In My Life - George Harrison/The Beatles

Chapter Nineteen: Photograph

Febuary 1961

"So how did an eighteen year old Liverpudlian girl end up as an apprentice for one of the biggest magazine companies in London?" Henry asked as he lent on her kitchen counter, watching as Connie poured them both a glass of wine.

This was Connie's first attempt at being social with a work friend, even if she'd been in London for nearly a year. It had been hard at first, especially with the other apprentices. The majority of them were all native Londoners who went to private schools, some of them even being university graduates, not to mention they all spoke perfect Queen's English. Imposter syndrome had never affected Connie that badly before coming to London and she'd always thought she was confident, but she felt like such an outsider. She wished she'd had the money to go to University, but as a working class girl that hadn't been possible, even if she had gotten into the best local grammar school. That wasn't the only difference either, her strong accent being like a language barrier between her and her colleagues, and her go-to outfits of smart shirts and trousers suddenly not acceptable. No one complained in Liverpool about how she dressed, but in London it seemed that only men wore things like that, the women always seeming to fit in with the latest fashions in their dresses.

Connie had to update her wardrobe, and she had to review her accent too. Not wanting to spend too much money doing either, she'd spent hours teaching herself how to sew dresses with the radio on, trying to imitate the newscaster's Queen's English. It felt odd trying to pronounce all of her words perfectly, trying to at least minimise her strong scouse accent when she was usually so proud of it. She didn't know why it alienated her so much, considering her dad had moved to Liverpool from Sheffield, and his Yorkshire accent had been embraced by his new Mersey friends until it developed into a blend of Yorkshire and Scouser. Maybe that was just because he was moving from one working class city to another, whereas Connie was attempting to blend in with a whole different crowd of people, people who usually classed her as inferior.

After a few months of just trying to blend in, she'd still made no friends. It had been so hard for her, especially with the people she used to call best friends being away in another country. Paul, John and George were off working in clubs in Hamburg, and whilst she was so proud of them, she despaired over the fact that it meant all the visits they'd promised were now impossible, and even letters and phone calls were tricky considering the time difference and expenses. She felt utterly stranded, and part of her at times wanted to just give up and go home with the hopes of getting her old job back, and if she couldn't work at the Cavern surely she could get work in an office like Cilla. That never happened though, and so she persisted, even if she felt utterly low by doing so.

Her lack of a social life had been good for her finances though since she never went out, having no one to go with. She soon managed to save up her wages to buy a proper sewing machine and nicer fabrics to make dresses, still not wanting to conform entirely and go shopping in the posh department stores that intimidated the life out of her, and even better, she managed to save enough for a deposit on a flat. It was small with a kitchen and living room conjoined, a bathroom and two bedrooms, though the second was practically a box room, and the rent was expensive to the extent most of her wages went on it, but it was still much bigger than the bedsit The New Times had been putting her up in and it made her so much happier. She was so proud of her flat, located in central London near the theatres but close enough to the tube stations for her to be able to travel to work easily, and she'd taken real pride in decorating it. It felt like she finally had a home, unlike the bedsit, as even though she'd gotten used to it over time, she could still remember the first night she slept there after John had gone home to Liverpool and she rang George up crying because she thought she'd seen a mouse under the bed.

As soon as she'd moved into the flat, it was like she was her old self again. She felt renewed, and with a new sense of confidence and a new wardrobe, she went into work with her best smile and neatest accent and tried to fit in. It was as if she was starting fresh, and something must have worked because there she was, in her kitchen just after a date to the pictures with fellow apprentice Henry. He'd asked her out, told her he'd show her around the town that 'must still be quite new and terrifying for you', as he'd said. Connie was unsure if it was a proper date, but since it was nearly a year after her only date with Rory Storm and since George was so far away for her to be bothered by her crush, she'd decided to class it as a date.