Blablabla, Beatles aren't mine etc. Sorry it took so long, but here you go anyway.

It was my first day back to school. I looked up to the school building. Stuart wouldn't be there to help me out. John wasn't there most of the time anyway and I had to figure everything by myself. I took a deep breath and was about to walk in when I heard someone call my name. I looked around and saw Cynthia run up to me.

'Hey there Marit!' She said as she walked alongside me. 'Oh, hey Cynthia!' I answered a bit surprised. I had mostly forgotten about the fact that Cynthia, John's girlfriend, went to the same school. An awkward silence settled onto us as I couldn't bring myself to say anything to her, feeling guilty about convincing her boyfriend to go to London with me.

She was set on making a good impression though. 'So, well, if you need any help around the school or with the homework or anything.. You could always come to me. I'm in my second year.' She said and I smiled at her. 'I'll remember, thanks a lot.' I said and we both stopped as we reached the top of the stairs. 'I have to see the headmaster.' I told her and she grinned. 'John escaped that, didn't he!' She said and I laughed. 'He sure did.' I replied and she waved as she ran off to her first class. I smiled as I looked after her. She seemed like a really nice girl.

I went to knock on Mr Lovegood's door and after a moment he called for me to come on in. I pushed open the door and saw that Mr Lovegood was sitting behind his desk waiting for me to sit down as well patiently. The last couple of times I had been in his office he was busy with all kinds of other things, but now he was just looking at me.

I quickly sat down, putting my bag down next to the chair. I looked back at him. 'Sir?' I asked unsure. 'Miss de Ruyter,' he said, still butchering the fake name like all Englishmen did. However he probably wouldn't be able to pronounce my real name, van Breukelen, either. 'Do you know where Mr Lennon is?' He asked. I shook my head.

Mr Lovegood sighed and leaned forward. 'Very well, I hope you put that week suspension to good use and thought about what you did. Now, you better get to class before you miss anymore. I hope you won't disappoint again.' He said and I shook my head, quickly shooting up from my chair.

'No sir!' I said, quite familiar with blowing off teachers as I had done it many times when I was still in school back home. He waved his hand tiredly and I darted out the door in a hurry, right to my first class.

It was a normal day. I was expecting it to be a hard day, harder than a day normally would be, but in the end everything was exactly the same. Over the weekend Stu had called once to let me know that they had arrived safely in Hamburg and that I better take good care of their flat. In the background I heard John shout that I could use his bed and I heard someone that sounded like Paul add something to that but I couldn't hear it very well. The lads didn't have a phone of course so they phoned the neighbours and asked them to put me on. Mr Mack had looked only mildly irritated when he knocked on my door telling me they had a call waiting for me in their flat. Apparently he was used to their shenenigans. Although it was fairly awkward as the entire family stared at you through the entire ordeal, I was still very glad to hear from them.

The flat was empty and although it was quite small, it felt enormous for just me being there. Darlene had made sure to visit the night after they had left. She said it was because she wanted to make sure I had found an okay place to stay for now, but I think it was also largely because she wanted to snoop around in Stuart's stuff.

After school I went back to the flat and sat around on the couch all afternoon, feeling deflated and lost. So, here I was in 1960, flat-sitting for a couple of Beatles and I had no idea what to do with my life. I suppose I had to find a job and when I went out to go grocery shopping I made sure to leave my name with the owner of the shop as I saw he had a sign on the door saying help wanted.

I was just about to start cooking dinner when someone rang the door. I hung out the window to see who it was and was surprised to see Cynthia on my doorstep. I shouted at her to come in and unlocked the front door.

'I'm pretty sure you were there when we said goodbye to the boys..' I said only half-jokingly as I closed the door behind her. She laughed. 'I'm not here for John actually, I'm here for you.' She laughed again when she saw my confused face. 'I just figured that you might be feeling a bit lonely, seeing as you just came to the country and the only friends you made all just went away again.' She said and my expression softened. 'I was here to invite you over for dinner, actually. I told my dad about you and he said it was alright.' She added and I smiled.

'That's really sweet Cynthia, but I missed tons of school work last week so I really should be doing that tonight.' I said and I saw that Cynthia's expression fell ever so slightly. 'But,' I said, feeling genuinely sorry 'I would love to call on that invitation another time soon.' I said and she grinned.

