"I actually love bungalows so much," Connie called as she finished unpacking their things in the bedroom, making her way to George as he was sat out onto the porch balcony, sat on the steps tuning his guitar.

"Well that's good conisdering we live in one back home," he spoke without looking up from his guitar, plucking one of the strings as he tested the tuning, his tone dry as he joked.

"You know what I mean, this one's a lot more minimal than home," she rolled her eyes as she moved to sit down next to him on the steps, looking out at the compound around them. "Not that the rest of this is minimal though,"

The compound of the Marharishi's ashram was actually rather scenic. Connie had an ominous idea on the coach from the airport as she battled travel sickness that all the beautiful scenery they were passing wasn't going to continue far enough out to where they were staying, but as they'd walked through a forest to get to their bungalow, backing onto the view of mountains and the ganges, she was rather pleased with it all. The bungalow was small, but she knew it was a lot grander than the ones stayed in by the guests who weren't celebrities. The best part of the bungalow was the access to the roof, and she couldn't help but wish to spend a night up there, looking up at the stars.

A perk of the bungalows was also how close they all were to each other, positioned in an arc, with Connie and George's being central to that arc. Florence had been given her own, right next door to Connie and George's, and on the other side was Paul and Jane's. It was almost exciting to Connie, considering she'd not lived next door to Paul since she was eighteen, not that she'd let him know she was excited at the prospect of their bungalows being next to each other. It was something that worked to her advantage though, since one of the things she wanted to get from the trip was to reconnect with her friends. Of course they were there for the learning experience to meditate, but it was also an opportunity to be with her friends without the pressure of any of their jobs.

In fact, she could hardly remember the last time she hung out with any of them on their own without George being there and it not be for work. She'd spent a lot of time with them all when they were working on Mystery Tour, but that had been for work, and she'd vowed never to work with them again unless it was for an interview or something with the New Times because of how intolerable they all were. Either they were disagreeing on the direction of the film or they were getting high, which was fine sometimes. Connie had no problem with them getting stoned, she did it with them too, but not when they were all working. When they finished the film and her work with them was done she was grateful to go back to the New Times and to not have to put up with their bickering over the film, but even so, she missed her friends and she missed hanging out with them. Nothing was ever going to be like it was when they were teenagers when they used to spend hours in her kitchen or back room doing nothing in particular but enjoying each other's company, but it would be nice to feel that sense of togetherness again.

Connie hadn't felt that sense of togetherness with herself and the band for a while, at least for a few months. Marrying George had been the greatest decision of her life, but being his wife meant that she struggled to remain unbiased in group disagreements like she used to be able to, and they seemed to have a lot more disagreements than they used to. It was only natural since they all had their own personalities and interests and each of them wanted to do something different with the music, but for once Connie couldn't help them. Over the last few months she'd felt less like their mate and more like George's wife. She liked being George's wife, but after a lifetime of being a mate to each of them, it felt strange to no longer be the exception to the 'no girls' rule.

She'd not told anyone she'd felt left out or forgotten. Usually she'd tell Ruby or Cilla her problems, since they were her only girl friends in London that didn't have a connection to the band, but she couldn't tell them that particular problem because she didn't want them to think she was being ridiculous. She'd not told Florence because it seemed like a lot to say over the phone or in a letter and the opportunity to tell her all of it in person hadn't arisen yet. Regardless, none of them would understand. None of them knew the Beatles like Connie did, and if even she was starting to feel like she didn't know them anymore, how could she articulate her feelings to anyone else?

The only person she could tell who'd understand would be George since he was in the band so of course he would completely understand where Connie was coming from if she told him she felt left behind, except she couldn't tell him. She couldn't talk to him about that, not when so much else had happened between the two of them. After everything else they'd been through, it seemed daft to be focusing on an off-vibe she'd felt, even more so to tell George. They had enough of their own problems in their personal lives that didn't extend to their careers that they didn't talk about, so Connie felt like prioritising her friendships over her relationship was stupid. That meant that it just became yet another thing that was unspoken between the two of them, instead left to eat away at her mind.

Hopefully being India would help. No more pressures from work, no other distractions from each other. For the last few months Connie felt as if she was drowning in her own mind, so many alternating thoughts running through her head at a break-neck speed. Hopefully India and meditation would help her slow it all down, help her get her head back in the right place.

"It's not as warm as I thought it'd be," George spoke, breaking Connie's train of thought as he glanced up from his guitar, looking out across the compound at the line of trees ahead of them.

"At least the sun's out," Connie shrugged, realising just how married and British they were to be talking about the weather. "I think the girls were talking about going to the nearest town in a bit, y'know to get some better clothes that aren't as... Western,"

"But I like looking at your ass in jeans," George protested, his tone dry as he joked once again. Connie laughed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not wearing jeans now, are you saying you hate my outfit?" she pretended to be offended, gesturing down to her floral dress that came to her knees.

"I think you look fab whatever you wear," he said honestly, and though she noticed a small smile flick up onto his face, he'd turned his focus back to his guitar.

