As soon as she stepped foot off the train, suitcase in hand, Connie let out a deep sigh. For the first time in ages, she was home.

It was a feeling like no other, a minute of pure joy but also relief as she realised how little her surroundings had changed. She'd changed, and so had the rest of the world, but Liverpool appeared to have remained a safe haven, a perfect example of Northern life compared to what she'd grown used to in the South.

Knowing only a few days in advance that she'd be returning, Connie's father hadn't managed to get the time off work to pick her up from the station, and no one else was available either. The last time she'd visited home Paul had picked her up, but the chaos of beatlemania meant that something like that was now impossible. Not that Connie really cared, anyway. It was an hours walk from the station to her home on Forthlin Road and after not seeing her home city in so long she couldn't imagine not taking the time to reintroduce herself to the sights, so Connie decided that if she had to walk, she was going to walk all down memory lane.

She headed straight into town as soon as she was out of the station, and without really realising she'd gotten to Mathew Street and was standing outside the Cavern Club. She'd not been back since 1962 when she'd gone to watch one of the Beatles' lunch time sets, when John had pulled her up on stage as a joke. Bands always used to do that in the Cavern, except it was Cilla they'd usually pull up to join them since everyone knew she had an amazing voice, and so John had pulled Connie up as a joke, forgetting she was actualy a decent singer. It had been a wild night and she couldn't help but smile at the memory. Part of her wanted to go in and check out the band playing the lunch time set, but she knew it would be no fun without any of her friends, and she dreaded going in and one of the managers spotting her. The last time she'd been in they'd tried to talk her into covering a shift, and as much as she missed working as a barmaid, she didn't have the time or the energy for it, so she kept walking further into town.

The docks was the next stop on her nostalgia trip, the smell of the water instantly taking her back to her teen years, the boats reminding her of her hatred of sea-travel and intense seasickness. She'd never realised until she'd moved to London how lucky she had been growing up so close to the sea. It was so beautiful and scenic, and there was no where in London that quite matched up to it. The great old Liver building was across the road, and the sight of the Liverbird on top made her feel almost patriotic to the city. She remembered all the times she'd walked down that road, be it with her parents or her friends, remembering all the times she and George would get chips and bring them down to the water front. They were nice, peaceful memories, the ones that came to her when she was feeling particularly sad in London.

After considering a walk down to her old school to see the bus stop where she used to meet George and Paul every day on their way home, she decided against it. Instead she hopped on a bus to Penny Lane, deciding that her craving for a steak and kidney pie was too much to handle, the chip shops in London not even coming close to the Penny Lane one.

Connie hadn't been on a bus since she was eighteen and had just moved to London. In her first week down south she'd been too scared to use the tube so had thought the bus service would be fine to get her to and from work, except it was completely different and the different systems left her feeling confused and the driver irritated. After one incident where the driver and the passenger waiting behind her yelled at her, Connie decided never to use the London buses again and instead stuck to the tube, which was less scary and actually quite exciting.

The bus in Liverpool, however, was nothing but simple, and for once she got on it in perfect time unlike when she was a teenager and was constantly running after it. After she paid she went to sit on the top deck, thick with cigarette smoke as it always was, sitting at the very back where she always used to, staring out the window as the streets went by, so focused on the nostalgia that she completely missed her stop and had to get off at the bus station down the other side of Penny Lane. She wasn't bothered though, since it meant she got to take a walk down the high street.

The high street hadn't changed too much since the last time she'd seen it, but yet it felt different. A few of the shops had changed around but nothing too major, the barbers was still there, but the old florists had changed into a dress shop. The window display showed mannequins wearing the latest trends and as Connie looked through the window she could see in the back of the store they sold wedding dresses, and not the old traditional styles but the new, fashionable ones. Not that she had any reason to be looking, but her eye was caught by one on the rack, floor-length that came in ever so slightly at the hips, lacey and sleeveless with a round neck. It was utterly beautiful, and even though Connie knew she wouldn't have any use for it, she really wanted to try it on, or at least look at it up close. Before she knew what she was doing, she had gone in the shop, suitcase still in hand, the bell on the door dinging to alert the staff that the once empty store now had a customer.

"Hello, can I-" an oddly familiar voice called from the back room as the y drifted out, though they cut off mid-sentence as they realised who she was. "Shitting hell, Lennon!"

The exclamation of her surname made her jump, mostly because it was now hardly used since going by a pen name, though as she looked up with a frown from the clothes rack over to where the voice came from she realised who it was.

"Florence bloody Blackwell!" She called excitedly, so shocked to see her childhood best friend she dropped her suitcase onto the floor, and before she had chance to react further the woman had ran over to her, tackling her into a tight hug. "Bloody 'ell!"

"What you doing here? Southerners finally sick of ya?" Florence squeezed her tightly, hitting her back, talking with such enthusiasm that no one had for Connie for such a long time, other than the band, of course.

"'M here for work, but I've booked a couple days off too so I can be here a full week," Connie explained with a grin.

"What work could bring the posh New Times up Merseyside?" Florence teased. "Let me guess, 'your boys', by any chance? Though they're not just your boys now though, are they?"

"Don't remind me," Connie rolled her eyes as she laughed bitterly, deciding if she would tell anyone about what happened the last time she saw George it would have to be Florence, but not yet, not when they'd only just reunited. "I'm here for other stuff too though, I finally convinced the boss that there is a world outside London. But anyway, who gives a shit about any of that, how are you? When did you start working here? When did it change from a bloody florists?"

