A soft knock on the front door woke Lily up in the early afternoon. She frowned and slowly lifted her head up from her pillow, weakly blinking and looking all around, not really knowing what this muffled noise was. As her eyes scanned the room, she made sure nothing had moved, such as a poster or one of her tiny sculptures; much to her relief, nothing had. No posters fallen on the floor either.

She sighed and lay on her back, letting her head crash back on her pillow. When drowsiness started to take hold of her once again, the same noise sounded in her flat. She grumbled and sat up, suddenly realising it was somebody at the door. She reached out for her wristwatch on her bedside table and checked the time: it was only two in the afternoon. Brian was supposed to be at his rehearsals: who could this be?

Lily jumped on her feet and covered her bare body with her blanket, as she made her way to her window, from where she could see who was at the doorstep. She saw a tall black-haired young man about her age, wearing a bright white shirt tucked in his brown trousers, carrying records under his arm. Lily stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out who he could be.

Then, it hit her like a lorry.

“Freddie!” she exclaimed, before she slightly opened the window. “I'm coming! Just... Just a few seconds, please!”

Freddie, who was about to walk away, spotted her and nodded with a shy grin, as she took hurried steps to her wardrobe, opening it widely and looking for nice clothes to wear. She threw her blanket back on the bed and grabbed her purple blouse, along with a grey knee-length tweed skirt. She quickly changed her underwear and put on these clothes she picked, tucking her blouse into her skirt. She quickly put on a nice long necklace, before hurriedly running a comb through her entangled hair.

She ran up to the front door and unlocked it, smiling at Freddie widely, leaning on the doorframe. “Hi,” she whispered, blushing, “I'm sorry I took some time to answer, I was... uh...”

“You were sleeping,” the young man chuckled, cocking his eyebrows.

“No, not at all! I was listening to music and I didn't hear you knocking, that's all,” she laughed back, scratching the back of her head nervously. Freddie shook his head, pointing at her cheek.

“You were definitely sleeping. You have pillow marks on your cheek, right there. Somebody seems to sleep on their tummy here,” he playfully winked. Lily blushed and shrugged, giving up and looking down. “Hey, don't feel ashamed, perhaps I came early, also, I'm sorry about that,” Freddie said.

“Oh, don't apologise, I'm just a lazy piece of shit,” she joked. “Anyway, come in, don't stay there.” Lily stepped aside and let him walk in, closing the door after him. As he wasn't wearing any jacket, she didn't bother asking him if he wanted her to hang it to the coatrack. She showed him around, beginning with the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the door of her mother's room, and eventually her own bedroom.

Lily's bedroom was the largest room of the flat, but it hadn't always been the case: it used to be two separate rooms, one belonging to her, and the other to her older brother, Keith, who left home two years earlier to follow his studies in Sunderland. As her mother and Lily knew he would never get back, they decided to break the wall dividing the two rooms and unify them. Therefore, it became Lily's room. She painted the walls herself and chose her own furnitures herself. Although her passion really was science, she had inherited artistic skills from her mother, who was a painter herself.

The walls of her bedroom were purple, with circles and wavy shapes of several other colours, such as yellow, red and blue, surrounding small flowers. Some tiny frames were nailed to the wall and mainly contained restored pictures of old Hollywood actors and actresses. As Freddie's chocolate brown eyes scanned them, he recognised Ione Bright, Mae West, Myrna Loy, Louise Brooks, Janet Gaynor, Clara Bow, Judy Garland, Joan Fontaine, Hedy Lamarr, Rita Hayworth, Lauren Bacall, Lucille Ball, and evenGinger Rogers. All these photographs were in black and white, which created a striking contrast with the colourful walls. There also were band posters above her bed, like The Beatles, The Who, Donovan, or even Michel Polnareff, a French artist she heard of because she knew Jimmy Page played for him.

In front of the door, at the other edge of the bedroom, was Lily's king size bed, which obviously wasn't done, since she hurried to welcome Freddie. Two bedside tables stood on each side of it; Freddie lopsidedly smiled as both were covered with books or sheets. In the right corner was her dark oak wardrobe, with one of its doors open. On the opposite side of the window, against the wall, was a large desk, also covered with books of all sorts, some being about science, others being classic novels or plays. It also had frames with photographs of Brian and her, or 1984 and their band aids; on the top part of the desk laid a tambourine. Next to the window was a small white bookshelf on which Lily had placed her large collection of records instead; a shiny acoustic guitar covered with paintings was resting against it, and next to it, against the wall, leant an electric guitar case and a bass case. On top of this recordshelf were all the tiny sculptures she made during her free time. All her books were on another big bookshelf directly on the right side of the door. On its left side was her turntable.

From the outside of the room, the door looked like an ordinary one, but from the inside, a human-sized painting could be seen. Lily had painted a very realistic George Harrison, playing the guitar, with music notes floating around his head.

At last, a large circular rug was placed in the middle of the room. It was a light purple and represented a flower, with a yellowish core.

