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It didn't take a lot to notice the sombre mood in the little music shop. You could feel the weight of it in the air the moment you stepped through the door. However, the ten-year-old didn't notice a thing. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts and anger.
The Doc looked up at the sound of the door slamming behind the child. He set down the last piece of the drum kit display as the boy trudged over. He took in the round, tear-stained face and clenched fists and knew he'd found out. They all had. It was December, just a couple of weeks away from Christmas, but one announcement on the radio had completely crushed the festive spirit of Liverpool.
"Did you hear, Doc?" The boy said shakily.
Doctor Harvey knew exactly what the boy was talking about. How could he not? But he felt the boy needed to say it himself - get it out of his system. "Heard what, Devon?" He asked calmly.
"Some bastard just shot John Lennon!" He yelled, fresh fears forming in his watery grey eyes. "He's gone, Doc! Gone forever!" The small boy wrapped his arms around the Doc and sobbed into his chest.
Lucy at the front counter gave Doctor Harvey a sympathetic smile, then returned to shelving a new order of tuners.
"I wish I was in New York," Devon said, voice muffled. "I wish I could have saved him."
"I'm afraid what's done is done, lad," the Doc spoke soothingly. His thoughts turned to the dismantled guitar out the back in the workshop; the biggest invention of his career. "He's not ours to save, not yet," he murmured so quietly that not even Devon's sharp ears heard.
* * *
Ringo seemed to have a knack for seeking out music shops. It was almost as if he had a sixth sense. The pair had barely turned down the street when his head perked up and he quickened his pace.
"Woah, what's the hurry?" Jessie asked, effortlessly catching up to the short man, falling into step beside him.
"Please can I? Just for a minute?" He pleaded, coming to a halt. He took his sunglasses off and looked at her in earnest.
"Do what?" Jessie said, exasperated. "We're s'posed to be looking for George, remember?"
"Hey, don't act like I've forgotten!" Ringo said defensively. "He's one of me best mates!" He stared over her shoulder again. "I just want a look!"
Jessie turned around. She sighed. Ringo was gazing at a brand new, shiny drum kit in a shop window. It wasn't a shop she'd ever visited, she usually went to the large one in the city centre. Well, on the rare occasion she had the chance to, she did. "Fine," she gave in to his begging blue eyes. "Just for a minute though."
His eyes lit up and his face split into a grin as he pushed through the door. The girl shook her head, suppressing a smile, and followed.
While Ringo eagerly made his way over to the drum sets, Jessie thought it would be a good idea to actually ask if they could try them out. Most music places let you - what's the use in buying an instrument if you don't know how it feels to play? But Jessie had been raised well, and thought it was the polite thing to do.
She approached the front counter and the woman there looked up expectantly. She looked to be in her early sixties, and had silvery grey hair tied back. A pair of glasses with steel blue rims perched on her nose, which was set in the centre of her soft, kind face. Jessie noted the faded Beatles shirt under her jacket, and gulped. They'd have to be careful.
"Excuse me, Miss," Jessie said, twisting her fingers together.
"Sorry, dear, my hearing isn't what it used to be." She laughed. "Working in a music shop hasn't helped a lick either!"
"The instruments," Jessie said a little louder, gesturing to the drums that Ringo was running his hands over. "Can we...?"
"Of course, love!" The old lady smiled, making her warm brown eyes crinkle. "You two go right ahead!"
Jessie hurried over to the Beatle. "Go for it," she told Ringo in a low voice. "Just don't let the old dear get too close a look at you." Ringo had a unique drumming style and there was a chance it could be recognised by some music fanatic, but they were the only ones in the small shop and the woman at the front was hard of hearing. They could afford to have a bit of fun.
She ran her fingers along the rack of acoustic guitars, then she froze, a slow grin spreading across her face. She turned and looked at the old lady at the desk, who nodded encouragingly at her. Jessie turned back and picked up the instrument from its stand. It was a twelve string Rickenbacker. She ran her hand across the shiny red body, then cautiously strummed a chord.
Ringo swiped a pair of drumsticks from the shelf, and sat down behind the kit he'd had his eye on. "Ye' know many of our songs?" He whispered. Jessie nodded, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Then, before she could stop him, he called out loudly to the woman. "Any requests?" He had seen the old lady's t-shirt too.
"Oh!" The woman exclaimed. "Do you know anything by The Beatles?"
"Live and breath 'em, Ma'am." He winked cheekily, even though she could hardly see his face.
"Can you play Ticket To Ride? It's one of my favourites."
It was only then that Jessie realised how disastrous it could have been if she'd asked for anything later than 1965. Luck seemed to be on their side at the moment. Hopefully, it would stay that way.
* * *
"See, told ye' there'd be buses here!" John said smugly, slapping his friend on the back. They had walked further along the waterfront, and were outside the towering old train station on the Pier Head. "Now we can get back, easy!"
John was about to look at the timetable for the buses, when Paul grabbed his arm. "Hey Johnny, that familiar to you?"
John followed Paul's pointing finger. Standing in the middle of the wide flagstone path were four cast bronze statues. The dull metal moptops stood out a mile compared to the haircuts they'd seen around in their time in the future.
The two disguised Beatles cautiously approached the life sized sculptures, aware of the group of people posing next to them. Strangely, they not only took photographs of each other, but also appeared to take photos of themselves at arm's length.
The tourists moved on, leaving Paul and John to examine the statues. "What?" Paul exclaimed. "It's us!" He grinned, running his hands over the cool, smooth surface of the Paul statue's arm.
Meanwhile, John was eye to eye with his metal counterpart. "Bloody good job they did, must admit." He lifted up his thick-rimmed glasses and squinted. "Not sure if they got me nose exactly right, though."
"What's this thing say?" Paul wondered aloud. "Move your foot!" He nudged John's calf with his shoe.
"What thing?" John asked, moving his foot from the small plaque he was standing on.
Then he and Paul stood side by side, as silent and unmoving as the statues in front of them.
Then Paul turned his head to look at his bandmate. "John-" he said quietly.
"No." John firmly cut him off. "Not gonna happen, Paul. Not gonna happen!" He gripped his friend's shoulder and stared into his rich hazel eyes. "Mate, we can change history."
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Yesterday - A Beatles Fanfic
Fanfiction"Lucky seven's what they say. Seven will send your troubles away. It's just a number that doesn't count. My troubles are here to stay. Lucky seven's what they say. Seven will take your worries away. Seven adds to no amount. My worries are here to s...
