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Rory wrinkled her nose as she entered the kitchen the following morning. "Ugh! What are you cooking, James?"

Jamie, still in last night's rumpled clothes but looking none the worse for wear, looked up from the pan. "Just a little fry-up, Ror." She added some mushrooms to the egg, sausage, bacon, tomato, and black bread already in the frying pan. "Why? Want some?"

"I'd rather be fucking shot."

"It's still better than anything you could cook," Jamie retorted. "Well, if cooking is the right word for what you do to food."

Rory responded with a two-fingered salute before changing the subject. "So you had a lot to drink last night, yeah?"

"Yeah-- but I didn't have to pay for it, so that was all right," Jamie flashed her a sheepish grin.

Rory looked in the fridge for some juice. "How'd you manage that?"

"Oh, I let it slip to a couple blokes that we've got a gig."

"And they paid up? Fuckin' amazing," said Rory, giving her a "thumbs up" of approval.

Jamie noticed Rory was already dressed and in fairly presentable form, an anomaly for her at this hour of the morning. "What's the occasion?"

"Hmm?"

"You're dressed, you're made up and you're conscious at nine-something in the morning. That's not like you at all."

Rory gave her an enigmatic smile. "Oh I dunno, I just felt like seizing the day, I s'pose."

Annie and Sandy came into the room, already dressed for the day. Sandy peeked into the pan. "You're not seriously going to eat that? After all you drank last night? Not to mention how much of it came back up?"

"Did it, eh?" Jamie had very little memory of how the evening ended. "No wonder I'm feeling so peckish."

"You're strange, did you know that?" Sandy took her place at the table and accepted a box of Corn Flakes from Annie. "I hope that big breakfast of yours isn't going to ruin your lunch."

"Lunch?" Jamie stared at her sister blankly.

"You remember--ladies' lunch day. You, me, Mum, and the Kents."

Rory let out a loud groan. "That would include me, wouldn't it?"

Sandy nodded. "Last I checked, you were a Kent."

"Barely," Rory muttered.

Annie looked at her older sister sternly. "You promised you'd go once."

"I know, I know, but-- Christ."

"Ah, but we've got something to brag about this time." Jamie dumped her fry-up on a plate, grabbed a bottle of HP sauce, and sat with her bandmates. "We tell our mums about the gig, it gets back to our dads, perhaps they'll shut up for awhile."

"We should be so fuckin' lucky."

"Rory." Annie admonished. "Please. You haven't been home in weeks. Mummy's asking about you all the time."

"All right, all right, I'll go," Rory threw up her hands in defeat. "But afterwards, we rehearse, yeah?"

"After my voice class," Sandy said.

"And my piano students," Annie added.

Rory's eyes narrowed. "What's more important, then? The band or your own agendas?"

"Don't let's start that again," Jamie pleaded. "I'm all for more rehearsal. How 'bout you and me work together until the rhythm section shows up? I need your help in sussing out the chord changes in the new Lesley Gore record, anyway."

"Fair enough." Rory raised an eyebrow in challenge. "It's not like the rhythm section has a lot of work to do anyway, is it? Just bang-bang-bang, thump-thump-thump." She noted the younger girls exchanged dismayed glances and smirked at the direct hit she landed. "What time's lunch, Anna?"

"12:30."

"Right. See you lot then." Rory stood up from the table.

"Where you off to, eh?" Jamie asked.

The dark-haired guitarist shrugged noncommittally. "Oh, you know, places to go, people to see." She left the room; soon the flat door shut behind her.

"Why does she always have to do that?" Sandy wondered. "Just because we have other interests outside the band doesn't mean we're not just as dedicated."

"Well, when you lot say that your lessons are more important than rehearsing, what's she supposed to think?" Jamie pointed out.

"We're not just taking lessons, we're giving them, you know. How else have we been able to put food on the table and strings on our guitars?"