Freddie smiled as he stepped in, making the wooden floor squeak under his feet. Lily arranged the bed a little and patted it. “Here, you can sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you, Lily. Your room is really nice. You really painted that all by yourself?”

“I did,” she smiled. “I wanted my room to be... striking. And very uncommon.”

“It sure is,” he chuckled. “In a good way, of course.”

“Thank you again. Would you like anything, like a cup of tea, coffee, hot chocolate? I also have biscuits.”

“No, thanks, I ate too much at noon, I'm going to explode if I swallow something else.”

“I see. Do you mind if I fix myself a drink and if I eat something? As I just woke up, I didn't have time to have breakfast or lunch.”

“Of course not, you're at home, you don't need to ask me. Would you like some help?”

“No, Freddie, but thank you, it's sweet from you to suggest. I'll be right back. You can already play one of your records on my turntable, if you wish. Do you know how this one works?” she said, pointing at her turntable, which was facing him.

“All turntables are similar,” he smiled. “Don't worry, I'll find out how it does. I brought the Who, Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and Elvis Presley with me. I hope you like them.”

“For the Beatles and the Who, I guess my door and my posters answer your question,” she laughed. “I've never really listened to Bob Dylan, though I know Blowin' In The Wind by heart. Sometimes we play and sing it with my bestfriend, Brian.”

“Oh yes, you told me about him yesterday. It's the guitarist of the band you promoted, isn't he?”

“It's him. He's a very lovely guy. We've known each other since we were nine or ten. He lives in Feltham.”

“That's where I used to live.”

“I remember you telling me that, yesterday,” she smiled. She got out of the room and went straight to the kitchen to get herself a cup of tea, and to cover a plate with biscuits. She took the whole on a tray to her bedroom, where she saw Freddie kneeling down beside her recordshelf. She smiled at him and pushed some piles of paper on her desk to put down the tray on it. She cleared her throat and turned to her neighbour. “Did you notice anything you like?”

“Plenty. I'm sorry, I was curious about what you have.”

“Nothing harmful. What are the albums you spotted?”

“Well, first of all, you have all the Beatles albums so far, and you even have the American versions. There are some other of their records I don't know.”

“Some come from Japan, others from France, Holland, Germany... I befriended some of the local record store owners, so if they have something interesting, they send me a note or ring me. Then I go to their shops and decide if it's worth spending money on the records they're suggesting me. Isn't that nice?”

“Very!” Freddie said, cocking his eyebrows. “You have very interesting acquaintances, I must say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you're a band aid, for a local band, and you seem to be very close to them all,” he pointed at a picture of 1984 and her on the desk.

“Brian is the one I know the most. I mean, we don't need to speak to understand each other and know precisely what's wrong and what's alright with the other, you see? He's like my twin.”

“You seem to be very attached to him,” Freddie grinned. “It's beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” she blushed with a smile. “I wish everybody this kind of relationship. Everybody deserves to live that. My mother loves Brian, and as she is very open-minded and all, she often lets him sleep in my bed. Of course, she was anxious when I was thirteen, but nothing ever happened, she's relieved now.” Lily chuckled and patted her mattress. “That's why I chose a king size bed. Brian can have more space, and I can as well.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, I must be bothering you about Brian. It's just that I can't stop talking about him when I mention him.”

“It's alright, Lily, don't worry.”

“Let's listen to your records,” she smiled.

Freddie nodded and played the Bob Dylan he brought with him, before he and Lily lazily sat on the rug, with the tray she took from the kitchen between them. As she sipped out her tea and occasionally picked a few biscuits, Freddie had some as well, chewing them with his eyes closed, focusing on the music.

They didn't count how many albums they had just listened to. All they knew was that a high amount of thrills ran through their bodies, relaxing them but also making them feel like dancing sometimes. When the B-side of the album of Herman's Hermits Lily owned stopped playing, she didn't even stand up to put it back in its sleeve. She was too busy chatting with Freddie about a lot of things, debating with him as well. They talked about the Vietnam war going on, their studies in their opposite universities, music, local concerts, Kensington, Keith's studies in Sunderland, Freddie's sister, Kashmira, and her school, and something both enjoyed doing: songwriting.

Freddie told her about a few songs he wrote, and how her mother threatened him to throw all his sheets in the bin, since he kept them under his pillow along with a pen, just in case. Lily chuckled at this anecdote, which she found adorable. She told him about the few songs she wrote with Brian, and how they recorded some as well.

“Oh fuck, I forgot my tape recorder at home!” Freddie exclaimed, instinctively touching his hair. “I was supposed to bring it here to make you listen to what I'd recorded so far, that's why I'm here! I'm so dumb sometimes.”

“It's alright. Perhaps I can already show you our demos.”

“I'd love that!”

Lily smiled and got up, trying not to trip on the tray, as she made her way to her wardrobe. Under her dresses, coats and skirts, she kept a cardboard box in which she put all her recordings and her tape recorder. She looked at the recordings and picked two she was the most proud of, and looked for the recorder. However, she couldn't find it. She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand and spun round to face her guest. “Fuck, I forgot it either at Brian's, or in the rehearsal room.”

