May 8, 1998

Dear Dad,

Though there are still 7 months until my 18^th birthday, I have decided that it is time be on my own. I have found a place to live and a good job. Please don’t worry...

Laura put the pen down. It was a horrible note. Her father would panic three seconds into it and have the police out looking for her. When he didn’t find her, he’d only worry more and fear the worst. She didn’t want to worry her father. She loved him. But she couldn’t tell him the truth – he’d have her locked away in the nuthouse for sure. And she couldn’t live here any more. Not when she had an opportunity that she couldn’t pass up.

Laura had been miserable for the past four months, since her mother and younger sister had died in a car accident. Of course, she hadn’t been incredibly happy before that either. She’d always felt out of place, but she definitely didn’t fit in with her father and his new wife or with the kids at her new school. It wasn’t that she hated Seattle, it just didn’t feel like home. On the other hand, Colorado, where she had lived along with her mother and sister Carol for the past 12 years, hadn’t really felt like home either. She barely remembered the years in Michigan before her parents divorced, but somehow she thought that probably wasn’t any different either.

Laura McGuire had never fit in anywhere. Until...

It had been a rainy Good Friday, and Laura had the day off from school. Dad and Amy were both off at work. She’d been restless, wandering around the house with nothing to do. She tried watching some TV, but even with over fifty channels there was still nothing to watch. She tried to read a mystery that she’d picked up at Borders the previous week, but she just couldn’t seem to concentrate.

Around noon, she decided that with Easter Sunday just around the corner, it was time to break out her spring wardrobe. Time to put away the wool sweaters and turtlenecks. Most of her things were still packed in boxes in the basement, and so she headed down to dig out what she could find.

Even with the lights on, it was dark down there. And dank, she observed as she opened box after box, not finding what she was looking for. There were plenty of clothes, but none of them were hers. She couldn’t believe how many outfits Amy had packed away down here. Cartons of outdated clothing from as far back as the fifties, sixties and seventies. Did she think this stuff would ever come back into style?

After hunting around for fifteen minutes or so with no luck, Laura was ready to give up. It was too damp and smelly. She turned to head back upstairs, when she noticed the small door underneath the staircase. She figured it must be a closet. Maybe her father had stored her things there.

She was quite surprised when she opened the door and found yet another staircase leading down. Cautiously, Laura stepped in. She put her hand on the wall to keep from falling and found that it was damp. In disgust, she pulled her hand back and wiped it on her jeans, but still she continued slowly downward. With each step it seemed to get damper and hotter. She swore that she could hear music. It got louder as she went on. She also noticed a distinct odor, not unlike the girls’ locker room after one of the basketball games back at her old school. All of these things – the noise, the heat, the smell -- got more intense as she continued her descent. Finally she reached the bottom – and another door. She could clearly hear the pounding of drums, the twang of guitars and a nasal voice singing something. Curiosity at its peak, she grabbed the door knob and pushed it open.

She could hardly believe what she saw. She rubbed her eyes, but it was all still there. She had stumbled across a club of some sort. The smell and the heat were coming off of the bodies that were tightly packed in to the room. The noise was emanating from four musicians who were pounding out some fifties tune on a tiny stage - in the front of the room.

The song ended and the crowd burst into applause. Laura moved towards the stage, fascinated by the scene. She noticed that there were a few tables and chairs, but mostly it was just kids standing around. There were so many of them she had difficulty moving. She tried to squeeze forward, but only got dirty looks and a bit of Coke spilled on her sweater.

"All righty," the lead singer crowed with a British accent. "we’re gonna finish out this set with one o’ yer favorites."

The band began a sloppy version of "Twist and Shout." The crowd began to dance. Rather than fight it, Laura went with it, gyrating her way to the front. By the end of the song she had managed to make her way to the stage. Three sweaty guitarists and one drummer stood directly in front of her, clad in leather pants and jackets.

"We’ll be taking a break now," the leader announced again. And with that, he jumped down off the stage right in front of Laura.

She took a step back and jostled into a boy standing behind her. "Sorry," she muttered, but he just glared back at her.