I lied of course. I had no intention whatsoever to finish any of the school work I had missed, I couldn't quite remember the last time I had ever done my homework, but I just didn't want to be mean about turning her down. The fact that she was so nice about it made it even worse.

There were two reasons why I didn't want to get into this with her. The first was that I wasn't off to the best start to try and be inconspicuous in my new life in the 60s, in my best hope to not change anything as long as I was here (I hadn't entirely given up on the possibility of returning home), but just because I didn't do a good job on that over the past two weeks, doesn't mean I should just stop trying from now on.

The second reason was that I felt guilty. Cynthia was so nice. So helpful and there I took her boyfriend with me to London. Of course I didn't know he was her boyfriend, but I didn't have any business taking him to London anyway. And we kissed too, even though I felt relieved to have realized that we were after all just friends. Fucking John. I should really come up with a suitable punishment for him. Or not. Inconspicuous Marit, inconspicuous.

I started chopping onions for dinner and sighed again. Two weeks. It had been two weeks. I didn't know whether that was a long time or a short time. On the one hand two weeks were indescribably short considering that it was only two weeks in an almost twenty year old life that I had spent in this part of, well, time, but on the other hand it felt like it was ages. Ages and ages that kept dragging on like a horribly vivid and tediously normal and surreal nightmare. I missed home.

The next day I came back to the shop where I applied and the owner told me that I was the first to have come back and therefor had the job. I was slightly surprised by this method of selection, especially considering the absolute lack of jobs in the future, but was eager to start working anyway.

The owner was called Wilf, which was short for Wilfred and was a man of about forty or fifty years old with white hair and tiny blue eyes. He told me he lived in the little flat on top of his shop with his wife and two kids.

I could start working right away and he showed me around the shop and as his loyal customers came in he introduced them to me and me to them. They were fairly friendly and after we together closed the shop at six he invited me for dinner. I tried to say no but he wouldn't take it and before I knew it I was sitting eating sausages and potatoes with him, Mrs Wilf and his two children, one a girl of about 14 called Dolly and a boy called Reginald who was 17 and was quite intend on me knowing that as well. He mentioned it about ten times during the course of the night. I think he liked me.

Mrs Wilf, later I discovered she was actually named Louise Stanson, was very compassionate about my story of stranding in Liverpool. 'Oh poor girl, it could happen to the best of us!' She said and I shrugged awkwardly, still not comfortable with the lie despite telling it so many times in the last couple of weeks already.

But over the next weeks it became easier. I had unknowingly passed the jubilee of my first month in the past when I got a letter from Stuart. I came home from school that day and the mailman handed it to me and I was about to tell him that I didn't get mail, seeing as I barely knew anyone, when I saw it actually did have my name on the front. On the back the return address was for a place in Hamburg. I broke into a grin.

I didn't have time to read it though. Straight from school of to Wilf's shop to make sure I got there on time. I was first very confused and disappointed with my weekly wages that only turned out to be a whopping 5 pounds. Only then I found out I made the women's minimum wage of just about nothing an hour. I worked six days a week, but only a couple of hours after school and before. Wilf was surprised (and a bit miffed) by my disappointment but I quickly rushed to say that I didn't quite understand the difference in currency yet. 'I'm used to our Dutch guilders.' I explained. The last time I saw a guilder was back in 2002 and the Euro became the standard currency in the Netherlands.

When I got home I sat down with a cup of tea in the kitchen I had quickly grown accustomed to and tore open Stuart's letter.

Dear Marit,

I hope you are taking good care of our little flat. We are having a gear time in Hamburg. You won't believe how off its rocker this town is. It's ridiculous but great and we all like it very much here.

We actually ended up not taking another boat to Hamburg once we got to the Hook of Holland. Our manager Alan had taken the van with and we drove through the Netherlands. We passed by this city called Arnhem. Maybe you know it?

I rolled my eyes. Duh.

There was this war memorial there and John refused to get out of the car because he's against war but we all went to have a look and it was very humbling to stand there between the graves of all these men that died in order to protect our future.

We took a break in Arnhem for a bit and split up so Alan and his family (he took his family with him: is it just me or is that slightly silly?) went one way and us the other. We found a music shop actually and John nicked a mouth organ.