Annie sighed. "You know Rory means well, Sandy. And you know she just wants us to succeed." The last thing she wanted to do was be caught in an argument between her best friend and her big sister, especially when Rory wasn't even there to fight for herself.

"As do we all," Sandy countered.

"Right," Jamie said, "So let's see some more rehearsing and less lesson-giving. Especially now that we've a regular gig."

"Yes, ma'am." Sandy gave her sister a mock salute. "Now, I told Mum we'd be over at noon, so we could have a little visit before everyone gets together."

"Ugh."

Annie took the grunt as a signal to leave; she slipped out of the room as Jamie continued, "That's the last thing I want, Sands."

"I don't really understand your reluctance to be with our parents, James. It's not like you don't get on with them, not like Rory and her parents."

"It gets dead boring listening to them go on all the time about how wonderful you and our dear brother are. It's not like I'm chopped liver or anything, is it?"

Sandy shook her head in dismissal. "You're always on about that, and it's nowhere true."

"Of course you would say that."

"Eat your breakfast, James, and I'll see you at noon at Mum's." Sandy stood up from the table and gracefully exited the kitchen.

Jamie stuck her tongue out after her sister's retreating back. "Easy for you to say," she murmured.

The brunette guitarist's petulant mood lingered throughout the morning, settling her pretty features into a slight scowl as she pushed the door open to her parents' house. "Hello?"

"In the kitchen, love," her mother's voice called out.

Jamie sighed and made her way to the back of the house. Her mother, Dorothy, a petite woman with sparkling hazel eyes that she'd passed on to her son and blonde hair habitually worn in a bun, stood over the counter, fussing over a sheet of tea biscuits. Jamie kissed her on the cheek as she popped one in her mouth. "Hallo, Mum," she said around the crumbs.

Dorothy slapped her daughter's hand away from the sheet. "They're for lunch, Jamie."

"I know. I'm just taste testing. Wouldn't want to bring inferior biscuits over to the Kents, would you?" She plopped down in a chair, slumping like a young child. "Mrs. Kent would never let you live it down."

"A likely story." Dorothy moved the biscuits to the cooling rack. "I'm glad you came by early, love."

"Sandy said you wanted us to visit a little before lunch. Where is she, anyway? Not like her to be late."

"She's meeting us next door in a bit. Perhaps you misunderstood? I wanted to visit with just you. It's been some time since you've come by, you know."

"Been busy." Jamie toyed with the edge of the tablecloth, suddenly feeling like she'd been set up for an ambush.

"With what?"

"The band, mostly. Visiting with art school friends. That sort of thing."

"Not thinking of going back to art school, are you?"

"Why?" The question came out more defensively than she'd wanted to.

Dorothy wiped her hands on her apron and sat next to Jamie. She patted her daughter's leg lovingly. "I'm just trying to make conversation, that's all. Our Sandy's been thinking of late admission up at Central, after all, and it's not a bad idea to have something to fall back on if your group doesn't work out. Even if it's just art."

"Lay off my art, Mum. I'm grown now, I don't have to listen to you and Dad telling me what to do with my life. Why don't you pick on Sandy or Michael for once?" Jamie scowled.

Dorothy smiled sadly and squeezed her daughter's hand. "I'm not picking on you, love. I'm trying to watch out for you, that's all. After all, Our Sandy has a career waiting for her whenever she wants to pursue it, and Michael, well, working for the Rank Organization in such an important position--"

"He's an accounting clerk, Mum."

"-- and for the International Division, too--"

"Just because he's fluent in French."

"Why must you rag on your brother so?"

"Because you obviously like him more than me," Jamie replied tersely.

"Not a bit of it!" Dorothy looked a little hurt. "I'm just wanting to make sure you live up to your full potential, Jamie. I don't want you being a boring old shop girl until Mr. Right comes along."

Jamie rolled her eyes and let out a huff of frustration. "That's not going to happen, Mum. We've got a gig!"

