Nights In White Satin: The Life and Times of Bethany Lane.

By Susan Henry

Chapter One

What can I say about myself, to begin with? I should tell you my name, for a start... shouldn't I? But then again you should already know my name if you've read the title of this sorry excuse of a story. Part of me wonders why I'm doing this, but another part of me wants to do it, to tell the story. My story. The story that was created from my life, my adventures, and the people I encountered during that time.

Am I going to tell you the truth? Two words. Don't know.

Am I going to tell you wild and fantastical things that are so far out they're in? Again, two words. You bet. (By the way, imagine an incredibly cheeky grin on the face of a child, ANY child, and you've pretty much got the expression on MY face as I write this. Don't worry about the kid though, because I'm WORSE! Or so I've been told, at any rate.)

Anyway, like I said, I should tell you my name, so here goes. Bethany Gwendolyn Lane. That's it. That's my name. It's not such a bad name when you think about it but the 'Gwendolyn' bit is kinda embarrassing, especially when you're getting scolded by your own mother in front of your friends, raising her voice so all and sundry can hear.

Not that it happened a lot. (Okay, so it happened about four or five times a week, and eight or nine on weekends. I was a really naughty kid... and, to my delight, and to my parents chagrin, it seems I've become even naughtier as I've 'matured'. Which I find quite amusing, to be perfectly honest.)

Next, I should probably tell you what I look like, or looked like at the time I started writing this, if you're in the future. I could say I'm stunningly beautiful, that men dropped to their knees and quivered at my feet whenever they saw me, but that would just be a bare-faced lie. I said I'd tell you wild and fantastical things, I never said I'd tell you lies. I have never, will never, tell a lie. Except to save my own skin, and sometimes THAT doesn't even work.

What? I'm just weird like that. Dig?

Now, where was I? Oh yeah, that's right, I was going to tell you what I look or, depending on when you're reading this, looked like. We'll start from top to bottom. That means we start with my hair.

My hair is... well... long. Ridiculously, deliciously, long. I love my hair, because I always manage to something a little different with it everyday. I am a redhead, a NATURAL one, thank you very much, so don't ask me if 'the curtains match the drapes'. I've heard that line so many times, from just about every man I've met, including a few I DID have relationships with, that it's just not funny anymore. Not that it should've been funny in the first place, but I digress. Like I said, I am a redhead, and so got the usual taunts and slurs attributed to being a redhead as I grew up. I was always being called Bluey by my friends, because that one was their nickname for me. I was called Blood nut sometimes, but this one was not a compliment, and the people who called me this usually had a black eye, or worse, after I was done with them. Ginger Meggs was another favourite, like the cartoon character, which came from the few grown-ups that actually liked, or at least tolerated, me. I liked that one because I happened to like, and sometimes act like, Ginger Meggs, so I took this one as the highest of compliments.

Eyes are next. Now some people seem to think that because I've got red hair, that I must have green eyes, but I don't, because I took after my father in that respect, inheriting blue eyes instead. But my twin sister, Rose, looked like a near exact copy of our mother, sharing my red hair, but also getting our mother's green eyes.

My nose and mouth are pretty ordinary, as mouths and noses go. My nose is small, covered in freckles, and positioned right in the middle of my face, which is probably all I can tell you about it really. There's nothing really special about my nose, unfortunately, or about my mouth for that matter. I mean, my lips are full, which can be attractive to some, but on me I think they look ridiculous. My teeth are crooked, which I actually like, because I think they have character.

That's my face done then. What, did you really think I was going to talk about every part of my head in great detail? Of course not! I've only given you enough detail to imagine what the rest of it might look like.

Height-wise, I'm short. Yes, I need step-ladders to reach things on the top shelf. Except when there's a cute guy hanging around. Any cute guy. Any cute who's taller than me. Yes, I happen to like tall men, so sue me.

In terms of weight, I'm not fat, but I'm not a stick figure either. I think I'm somewhere in-between, which is good enough for me.

Well, that's all I can think of to say about myself, so the next order of business would be to explain why I called this story 'Nights In White Satin'. I am going to get to that, but I think there are things I should explain in regards to where I came from, and how certain things in my childhood shaped my life first.

You see, I am a music fanatic. I love all kinds of music, from Mozart and Beethoven, all the way to the Beatles, and... a couple of other groups I'll talk about later, because there's more to that than I explain right now. Now, my sister Rose feels the same way about music as I do, so we're an incredible pair when we're together. Although we've gone in different directions in regards to our passion for music, Rose and I are completely and utterly inseparable. Just ask our parents. They'd tell you the same thing.

Anyway, my sister and I were born in Australia, on the 18th of December, 1943, to Timothy and Rowena Lane, our beloved mother and father. Mum always told me that I came into the world first, then five minutes later Rose arrived as well, which surprised her, Dad, and the doctor because they all thought she was only expecting to have me. But Mum and Dad were pleased nonetheless, since they now had two daughters to dote upon. They could've spoilt us rotten, and sometimes I think they wanted to, but they knew that it would be better for the two of us in the long run if we learned early on that we needed earn things instead of just having them handed to us. It worked, for the most part, because with the exception of our birthday presents, everything Rose and I got from our parents was only given to us if we'd been very good, which was no mean feat in my case, considering that I was handing out black eyes left right and centre whenever I was bullied, hence the getting scolded by my mother so very often.

