My Fair Lady

Chapter 2 - 1964

Next day dawned on too quickly & Eliza woke up late again. She had no need to rush since the press meet was not until late that evening. So she calmly went about her morning routine of shower, dress & breakfast.

Her mind liked to whir noisily whenever she was taking a bath & that morning was no different. The sound of water cascading down her slim body was buried under the noise of her thoughts that insisted the previous day events had to be replayed. Images flashed by before her mind's eye, from the time she stepped out of her cooper to the screams that had partially deafened & right down to that hassle of a press conference. Her heart liked to ache repeatedly over the images of those four Liverpool lads she had once known.

Especially the image of one George Harrison.

She had been so close yet so far from their realm of existence yesterday. They had grown up during those four years she had been away in America & although she never doubted their immense musical potential as a band, it still shook her to know they now held the world in their four combined palms. A four-headed monster really, tearing their way through the world of music & redefining the boundaries of mass hysteria; courtesy the fans. She had consistently followed their journey through what news she could garner & was fully prepared to ditch the images of four young energetic boys dressed in leather laughing it up in one of Alan's many parties.

However when she did see them in flesh again, it was hard to not reconcile those images with that of the four men she saw yesterday in their perfectly ironed suits. They still talked the same, John's snappy wit was as strong as ever, & Paul's infallible charm shone through & through, right like it did years ago. Ringo, who had been quiet for most part of the conference hadn't lost his wide-eyed gaze, his quiet temperament & of course his smile that automatically made him look the youngest of the lot whenever it beamed for the questions.

And George...he still took her breath away.

His eyes could still reach the soul of any person meeting his gaze. His hair & body had grown out & he carried about him an air of nonchalance, like his status celebrity didn't affect him at all. She knew better than to accept him as "the quiet Beatle" though, having been on the receiving end of his limitless chatter, especially after he'd row with Iris.

Iris Caldwell. His then girlfriend. Her still best friend.

Or so you assume, her mind added.

It then began to revolve around Iris, about her present dealings in life. Last she had heard from her was back in 1960 when she was about to leave for America. They had hugged, promised not to lose contact & most importantly, find good boyfriends for themselves. Back at that time, Iris & George had freshly dissolved their relationship & Eliza was still reeling from her first kiss.

Iris had been 14 & Eliza, 15.

Her thoughts threatened to boil over & unleash a horde of memories she was trying to suppress so she quickly washed down her body & left the bathroom & her thoughts to condense & hopefully evaporate in there. She pulled on a pair of denims & a plaid shirt before heading to the kitchen for breakfast. Bacon & eggs sounded good to her rumbling stomach so she quickly went about the task of making it.

Then just when she had settled at her little table to fill her tummy, a knock came on the door. Sighing, she glanced at the time quickly. It read 10 am. Who could possibly want her at this time of the day?

She went to the door, turning down the handle to pull it open just to reveal a weary looking Nick standing on the other side.

"Nick!", she exclaimed.