A/N: Thank you heaps to my new reviewers (ramonasdream and ForYouBlues) and favouriters and alerters! And thanks to all who viewed the last chapter! Hopefully I should be updating a lot more frequently now since I finished high school forever! Anyway, on with it!


Chapter 3

It had been a week – one whole week since we landed here in 1964 London into Brian Epstein's apartment and met The Beatles. We didn't see the boys much, just Brian and sometimes Mal. They thought that we had nothing to do with them, so they went about their business, forgetting us. It was a bit saddening, especially since they were my idols and I was still in complete shock about meeting them, but I feared that if I was around them I would be too awkward. Kylie was still quite reserved, but she was getting better. Ben was a little bit angry about everything. Jack was just a scared little boy, and Jenny and I tried to be as motherly as possible to him. Peter, Ethel and Adam were normal, just still trying to get used to the situation, like we all were.
"I want to go out," Adam said abruptly one day as we all sat around reading and playing games.
"Absolutely not," Brian objected, "You don't want to alter history. That, and you're not used to 1964 London."
"We'll be fine, Brian."
"No, you cannot leave this house."
"But I want to explore! I've always wanted to go to the UK."
"Well take a holiday when you return home!"
"I won't be taking a holiday anywhere, I'll be going off to a war where I'll probably die!"

No one said anything after the uncomfortable remark.
"I just want to live before I die at twenty-two," Adam said sadly.
"A lot of people survived the Vietnam War," I tried to comfort him, "You might."
He just got up and stormed off to the bathroom, locking himself in.
"Is the war that bad?" Jenny asked me.
I nodded.
"Well you lot understand me, don't you?" Brian asked, "You know how dangerous and risky it is to be out on the streets in a foreign place and time."
"Yeah, but I still want to see everything," I said. Brian gave me a disapproving look.
"Not even chaperoned with you?" Ben advocated.
"No, I'm sorry, but it is still too dangerous. What would the implications be if you ran into a relative or something before you were even meant to be born?"
We gave up trying to convince Brian to take us out. He had a pretty strong argument.

Later that night, Brian came home bearing some foldup tables.
"The boys are coming over tonight for dinner to discuss some managerial issues," he told us, "Of course there's not enough seating for thirteen of us."
Peter helped Brian set up the tables, placing them at the end of the dining room table. Brian fetched some plastic chairs and placed them around the table.
"But 'the boys' don't like us, do they?" Ben said.
"Now, don't be like that," Brian sighed, "They just don't have enough time on their hands to be spending time with you."
"But they even said we're not their responsibility."
"Well I can see where they're coming from, of course – you've all crash-landed here, in my apartment. They really have nothing to do with you."
"But they were the ones who were here when we landed. Paul took an inventory of us, not you. They seemed pretty interested."
"I really think it was just fascination that you had all time-travelled."
"They know that I'm their biggest fan, from 2012, forty-eight years into the future, and they don't care to stick around?" I interjected.
"Like I said…" Brian fumbled for my name.
"Sophie," Ben offered.
"Yes, Sophie, uh, like I said, Sophie, they're very busy. They're at the height of their fame right now, which I'm sure you are extremely aware of. Now chop-chop, let's get ready. The boys will be over soon."
Ben and I walked away and Ben turned around to retort, "You think that after a week you'd know our names by now."

We walked into the living room (which was actually our bedroom) where everyone else was lounging around. Kylie was nowhere to be seen, nor was Adam.
"That was a bit rude," Peter commented.
"Yeah, I know, but he's right," I said, "They are very busy at this time."
"What does it matter if they visit us or not?" Jenny asked.
"I don't know, but it would be nice, wouldn't it?" Ben replied, "After all, they kind of settled us in when we first arrived. It's like a midwife not doing check-ups on a newborn baby."
That was a good comparison.
"But we don't need them. We're fine by ourselves. Brian fetches us stuff when we need it and there are always seven other people to talk to," said Jenny.
"Yeah, but don't you feel a little bit excited about knowing celebrities now?" I asked, "Especially The Beatles?"
"Barely anyone knows who they are where I'm from."
"But they're huge now, and pretty much will be for the rest of forever."
"They're that big?"
Jenny looked around in questioning; Peter, Ben, Ethel and I nodded.
"1964 is where it all starts for them," I commented.

