In which the illegitimate granddaughter of Beatle Paul McCartney finds herself in Liverpool in the early 1960s, falling hopelessly in love with John Lennon.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
14th October, 1960
╚══════════════╝
Whilst she didn't have a passport, Ruby was somehow able to talk her way onto the flight with the rest of the band and Ringo.
Thank God for no safety regulations, she thought, which was a sentence that she had never thought she would entertain. She sat by the window on the plane because she wanted to watch the world beneath her, and also because Ringo needed the leg room which came with the aisle seat. The seat between them was empty, which they were both quite grateful for because they didn't want to be sitting next to a stranger - and especially not on their first flight.
The plane began to move down the runway, and Ruby tensed up, closing her eyes and trying to take long, deep breaths, promising herself that no matter how bad the flight got that she wouldn't imagine the plane going down over some desert island which definitely didn't exist. She was a bit of a drama queen, and it usually wasn't a problem for her, but her mind was going a mile a minute at the moment, and she wanted it to stop.
"You alright?" Ruby didn't dare open her eyes to look at the drummer sitting beside her. Instead, she shook her head. "Scared?" She nodded.
"Don't be." The smile on his face was audible in his tone of voice. Ringo was trying to be supportive and helpful, and it was helping - just about, anyway. Ruby was still very nervous, and as the plane ascended into the air, the contents of her stomach settled at the back of her throat, threatening to spill out.
She swallowed hard and then opened her eyes, turning to Ringo, who looked pale himself but was looking at her as if doing so would distract him from his own fears of flying.
"You alright?" He asked Ruby again.
She shook her head. Again.
"You look like you're going to vom," he joked, a smile on his face until he saw that his friend had actually begun to turn green. "Bog's down there," he pointed back down the aisle, the same way that they had come up to their seat.
Ruby, who knew where the toilet was, took the opportunity to rise from her chair and climb over Ringo's legs, hurrying to the cubicle. She had heard that the toilets on planes in the twenty-first century were disgusting, dingy little holes - she dreaded to think what one in the 1960s would be like.
When Ruby returned to her chair, her stomach was empty and her mouth felt as rough as sandpaper. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Ringo and Rory, who had moved to the middle seat between Ruby and Ringo, and who were both sitting with a cigarette dangling from their lips.
She was horrified. "What are you doing!?" Ruby exclaimed, leaning forward and snatching both of the sticks from their mouths, looking about desperately for an ashtray or somewhere to put the flames out - and then she noticed the ashtrays that were installed in each of the armrests.