Despite all that, life in Australia was never dull, I found, because Rose and I were always creating games and adventures to amuse ourselves, to the point where the two of us would run around the house like a pair of headless chooks as Mum always liked to say right before she joined in. Every time Dad came home from work (Dad was a teacher, and was able to avoid being conscripted), he would find us, his three girls, in a heap on the kitchen floor laughing our heads off. He'd always look at us sternly at first, then smile mischievously as he walked towards us, and then, like I wasn't expecting him to do it, he'd pick me up and tickle me mercilessly, while Mum would do the same to Rose.

It was on a day like this that I got my first guitar, when I was eleven years old. Dad came home carrying a big box in his arms, and I watched with curiosity as he put it down on the kitchen table.

"What's that, Daddy?" I asked him.

He gathered me in his arms, and then sat down at the table in front of the box, resting me in his lap. "This is a present for you, sweetheart, for being a good girl," he replied.

I looked at the box, trying to figure out what could be inside it. "Can I open it now?"

"Go on."

I slowly lifted the lid, revealing the most beautiful instrument I'd ever seen inch by glorious inch. I was struck dumb by how beautiful it was, and I fell in love with it instantly. I named her, for I was sure it was a 'her', Belle, because I knew from school that 'Belle' was the French word for beautiful, and that's what she was.

She was Belle... and she was mine.

Since the day I got Belle, I took her everywhere, trying to play her as best I knew how, which wasn't very good, considering that I was only eleven and hadn't had anyone to teach me how to play yet. But I didn't care because I was so in love that how Belle sounded wasn't important to me. Eventually, Dad started to teach me simple songs, nursery rhymes and Christmas Carols, while Mum and Rose would sing along.

It was at this time Rose and I decided that, when we grew up, I was going to become a famous musician and she would become a famous singer, even though we didn't have a clue how to achieve those goals at the time. We just thought it would be fun. But we stuck at it for the next few years until we were both fourteen. With each day that passed, the world around us changed, and so did we. Both of our voices strengthened as we grew, and my skills as a guitarist also improved, so the two of us started going out busking for pocket money. Lots of people came to watch us, so we'd usually earn a nice tidy sum of money, and then treat ourselves with a trip to the local milk bar.

In fact, Rose and I met our first real 'boyfriends', so to speak, a pair of boys the same age as us, while we were busking. My fella was called Billy Jackson. I absolutely adored him... until I found out a couple months later that he was two-timing me with Emma Phillips, the little cow, and then I dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

Anyway, like I said, the world around us was changing... and one of those changes would turn out to be very good indeed.

Rose and I came home one day after doing some busking after school to find Dad sitting at the kitchen table, looking distraught. His eyes were red rimmed, as if he'd been crying, which confused me, because I'd never seen him upset before, and I'd always believed that he was the strongest person I knew. But then we all think that about our Dads at one time or another, don't we?

"Dad, what's wrong?" asked Rose, drawing near him. "Where's Mum?"

"I had to take your mother to the hospital, girls. She's... she's not well."

I swallowed. "Is she going to get better, Dad?" I asked, desperately hoping he'd respond with the affirmative, but he just looked at me sadly and said "I don't know, sweetheart."

"Can we go see her?"

Dad shook his head. "Not today," he replied. "The doctor said to wait until he calls, and then we can see her."

"What happened?"

"I came home and found your mother lying on the kitchen floor," Dad explained. "I didn't... or couldn't... think of anything else to do, so I took her to the hospital straight away." He opened his mouth to continue, when the phone started to ring. Rose started to move towards the phone, but Dad stopped her. "I'll get it," he reassured her. "It's probably the doctor."

And it was. As I watched him talk on the phone, listening intently to the conversation, I noticed the expression on Dad's face change from great sorrow to pure joy, which gave me and Rose, the faintest glimmer of hope that Mum was going to be okay.

Rose was the first to speak up as Dad replaced the phone in its cradle. "If that was the doctor," she began, "does that mean we can go see Mum now?"

Dad nodded. "Yes, sweetheart," he responded. "We can go straight away."

After I put Belle away in my room, the three of us left almost immediately to go to the hospital. Normally Rose and I would chat between ourselves whenever we were in the car together, but this time was different. Both of us were too worried about Mum to say a word. We stayed this way until Dad parked the car in the hospital car park, and then lead us inside the tall building. On the inside, the hospital felt cold and uninviting, and reeked of disinfectant, but then it made sense to me that it did because I knew they didn't want people coming in getting sick, and they didn't want patients staying in the hospital to get worse, and, last but not least, they didn't want people leaving and making more people sick.

We waited for a few minutes while Dad spoke to the nurse at the reception desk trying to find out where Mum was.

"Do you think Mum's ok?" asked Rose, having finally gathered up the courage to speak again. "I mean, Dad looked really pleased when the doctor called, so does that mean Mum's going to be all right?"

"I wish I knew, Rosie," I said, sighing a little. "I honestly wish I knew."

Before we could talk further, Dad returned then led us down a corridor until we came to a stop in the doorway of one of the rooms. "This is where your Mum is staying right now, girls," he said quietly. "We're allowed to see her now, but she might be a little tired, so don't go bombarding her with questions straight away. Is that understood?"

We nodded. "Yes, Dad."

Dad smiled. "Good." He opened the door. "Follow me."

The three of us entered the room to find Mum looking tired, as Dad had predicted, but also looking quite pleased to see us. She smiled. "Come over and give your old Mum a hug," she said.

To which I replied, "You're not old, Mum, or getting old. You're just becoming more beautiful."

I was embarrassingly eloquent for a fourteen year old.

Mum laughed, then said, "Thank you darling, that's sweet of you."

