me about what happened when he was in your flat but I just ignored it, I just sat by and let him bully you around just because you've got a different accent and upbringing to us. I should have said something but I was always so scared of losing my job. It was only when we had that round table meeting that I realised how much of a, and forgive my French, but how much of a twat Henry actually is,"

"It's alright," Connie held back a laugh as she heard Ruby swear for the first time ever. 

"No but it's not, this whole week he's been trying to get you fired, he said you assaulted him, that you broke his nose," Ruby explained, and she ignored the way Connie shrugged at the mention of hitting him, with Connie struggling to hold back her smug grin of triumph. "I refused though, and said if Mr Hill fired you I'd quit, but for once Henry didn't get his way, instead Mr Hill fired him. Well, he didn't fire him, he just removed him from the company to go pursue other avenues, but that sounds like fired to me. Apparently he was only taken on and hired in the first place because he'd been kicked out of university and hiring him was a favour to his mother and the fact that he was his uncle didn't mean he could continue pretending he was a good writer anymore,"

Connie yet again struggled to hold back a grin, but this time from a mix of joy and relief. Henry had been fired, and she could go back to work without his negative presence belittling her. She'd never have to listen to him mock her again, and she couldn't help but be excited by that, not to mention the fact that Ruby had stuck up for her. With a grin, she took another swig of her whisky, still fighting her smile, though it died as she recalled the last part that Ruby had said. 

Mr Hill was Henry's Uncle. It made sense, given how Henry was so relaxed around him, referring to him by a nickname rather than his formal title like the rest of the writers. It would also explain just why all of Henry's articles were put to the front of the magazine each week and why Mr Hill turned a blind eye to his manipulative bullying. Part of Connie was angry, remembering the way Henry had made out to her that she was just there as the token Northerner, that they'd had to give her a real chance by taking her on. In reality, she was there because she'd worked hard and was good at her job, whilst he was there simply as a favour. It was infuriating, but it didn't matter, not as she realised Mr Hill had put her above his own family. She was a better writer than Henry, and that was finally being recognised. 

"I was worried you wouldn't come back, so I thought I'd come up here and tell you everything," Ruby added, appearing almost nervous until Connie handed her a mug of tea, taking a seat next to her. 

"Of course I'm coming back, being a writer was the only thing I ever wanted," she grinned before becoming serious once more. "I think I should apologise then as well, because I don't think I've been the most approachable. I've always been so stuck in the past and the stuff I did as a teenager and all my mates up here that I made it impossible or myself to make any new mates," 

"I don't blame you, if I was best friends with Paul McCartney I'd think everyone else was inferior too," Ruby joked, and through the door Connie could just make out a muffled cheer. 

With a small scowl, Connie got up from the table, going over to the door and flinging it open to see all four Beatles leaning against it to eavesdrop. As she pulled the door away they all stumbled into the kitchen, looking at Connie sheepishly as she raised her eyebrow at them all. John ignored her, acting as if everything was fine as he took the glass from her hand, finishing her whisky off in one swig before sitting down at the table, Ringo following him as he sat on the table. Paul instead went off towards one of the cupboards where he knew the alcohol was kept, whilst George stood by Connie, frowning as he looked over her face. 

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, putting his hand on her waist. 

"Nothing," she shook her head, flashing him a smile before she leant over and kissed his cheek. 

And she was right. Nothing was wrong, and in that moment she felt on top of the world. Things had worked out, and everything was going to be fine, for both of them. 

***

Word count: 6328

***

A/N: 

Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's been a long time coming and its probably the longest chapter I've ever written for anything.

There's probably only two parts left to this, one more chapter and an epilogue. I'm still debating with the idea of a sequel, but there's definitely more to Connie and George's story as I know exactly where their relationship would go after this book's completion. So either I'm gonna write another book like this (set further in the Beatles' timeline with flashbacks again) or there'll be a oneshot book. Obviously it all depends on how busy I get at uni but continuing this story is something I really want to do. 

Thank you all for reading! 

~Olivia