"You always have these gig thingies, don't you?"

"This one is different-- we're going to be a house band. We'll be able to develop a real following, perhaps attract the attention of a proper label or something." She wondered why she was even bothering to explain these things to her mother. It was obvious that nothing was penetrating.

"Ah. That's nice, love." Dorothy glanced at the kitchen clock and stood. "Oh, it's time to head over. Would you carry the biscuit tin?"

On the other side of the red brick garden wall, Susannah Kent stood in her sunny kitchen, putting the finishing touches on lunch with some help from Annie. Plates of cucumber, roast beef and smoked salmon sandwiches were stacked on the table along with fruit cups and a china teapot covered with a colourful floral cozy.

Susannah was a petite woman with bright blue eyes and fair hair styled neatly in a short bouffant. The eldest surviving child of eight children, all the product of working class East London parents, she had long since shaken off her Cockney roots for upper middle class grandeur. After finishing high school, she'd gone to secretarial college and gotten a position as personal secretary to a Senior Bank manager at Barclays. There she'd met his son and protégé and the rest had been, as far as anyone could tell, a faerie tale romance.

With the exception of her youngest brother, Patrick, who insisted on being his own man, regardless of class, the rest of the Barry clan had risen above their working class roots in kind and included a successful barrister, a doctor, a professional writer, and several prosperous business owners. Susannah expected no less from her own daughters, but so far, Rory had thwarted her at every turn-- with some assistance from her wayward uncle Pat. Despite her decidedly middle class upbringing, Rory seemed to be determined to become what her mother had fought so hard to get away from.

Susannah glanced at her wristwatch and clucked her tongue. "You're certain Rory said she'd be here, Annie?"

Annie nodded nervously. "She swore to me she'd come round today, Mummy. She said she had some errands to run first but I'm sure she'll turn up soon." She hated making excuses for her sister, especially when Rory barely bothered to pay attention to trivial details like arrival times.

Her mother looked skeptical. "It would be nice if she showed up here before the Ludlows did. Goodness knows it would give Dorothy something to chew her cud about otherwise." Although she and Dorothy Ludlow were long time friends and neighbours, there was an underlying rivalry between them when it came to their children. Considering the recent career successes of both Michael and Sandy, it was Susannah's decided opinion that Dorothy was definitely winning.

Annie poked at a plate of sliced tomatoes distractedly. "She should be here in a little while."

"Oh, don't get all sulky on me, pet," Susannah gave her younger daughter a comforting smile. "I know you're not to blame."

"Well, I did tell her more than once," she insisted, not certain that her mother wasn't laying the onus on her anyway.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it," Annie was on her feet and at the door before her mother could respond. It was Rory, sporting her Ray-ban sunglasses and a relaxed grin.

"Hallo. I'm not terribly late, am I?"

"No, but Mummy was starting to worry you weren't going to show up."

Rory pulled a face. "I am here. The Ludlows aren't. So what's the problem?"

"You should have been here earlier to help, that's all. Half the time you say you're going to come home, you don't," the younger girl replied then screwed up her face in a grimace. "And then I have to make excuses."

"Well, you shouldn't. Whatever I'm up to is my affair, not yours. You should tell them that."

"You know I can't." Annie looked horrified at the mere suggestion of standing up to their parents. "Besides, they wouldn't listen to me, anyway."

Rory clicked her tongue in dismay and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. "You really need to grow a spine, little sister. They don't pull that sort of shite with me."

"Well, I'm not you, am I?" Annie said tersely, then studied her sister's features carefully. "You're stoned again, aren't you?

"What if I am?" Rory asked with a diffident shrug.

"I can't believe you'd come home in that condition," her sister hissed. "What if Mummy notices?"

"What if she does?" The older girl let out a chuckle. "What's she going to do? Call the drug squad?"

"That's not the point," Annie replied sharply.

"It's the only way I was going to be able to get through this afternoon."