We arrived in Hamburg the next night and were booked for a gig right away. That's why we didn't have the heart to complain about the room when we were finally done and saw it. We were just too tired. We fell down on the beds and fell to sleep immediately. Only the next morning we realized what we had agreed to. We are behind the screen of a film theatre so you never have a moment of peace and there are rats and the ceiling leaks. The only consolation is that we're not in there much. We are performing most of the time and if not we're out clubbing.

I did meet a girl though. Her name is Astrid and her and her friend Klaus came to see our show. She's beautiful and really smart, an artist like me (she's a photographer and Klaus paints and draws) and her English is far better than most of the other Germans. We don't speak much German you see.

I'm hoping to call you soon but I'm not sure if the neighbours will appreciate another call. You can expect a call on October 9th though, I think that's a Sunday, because John told me he wanted to call you on his birthday. It's his birthday then if you didn't catch that. Maybe you'd like to inform the Mack family before that so they won't be surprised when we do call again.

Lots of love,

Stuart

PS: The return address is on the back of the envelope. Any answers can be sent there. There is a phone here, at the club we're playing at, but I don't have a number for that one so I'll try and find out before we call you in October.

I smiled, gulping down the last of my tea and was about to put the envelope in one of the table's drawers when another paper fell out.

Too me loveliest big old pal,

Having a great time in Germony! Georgie laid his first bird and Paul is getting quit the hang of it aswel. The girls are a lot les stuffy her in Hamburg then back home in Liddypool. Leaf it to Stu to fal hed over heels for this one girl in the city of sin where birds are loosser then al of his base strings put together! Seriosly tough.. His base strings are very loosse. He sounds even shiter then usual!

I wil speek to you on my birthday!

Love,

John

I frowned at the letter. Either John was the worst speller in history, or he was a closet dyslectic. Did they know about dyslexia yet in the sixties? John didn't know about dyscalculia, often described as the numbers variant of dyslexia, when I told him I had it but maybe that says more about John.

As September slowly rolled by I started to look more and more forward towards October. I had sent them a short note back telling them that I'd be waiting for their phone call and that I'd notify the neighbours. I should try and not forget about actually notifying them.

The Mack family that lived downstairs from John and Stu were a bit grumpy but seemed to mean well overall. To be honest, I think they were happy that they got to trade me, a quiet neighbour that was away most of the day and asleep most of the night, for John and Stu who hung around the flat all day and made lots of noise and had parties.

I was also particularly looking forward to October because it would be the first time in months something interesting happened. I might be the quiet neighbour now but I wasn't used to staying quiet. Nothing happened. Sure, it was 1960 and that should've been a bloody big adventure, but it didn't feel like it. I felt frightened and lonely.

I hadn't seen Darlene since she came to visit me and I only saw Cynthia every once in a while when we saw each other at school. In October I'd at least hear from the boys. I felt a bit guilty for looking forward to it as I promised myself that I shouldn't try and make myself feel at home too much, but I couldn't really help myself.

The nights were harder than the days. During the day, though constantly confronted with what-should-be relics of the fifties and very early sixties, I was so busy with either school or work that I didn't have time to feel shit but when I went to bed and had no excuses to keep my mind from wandering left I thought about home.

And what was home really? Amsterdam, that was home, but that was still quite general. Not with my parents, I knew that much. But I missed Uncle David. He was the best thing in my life and, to be honest, pretty much the only thing in my life.

I remembered when I was fourteen, just fourteen and already completely submerged into the nightlife, and he tried to reason with me. 'Marit, you have school in the morning, I know you're mad with your parents, but you shouldn't let them stand in your way to your future.' He had told me. I had huffed and yelled at him, slamming the door behind me as I left for the club only to return home close to four in the morning. I of course didn't tell my uncle that I hadn't shown up to school for two weeks straight.

I rolled over to my other side, trying to push unhappy memories from my mind. I had screwed up my teenage years so badly. I could whine and say it was my parents' fault and it probably was for a great deal, but I had come to the point where it just didn't matter whose fault it was anymore. I had to move forward. And I did. When I was sixteen I started showing up at school regularly again and by seventeen I had stopped going to night clubs and had stopped drinking during school hours. And it had paid off. I finished school and failed not a single subject (although, to be fair, I had dropped maths; there was no way I could still pass that considering I had and dyscalculia and had missed way too much). I had enrolled into not one but two college courses and I had moved from my parents' flat to the flat next door, where my uncle lived. And then this happened.