"Who might you be?" the lead singer asked, eyeing her appraisingly. His face was less than an inch away from hers, and the way he looked her over made her shiver.

She took a defensive stance and crossed her arms in front of her. "Laura, not that it’s any of your business."

"Well, Laura ‘not that it’s any of my business,’" he said, mocking her, "Yer new around here, and I was just bein’ friendly."

"Yeah, right." She was determined not to be pushed around by this tough guy. "What’s with the accent?"

"I might ask you the same thing." He gave her a mock western cowboy drawl, "Where do ya hail from, little lady?"

"Originally from Michigan, then Colorado, now here. What’s your excuse?"

"Liverpool born and bred."

"You sound like you’re proud of it," Laura shot back.

"Ya know, if you were a guy, I’d deck ya."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Guy or girl, I could still kick your ass."

He laughed. "That right? Tiny thing like you? Kick my ass?"

"Yeah," Laura said narrowing her eyes. She’d been in plenty of fights before. On closer inspection, this guy didn’t seem to be so tough. It was all just a cover. With his hair slicked back and his leather outfit, he might have looked like a tough from the fifties, but she doubted that there was much substance underneath.

"How’s about I just buy you a Coke instead?" he asked.

Laura smiled. He’d backed down, just as she knew he would. "Sure." On second thought, he was kind of cute.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her over to a table where the rest of his band sat, crowded by gaggles of girls. The table was full of old-fashioned glass Coke bottles – some empty, some still full. He pushed one of the guys out of his chair. "Give it up, George. Let the lady sit down."

George said nothing, but slunk away. When he thought they couldn’t see him, he made a face.

Laura couldn’t help but giggle. George winked at her. He was also kind of cute. Take him out of the leather and put him in clean clothes, and he’d be just the kind of guy her mom would have wanted her to date.

"Are you always so charming?" Laura asked her escort as he grabbed a bottle and deftly opened it by slamming it down along the table’s edge.

He handed her the open bottle. "He’s used to it."

"Hi, John," a girl cooed, coming up behind him and putting her hands on his arm.

"’Ello Alice." He flopped down in an empty chair not paying much attention to her.

The girl didn’t seem to notice. "You were wonderful." Her voice was all breathy, as if she was doing a bad Marilyn Monroe imitation.

"Thanks, luv. Play a tune just for you in the next set."

"You would?" She looked as if he had just offered her the moon.

"Yeah. Why don’t ya go talk to Pete about it?"

"I will, I will!" She scurried off.

Laura rolled her eyes. "You certainly have her wrapped around your finger."

"It’s the Lennon charm," he proclaimed boldly.

"Lennon? Your name is John Lennon?"

"It is indeed," he said, leaning towards her. "Heard o’ me, have ya?"

"Now I get it," she said. It all made sense now – the look, the music. If you had the same name as a music legend, you might as well capitalize on it. "Kids tease you a lot?"

"Ah, I used to get picked on for looking like a ted. But now...the girls seem to go for it."

"I bet having a famous name doesn’t hurt either."

"I wouldn’t say famous. Not yet."

"Not you," she said, shaking her head. "The real John Lennon."

"Trust me," he said grabbing her hand. "I am the real John Lennon."

"Christ!" she pulled her hand away. "Just ‘cause you’ve got the same name as a dead rock star doesn’t make you anyone special."

"And what dead rock star might that be?"

"John Lennon."

"You’re shittin’ me, right?"

"Just give it up," she said tiredly.

"There’s some guy with the same name as me who was a rock star? How come I never heard of him?"

"Oh come on, next thing you’re going to tell me is that those other guys are Paul, George and Ringo."

"So you have heard of us! ‘Cept it’s Pete. Ringo’s with the Hurricanes."

Laura was about to make a retort, when one of his cohorts, the best-looking of the four of them, came over and tapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, John-o. Break’s up"

"Hey Paulie, this bird here says there’s another John Lennon out there."

"God save us all," he moaned. "One o’ you is more than enough."