"It won't be that bad. You always make it into a bigger deal than it is, you know. It's only Mum and Mrs. Ludlow."

"I can generally deal with Mum all right but put Dorothy Ludlow in the fucking equation and it's hell. Having to put up with the two of them at the same time makes me want to go home and blow my fucking brains out. So Rory, what are you doing now? Have you got a young man? Have you found yourself a decent job? When are you giving up the silly guitar playing to do something proper with your life?" she said in a fair imitation of Dorothy's Mancunian accent. "Who needs it? At least this way, it won't seem so bloody awful."

Annie chewed on her lower lip pensively. "I just wish you wouldn't."

"Look, little sister, Mum wanted me here and I'm here. If Mum or Mrs. Ludlow don't like it, they can piss off. I'll just turn around and go home again." Rory glared at Annie, a determined expression set on her face.

"Don't let's argue. Please? I'm sorry I said anything."

"You should be," Rory sniffed. "I only came cos you asked me to."

Annie looked like she was going to cry. "Why must you be like this?"

Rory's stern expression softened. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Annie, don't blubber. I'll be as good as gold. I promise."

With a sniffle, Annie led her sister into the large white kitchen.

"Hallo, Mum. The prodigal daughter hath returned. Thrown any fatted calves on the fire in celebration yet?" Rory swaggered into the kitchen and then bent over to kiss her mother on the cheek.

"And who are you again?" Susannah responded coolly.

"Hmmm. Who am I? That's a question philosophers have been pondering for ages. You know, I'm not quite certain I can answer that."

Susannah attempted to scowl at her dark-haired daughter while suppressing a laugh. She didn't quite succeed. "It wouldn't hurt you to come home every once in a while and see your old mum, now would it?"

"Ah, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, don't it?" Rory quipped.

"Doesn't it." Susannah corrected her with a sigh. "I really wish you'd speak properly, Aurora. Lord knows you were taught to."

Rory gave her mother a smirk. "Yeah, but what fun is that?"

"Some day I will suss out just what I did wrong with you."

"So, Mum, we've gotten a regular gig." Annie interrupted, hoping to stop a potential argument before it started. "At a new club."

"A regular gig?" her mother echoed. "When and where, pet?"

"At Chez Vrai. In Soho. It's a new place. It'll be at lunchtimes several times a week," Annie said proudly.

Her mother's smile faded. "It's not going to interfere with your classes, is it?"

Annie looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. "N-no."

"Mum, she'll be as right as rain." Rory put a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder. "The term's nearly over anyway."

"Annie, I don't want you jeopardizing your academic career for the sake of this rock 'n' roll thing."

"I-I'm not. It's a steady gig and we'll be getting p-paid."

Susannah pursed her lips in disbelief. "I'm not concerned about whether or not you get paid for it. It's a matter of whether or not it's going to affect your grades. I won't have you losing your scholarship over this."

"But...." Annie protested.

"Mum, it's what we want to do," Rory interjected. "What's so wrong with that?"

"Playing pop music is all right for you, Rory. You've got nothing better to do with your time. Annie does."

"And just what's that s'posed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. You spoiled your chances to ever go to university ages ago. I won't be having you do the same thing to your sister."

"Christ, Mum. You make it sound like it's a bloody death sentence or something."

"I just want your sister to have a proper education. I wanted one for you, too, but you clearly had other plans. With some help from my bleedin' brother. Sometimes I could just throttle him."

"Well, he's in Hong Kong so good luck trying to find 'im."

Susannah sighed. "And why he had to leave so suddenly is anybody's business."

"You know, you sound just like Dad," Rory said sharply.

"I can't help it if you've disappointed us both by throwing away any prospects you had."

"Right. I'm out of here. I didn't come home to have the same bloody lecture again." Rory snatched up her sunglasses from the table and stormed out of the kitchen.

"Rory, please don't." Annie called after her, close to tears.

