"The one you love is only a step away."
Lainey scoffed at the words of the old gypsy fortuneteller. Then the woman handed her a locket ring revealing her grandmother's deepest secret, and the magical ride began.
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Just around the corner from Abbey Road Studios the next morning, Lainey made sure no one was looking before ducking into a red phone booth that reeked of urine. The phone inside was out of order and probably teeming with germs. How had people ever used these things? Lainey stood in the very center of the small space, trying not to rub up against anything. She tightened the straps of her backpack, which rested heavily against her spine. It held her toiletries, a few cosmetics, a nightgown, a few changes of underwear, a casual packable dress, and a huge plastic bag full of old British coins. There seemed to be tons of British coins available to buy and very few old banknotes. Right now, she only hoped the backpack made the journey with her.
She tucked her iPhone into her bra to make sure the phone made the journey. As far as she knew, it was her ticket home. Then she adjusted the neckline of her dress and looked down at herself. She had chosen a simple sleeveless white shift in a diaphanous material. With the sandals on her feet, she probably looked more 1970s hippie chick than early 1960s London girl, but it was one of the better options in her suitcase. She'd packed mostly jeans and shorts and tops and sleeveless dresses that wouldn't wrinkle, which meant they were made of the sort of material that clung to every curve. This one would have to do until she got to 1963 and found some nice June Cleaver dresses.
When Lainey was sure nobody was paying any attention to her—who but tourists and drunks with full bladders paid any heed to a telephone booth in 2012 anyway?—she began trying to replicate what she had done yesterday to zap herself back to 1963. She took off the scarab ring, spun the locket around to the S and back to the front, placed it on her finger, and pried open the locket. She'd been looking at George's face for less than two seconds when the spinning sensation began. Lainey clutched one hand to her chest to keep the iPhone secured to her body and gripped the straps of the backpack with the other. There was a rushing sound that grew so loud she nearly clapped her hands over her ears. Instead, she squeezed her eyes closed and fought to keep her balance.
It was all over in an instant, and Lainey cautiously opened her eyes, surprised to find herself still in a phone booth, looking at an old black rotary dial phone and a huge London telephone directory attached to a chain. The urine smell was gone, and there was a square of Oriental carpet underneath her feet. There was even a tiny vase of orange plastic flowers resting on a small shelf, which made her smile. She liked these quaint British folk from the 1960s. And it appeared her iPhone had made the journey, and her backpack was still safely attached to her body.
Lainey looked outside the phone booth and her smile vanished. The scenery looked nothing like the street she had just left. She hoped she could find her way back to Abbey Road without the aid of her iPhone. She removed her phone from her bra, straightened her shoulders, and forged ahead. Maybe she'd just have to buy a guidebook of London or a big map. People must have coped somehow before Google Maps.
The street was only two lanes now, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. At the corner, she realized she was indeed close to the future Abbey Road Studios, but the roundabout didn't exist yet and the zebra crossing was yards away from where it was in 2012. There was only scattered traffic on Abbey Road and the sidewalks were virtually empty. She felt like she was miles away from the city, in a genteel parklike area of mansions.