Laura looked closer at Paul. She’d recently seen a photo of Paul McCartney in some magazine. His wife had just died and all the publications had plenty of photos. The eyes were identical. But it couldn’t be. Paul McCartney was an old man. John Lennon was dead. Despite the heat in the room, Laura shivered.

"Looks like I’ll be leaving ya, then," John said.

Laura stood also, suddenly not feeling all that well. "I’ve got to go anyway." She turned and pushed her way through the crowd.

"Come back to the Cavern again, Laura!" John called after her retreating back. "The Beatles’ll be waitin’ for you!"

Safely back in her room, Laura tried to make sense of what had happened. Could she have dreamed it all? She clearly remembered running back up all those stairs, and her legs ached with the memory. Could it have been some sort of weird hallucination? But then why would she hallucinate about the Beatles? She didn’t even like them. She knew nothing about them. Plus, there was the Coke stain on her sweater. It was still damp.

On a whim, she drove over to Borders. In the music section, she found numerous books on the Beatles. She flipped through one and almost dropped it when she saw a photo of the group from the early 60’s. She read the caption underneath – John, George, Paul and Pete. A chill came over her again.

She bought two books on them. It was all she could afford. She brought them up to her room and read them cover to cover. And then she read them again.

Sneaking down to the basement that evening was easier than she’d thought. Armed with a heavy-duty flashlight, she easily found the doorway beneath the staircase. She opened it, convinced that it had been a fluke that afternoon, that she’d open the door and find nothing but a closet. But the second set of stairs were still there. Without hesitation, she went down. Again it got warmer and damper as she descended. She could hear the music more clearly this time.

When she reached the second door she put her ear to it. The wood was rotted and damp, but she could clearly hear the strains of "Hippy Hippy Shake." She smiled to herself and pushed the door open.

It was just as crowded as it had been that afternoon, if not more so. She stood in the back, just taking it all in. It looked just as it had in the photos -- crammed with teens, the music blaring, the band sweating in their leather outfits. The music wasn’t that good, but it was easy to get caught up in it. The whole room seemed to be dancing and somehow Laura found herself dancing along too.

When the band took a break, Laura moved forward. She was anxious to speak with John again. It was difficult to move in the packed cellar. She pushed her way to the front, getting glares from several girls.

"’Ey there, Laura!"

She craned her neck to see where the unmistakable voice came from. With all the people she couldn’t see his face.

"Over here, luv!"

She followed the sound of his voice to her right.

"Look up, luv!"

She did, and now she could see him. He was standing on a chair and waving at her. She waved back, and not caring about the others in the club, pushed her way over to him.

"So," John said. jumping down from the chair, "back already."

"Like you said, it’s the Lennon charm." She grinned. It really was John Lennon. He looked just like the old photo. Something inside of her made her all giddy. Here she was, talking with John Lennon!

He threw his arm around her. "Smart girl, you." He kissed her on the cheek.

Laura pulled back in shock. "Don’t you already have a girlfriend?"

"Been doing yer research, have you?"

Laura shrugged and tried to act nonchalant. "Common knowledge around here."

"Ah, but you aren’t from around here." He gave her a wink. "C’mon then. Admit it. Ya got it bad for me, don’t ya?"

She felt like she had known him all her life, and playfully punched him in the arm. "In your dreams, Mr. Lennon. Although your partner Paul is quite handsome."

"Ah, now I see, using me to get at him. But it’ll do you no good. He’s got a girl too. That just leaves George and Pete up for the offering."

"Then I’ll take George," she said quickly.

"A good choice, if I do say so myself," he whispered in her ear. Then he called, "George! George, get your arse over here! There’s a lady who’d like to meet you!"

Laura felt her face go crimson.

"No need to be shy," John told her. "He’s harmless enough. Or at least that’s what I hear."

George ambled over. "Whatta you want?"

"I want," John said in a high and haughty voice, "to introduce you to the very lovely Laura. Laura, this surly fellow is none other than Mr. George Harrison. Say hello to the lady, Georgie."

"’Ello."

"Hi, George."

