SNEAKING AND THE LIVERPOOL LADS

'Bea, get your knee out of my spine, it's sore!'

'God sorry Lily, just can't get comfortable here. Do you want a chocolate?'

'Yes please! Cor, I'm bloody starving. How long have we been in here for?'

'Dunno. Maybe twenty minutes? Lily, I'm starting to think this wasn't our best idea. I mean, what if they get really angry and throw us out? My mum will kill me if she finds out.'

'Bea, calm down, they won't get angry, they'll think it's funny. Remember how much they joked around in A Hard Day's Night? They'll be fine.'

Still, I was nervous too. We were squashed into a wardrobe in a dressing room belonging to The Beatles in the Monarch Hotel in London. They had just played and we'd managed to fool an assistant into thinking we were cleaners and now here we were, waiting for their arrival. In extreme pain and discomfort.

'Bea get your bloody knee off my back!'

'Alright Lily, keep your knickers on. Y'know, your bony bum is sticking into me but you don't hear me whining, do you?'

'I have not got a bony bum, I have a shapely bum. So shut it.'

Suddenly, outside, a door opened. I snapped round to see that Bea's eyes were as wide as mine felt. We could hear laughing and talking, but it was muffled. The door closed again. There was no doubt that we were no longer alone. My hands were damp and I could feel Bea's sticky breath on my neck. Her breathing was ragged and I too was struggling to stay calm.

The wardrobe door opened, much to our horror, and we tumbled out onto the floor. The four men shrieked. We screamed. They hauled us to our feet. We stood there, their eyes on us, panting and near hysteria. Here we were, with our favourite band in the whole world, but they did not look impressed. It was evident that no, they didn't think this was funny. I swallowed hard and urged Bea to speak with a pointed look. To her credit, she did.

'Er, hello, we're awfully sorry to startle you like this,' she mumbled.

John Lennon was fuming, his cheeks pink. He had discarded his jacket and the top three buttons of his shirt were open. He was the one I feared the most. I heard he had a nasty streak, a very nasty streak.

'What the hell do you two little cows think you're doing, spying on us!,' he shouted, hands on hips and chin jutting out. I started at 'cows.' Paul stepped forward and put a hand on John's shoulder.

'Settle down, John. Let's hear what they have to say. Well, do you care to explain what the hell you're doing in here?'

Bea spoke again and I felt a rush of love and empathy for her.

'Well, er...we love your music, we really do. Great concert. We...er..pretended to be cleaners and er, hid in the wardrobe there. We just wanted to...you know...say hello and maybe get an autograph...we really are terribly sorry.'

I nodded, linking my arm through Bea's. She relaxed somewhat and squeezed my arm. We would face this together.

Ringo spoke then. He looked adorable, all droopy blue eyes, tousled hair and hangdog expression. I noticed a drumstick sticking out of his pocket and couldn't suppress a giggle. He glared at me and I balked. So much for Ringo being the sweet one.

'I don't see what's funny, frankly,' he said. His voice made me cower. This was dreadful. They hated us!

'I mean, you've lied, sneaked and spied. Could you please tell me what's so funny?'

I pointed at the drumstick. He fished it out and tossed it on a chair, not even cracking half a smile. Not so funny then.

George spoke up now and what he said made me adore him.

'Alright lads, leave the poor girls alone. They were only having a bit of fun. We used to have fun too, remember? Before all this madness. So what if they hid in our room? They don't exactly look like assassins. The least we could do is make them some tea and sign something for them. What are your names?'

We were buoyed by his generosity.

'I'm Beatrice, but everyone calls me Bea.'

'And I'm Lily, but everyone calls me Lily.'

George smiled at this and a burst of dizziness flashed through my head. He gestured to two seats and went to make tea. The other three sat on a large, squashy couch across from us and watched us. The silence was deeply uneasy. I didn't know what to do. John squinted at me, hardly blinking. He looked very handsome but his attitude didn't impress me in the slightest. Did he have to be so cold?

Paul spoke then.

'So you're big fans, yeah?'

'Oh yes, we both saw your film at least six times, didn't we Bea?'

'Yeah, we loved when Ringo made that woman fall into the hole.'

That earned a small smile from Ringo. We were breaking them! Well, Paul and Ringo. John remained sullen, legs askance and arms folded.

We sipped tea.

'What would you have done if we didn't come back to our dressing room straight away?,' George wanted to know. We shrugged.

'It still wasn't right, what you did,' said Paul, although his voice was considerably more mellow than it had been. We agreed.

'No it fucking wasn't,' snapped John. The other three swivelled their heads, agog. John slapped the arm of the couch.

'You bloody fans think you can do what you want. Well we deserve privacy too, y'know. We're not public property. Bad enough having to deal with lusty girls all evening and now we have two fools in our room too. These dopey three might fall for you but I won't. Now get out, I've got a headache.'

'No need for that now John,' said Ringo, his voice faltering. I sensed he feared John's temper as much as we did.