A silence settled between the two of them, the only noise being the gentle breeze blowing through the trees, the bird whistles and the tuning of George's guitar. It was peaceful, but it worried Connie, her mind instantly worrying that they'd either ran out of things to talk about or he just didn't want to talk to her. It was irrational, probably, but so were a lot of her worries. She was worried that after two years married he would be getting bored with her. She was worried that after what had happened in October last year the two had drifted despite saying that it wasn't going to ruin their relationship. She was worried that the two had let so much become unspoken in the last few months that they were going back to square one where their relationship started, defined by the fear of letting the other know their feelings.

Once again she was telling herself that the retreat would help them reconnect. Connie believed that George was her true love, there was no one she could love half as much as she loved him, and if meditation was supposed to help them discover who they really were, maybe they would also rediscover just how important they were to each other. Maybe a self-discovery would help them reaffirm their love, because while they rarely argued and there was no defined tension in their relationship, the two of them were infamous for not talking to each other properly. It was something they said they'd stop when they first got together, but yet it still seemed to be a problem for them.

"Oi, Lennon!" Florence called from her porch, her voice thankfully calling Connie away from considering her marriage any further. "Sorry, Harrison-Lennon. There's a massive fucking spider on my step!"

"Yeah don't shout it to the whole bloody world, Maureen's terrified of bugs and if she hears she'll be on the next flight back to London," Connie called, leaving George behind as she got up, walking over to her friend's bungalow. "Do you want me to get it for you? I'm not killing it though,"

"That takes me back, remember that time in school that wasp came in during English and everyone went mad and hid under the desks? The teacher was gonna kill it and you kicked off and single-handedly caught it and threw it out the window," Florence rolled her eyes. "It stung all your hand and you couldn't write for the rest of the day,"

"Yeah but the maths teacher the lesson after that didn't believe my excuse and gave me the cane for being lazy," Connie recalled, snorting out a bitter laugh as she made her way to the step leading up to Florence's bungalow, having every intention to move the insect until she actually saw it. "Jesus fucking Christ! That actually is massive. I'm not touching it, Florie, I dunno if it's venomous or what,"

"Well isn't that bloody reassuring," Florence muttered as she rolled her eyes, but as she looked up she saw the small crease between Connie's eyebrows and knew that a dangerous spider wouldn't be worrying enough to make her frown like that. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Connie said quickly, attempting to dismiss her friend's concern.

"No, seriously, what's wrong?" she asked again, not one to let something go, especially when it was to do with the wellbeing of her friends. "I haven't seen you frown like that since you realised being vegetarian meant you couldn't eat steak pies anymore,"

"Oh bugger off," Connie let out a laugh. "I'm fine, alright, just still knackered from the flight,"

"So knackered you can't come into town?" Florence raised her eyebrow questioningly, and when she saw the smirk appear on Connie's face she let out a triumphant laugh. "Thought so. Look, if we're going with the other girls, will you promise not to leave me behind or owt? Cause I know Maureen and Cyn are scousers but they made their great Liverpool escape ages ago, and Jane seems nice but I don't wanna spend this whole trip as an outsider to your sisterhood, y'know?"

Connie let out a quiet laugh of amusement, though stopped when Florence scowled at her. She just couldn't help but find it funny that Florence was worrying about all of that when it was the reason Connie had been so insistent on her coming on the trip. If Connie had started to feel left out with the Beatles, it was even worse with their partners. Of course they were a sisterhood, they had to stick together because no one else but them knew what it was like to be married to or dating a Beatle. They stuck together and they hung out regularly, going on shopping trips or having dinner together whenever they could, but the other girls seemed to know just how close she was to the band. When they used to get together, the girls and the band, Connie would be more inclined to talk to the lads, because they were the mates she grew up with. It was understandable, but it seemed to accidentally establish to the other girls that she was like a fifth member of the group, and so there was sometimes some distance.

Inviting Florence to India would mean that Connie didn't have to feel any sort of isolation at either side. If there was distance from the band, or distance from the girls, it didn't have to matter because she'd have her best friend with her. It also meant that Florence didn't have to feel lonely either, not after the break up she was still recovering from. It worked for them both, but neither of them were particularly willing to admit that they needed the other, they were just glad to be in each other's company.

"Nah I was actually planning on abandoning you first chance I got," Connie smirked, reaching out and hitting her friend's shoulder as she joked, knowing Florence would much prefer her to be sarcastic than give her a heartfelt response. "But first we should probably figure out what to do with this beautiful thing,"

"Yeah, I don't think beautiful is the word I'd use to describe that," Florence muttered, gesturing down at the spider that still sat on the step, the two girls staring at it so intently they didn't hear the footsteps behind them.

"What are you both looking at?" the two heard Cynthia's voice call from behind them, and Connie spun round, quickly covering the insect from the other three Beatle girls who were looking at the two scousers in curiosity.

"Nothing," she answered, far too quickly for it not to be suspicious, but thankfully none of them cared. "Are we going?"

With that, the five of them headed off back through the forest in the hopes of catching a taxi to town, with Connie sparing a glance behind her at her husband, feeling her heart sink when he didn't look up to see her go.

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Word count: 2422

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