"About a year and 'alf ago, I think, I started working here just after I dropped out of college," she told her, and Connie instantly felt guilty, realising she never even knew her best friend got into college. "Whenever I spoke to Cyn about it she always made it seem dead exciting but as soon as I got there I realised that art in't really something you can teach, y'know? But I was pretty good at sewing so the owner, Mrs Ellison, said I could come work for her for a bit as an apprentice. A couple of these on sale are some of mine, what do you think?"

"I think they're all bloody great, Florie," Connie told her, feeling a grin creep up onto her face. "God, I can't believe I'm actually seeing you! How is everyone? How's Cill? Is she still with that lad Bobby?"

"Oh yeah, her road manager," Florence chuckled as she rolled her eyes, and the small joke made Connie feel slightly out of the loop, as if she wasn't in on a joke. "She's good , can't not be with a number one track, she'll be thrilled to see you though, does she know you're here?"

"The only people who know are my boss, my dad, Brian Epstein and now you," Connie shrugged. "I don't even know if Brian's told the lads,"

Florence read Connie's face, read in between the lines of what she was saying and saw the flicker in her eye as she mentioned the band. Instantly she knew something was amiss and so she narrowed her eyes at Connie, flicking her brown fringe out of her eyes as she stared at her daringly, as if willing her to tell her what was going on. When that didn't work, when Connie remained silent on the matter, she sighed, leaning over and grabbing her suitcase before taking hold of her hand, leading her into the back room.

"I know that look, that's the 'I have a crush on George Harrison and I'm scared of it' look," Florence said teasingly.

"Bugger off," Connie muttered in protest, though she knew it was true.

"Come on, come complain to me about everything that's gone off between you and them, it'll feel like we're teenagers all over again," she joked, leading her into the back room and getting her to sit on one of the worn-looking arm chairs.

Though her remarks were at Connie's expense, she couldn't help but feel relieved that she was back with her friends who'd mock her for banter. She couldn't imagine Ruby ever joking with her like that, even though Ruby was the closest friend she had in London. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a friend fussing over her until then as Florence flicked the kettle on and began to move stuff around so the place looked tidier, moving order sheets and dress sketches into a neat pile, shifting away any sewing equipment as she hopped up onto the desk across from Connie's armchair.

"George told me he loved me," Connie said bluntly, knowing if she didn't say it quickly she wouldn't say it at all.

"Fucking finally, Rory owes me a quid now then," Florence muttered almost excitedly until she saw Connie's scowl. "Sorry, we had a bet,"

"Yeah well, it wouldn't work like that now though would it?" Connie exclaimed frustratedly, her hand absentmindedly fiddling with the locket around her neck. "I mean, he only told me that after he asked me to go to America with him! It's not like he's same old George Harrison from Speke anymore is it? He's bloody George Harrison from the Beatles now!"

"What's that make you then?" Florence asked, raising her eyebrow ever so slightly. "You're not Connie Lennon from Forthlin Road anymore, you're not even Connie Lennon of the New Times either, you're Constance-Bloody-Emilia! D'y'know, I can't even tell if this is how you genuinely feel or if it's because you're still so stubborn you won't even face up to your feelings, because the Connie I know would never let herself be intimidated by someone's celebrity status, not when that someone is her best friend and the lad she's had a crush on since Year Nine,"

"Florie, it's just-"

"No, Con, here's the thing," Florence interrupted her, clearly not wanting to listen to any excuses; Connie really had missed how no-nonsense Northern women were. "You had this crush on George since you were what, fourteen? And you never even paid it any mind till just before you moved away. If you'd have considered it, or spoke to George and even if you'd have paid the slightest bit of attention to how he looked at you as if you made the world turn, you'd have noticed he felt the same way and you wouldn't be in this situation, would ya'? You can't use the Beatles and their fame as an excuse, Con,"

"Fine," Connie muttered grimly, glaring down at the floor. "I'm only wary. I wouldn't want to screw things up or... I dunno, lose him or anything. It's just... there's one thing me dad said to me, a couple of years after Mum died. He told me never to fall in love cause it's a trap and I'd only ever end up hurt and alone because no relationship however great lasts forever,"

"Who gives a shit about forever? Why not just enjoy now?" Florence shrugged, talking as if everything was so simple.

Maybe it was just that simple. Maybe Connie had been overthinking things for years just because of what her father had said to her. If she'd not have grown up seeing her father so utterly heartbroken after falling in love so hard for her mother and then losing her so horrifically, maybe she would have a different perspective on life. Instead, however, she had nothing but caution when it came to matters of the heart, caution that had meant so much lost time in realising her own feelings.

"Shitting hell," she sighed, rubbing her forehead, before glancing back up to Florence with a small, apologetic smirk. "I've been back in Liverpool for less than two hours and I'm already burdening you with me problems. Any drama going on in your love life?"

"No, no need for drama, see me and Rory actually talk to each other," Florence smirked sarcastically back at her, and her word signified that the little fling that was going on between her and Rory Storm the last time Connie was home had progressed into something a little more serious. "You look starving, anyway, shall I nip across the road and get us some food, or maybe you can, considering you're the one with the fancy job?"

"How about you get the food and then I buy a round of drinks at the pub?" she negotiated, a smirk appearing on her face once more as she forced away any of her conflicted feelings, deciding as she always did that she would deal with them another time.

Except this time she didn't have long to avoid her feelings, considering the Beatles were back in Liverpool the next day and she would finally have to face up to George.

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Word count: 2539

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