'Yeah John, finish your tea,' added Paul. I gripped Bea's hand.

'Don't patronise me! I want them out now. Sign whatever for them, I don't give a shit but get them out.'

So they signed two records for us and we trooped out. Bloody John Lennon! We cried as we trudged along the corridor.

'This is stupid,' said Bea, dabbing at her face with a tissue.

'We've gone to all this effort and now because John throws his bottle out of the pram we're given our marching orders. Well, I'm not having it. Lily, we have to go back in.'

'But Bea, you saw his face. He'll kill us! I don't want to be hated by John Lennon, I really don't.'

'It's a risk I'm willing to take. You saw how the other three liked us. George couldn't take his eyes off you, I saw him.'

'Oh Bea, don't be silly! Why would George Harrison fancy me? My hair's so stringy for a start and I have a bony bum.'

'Lily don't be so innocent, I was pulling your leg. You're gorgeous and you know it, and George obviously thinks so too.'

I could feel a hot blush seeping across my face. Bea grabbed my hand and led me back to the dressing room. We crouched beside the door behind a drinks trolley.

'Bea, what are we going to do?'

'Easy. Sit on this and when it's wheeled in, we'll come out.'

So we slid onto the empty tray beneath the trolley curtain. After around fifteen minutes, it was wheeled in.

'Fucking hell this is heavy,' we could hear the porter mutter. Then we heard John and my stomach churned. He'd definitely kill us. We'd die at the hands of John Lennon. Wonderful.

'Thank God, I could murder a pint.'

They gathered round the trolley. I could see their boots under the curtain and struggled not to cry out. Stupid Bea! She was always getting me into these disasters.

'Here Ringo, here's a margarita for you, you poof.'

'Fuck off George, I only ever had one! What about that other pink stuff you drank last Christmas?'

This made the others whoop and jeer. Poor George.

They moved away from the trolley. Bea and I held hands.

'OK Lily, we're going to wait a while 'til they're a bit drunk, then come out, got it?'

Bea, unfortunately, was a terrible whisperer and the four men fell silent. I prodded her in the side, incensed.

'What were that, Paul?'

'Dunno, maybe it came from outside.'

Then John.

'Nah, I'm sure it came from the trolley. I'm going to go check.'

He yanked the curtain up and we blinked up at him.

'What the hell are you two doing back? Get up now!'

We scampered out, but my left leg was dead and I slumped into John's arms. I thought he'd push me away but he held onto me.

'What's wrong with you? Broken an ankle?'

He tried to sound nonchalant but I heard concern.

'Oh God, my leg's asleep, I'm so sorry...Bea, we have to go...'

'Stay,' said George as John helped me to the couch. I was stunned. John was being kind to me. George wanted us to stay. Now here I was, sitting between him and Paul, while Bea sat beside John and Ringo on another couch. I almost collapsed when George began massaging my leg. I saw Bea wink at me.

'Wh...what are you doing, George?'

'Trying to wake your leg up, Lily.'

I swooned to hear my name. I was fifteen, that's my excuse.

Everyone watched in amusement as my breathing became louder. I prayed for him to let go of my leg so I could act normal again. Eventually, he did and the blood flowed easily again.

'We're very sorry but we wanted to come back,' said Bea, now holding another cup of tea. She had asked for wine but all the men refused. They didn't need a drunk teenage girl on their hands.

John had eased up considerably.

'I'm not entirely happy but I s'pose I have to applaud your bravery.'

He flexed his arm in mock menace and we chuckled. Meanwhile, I could feel George's hand on my lower back. I stiffened. Thankfully, since I was so close to him on the couch, no one noticed. Paul had his arm thrown on the couch behind me and one leg dangling over the other. He winked at me and pulled funny faces while I tried not to choke on my tea. George's enthusiasm for my back was lovely but I burned with embarrassment. I couldn't even look at him. Could Bea be right for once?

We talked and joked with them for an age. George didn't take his hand off my back and I couldn't relax. Why oh why couldn't he take it away! Bea fell asleep, head resting on Ringo's shoulder. She'd be furious with herself later. I glanced at my watch. Half past one! We had to go or Mum would lose it.

'Thank you all very much for being so good to us after we broke into your room,' I said, subtly angling away from George. They laughed and said it was no problem, so long as we warned them beforehand if we ever planned anything else. I woke Bea up and she sprang away from Ringo, apologising for being rude. He didn't mind.

They all hugged us and I noticed that George lingered the longest. We left and sailed home, ebullient. I had to sneak to my bedroom since everyone was in bed. Mum would eat me the next day but now I wanted to bask in the wonder of the evening. It was only when I was half asleep that I noticed something peeking out from under my dress on the chair. I reached out and picked it up. George's name was written neatly on it and under it was his number. I must've laughed as quietly as I could for a good five minutes. George Harrison did fancy me! Sleep was sprinkled with joyous thoughts.