I got up with a groan and went to make myself a cup of tea. I tiredly sat at the tiny kitchen table in the tiny kitchen waiting for the water to boil and my eyes drooped. I didn't do drugs anymore, I had stopped doing those completely, stopped smoking (which was hard in the smoking-is-fiiiine society I was in now) and didn't put myself into situations anymore in which I knew I would be tempted to do those. The closest I got to gambling again was playing bridge with Uncle David, his science partner Hans and the doorman of the laboratory, Alfred.

After my cup of tea I went back to bed and awoke a mere six hours later at seven in the morning. I stubbornly stayed looking at the alarm clock a long time, refusing to get out of bed but after a while I realized that there was no fight to win and I went to take a shower instead, in order to properly wake up. I cursed at the faucet as the water kept turning cold and in the end I just turned it off, wrapping myself up in a towel and sitting on the couch with one of John's books that was lying around in his room. It was Alice In Wonderland and with a smile I realized he had drawn small moustaches on all the drawings of Alice in the book.

Why I woke up so early was a mystery to me. It had been like that the entire time I was in 1960. Was it something time-travellingy that I didn't understand? Or did my biological clock just rewind itself. I had no clue, but as it looked like now my body wouldn't let me sleep through the morning anymore. It felt a bit eerie seeing the sun rise. I didn't used to be awake for something like the sun rising.

October rolled around soon enough and before I knew it, it was the ninth. I had warned the Mack family the night before about the phone call I was expecting and they had agreed to answer the phone and come get me when it was for me.

I stayed home from school all day, not wanting to have to risk that I'd miss them but I should've known it would be late when John finally called. It was seven, not too late luckily, when Mr Mack came to get me.

There was a knocking on my door and I quickly got off my chair, opening the door. 'Thanks Mr Mack!' I said as he grumpily took me downstairs into their living room. Unlike last time they didn't all stay in the room to suspiciously stare at me as if I was going to nick their telly (which was a magnificent 50's model). Instead it looked like they had their twenty-something year old son play lookout, as he was casually reading a book by the window, occasionally throwing me a glance.

I took the receiver off the coffee table. 'Happy birthday John!' I called out. There was a lot of noise on the other end of the line and I had a hard time hearing John. 'John, I can't hear you!' I called back and I heard him grumble. 'Wait, let me close the door.' He said and I waited patiently and after a few seconds the noise did get less.

'That's better.' John said. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. 'Are you in another room?' I asked him and he made a negative sound. 'No, I closed the door of the booth. It's fucking small in here.' He said and I smiled. 'So, how's your birthday so far. What are you now? Forty-three?' I asked and he gave me a sarcastic laugh.

'Very funny missy, I do hope you are celebrating my twentieth jubilee year over there in Liddypool.' He said and I meh-ed. 'I've got to keep my batteries charged. It's my own birthday the day after tomorrow..!' I told him and he whooped. 'That's gear! I'll surely drink an extra one just for you!' He yelled and I held the receiver off my ear a little. 'Yeah, do that.' I said dismissively.

I wasn't really going to do something for my birthday though. To be honest, the last time I had properly celebrated my birthday was when I turned eleven. By the time I turned twelve I had already gone off track far enough for me not to show up to the birthday party that my uncle David had set up for me when my parents told me they thought I was too old for birthday parties now.

I shook my head, concentrating back on John. I asked him how he was doing. 'Great!' He yelled again. 'It's crazy here, Marit! There's more booze than water and I haven't eaten anything more substantial than cornflakes in weeks and the girls..! Mmh, the girls!' He moaned and I made a face. 'What the hell, don't tell me that!' I said, but he ignored me. 'And little Georgie got himself laid. It was a proper streetwalker too. He's on the bottom bunk and he thought we were sleeping and he got a right heart attack when we started applauding when he was done!' John said and I couldn't help laugh at that. 'You're making that up..' I said but John assured me it was the truth.