I blushed, and Rose rolled her eyes. "Thanks Mum."

Rose and I approached the bed, and then gingerly wrapped our arms around Mum, hugging her as gently as we could, since we didn't want to hurt her, and because we still didn't know what had happened to put her in the hospital in the first place.

"Oh you two can do better than that!" she scoffed. "You're not going to break me in half, you know!"

"Sorry Mum," Rose apologised. "We just don't know what's going on, that's all."

I nodded. "Yeah, Dad hasn't told us very much of anything, except that he found you and brought you here. I mean, the doctor called and Dad looked really happy about something, but that was it."

Mum glanced at Dad, a look of mock annoyance darkening her face. "Haven't you told them the good news yet, dear?"

Rose and I looked at each other, then at Dad, in confusion. "Good news?" I asked him. "What good news, Dad?"

Dad approached Mum's bedside, then sat down carefully and took her by the hand, threading his fingers between her own. "You know your mother and I married quite young, don't you?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Yeah," I replied, bobbing my head slightly and nodding in agreement. "You told us ages ago."

"Well," Dad continued. "It seems that you and Rose are going to become older sisters. Your mother is going to have a baby."

Rose looked flabbergasted. "A baby!?!"

Dad nodded. "That's right."

Now, as we were only fourteen years old, Rose and I had not had that part of 'The Talk' yet so we were a little confused as to exactly 'how' Mum was going to have a baby, but we realised that 'how' just wasn't very important to us yet, but knowing about was the more important thing, so we decided not to question it. Laughing happily, Rose and I threw our arms around each other, hugging each other tightly. We were as pleased as punch to learn what was going to happen, and even more pleased that our Mum was going to be okay.

Soon it was time to leave, which Rose and I did very reluctantly, since we didn't want to leave Mum by herself, but she reassured us that the doctor wanted her to stay overnight, just to make sure everything was going to be okay, then we would be allowed to take her home in the morning.

"What do you think the baby's going to be, Beth?" Rose asked me on the way home. "I hope we get a cute little sister!"

"I hope we get a cute little brother," I replied. "I mean, you're a great sister, Rose, but I wanna see what having a brother is going to be like."

Rose smiled. "Yeah, a little brother would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Besides," I whispered conspiratorially. "I think Dad wants a boy too."

"I think so too," she agreed. She looked at me thoughtfully. "What do you think they're going to name the baby?"

I sighed. "I don't know. We don't even know what it's going to be yet, so I doubt they're going to start thinking of names quite so soon."

But, as we would learn later, Dad had already started to think of names, predominately male, but that was all right, because we already knew that he wanted a boy.

Which was exactly what we got. Nine months later, on the 21st of July, 1958, Rose and I become the proud older sisters of little Gabriel Conrad Lane. We found out that our baby brother had been named after both of our grandfathers which I thought was nice, even though neither of us could remember them very well because they passed away when we were very young. Rose and I fell hopelessly in love with Gabe the minute Mum brought him home from the hospital and we told Mum that we wanted the chance to hold him as soon as possible. She looked unsure at first, but smiled, showed me how to hold him, then gently handed me my brother.

"He's so small," Rose remarked, look at Gabe as I held him my arms. "Babies are so cute when they're small."

"Aren't they just?" I replied, beaming.

Mum grinned. "But he's going to get bigger, just you wait and see!"

I nodded, handing him back to her. "I know, Mum. I know."

Life was good. I had my mother, my father, my sister and now I had a new baby brother to share the wonders of the small world I lived in. Every day since then, after Rose and I came home from busking, the two of us would sing all sorts of songs and lullabies to our little treasure.

For the time being, with my baby brother to look after, and the music I would make, and had already been making, with my beautiful Belle in my hands, I considered my life, from the prospective of a fourteen year old at any rate, well and truly complete.

In the years that passed since my little brother's birth, Rose and I fell in love with him even more, coming to love him and our music in equal proportions. But it was one event in 1964, when Rose and I were twenty and little Gabe was five, which cemented my belief that it was my destiny, if you could call it that, to become a musician.

On the 11th of June, 1964, the Beatles came to Australia.

Now, like just about every young woman in the country, teenage or not, Rose and I were completely enthralled by the four lads from Liverpool, so when we found out they were coming, the two of us saved every penny we earned from busking, and from our regular jobs, in order to buy tickets for their show. It took a fair while, but we made it happen. The next problem we faced was our transportation to Festival Hall. By this time Rose and I were no longer living in the family home, having moved into a place of our own. Neither of us owned a car, since everywhere we went was either within walking distance, or within cycling distance. So we decided to ask our father to drive us.

Actually, to be perfectly honest, we decided to TRY and ask our father to drive us, but failed miserably in the end. Then Mum came to the rescue and said SHE would drive us there and back, while giving Dad some father/son time with our little brother. Rose and I found this quite amusing, of course, because he'd had nothing but father/son time with Gabe since we'd moved out! Anyway, that problem was now sorted so the only thing that we needed to do was wait, rather impatiently I might add, for the Beatles to arrive in Melbourne.

Eventually our patience was rewarded and, on the 15th of June, 1964, Rose and I got driven, by our mother of all people, to see the Beatles eight o'clock concert at Festival Hall.

The feeling in the air as my sister and I entered the hall was one of high energy, an energy that Rose and I shared in great amounts. We stood together, watching in awe and screaming with the rest of the crowd as the band took to the stage, and my heart nearly stopped when Paul McCartney looked straight at me. He smiled cheekily, and then winked at me.