"Aurora Johanna Kent, don't you dare walk out of this house!" Susannah shouted.

Rory spun on her heel and glared at her mother. "And why the bloody hell not? You don't want me here. I'm such a ruddy great disappointment, ain't I?"

"Aren't I? And no one said anything about you leaving." Her mother's voice was tinged with frustration.

"Well, what is the bloody point in staying?" Rory spat.

"Because I asked you to. I know that it's a terrible strain on you to ever do anything I want but, for once, could you please try and do what I ask?"

"I don't want my horribly disappointing self to continue to darken your doorway if it's going to make you so miserable."

"Rory...." Susannah threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "Why must you be so damned contrary about everything?"

"I'm not the one being contrary," Rory insisted stubbornly.

"I'm asking you to stay. If I hadn't wanted you here in the first place, I wouldn't keep inviting you to come round."

"Why? So you can berate me and make me feel like shite as soon as I cross the threshold? Who needs it? That's why I left in the first place, Mum, and you know it."

"That was your father, Rory. Not me. And if there was anyway I could have changed it, I would have. I was just as miserable about that situation as you were. I still am, if you must know. I s'pose that ought to make you feel better."

Rory's harsh expression softened. "Of course it doesn't. I'm not some heartless monster, you know."

"Well, neither am I. If I worry about you girls too much, I'm sorry. I'm your mother."

"Mum, look, Annie isn't going to screw up her grades because of the band. I'll make sure she studies for exams and passes them with honours-- even if I have to break into her teachers offices and nick the answers for her myself."

"I only have one real exam. Everything else is practicums," Annie said lightly, trying to diffuse the tension.

"There, see? Even better." Rory smiled wryly. "Only one set of answers to pinch."

Susannah managed a strained smile. "You'd better make sure she's well prepared for those practicums as well. I doubt she's going to be allowed to play pop music as a final project. Or are you planning to just invite your professors round to hear you at this club of yours?"

"Now there's a thought," Rory conceded. "Why didn't you think of that, Annie?"

"I don't think they'd be high-class enough for Mr. Gribben."

"Who is Mr. Gribben?" inquired their mother.

"The club owner. He wants this place to be very posh. Including the clientele." Annie explained.

"You know, Michael's handling the all negotiations. He's the one who got it for us," Rory said, knowing that just the mere mention of Michael Ludlow's name would make the whole thing seem more legitimate. Her parents adored him almost as much as his own parents did. No reason to bring up her hand in it now. "It's actually very prestigious."

"All right, you can stop trying to convince me now. I'll leave off about it-- but if anything happens with Annie's schooling, anything, there'll be hell to pay. From both of you."

"Yes, Mummy."

"Don't worry, Mum, Annie's not going to flunk out," Rory added, giving her sister a pointed look.

Annie had no idea what Rory was trying to imply, but was saved from pondering by another knock on the door. "I'll get it." She all but ran from the room, returning a moment later with Dorothy and Jamie.

"Here we are," Dorothy said cheerily, patting Rory on the head as she passed by her. "Jamie, give Mrs. Kent the biscuits."

"Yes, Mum." Jamie handed over the tin, then slumped into a chair next to the raven-haired guitarist.

"You've had it good so far, yeah?" Rory whispered.

"Bout as good as you, I s'pect."

Rory rolled her eyes.

"Oh, that good, eh?"

"Well, have a seat, Dorothy," Susannah said. "We're just waiting on Sandy."

"She's not here yet?"

"Obviously not, Mum." Jamie tried hard not to sound like she was whining.

"We could start without her," Rory said. "I'm starving."

"I suppose." Dorothy agreed.

"Right," Susannah nodded. "Help yourselves, ladies." She sat down, served herself a few salmon sandwiches, and passed the plate to Dorothy.

