In My Life - George Harrison/The Beatles

Chapter Eight: Like Old Times

The interview went by rather quickly and before Connie knew it Ruby had hold of her arm, pulling her away from the band. Rushing out a hasty goodbye and ignoring John's rude hand gestures towards her, Connie followed her colleague, who led her outside of the theatre to the taxi rank.

"That went rather well," Connie muttered casually, squinting through the poor light of the night's sky and dim street lights to look over the notes she'd made, attempting to distract from the inevitable that she realised was impossible as soon as Ruby turned to her, arms crossed across her chest angrily, her thin eyebrows knitted together. "Sorry,"

"I can't believe it," she breathed out, shaking her head. "I thought... You never said anything! God, Constance, if I had something that interesting about me, I'd tell everyone! You're John Lennon's cousin, for goodness sake, and you don't tell anyone! Not to mention the others!"

"I didn't think it was overly relevant to tell you when I first moved here, they weren't even famous then," Connie shrugged, letting out a small sigh. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but we weren't invited tonight because of my connections, we were here as press, that was all that mattered,"

"Yeah, sure," Ruby let out a short, bitter laugh. "Because George Harrison looks at all of his interviewers like that,"

Connie bit her lip, knowing that Ruby was right and what she'd said before had been a slight lie. Of course she was invited because of Brian Epstein knowing her, though she doubted that Mr Hill would have approved of her going if he didn't think she was a good journalist. And as for the interview itself... it wasn't a normal one, that was for sure, what with John jokingly insulting her at any chance he got, Paul and Ringo acting as if she was still just the Cavern barmaid from next door. And Ruby was right about George too, because even Connie had noticed the affection he directed to her through his gaze and his small smile. It was the way he'd looked at her the last time she'd seen him, and not at all the way he should have been looking at a journalist asking him questions.

Before Connie could excuse herself any further, a taxi pulled up, and without a word, Ruby stuck her arm out, flagging it down. As it pulled up to the curb, she leant over to talk to the driver through the open window, and before getting in, she turned back to Connie, forcing a smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow, anyway," Ruby spoke, giving her a small nod of goodbye as she slammed the cab door shut.

As soon as Ruby's cab drove off, Connie let out a sigh of relief that she didn't even realise she'd been holding in. Trying to balance her work with her old life had been harder than she thought it would be. Over the years since she'd moved to London, Connie had become a completely different person to the one she'd been in her youth in Liverpool. She wasn't the girl who got into fights anymore, the one who cursed and flashed her middle finger without a second thought, the one who hung around with the lads, the one spoke with her scouse accent with pride. She'd tried to remember her roots, and there were things about her upbringing that she'd never forget or compromise, but parts of her had to stay hidden around her Southern co-workers to preserve her professionalism.

That preservation seemed so much harder when she was around people who really knew her and not the fake persona she portrayed day to day in her London life. She wanted so badly to act like she usually would around the band, to have fun with them, but she couldn't, not in that press room, her responsibilities and reputation practically suffocating her.

"Thank god she's gone," a voice from behind called and Connie didn't even need to turn around to see it was George. "You want a smoke?"

"I was trying to quit," she muttered, but held her hand out anyway as George came to stand by her side at the side of the road, handing her a cigarette and his lighter. She lit up, bringing the cigarette to her lips as she examined his lighter. "Fancy light, but I guess it's fitting for a rockstar,"