"Paul's here!" Brian called out. I suddenly became nervous. It was Paul McCartney. Sure, he was still alive and kicking and still extremely famous where I am from, but it's actually him.
"The other slowcoaches not here yet?" his recognisable voice rang from the front door.
"No, not yet," Brian replied, "You're the first."
Paul and Brian sauntered to the door of the living room.
"You might remember that my apartment has turned into a hotel for lost time travellers," Brian joked.
"It looks comfortable," Paul commented, "Alright down there, Ben?"
Ben was lying upside-down on the armchair.
"See, Brian? You should take a leaf out of his book – he knows who we are and he's only met us once," Ben goaded Brian again.
"What's this?" Paul asked, looking at Brian quizzically.
"Uh, well, I seem to get a little confused sometimes about who is who," Brian nervously chuckled.
"What? It's easy! See, that's Ben lying upside-down over there. Jack's the one playing hand games with Jenny. Sophie here is our number-one biggest fan from 2012," he winked at me, making my ovaries explode, "Peter's over there and there's Ethel. Wait, there's only six. Where are the other two? Uh…" he clicked his fingers, trying to remember their names, "Adam and Kylie?"

"Kylie hasn't taken this experience too well, you see," I replied, "We don't know where she is. And Adam… he's been a bit difficult lately. He's having a tantrum somewhere."
"Oh… that's no good. What's the tantrum about?"
"Brian wouldn't let him out," Ben explained, "He got angry and stormed off, giving a speech about how he wants to live before he dies."
"What?" Paul exclaimed.
"He was headed off to war before he was brought here," I clarified.
"Oh, right."
"So he's a bit fragile at the moment."
"And Kylie?"
"She's always been like it, ever since she got here," Ben elucidated, "You were the first person she talked to. She's been distant."
"I wonder what the matter is," Paul mused.
"I'd say it's just the shock of it all," I shrugged, "Even I'm still not fully comfortable with the situation. I was so excited to find out that she was around my age and time and from the same country as me. I hoped I'd have someone to relate to and to be friends with."
At that moment, speak of the devil, Kylie walked casually into the room and sat down on the floor next to me.
"Hey guys, what's going on?" she asked chirpily, stunning us all. She looked around confusedly as we all stared at her, shocked by her sudden cheeriness and involvement.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
Without a word I just wrapped my arms around her, smiling. It was like she was suddenly part of the gang.
"Welcome to the Time Traveller's Hotel," Ben laughed.

We heard people at the door then. Using my extraordinary knowledge of their voices, I deduced that Ringo and John had arrived and Brian was greeting them.
"Ah, they're still here," John commented as they appeared at the archway.
"No, we'll just catch the next time train back home," Ben shot. Everyone was getting testy.
"Geez, man, calm down," John chuckled, "I was just making a comment."
"Where's George?" I asked.
"He's a little preoccupied," Ringo commented, "He'll be around soon."
Even with my knowledge I didn't know what 'preoccupied' could mean.

"Dinner's ready!" Brian called throughout the apartment. Everyone scrambled into the dining room. It was clear none of us (the time travellers) wanted to sit anywhere near John, Paul or Ringo – it was still way too awkward. I ended up in between Ben and Kylie with Jack sitting with us too – being the youngest, we all had to sit at the little card table. The three Beatles who were actually here were sitting on the opposite end of the table with Brian. I was daydreaming, absentmindedly staring at John, in awe of being in his presence, when he suddenly turned his head and winked at me. My face flushed and I looked away quickly. I was winked at by John Lennon. This was not a natural thing to happen, especially when I am from 2012. John was, admittedly, my least favourite Beatle, but still. I got lost in my thoughts. We had been here a week. If I were still back home in 2012 I would have surpassed Christmas already, a few days ago. It made me think of my Mum and Dad and my two brothers, James and Charlie. I had literally just spent Christmas without them. I could suddenly understand why Kylie was so upset. She must be missing her family immensely. These sudden thoughts made me start to cry.
"Sophie, are you okay?" Ben asked in alarm from beside me, bringing me out of my reverie.
I snapped out of my daydream, looking at Ben before I abruptly stood up. Everyone stopped talking and looked at me. I stormed off crying. This was not like me.


Kylie came to see me in the bathroom a few minutes later.
"Hey," she said as if we were best friends. She only started talking to us today.
"What's with you all of a sudden?" I asked her, crossing my arms.
"What do you mean?"
"You haven't spoken for a week and all of a sudden you act like you've always been talking to us."
"I'm getting used to the whole situation now," she explained, walking to stand next to me and smiling at the floor as if she were fond of it, "At first I was just scared, terrified actually, about everything. I'm sure you were the same and I'm sure you're homesick and that's why you're upset now. We've been ripped from our homes, both our places and our times, to be placed here with these celebrities."
"You don't know much about The Beatles, do you?" I asked her, turning my head to her and smiling amusedly.
"Admittedly, no," she replied, "But I still know who they are. Even people our age in our time know who they are. Well, obviously you are massively obsessed with them and know everything, so you would know who they are."
"Uh, yes, that is quite obvious."
We laughed together and I felt like I was getting closer with her. As soon as I saw her when John and George placed me in Brian's lounge room, I was relieved. I knew that if I were staying for a while I'd need to become friends with her. She was from only three years before me, from the same country and only a year younger in age. Technically though, she's older than me, because in 2009 I was only thirteen when she is sixteen now.