"Now you two get to know each other, and Uncle John will be back with a nice Coke for each of you in just a minute." John took off into the crowd.

"Saw you this afternoon," George said. "It was yer first time here, right?"

"Yes, I just kind of stumbled on it. I’m not from around here."

"So I noticed." George smiled.

Laura laughed. "I guess it is pretty obvious."

"You don’t look or sound like any of the birds ‘round here."

"Almost like I stepped out of another time."

"I wouldn’t go that far. But most birds don’t wear jeans."

Laura looked around. Despite the decor, or lack thereof, most of the girls were dressed up. Not one was in slacks or jeans.

"Hey, don’t worry about it," George reassured her. "I like yer look."

Laura found herself blushing again. "Thanks. Your look isn’t so bad either, though I think you’d be hot as hell in those leather jackets."

"It is," he admitted. "The birds seems to go for it, though."

"Then how come you don’t have a girlfriend?" Laura teased.

George ducked his head and was silent.

Laura knew she’d stuck her foot in it. "Hey, I know, you’re just waiting for the right one. I bet you end up marrying a gorgeous model."

"Would you like to go out?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"Me, go out with you?"

"Is it that horrible to think about?" he asked sullenly.

"No...I mean...I’m really flattered...there are so many girls here...you want to go out with me?"

"I asked ya, didn’t I?"

"He asked you what?" John said, squeezing back to them with two open Cokes in hand. "Is Georgie hitting on you already?"

"I asked her out. Do you have problem with that, John?"

"Eh, you smooth talker, you. And here I thought you were shy around the women. So what’d the lady say?"

"I haven’t said anything yet," Laura interjected, annoyed that he was talking as if she wasn’t right in front of him. She took one of the Cokes from his hand.

"Don’t get uppity with me, miss. I’m just a poor servant boy."

Laura sighed. "I’d love to go out with you, George. I just don’t know exactly how I’d pull it off."

"Plenty of time to figure it out," John assured her. "But for now, lover boy’s got to get back on stage."

"Oh, and I’d better go too," Laura said, looking down at her watch. "I’ll meet you back her soon and we’ll figure something out, okay?"

"Sure," said George, grinning. He took a big swig of the Coke and then quickly leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. But before she could say or do anything, he had turned his back and headed back to the stage.

"Cheeky, isn’t he?" John observed.

"He’ll do."

"I suspect he just might. We will see you back here again, Miss Laura, won’t we?"

She took a deep breath. "This is going to take quite a bit of figuring out, but for a date with George Harrison..."

Laura spent the next day in Borders and then the library. She dug up every piece she could find about the Beatles, specifically the early period at the Cavern Club. As far as she could tell there was only one way in and one way out. But every time she walked out of the Cavern door she found herself back on the staircase in her father’s basement. How was she ever going to go out with George if she couldn’t leave the Cavern? And the more she read about the group, the more she wanted to go out with George.

Late in the afternoon she went to the basement and went through the piles of old clothes. They couldn’t all be Amy’s, she determined. They were of too many different sizes and from too many different decades. Feeling like a little girl playing dress-up, she went through them, trying to find something that would fit her and also fit the times.

She settled on a simple pink sweater and gray skirt. She wore her own black pumps. She spent nearly an hour in the bathroom getting ready. She’d never spent this much time getting ready for anything, but she really wanted to look nice for George. He’d made her feel special last night. So had John. She couldn’t remember when she had felt so comfortable around a bunch of guys before. And these guys were the Beatles! Or were going to be. It was all so confusing when she thought about it. So she chose not to, and just let the nervous anticipation carry her along.

She was so anxious that when she opened the door to the Cavern this time she was early. The place was practically deserted. It was certainly different when it was not packed with sweaty teens. She saw George across the room tuning his guitar, and bounded over to him.

"Hello there," she said with a big grin.

"Wow!" He did a double take. "What did you do to yourself? You look...well, you look..."

"The word you’re looking for is gorgeous," Paul said, coming up behind him. "I’m Paul. We haven’t been properly introduced, but I’ve heard quite a bit about you from our boy George here. Forgive him for being a little tongue-tied. He’s just a lad."