The girls ate in silence for the most part, letting their mothers catch them up on all the gossip about various neighbours and relatives that none of the girls really gave a toss about. As Susannah poured Rory the rest of the tea, though, a long-delayed knock finally sounded on the door. Annie, still on door duty, hopped up and brought her best friend back into the kitchen.

"Hallo, everyone," Sandy smiled, sliding into the empty seat. "Sorry I'm late. I had a couple of last minute phone calls, and then I missed the bus." She grabbed a few of the remaining sandwiches and started to eat hungrily.

Dorothy patted Sandy's leg. "Anything interesting in the calls, love?"

"One of the calls was for Rory, actually."

Rory perked up. "Me?"

"Another one of your blokes, no doubt," Jamie quipped.

"Blokes? What blokes?" Susannah asked curiously.

Sandy smiled at Rory. "Michael asked that you please meet him at the Ship about 5:20."

Rory's smile changed into a frown. "Not bloody likely. Sorry, but I'm still cross with him."

Dorothy looked somewhat disconcerted at her reaction. This was, after all, her pride and joy they were discussing.

"Rory, please," Sandy begged. "He wanted to discuss matters before he meets with Mr. Gribben."

"So he can patronise me further? I don't think so." She crossed her long legs and let out a huff of irritation.

"I think it's his way of apologising."

Rory curled her lip up into a sneer but said, "All right, I'll think about it."

"What were the other calls?" Dorothy prompted.

"Why not just get a party line, Mum, so you can hear all our calls?" Jamie grumbled.

Her mother gave her a critical look. "That's enough out of you, Jamie."

Jamie scowled and sunk further in her chair, folding her arms across her chest and doing a good impression of a five-year-old in the middle of a sulk. Susannah gave her a small, sympathetic grin.

"Well, Mr. Pennington rang up. You remember him, Mum, he's the producer I've done a few radio dramas for. Anyway, he's putting a new series together, and he wanted me to be the lead girl."

Dorothy clasped her hands together and nearly swooned with delight. "How delightful! Our Sandy as the lead in a drama series! When do you start? Oh, I can't wait to hear you on the radio!"

Sandy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I turned him down."

"What?!" Dorothy looked positively stunned.

"I turned him down." Sandy made sure to catch Rory's eye as she added, "It would interfere with our gigs at Chez Vrai, so I told him I couldn't do it. He still wanted to use me in some capacity, though, so I'm going to be one of the lead's friends in an episode. I record it next Friday afternoon, from three to five."

"How splendid! Oh, my love, you're really moving up now. Pity, though, about not taking the lead. Perhaps if you gave up your silly old band--"

"It's not a silly old band!"

All four girls had exclaimed it almost in unison, surprising both themselves and their mothers.

"Yes, well, if you say so," Dorothy finally managed.

"Besides, the band can't really be silly," Susannah added, "Not if Your Michael is managing it. He's not the sort to involve himself in something frivolous."

"True enough, true enough, especially not in his spare time."

"He really is a nice boy, Annie," Susannah continued. "It wouldn't hurt if you were to encourage him to like you a bit more."

"I think he already does like me," Annie said, blushing. "He's always very nice to me."

"It's just that you two would be perfect together. You'd make such a cute couple."

"Mummy!" Annie exclaimed, now completely crimson.

"Oh, that would be ever so nice, wouldn't it?" Dorothy agreed cheerily.

Rory gave Jamie a surreptitious nudge with her foot. She made a point of casually glancing at her watch, doing a double take, and standing up. "Oh, would you look at the time? We've really got to be going. Especially if I'm going to meet Michael on time."

"Wouldn't want to be late!" Jamie agreed, jumping to her feet. "Bye, Mum. Thanks for the lunch, Mrs. Kent."

"Ta ta you lot," Rory added, all but bolting for the door with her fellow guitarist close behind.

"Where are they off to?" Dorothy wondered, looking at the remaining girls for an answer.

Annie and Sandy exchanged confused looks and shrugged in unison.

"Well, that was a horror movie, wasn't that?" Jamie commented as she hopped into the passenger side of Rory's car.