We made our way back to the dining room where Jenny and Ethel were clearing the table. It struck me straight away, without even thinking that we were in 1964, how misogynistic the scene was. I know it was only a simple little thing, but it set off my 'annoyed' trigger. Brian and the boys were sitting at their end, laughing, chatting and drinking.
"Are you okay, Sophie?" Peter asked, seeing my annoyed and angry expression.
"No," I replied forcefully.
"No? What's wrong?"
"Look at this. Peter, you're from 2022, you know what's wrong with the picture."
He looked around at the table, at Jenny and Ethel clutching plates (but now watching me) and at the 1964 natives ignoring us at the other end.
"You're right, Sophie, I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it," Peter said.
"What's going on?" Ben asked.
"Where we're from, the twenty-first century, things are a little different. There's more gender equality. Sophie's obviously furious that the women, Ethel and Jenny, are cleaning whilst the men sit around like ignorant lazy pigs!"
Brian, Paul, Ringo and John all stopped talking to stop and look at Peter.
"Georgie!" John exclaimed.
We all turned to see George in the doorway, nonchalantly sucking on a cigarette. This angered me even more. If he knew… God, he'd be chucking that cancer stick away right now!
"Where ya been, George?" Paul asked.
"Busy… entertaining," George replied.
"God, you're making me hungry for one!" John exclaimed as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. I angrily looked from one to the other.
"What's up with 'er?" George tried to discreetly ask John, jabbing a thumb at me.
"I don't know. What's up, Sophie?"
"You… all of you," I seethed.
"Come again?"

And then my humiliating rage started.
"You," I pointed to the four of them at the end, "I don't care if these are the ways of 1964, but Ethel and Jenny are not doing all of the cleaning up. Where we're from, the husbands cook and clean too. Yeah, that's right. So don't sit around like lazy misogynist drunks while we do all the work! Secondly," I turned my attention to George, "Get rid of that."
"What?" he asked.
I stalked up to him and grabbed his filthy cigarette, chucking it out the window and onto the road.
"Hey!"
I took deep breaths, looking around at everyone. They were all stunned, however I think George was most upset about his cigarette.
"Woah, sweetheart, calm down," John said.
"Don't call me sweetheart," I snapped. Usually, back in 2012 when I scrolled through endless gorgeous pictures of these four I would gladly be wishing any one of them would call me sweetheart – things had changed now I'd actually met them.
"What did you do that for?" George moaned.
"You shouldn't be smoking," I said sternly, although my voice wavered. It was very brave of me to stand up to the Beatles.
"I can do what I want," he retorted, nonchalantly grabbing another cigarette out of his jacket.

I turned to look at Kylie, who was standing next to me. She was daydreaming, pondering something with a confused expression on her face.
"John Lennon…" she muttered under her breath in a questioning tone.
"What was that?" Brian asked, looking up at her.
"John Lennon," she said, louder, "John Lennon! Oh, I know who you are now! You're the one who-."
Before she could finish her detrimental sentence, my hand had clamped over her mouth. Peter's and Ben's eyes were wide in alarm, also realising what she was about to reveal. Kylie must've suddenly realised too, because her eyes widened in shock and she gasped through my hand. I took my hand away, trusting she wouldn't reveal anything.
"I'm the one who what?" John asked slowly and suspiciously.
"Uh, you're the one who wrote If I Fell!" I quickly covered up. The information was true, but it was highly unlikely that Kylie would have known this.
"Really?" he narrowed his eyes in disbelief.
"Yes, really."
It seemed that this fiery and heated conversation and argument was finished, so everyone went back to their normal activities. For the five (now including George) at the 'special' end, that included smoking, drinking and chatting away about whatever they talked about. For Peter, Ben and Jack it meant continuing eating. Ethel and Jenny continued to clear the table before I glared at them. Slowly and cautiously, they put their stack of plates down. I made my way back into the lounge room and Kylie followed me.

"That was… wow," she said as we sat down on my 'bed', "I'm sorry for almost revealing that back there. I didn't realise. I don't know what I was thinking."
"It's okay," I assured her.
"I got it right, didn't I? He's the one who… in the 80s…"
"Yes, he's the one. I'd be surprised if you didn't know about it. Do you know anything about George?"
"No, not really. I'd only vaguely known his name when we got here."
"Well, where we're from, he's in the same situation as John, if you get what I mean."
"Oh," she huffed, "You mean he's…" she lowered her voice, "dead?"
I nodded solemnly.
"Cancer," I explained, "That's why I threw a fit about him smoking."
"Oh, now I understand!"
We lied in my bed, under the covers together, and chatted about everything. I learned everything about her and she everything about me. We were becoming fast friends, and to me it was both exciting and a relief.