"Get outta here, Paul," George commanded.

"Touchy, touchy." But Paul backed off.

"You do look gorgeous," George confided when he left. "Much too nice for a scruff like me. Feel like I should be taking you some place posh."

Laura blushed. "You don’t have to take me anywhere."

"’Course I do. I asked ya, didn’t I?" He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door.

Panic rose in Laura’s stomach. "George, what are you doing?"

He dragged her along. "Come on."

She was terrified now. What would happen when George opened the door? Would he end up outside the Cavern and she in the basement? Or would they both end up in the basement? How would she explain that one to George? Or her father? She closed her eyes and let him pull her along, too afraid to see the results.

"Now, what’s wrong, Laura? I just wanted to get a minute alone with you."

She opened her eyes. She was outside the Cavern with George! She hugged him tightly. "I’m still here!"

"Of course you are," George replied, slightly bemused. "I was gonna ask you if it would be all right to kiss you, but I guess it is all right."

"Of course it’s all right!" Laura practically shouted with joy. She was cut off by George’s lips pressing down on hers. It was at that moment that she decided that this was where she wanted to be.

Laura was meticulous in her planning. As long as she left the Cavern with George or John she was all right. But when she left alone...

She used her week off after Easter carefully. She took all of the money she had saved over the years and went to a coin shop. It wasn’t cheap getting old British money, but she had saved up quite a bit and she knew it could tide her over for a long time. She went to a pawn shop and sold off most of the jewelry that had belonged to her mother, and with the money she made she went back and bought more old British currency. She was determined not to make her move until she had enough live on for at least six months.

She had confided in George and John that things were not going well at home. She needed to get out on her own, but she didn’t have the proper working papers. John had some connections, and the three of them went to a dingy little shop down by the docks, where, for an exorbitant price even by 1960’s standards, she was able to get the necessary papers.

John also arranged for her to room with his girlfriend, Cynthia. Laura knew that this arrangement was only temporary. But she also knew, as they did not, that she’d have more than enough time to find a job and start saving so that by the time Cynthia got pregnant and married John, she have more than enough put aside to afford a place of her own.

With each passing day, Laura grew more and more confident. She even got up the nerve to walk into the North End Music Shop and ask for a job. She knew she would impress the manager with her knowledge, but she wasn’t sure if he’d be willing to hire an American. However, Mr. Epstein was a man who was willing to take a few risks. When he asked her when she could start, Laura knew it was time to make the transition.

And so, on the evening of May 8^th, she found herself trying to write a note to her father. A note that he wouldn’t understand.

She started out several times. Nothing seemed right. She crumpled up all her attempts and tossed them in the wastebasket.

It got closer and closer to 6 PM. Her father would be home soon, and she knew she had to be gone before he got back. She had two bags packed full of vintage clothing, as well as a few contemporary things that she couldn’t bear to leave behind. After all, George had said he liked her style.

By ten to six, she gave up and went with her last draft.

Dear Dad,

I love you. And I know you won’t understand, but I have to leave. It’s not you. It’s not Amy. I love you both and I’m sorry I haven’t said it more often. But I’ve finally found my place in this world. And for some unknown reason I’ve got a chance at something that I just can’t turn down.

I do love you. Please always remember that...

Laura

She sighed and left it on the kitchen table. She was doing the right thing, wasn’t she?

With her bags in hand she went down to the basement one last time. She opened the door under the stairs and slowly went down the second flight. Her footsteps echoed with each step.

And when she reached the bottom, she pushed the door open.

George was waiting there for her. He took her bags from her and kissed her softly.

All her doubts were erased. She was truly home.

Beth Shorten has been writing since she was in third grade (and still has the beat-up old notebooks to prove it). She is Editor Emeritus of the Beatles fanzine Octopus' Garden, which she founded in 1990. Though writing is her passion, it doesn't always pay the bills, so she is best known as the Marketing Manager at Weltman Plumbing Heating & Air. She and her husband Steve live in New Jersey.

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