'I think I have to go soon. I'm sort of keeping the Macks' living room hostage.' I said and John made a noise of agreement. 'Yeah, the lads are starting to rub themselves against the door as well, annoying little pricks.' He said and I laughed.

'Say hi from me to them, will you?' I asked and he agreed to do so. 'And give Stuart a big fat kiss.' I added and John said where I could stick that kiss. 'Oh, before you hang up!' I quickly said before he smashed the receiver back on the wall and went back to drinking till he saw double. 'Your water is being a bit funny. When I'm in the shower the water keeps turning really cold.' I said and John groaned. 'If you want to be "just friends" you should immediately stop talking about yourself in the shower.' He said and I huffed. 'John, be serious, what am I supposed to do about it?' I asked and I could only imagine him shrugging. 'I don't know, get a plumber.' He said. And then he hung up.

I hung up as well and Mr and Mrs Mack's son looked up from his book. 'I could take a look at your boiler, if you want to?' He suggested shyly and I smiled. 'That's very nice of you, thank you.' I said and he stood up, laying his book face down. He took a quick look at the kitchen door, where his parents were sitting, but then followed me out into the staircase and up to the third floor.

'I'm Stewart by the way, Stewart Mack.' He introduced himself. I shook his hand. 'I'm Marit de Ruyter. One of the boys that actually live here is called Stuart.' I said and he nodded. 'Yeah, I know, my parents aren't too keen on them. Make a lot of noise.' He said and I shrugged my shoulders. 'Doesn't surprise me in the least.' I admitted and he laughed.

I led him into the flat and he looked around in wonder. I suddenly became aware of the mess of clothes and the unwashed dishes on the coffee table. 'Please, don't mind the mess. I'm not at home much lately and I don't really have the time to clean up.' I said self-consciously. 'No, it's fine.' Stewart assured me.

'I don't really know where we keep the boiler.' I chuckled, looking around the living room in the hope that it suddenly jumped out. 'Ours is in the kitchen.' Stewart softly suggested and I nodded. 'That is quite a logical place.' I said and together we went to the kitchen.

After a long look at John and Stuart's boiler Stewart concluded with a sheepish smile that he had no idea what was wrong with it. 'It might just be old. We had ours replaced a couple of years ago.' He said and I sighed. 'I'm sure my parents would be okay with you washing up in our flat.' Stewart offered and I smiled, patting his arm. 'That's really sweet. I might take you up on that offer.' I said.

When Stewart had gone I didn't really know what to do with the rest of the day. I had made myself so busy with waiting for the call all day that I didn't know what to do when it was finally over. I looked at the kitchen table and saw my notebook. It was still empty. I had bought it so I could take notes during class but I hadn't taken any notes yet.

I sat down and picked up my pen. Could I write a diary? I shuddered at the thought. In my head diaries belonged to prissy girls with frilly handwritings and pink lipgloss but maybe that wasn't fair. Anne Frank had kept a diary, she was none of those things. But, on the other hand, I wasn't Anne Frank either.

I thought about my sleepless nights. Maybe if I wrote some of those thoughts down, I'd fall asleep easier. I scrounged my nose a bit but then put the pen to the paper.

Dear diary,

You wouldn't believe what happened to me! I got fucking stuck in, wait for it, another century!

I snickered at the understating tone of it all. That's what it should be. I didn't want it to be a whine fest of all my feelings and emotions but I did want to be able to vent it somewhere.

And I kept writing until my pen was starting to dry up and my notebook was half full and I had finally caught up to today.

I closed the notebook and yawned. I looked at the clock above the sink and saw it was close to two-thirty in the morning already. I shot into my pyjamas and brushed my teeth and slept like a baby till I woke up at eight.

For your information: dyslexia was known and being researched ever since the latter half of the 19th century.

I did not enjoy writing this chapter. At all. It's a filler and I felt it as I wrote it and I just couldn't be bothered so that's why it took so long. Wrote a lot of other things, but tonight I finally sat myself down to finish this lousy little chapter. I hoped you liked it anyway and as I said; it's just a filler. Next chapter is not only going to be more exciting, but A HELL OF A LOT MORE EXCITING! LIKE REAAAAAALLY EXCITING!

I'm not even kidding. Next chapter will blow you away, I promise!

oh and because I had such a hard time writing this (it bored even me) I didn't even spelling check it.