“It's alright, I can wait. We'll listen to all that another day, when I have mine as well,” he winked. “What are your songs about, in general?”

“I mostly write about social issues. I know I might sound boring, but I wrote a few feminist songs, two or three in the style of Blowin' In The Wind, and I wrote anti-war songs as well. When I heard that the Vietnam war began, though it doesn't really involve us, it made me feel so... angry. I hate all kind of violence, you see. I fought with my bare hands a few times, and though I won, I never felt good about that.”

“I hate violence too. It doesn't solve anything.” Freddie paused and stared at his knees absent-mindedly, before he chuckled. “And it's me who's saying that, whereas I won a boxing cup at school, in India.”

“Wow, really?” she smiled. “Boxing is a bit different, though. I wouldn't go and see a fight, I'd feel very uncomfortable, but it's different from fighting over something, your goal isn't to kill the person you're facing, you see? It's just sports.”

“Yes, but still, you're hurting the others by hitting them. It's supposed to be safe, but let's face it: it isn't always the case, and not all players respect the rules.”

“I guess you're right, you know more about boxing than I do.”

“I'm not a champion either!” he laughed, looking at her. The corners of her lips rose, as she offered him one of her warmest smiles, which she usually gave to Brian, Tim or Chelsea. Freddie blushed and realised how beautiful she looked. The long straight light brown hair that framed her face looked silky, the fringe that hid her eyebrows made her look great also. As for her brown eyes, they were shiny and full of life. Those simple details that many people would find useless hit him more than anything else. He didn't need to look at her body shape and features to know that she was a gorgeous young woman, one of the rarest kind.

Lily coughed lightly and got up, eventually putting back the record in its sleeve. She knelt down before her collection and put it back to where it belonged, in alphabetical order. Her eyes lowered on her wristwatch, and she let out a tiny gasp.

“Wow, time flew so quickly!”

“Oh? What time is it?”

“It's already quarter past six! I can't believe we stayed like that all this time, listening to records and chatting! Don't get me wrong, I loved it.”

Freddie widely smiled and stood up. “I'm sorry to leave like that, but I must go. I promised Kash I would help her with her homework today, and I'm already late.”

“Kash?” she frowned.

“Kashmira, my sister, I mentioned her earlier.”

“Oh, yes, sorry, I didn't understand it when you called her Kash. I hope I didn't bother you with things I mentioned a lot, like Brian.”

“No, of course not,” he smiled sincerely. “It's part of who you are, and I'm glad you let me see this part of you.”

“Thank you, Freddie. You're a very nice guy, you know that?”

“I can't judge myself, that would be too easy!” he laughed. “I try to be as nice as possible with people around me, as long as they don't piss me off, you see.”

“I see what you mean. I'd be glad to meet you again, would it be possible?”

“Of course, darling.” Freddie blenched a little. “Sorry, I didn't ask you if it was okay if I called you darling!”

“It's alright” she laughed.

“Phew! I'm the kind of person who calls everybody dear or darling, I don't know why myself. So, if you feel offended, just let me know, mh?”

“Don't worry about that, Freddie, it's perfectly fine with me.”

“Nice.”

They smiled at each other, and Freddie gathered his records, leaving his Bob Dylan album on the bed, so Lily could listen to it on her own, making her own opinion of it. Anyway, it wasn't as if they lived far from each other, was it?

Lily silently walked Freddie to the front door, opening it and letting the still warm September breeze blow on their faces softly. Freddie turned round to face her and smiled. “Well, this afternoon was lovely.”

“It was, indeed. Let's do that again sometime! I could also introduce you to the record shop owners I know.”

“Oh, I don't want to be a burden, you know.”

“You won't be one, I promise.”

“Well... Thank you. I'd be pleased to spend some time with you again, you're a very interesting young woman, and it's obvious that you're really clever. I loved debating with you on some topics.”

“I loved it too, and thank you,” she blushed, “you're clever too, Freddie, I tell you.”

“I hope I am. I'm sorry, I really must leave now, Kash needs me. See you soon, then?”

“See you very soon, hopefully.”

“I'll be quite busy this week, so I guess we'll only see each other at the concert this Saturday.”

“I see. Well, it's not a problem, let's meet there then! I'll be in the audience, at the front row, that's where I always stand. Maybe you could join me there.”

“Why not?” Freddie grinned. “Have a nice evening, Lily. I can't wait to go to the concert.”

“I can't wait either. You'll see, 1984 is an excellent band.”

“I hope so!” he laughed. “Bye, darling.”

“Bye, Freddie! Have a very nice evening with your sister!”

Both waved at each other, as Freddie crossed the street, his records against his chest, and reached his flat, closing the door behind him. Lily stayed at her doorstep, smiling widely, and looking all around. She noticed a tall figure walking in the direction of her flat.

With all the things she thought about in the afternoon while talking with Freddie, she completely forgot about another thing she had planned.

Brian was coming over.