Rose looked at me, completely flabbergasted. "Paul McCartney just winked at you!" she cried happily.

"I know!"I replied, fanning myself. "Isn't he groovy?"

"Yeah!"

We continued to sing and dance along to the music as the concert progressed, but both of us were saddened when the show came to its end, even though I desperately wanted it to go on forever.

More importantly, I wanted the feelings that the music stirred inside my heart, and the sensations that it stimulated in my mind, to go on forever.

It was this feeling, this natural high, that helped me decide that I was going to become a musician, a sentiment that Rose agreed with wholeheartedly.

"We should go to England," I said to her while we waited outside for our mother to pick us up. "Even if it's just for a holiday."

Rose grinned. "You want to check out the music scene there, huh?"

"You bet I do!"

"We'd have to save up quite a bit for it though," she mused, crunching the numbers in her head. "But I think we could manage it."

I hugged her tightly. "Now that's why I love you, Rosie." I giggled. "Well, part of why I love you."

"I know that already, Beth," Rose replied, rolling her eyes. "I know you all too well."

It was no surprise that I was excited that Rose had agreed to saving up for a trip to England. For the next few weeks it was almost the only thing I talked about. Whenever we came home after a long days busking, Rose and I would put all the money we earned into a special jar, which we'd carefully labeled 'Our England Trip'. We'd saved every penny we made, because we didn't want to miss out on anything. We were going to immerse ourselves in the culture. All of it... Well as much as we could afford to, at any rate. It seemed like the concert had awoken something within me. I was already passionate about music but these feelings had added to the fire in my heart. But at that point in time I didn't think that anything else in the world could matter to me more than my sister, my baby brother, and my music, because that was all I knew.

I needed to get out into the world beyond my home, and experience what life could offer me. I realised that I didn't know how being in love, or what the physical act of love, felt like. I didn't have a clue how to make it happen, but I knew that love was something I wanted my music to be able to express.

I knew it was something that I needed to be able to express.

As I said before, I'd had a boyfriend, and by that time I'd had a few, but I think I was more infatuated than truly 'in love' with them.

I knew that I wanted to fall in love...

I knew that I wanted to be in love...

But most of all... I knew that I wanted someone to be in love with me...

Only me.

The only thing I didn't know was... who?

Who was the man that would turn my day to night and back again? Would I meet him in my town? Or would he be somewhere else?

Would I meet him when Rose and I took our trip?

I let these questions turn in my head, weighing up every possibility, but there was no way I figure an answer for any of them while I still lived at home.

Maybe there was a little voice in the back of my head telling me to get out and spread my wings, to go out and find the answers that I wanted. And that scared me a little, I must admit, because I hadn't traveled alone before, not even interstate, let alone to another country. I didn't know how to act, or what to say, and I knew once Rose and I were on our trip, I wouldn't have the familiarity and comfort only my parents could provide when I needed them. But the fear of leaving everything I knew behind didn't hinder me at all.

As time went on, and Rose and I continued to raise money for our trip, I grew fascinated by the music that was coming out of America. It was like I'd been struck by lightening... twice! I couldn't believe what was happening to me. First I'd fallen in love with The Beatles, and now I was beginning to fall in love with all the rock and roll that somehow I'd been completely deprived of because I lived in Australia.

"I want to go to America," I announced one night over dinner. "I know we're already saving up to go to England, but..."

Rose sighed. "You want to know if we could add going to America as well?"

I nodded. "Only if we can afford it though," I replied. "I don't want you to think that we have to just because I want to." I smiled, then reached across the table and held her hand. "And you, of all people, know that I'd never force you into anything, Rosie."

She smirked. "You're using my nickname again, Beth," she said. "That means you're serious and you'll do anything to get your way."

I laughed, and then looked at my twin with mock indignation. "I am not," I replied, trying, and failing, to erase the mischievous grin that formed on my lips.

"Oh yes you are," Rose insisted, her grin matching my own. "I know you too well, remember?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I remember, we've only been sisters since we were born!" I exclaimed. "We do everything together!"

"You do realise we'll have to save even more money if we want to go America, and England," she reminded me. "Which means we'd need to work harder when we're busking to make sure we get enough money."

"We always work hard," I countered, smiling at her again. "And we always earn all the money we need."

Rose nodded. "True," she agreed. "But we don't want to get ahead of ourselves either." She paused. "You sure you want to do this now?" she asked. "We're already committed to going to England, but to add going to America as well..."

I looked down at my plate. "It's okay if we can't, Rosie," I said, sighing dejectedly. "If we find we can only afford one trip at a time, I'm fine with that."

"Don't give up, Beth," Rose said encouragingly. "I never said we wouldn't try at all, but if we don't get enough money this time, then we'll always have the option to try again."

"You mean that?" I asked, looking up at her with hope in my eyes. "Really?"

Rose put down her fork and held out her hand, extending her pinkie finger. "We'll pinkie swear on it, okay?"

Now the pinkie swear, at least in my family, was not something you did lightly. It was like a contract in our eyes, legal and binding. Once the pinkie swear was made there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could be said, or done, to break it.

There was no escape clause for the pinkie swear.

I hesitated for a moment, then held out my hand as well, pinkie extended. We linked the two digits together and shook hands gently. I exhaled, not realising that I'd been steadily holding my breath the entire time. I smiled slowly, as relief dawned across my face.

All I could do now was wait, and hope, that Rose and I would make enough money for the both of us to add traveling to America to our itinerary.