"Make you wish you were born an orphan, doesn't it?" Rory started the car and peeled away from the kerb loudly. "I think we need to head back to the flat and relax, don't you?"

"Relax? Oh, I get it." Jamie grinned broadly. "I hope we don't have to go through your entire stash, though, before we get lunch out of our minds."

"You and me both, James. You and me both." Rory shuddered. "What a fucking nightmare. How those two can put up with our mums for such long periods of time is beyond me."

"Well, I don't know about you, but in my case it's cos Sandy pales only in comparison to Michael in Mum's eyes. Of course she laps it all up-- she's the bloody moon, sun and stars, isn't she? She can do no wrong and evidently, I can do no right."

Rory snorted. "Oh, I know all about that. You missed the fireworks before you came over. Somehow it'll be my fault if Annie fucks up her classes this term."

"As if she'd ever let that happen anyway," Jamie said acerbically.

"She'd sooner die, I think. Although if this gig goes the way I'm hoping, she might not have time for anything as trivial as schoolwork." Rory snickered. "But you never heard me say that."

"Say what?"

"Exactly." Rory slammed on her brakes as they hit a red light. ""What the hell is with them anyway? Are all mums just mad on general principle? I mean that whole fucking matchmaking thing. I'm sorry, but it ought to illegal to even think about letting my sister breed with your brother."

Jamie turned to her friend and chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about that, Rory. D'ya honestly think either one of them would even be able to suss out how to do it?"

Rory giggled. "I don't even want to think about the possibility."

"Besides, unless Michael can somehow manage to masquerade as sigh George Harrison sigh, your sister won't even touch him."

"Not bloody likely on either account. I s'pose I ought to be grateful that they finally gave up on me as a potential mate for the Most Boring Man in The World, though. How many years did I have to put up with that shite?"

"I'm sorry for that. But you know he did fancy you quite a lot."

"I sort of reckoned that. His immediate hard-ons whenever I walked into the room were a dead giveaway." The light turned green and Rory floored the gas pedal, zooming down the road with a lurch.

"Ew. That is the most disgusting thing I've heard all day."

"Sorry, James. I shouldn't have mentioned it. Especially right after lunch."

"Just don't do it again please!" Jamie shuddered, then continued, "So, where were you this morning? And don't give me that tired old 'people to see, things to do' bullshit. I know when you're up to something."

Rory smiled wickedly. "Well, I did have things to do and people to see but I went round to Syb's and managed to round us up a bit of an audience for tomorrow." Syb was Sybill McDowell, one of Rory's closest friends.

"What? From that lot?" Jamie scoffed. A would-be interior designer, Sybill shared a large rundown house with a group of struggling artists, poets, musicians and even an anarchist or two. Hardly the genteel money-ed crowd Nigel was hoping for.

"Ah, Simon and Miles clean up okay and Syb's fine. If Dennis, Niall or Jo manage to make it, even better. I got them to swear they'll even order drinks and a bit of grub." Rory wrinkled her nose. "Of course, I've got to pay for it but it's a fair trade. At least old Rat face will be happy we've got some punters in to see us."

"Well, that's something to look forward to," Jamie smiled. "So is spending an afternoon with our good friend Mary Jane and no mums to make us barmy."

Sandy and Annie finally managed to extricate themselves from their mothers' homes a little over an hour later and were now walking down the Ealing High Street towards the closest bus stop. Unlike their elder sisters, neither girl felt particularly unhappy about going home to see their parents or being interrogated about their current plans. Annie usually went on a daily basis to practise on the family piano-- there was no room in the flat for a piano, never mind the cost of even renting one. She did have access to practise instruments at the Royal College of Music, but she was used to the family upright, and this way she also had an excuse to come home and spend time with her mum.

