Roxan ~ In My Life with the Beatles

7 - first meeting

School Daze and Policemans' Balls

School terms and semesters rolled by. My grades stayed high and teachers began writing notes in my books, seeming to know not to call me out in front of the other students or single me out in any way in the halls. They sensed that I was on the brink of an abyss of sorts.

The other teds around Liverpool had their hang outs or dives and many had guitars and were in bands. The places they frequented were smelly, damp and seedy but the music did call me as it held happiness in it's quick beat and, usually, love soaked lyrics. A few of the boys were at the same school and wandered around with their guitars slung over their leather clad backs, hosting little gatherings in the far corners of the school yard where prying teacher's eyes didn't see. 

Seeing a few un-named faces I knew from school I had some Dutch courage to venture towards the clubs. One, The Cavern, in the centre of Liverpool, was as dingy and dark as the rest. It had a side door for deliveries of the mountains of booze and coca- cola that was consumed in vast quantities there every time a band played. 

This was my door- left ajar I could sit in the dark and enjoy the show without the pressure of 'normal' girls looking down their powdered noses and ruby red stained lips at me or the guys pushing me calling me queer and other nasty things. Most of the bands high tailed it out of the club through that side door so most got to know 'the girly ted'. By way of body language mostly, giving a flick of the head or a wink as they dashed past and away from the hordes of young audience all wanting to hang with the 'cool musicans'.

****

The light blinded me. 

Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car I froze as I stepped out of the alley after the last of the patrons of the Cavern tumbled home. I could hear people cooee-ing to friends, whistles and people laughing but all I could see were those damn lights and as much as I told my body to run I seemed to be in a trance.

Someone crashed into me, a young boy who should be home in bed and not haphazardly walking down the sidewalk with a beer in his hand. He crashed then tried to dash as he realised the lights were those of a police car. He was well under-age and holding an ale... The knock jolted me from my trance and I pushed the boy towards the bobbies hoping that he would stop their charge towards their intended victim- me. 

I ran, jostling and shoving through slow dawdling lovers, pushed one of the muso's, knocking his guitar case to the ground he grunted and cursed at me as I spotted a reprieve. I turned quickly and then ducked under a railing to go down some steps but as I stepped onto the third one down a hard cold hand slammed down on my shoulder

"Looky, Looky who we have here. Perhaps you would like to grace us with your presence down the station little miss".

The muso laughed and the lovers gawked at the 'apprehended girl ted' 

No one realised I was victim, not the villain. No one would, would they.

The station was up on a hill north of the main part of town. After being shoved in the back of the police car I was driven to my nights accommodation.

A light breeze swung the sign gently. The lit letters, painted royal blue, identified the LIVERPOOL POLICE STATION. 

A place usually regarded as a safe haven, a beacon of hope to the community or victims of some disturbance in the local precinct but to me it was his lair.

His last place he could keep me under lock and key. Maybe not forever, as an inspector or higher ranked officer would notice, but with a bodgy charge sheet on an offical clipboard it could be my lodging for an overnight barrage of hurt, pain and definitely, immense humiliation.