I wasn't going to be disappointed.

Months passed, then days, and then weeks, since Rose and I made our pinkie swear, and before I knew it I realised that, about two weeks before Christmas, a whole year had passed by me. I knew I should've felt completely phased by this, and I'd completely forgotten what had happened the previous Christmas, but I wasn't worried, because I knew there was always something about Christmastime that made me happy. I could never remember whether it was the love I felt from my family when we gathered together on Christmas Day to open our presents or when my Dad took us all on our annual pilgrimage to the city to see Carols By Candlelight at the Music Bowl, but it made me feel happy all the same. I'd always loved the Carols, both now and when I was a little girl, because the thought that so many people would come together and sing Christmas carols made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. This sentiment was shared by the rest of my family because we were almost always smiling like a bunch of loonies whenever we got to the Bowl.

We enjoyed every moment.

This Christmas would be the last one Rose and I would spend with the rest of our family before we went on our trip overseas. With what we earned from our jobs, and our busking, we were both relieved to find that we had managed to raise enough money to go to England, America, and return home, while still having enough left over to buy presents. We were determined to make sure that little Gabe would have the best Christmas ever to make up for the time we were going to be absent, and we had worked hard to find everything our darling little brother wanted from us, and from Santa Claus.

When the big day had arrived, Christmas Day at last, Rose and I awoke early to exchange our presents for each other before we walked to our parent's house for the annual family breakfast, one of the numerous traditions that had been instated as Rose and I grew up. Now it was Gabe's turn to experience all the fun to be had that he couldn't enjoy before because he was too young. Rose and I were going to spend the whole day with him, the three of us playing together and having fun, just so he could remember, however vaguely, how much his big sisters adored him.

"What are we going to do today, little man?" I asked Gabe after we finished breakfast. "Do you want to play with Rosie and me?" While I waited for him to answer, my adorable little brother started to stare at my hair. This was something that he'd done before, so I wasn't really bothered by it, but the look of concentration that accompanied it never failed to amuse me. "What's wrong, little fella?" I asked.

"Why's your hair red, Annie?"

I smiled. Gabe was, at first, the only one to call me Annie, but that honour soon extended to two more people that gained special places in my heart. "Why do you think it's red, Gabe?" I replied, wondering how he would answer.

Gabe pursed his lips as he thought about his answer. "I think it's rust," he said at last. "I think your head's gone all rusty. Rose's too."

Rose snorted, and then started to laugh. "Our heads are rusty?!" she managed to choke out between peals of laughter. "Take a look in the mirror, sweetheart!"

I giggled. "You're rusty too, then," I said, ruffling his hair gently. "Because your hair's just as red as mine and Rosie's is." I stood from my seat, and then took my little brother by the hand. "Do you want me to show you, Gabe?" I asked. "We can go to the bathroom, and I'll show you in the mirror."

He grinned. "Okay," he agreed happily. "But Rose has to come too!"

I looked at Rose. "You heard the little man, Rosie," I said, grinning at her. "You have to come with us."

Rose raised an eyebrow, looking at the two of us with an expression of mock seriousness on her face. "Oh I do, do I?" she replied. "And just when was that decided, hmm?"

"It was decided just now," I countered, smiling at her. "By this fine young lad right here." My smile, by then, had changed to a wide grin. "Is that a problem, sister dear?"

She smirked. "That depends on your definition of a problem, Beth," she said. "Do you have a problem with it?"'

I shook my head. "I don't," I replied.

"Then I don't have a problem with it either," Rose continued. She stood from her seat. "Come on then," she ordered, holding Gabe's other hand. "Let's go to the bathroom."

Soon the three of us were standing in front of the mirror, in the small bathroom my family had shared for as long as I could remember. I pointed at my reflection in the glass, then at Rose's, and then at Gabe's, showing him how much similar we were, from our hair, right down to the little dimples that appeared in the corners of our mouths whenever we smiled.

"See Gabe," I said, tapping him gently on the nose. "We're all rusty, just like Mum." Gabe thought about this for a moment, but then frowned as if something was bothering him. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked.

"If we're rusty, like Mum," he began. "Then why isn't Daddy rusty too?"

"Because Dad doesn't have red hair like us, or like Mum," said Rose. "Not everyone has the same hair colour or eye colour, Gabe," she explained. "We'd all look the same if we did." She frowned. "And that wouldn't be much fun, would it?"

Again, Gabe thought about what we'd told him, but this time he smiled. "So that's why I think Maria from down the road looks so pretty," he said, looking as pleased as punch. "Because she doesn't look the same as me!"

Rose and I looked at each other for a moment, not completely understanding what he was talking about. But we did know about Maria, fortunately for us, which helped at little. You see, Maria was a sweet little Italian girl who lived with her parents in a small red brick house just down the road from where our brother, and our parents, lived. And, as it turned out, Gabe fancied her.

When I realised that he was using our arguments to justify his crush on the sweet little girl, I snorted, then started to laugh, because it was such the cutest thing I'd ever heard!

Rose smiled. "That's lovely," she said, giving our little brother a hug. "That's exactly what we were talking about."

I almost said that it wasn't, at least not in so many words, but I held my tongue, reasoning that if Gabe understood what we'd told him, then that was a good enough explanation for me.

He turned away from the mirror and looked up at me. "Can we go see her?" he asked, a pleading look in his bright blue eyes that he knew I'd have trouble resisting. "I want to give her the present Mummy helped me pick out for her."

I sighed. I knew I wasn't going to be able to say no at all, but I didn't want to give in to the boy straight away. "We'll call first," I said at last. "And we'll see if it's alright for us to pop over for a short visit." My little brother seemed pleased by my response, laughing as he jumped up and hugged me tightly. "So you like that idea, I take it?" I asked. "Not going to start complaining, are we?"

Gabe shook his head, his bright smile lighting up his little face. "Can we call them now?"

"Not now," I replied, gently patting him on the head. "We want to give them a chance to open their presents, don't we?" I paused. "And they're probably going to church today too."

"I guess," Gabe said with a sigh, starting to look annoyed that despite he was getting his way, he was also getting shot down far too easily for his liking. "Can we call them soon?" he asked again, looking up at Rose and hoping his persistence, as well as counting on the power of his adorable baby blue eyes, would sway his other sister towards his side.

Sensing this, and determined to not let him get away with it, Rose gently put her hands on his shoulders and turned Gabe to face her. "Why don't we go open some more of your presents?" she suggested, hoping that would placate him, at least for a little while. "Then you'll be able to show Maria what you got for Christmas when we go over and visit her." She smiled, brushing the little boy's fringe behind his ears. "Does that sound like a good idea?"

Gabe's disappointment was soon forgotten. "Can we start with the big one from Mummy and Daddy?" he asked eagerly, all thoughts of calling Maria's parents disappearing from his mind. "I really, really want to open that one." He cocked his head to one side. "Can I, Annie?" he begged, looking at me straight in the eye. "Can I, Rosie? Please?"

I hid my mouth behind my hand, trying my best not to laugh when Gabe said 'please' because I knew he'd lost both of his front teeth, and gained a slight lisp, not very long before Christmas. It was hard not to notice it whenever he spoke normally, but every time he asked for something, particularly whenever he said 'please', he'd always over exaggerate the 'L' in the word, and showing everybody the overly large gap in-between his teeth.

Rose nodded; laughing a little when she saw the gap come into view, then disappear just as quickly. "If you want," she replied, taking a moment to compose herself. "But we have to tell Mum and Dad first. We don't want them missing out on seeing what you get."

Without saying another word, Gabe raced out of the bathroom, running as fast as his little legs could carry him and laughing all the way. Rose and I looked at each other with exasperation, then grinned and gave chase, knowing that the little terror couldn't get away without one of us catching up to him. We chased him to the living room, where the Christmas tree had been set up. Mum and Dad were waiting for us when we got there.

"What's the rush for?" asked Dad, smiling brightly. "Nothing's on fire, is it?"

I shook my head. "No, Dad," I replied. "Someone, who shall remain nameless," I glanced at Gabe, who was grinning madly, "wanted to open his presents."

Dad raised an eyebrow. "Does he now?" He looked down at Gabe. "Which one?" Gabe pointed at the largest present near the tree, which was too big to fit underneath it. "What makes you think that the big one's for you, young man?" Dad asked, the stern tone in his voice ruined by the smile on his face.

"It's for me," Gabe replied proudly. "I checked the tag, Daddy! I checked it all by myself!"

"Oh you did, did you?" Dad asked, laughing a little. "We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

Mum smiled. "Stop teasing," she scolded, although the tone of her voice was kind. "I think it's about time we started opening presents," she added, glancing at Rose and me. "And I think we should start before all three of our children burst from too much excitement."

Dad nodded, then silently ushered all of us towards the parcels that lay carefully tucked underneath the tree. As we opened our presents, I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have the loving family that I did. There were no complaints, each of us getting exactly what we wanted, at least, as close as our parents could get, but we didn't mind because we were together.

But it was on that Christmas Day in 1965 when I realised that, even though I loved my family with all my heart, I didn't feel...

Complete.

Soon the Christmas holiday was over, and then Boxing Day, and New Year's meant that 1965 soon became 1966. Each day became a blur, and half the time I couldn't remember if I was coming or going. The sense that I was somehow incomplete had worried me no end, and I wondered if I would find the answers I was looking for in England. I wasn't sure what think, or whether to mention anything to Rose, but I didn't want to say anything to make her worry about me as well. The day we were to leave Australia for the first time was drawing near, and I didn't want to say, or do, anything that could jeopardise things. I'd wanted go away for the longest time, and the fact that we would soon be on our way made me nervous. What if I didn't like England? What if I missed my family too much? What if I found that my dreams were impossible to achieve?

What if..? What if...? What if...?

I'd suspected that there was something wrong with me for quite a while by then, but the constant worry I'd been feeling at the time eventually brought me to the point where I just couldn't, nor wanted to, think about it anymore. All my hopes, and my dreams, for that matter, lay in what I would find when Rose and I got to England, and I was determined that I wasn't going to let my fears dictate what I could and couldn't do.

"What are we going to do when we get to England?" I asked Rose over breakfast, a few days before we left. "Are we going to see the sights first, then check out the music scene?"

"I think we'll see the sights first," she replied, sitting down on top of her bed, Indian style. "I promised Mum that we would, and I told her I'd bring back lots of photos so she can see where we went."

I smiled. "That's okay," I said, flopping onto my bed. "At least I know what I'll need to have with me on our first day there."

"Why don't we sight see during the day, and then check out the clubs at night?" Rose suggested. "We might find something special while we're there."

"Oh that's a groovy idea!" I exclaimed, sitting up slightly. "That's exactly what we'll do!"

Rose laughed. "I knew you'd like that idea."

I rolled my eyes. "I always like your ideas, Rosie."

She shrugged. "I know that," she replied. She grinned at me. "I always like your ideas, and you always like mine. It's a rule."

I raised an eyebrow at this. "And just who thought up that silly rule, exactly?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer. "Because I know I'm pretty sure I didn't."

Rose thought for a moment, and then smiled evilly. "I think I did," she said. "It's just been so long I don't remember when I made it up."

"But then how do you know if it was you who made it up?" I countered. "Especially if it's been so long that you don't remember when you made it up?"

"I guess I don't," Rose replied, reaching for something behind her. "But there is one way to sort out this dispute..."

"And what's that?" I asked.

Rose laughed. "Pillow fight!" she cried, brandishing the pillow that she'd snatched from on top of her bed. "Come on; let's see which one of us will win this time!"

I grinned, quickly standing up and grabbing a pillow off of my own bed. "You know I always win," I said, holding the pillow in front of me like a makeshift shield. "So why don't you save us both the trouble and admit you can't beat me already?"

"Because that's not true and you know it," Rose replied, hitting me with her pillow. "Besides, I'm not going to stop until one of us concedes defeat, and we both know that's never going to happen!"

At this point, the conversation devolved into an all out pillow fight, which was fun and was a welcome distraction to all the things that were making me worry so much. By the end of it I was so out of breath I just lay on my bed, thinking about what I was going to do when we left Australia. It was going to be the first time Rose and I had truly been on our own, where we wouldn't have friends, or family, close by. This thought frightened and excited me at the same time, because I knew I would be going out into the world without a safety net, and Rose would be the only link to my family, and I would be hers.

We were going to be alone.

Completely alone.

Maybe that's why I felt like wasn't complete? Because I haven't had the opportunity, until now that is, to find an identity for myself, one that was completely independent from her parents.

When Rose and I were little, I was always the annoying one, or the silly one, or the one that was always late for school because she could never get ready on time, but that was only who I was based on other people perceptions of me. But now this meant that I didn't know who I was, only that I had to conform to whatever label my friends and family had placed on me. I was only the annoying one, or the silly one, or the one that was always late for school because she could never get ready on time because I that's who I thought I was. I didn't have anything else to put forward to show who I was, and that scared me more than going to England and not having any friends around me.

I spent a few days thinking about this, and what I was going to do, which brought me back to thinking what I was going to do when I got to England.

I was beginning to think it was time I stopped living with my sister.

It wasn't that I stopped loving her, or us living together, but I'd spent so much of my life with Rose that I couldn't remember a time that I was truly on my own, and completely dependant on myself. I realised I needed some kind of freedom, and our trip would give that to me, but I needed a way to make that freedom last longer, and I wasn't going to get that by continuing to live with my sister.

I wasn't going to get that if I continued living in Australia.

As much as I loved living in Australia, there was something about it that was making me feel... trapped. Here almost everybody knew me, from work, or from school, or knew about me and Rose because of our busking. I wasn't free to do as I liked, at least not without the feeling that I was constantly being watched, and judged, because of my eccentricities. When I was safely away from home, in a place where nobody knew who I was, at least not straight away, maybe I'd have the chance, and the freedom, to be myself.

I needed to move out and find a place to call my own, because I knew Rose would realise the same one day, and there was always the possibility that we'd both find someone and get married, which meant children, families of our own. We weren't going live together for the rest of our lives, because we weren't meant to, but that didn't mean our bond as sisters wouldn't go on forever. Soon Rose realise that we needed room to breathe just like I did.

At this point I started thinking about our trip again, but this time also thinking about where I would go once I moved out of the flat I shared with Rose. I was pleased that Rose and I had managed to earn enough money to go to America, and the thought of finding myself a place to live over there was very intriguing. I knew that it would be expensive for Rose and I to go back to America together, and come home as well, but I realised that if I started saving up again as soon as we got home, I could probably purchase a one way ticket to anywhere that I wanted to go. I could return to America, or go back to England, and stay there. There'd be a few obstacles I'd need to find my way around, but I wasn't going to let anything get in the way of what I wanted. Not by a long shot.

The next few days passed quickly, and before I knew it, the day that Rose and I were going to head off overseas for the first time had arrived. We stood in the middle of Tullamarine Airport, watching in awe as the planes took off from the asphalt. We'd seen aeroplanes before on TV, but it was the first time we'd seen them as close as we were able to, and I thought it was the best thing I'd ever seen... or at least I did, at the time.

Mum, Dad, and little Gabriel had come with me and Rose to see us off, despite how early in the morning we needed to arrive at the airport. I was glad that they came, if only so Gabe could see the planes taking off as well. And as I think about what happened that day, while Gabe was there, it was probably watching the planes that invoked his fascination with flight, and inspired him to become a pilot. I found out later on that the planes were all that my little brother could talk about for a month or so afterward.

"We haven't even gotten on the plane yet," I said to Rose while we were looking out the window, watching the planes come and go. "And England's starting to feel that little bit closer." I let out a small squeal of excitement. "I can't believe we're actually doing it!"

Rose laughed. "Me either," she replied. "Isn't it exciting?"

"It's amazing. Who knows what we're going to find there!"

"We could meet someone... special?" Rose suggested, flashing me a coy smile. "Maybe the boys in England will be better than the ones we've known."

I grinned back at her. "Maybe they will, and maybe they won't," I replied. "We'll just have to see what happens when we get there, won't we?"

She nodded. "Guess we will."

"What about the American boys?" I asked, reminding her about our second destination. "What do you think they'll be like?"

Rose shrugged. "I don't know," she replied, her brow furrowing as she thought about my question. "I haven't really thought about that part of our trip until now."

I frowned. "Why not?"

"Don't get me wrong, Beth, I am excited that we're going to America, really." She sighed, smiling dreamily. "But I think I'm more interested in the British boys at the moment."

"Still got that crush on John Lennon, haven't you?" Rose's cheeks turned bright red when I said this, and that was the only answer I needed. "Thought so," I said, smiling knowingly. "Don't worry; I still go weak in the knees whenever I remember Paul McCartney winking at me too."

"I wish we could've met them," Rose said sadly. "I wanted to tell them how much I loved the concert."

I smiled brightly. "I think they already knew, Rosie," I replied. "Even with everybody there screaming their heads off."

We waited a while longer, the remaining time until our flight spent with Gabe, listening to him talk about how great he thought the aeroplanes were. It was hard to drag ourselves away, once the boarding call was made, but Rose and I managed it somehow, promising our little brother, and our parents, to bring them back lots of presents when we returned.

"It's going to be a while until we see them again," I said sadly, once we'd taken our seats on the plane. "And Gabe's still so little. You don't think he'll forget us, do you?"

Rose shook her head. "I don't think so," she replied. "Besides, Mum and Dad would make sure he wouldn't."

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to figure out whether or not to mention my thoughts about moving out, and then moving to America, to my sister. While I was worried that Gabriel would forget me after spending a few weeks away, I was even more worried that once I turned my thoughts into actions, and my actions into plans, that he would forget about me completely because I wouldn't be in his life as often as I normally was. If I left I would probably only return for Christmas, and New Year's, possibly for the occasional holiday, and maybe my birthday, so I knew I'd be effectively removing myself from my brother's life if I went through with it.

I didn't want him to forget me, and I knew that he probably wouldn't, but I was sure that my relationship with Gabe would suffer.

"Are you all right?" Rose asked, noticing my discomfort. "Why are you wriggling so much?"

"Just trying to get comfortable," I lied. "I'm just not used to the seat yet." I smiled at her. "And I'm still a little bit excited about the two of us doing this."

She laughed. "Don't forget that I'm excited too," she reminded me. She leaned in close to me, "And between you and me," she whispered, "I'm almost ready to bounce out of my seat!"

I allowed myself to relax a little when I heard this. "Oh thank goodness," I said with a sigh. "I thought I was the only one."

Rose shot me a look of feigned annoyance. "Have you forgotten that I'm your twin?" she asked, continuing the act. "It's one of the great unwritten rules that both twins must think, and act, alike. It's our life long duty to be in tune with each other... and to forever annoy others in the process."

I blinked, taking a moment to process what she'd said. Then I snorted... then I started to giggle uncontrollably. "Our life long duty?!" I managed to choke out between fits of giggles. "What have you been drinking, because I want some!"

"Only the orange juice from breakfast this morning," she replied. "The same as you."

I pouted playfully. "Well that's a disappointment," I said. "I thought you'd had something good, but I guess I was wrong."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "And what's wrong with orange juice?" she asked. "It's been good enough for you before."

"And it still is," I replied. "It's not my fault that I think you're on something whenever you loosen up more than you usually do."

By this point in our conversation the aeroplane had pulled away from the gate, and we were soon taxiing down the runway. I'd initially thought that the ride would be incredibly bumpy, but I was pleasantly surprised by how smooth it was in reality.

To this day, I still don't remember how I gathered up the courage to do it, even though now I've been on planes enough times going home and back that I'm used to it, but I managed sneak a peek out of the window. I wanted to have just a quick look, because I wanted to see how high up we were. I was eager to find out if I could see the ground as we flew above it, or if I'd just see the clouds, or if there'd be a bit of both. I wasn't disappointed, catching a brief glimpse of the asphalt as we began rising further into the heavens.

"This was the best thing we've ever done," I said to Rose. "There's nothing that I think can top this."

Rose smirked. "So what was going to see the Beatles?" she asked. "Chop liver?"

"Oh no," I replied. "That was the spark, the inspiration." I settled back in my seat. "This is the beginning, the start of a whole new thing for me..." I blushed, remembering who I was speaking to. "I mean us," I said, correcting myself hastily. I grinned at her, then closed my eyes. "And there's no way anyone can take it away from us."

"And we're not going to let anybody try," Rose replied. "Are we?"

I shook my head, my eyes remaining closed. "Nope, no one," I said. "No one at all."

Rose laughed. "You're awfully sure of that," she remarked. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

I opened one eye lazily. "Depends on who's asking," I said sarcastically. "If it's you, it's a promise." I shrugged, adjusting my position in my seat. "If it were anybody else, it'd be a threat." I smirked. "One that I wouldn't hesitate carrying out," I added, closing my eye again. "If I had the opportunity, that is."

"You would?" Rose asked, sounding genuinely surprised by this. "You'd really do that?"

Both eyes opened again. "Of course I would," I said. "Why should I let anyone tell us where we can go, or what we can and can't do?"

Rose leaned back in her seat, thinking about how she would answer. She smiled and shook her head when she realised that what I was saying made sense. "Sorry," she said apologetically. "I understand what you mean. It just took me by surprise, that's all. Of course no one should tell us what to do. Anything we do is our decision, and no one is going to stand in the way of that."

"Exactly."

Our conversation ended here, as I soon drifted off to sleep, but I was firm in my belief that now, when I was sitting in a plane bound for London, all of my adventures, my crazy adventures, had only just begun.