Sandy's schedule was so busy that her visits home were less frequent than her friend's, but she and Michael certainly made it a point to see their respective parents more often than Jamie did. In actuality, both sets of parents would have preferred their younger daughters to be living at home, but Rory's will had prevailed in that instance.

"I still can't believe our mums think Michael and I would make a cute couple," Annie said with more than a hint of embarrassment.

"Well, you would at that," Sandy said with a smile, "but I don't think you need to worry about it ever becoming a possibility. I don't think Michael has any interest in you at all."

"He doesn't?" Annie hoped Sandy didn't notice the tinge of disappointment in her voice and proceeded to make a big deal of readjusting the heavy book bag she carried on her shoulder.

"Of course not," Sandy reassured her friend cheerfully. "Well, nothing more than a little sister. Which I s'pose is a good thing since it's not like you fancy him or anything."

"No, of course not," Annie replied a little too quickly. "He's a lovely bloke but...."

"Hardly George Harrison."

Annie looked up and said gravely, "No one is like George Harrison. He's one of a kind."

"Although if there were two of him, you might be able to meet him more easily."

"That's very true," Annie conceded, her mood brightening. "But then I'd have the horrible problem of trying to figure out which one was the original!"

"Now you're sounding like something out of one of those science fiction stories Michael's always reading," Sandy giggled. "Still, someone could make a fortune if they figured out how to clone our favourite boys, wouldn't they?"

"I bet you'd be in queue for a Paul McCartney straight away."

"Oh, speaking of queues, I nearly forgot to tell you-- I didn't want to say anything in front of our mums or our sisters but I spoke to Carolyn this afternoon. That was one of the other phone calls that made me late." Carolyn Rogan was a high school chum of both girls and a fellow Beatles fan.

"Oh? How is she?"

"Very well. She told me that Christmas show tickets are definitely going on sale on Monday and that she and the other girls are already making plans to queue up over the weekend."

"All right. Well, we'll have to sort that out with them. Hopefully we can take turns in line. Monday is a very full day for me, especially now that we've got the lunchtime show."

"I can't see that it'll be a problem. They want good seats for the Christmas show as much as we do."

"If not more so!" Annie laughed.

"She also said her parents are having a Guy Fawkes bonfire on Thursday and we're invited, so I'm sure we can make our plans then."

"I haven't got classes or anything that day so it should be perfect. If we're lucky, Rory will even let us out of rehearsing so we can have a free night."

"Not bloody likely but I'm sure we can work around it. Carolyn also told me she and Evie went to the airport this morning."

Puzzled, Annie asked "The airport? Whatever for?"

"The Boys were there."

"They were?"

Sandy sighed. "Yeah, they were on their way back from Belfast."

Annie looked crestfallen. "Oh no. Why didn't anyone tell us?"

"Carolyn said she thought we'd be too busy to go."

"Well, did they get to see them?"

"She said it was very crowded and all so no, not really."

"Good," Annie said peevishly. "It serves them right."

"Well, that's not very nice," Sandy attempted to sound disapproving of her friend's attitude.

"Well, neither is going to see the Beatles at the airport without telling us!" the little drummer declared with a pout. "If they'd gotten to meet them, I'd just die."

"At least you don't have to fight with them over Paul." Sandy looked a bit dismayed as she spoke.

"No, I just have to fight with Chloe over George," Annie reminded her.

Sandy smiled at her friend. "As if there would ever be any contest. George would pick you in a minute."

"Well, the same holds true for you with Paul. I think Carolyn's taller than him anyway," Annie giggled.

"I also asked her to come round to Chez Vrai tomorrow for our debut."

"And?"

The blonde bassist heaved a sigh of frustration. "Same old thing-- she'd think about it and let the other girls know but I don't think they'll bother."

Annie pulled a face. "I don't understand why they never come to any of our shows. They're supposed to be our friends. We'd do it for them."

"I know." Sandy screwed up her face in irritation. "It's not like we play that often anyroad."

"Well, maybe they'll start showing up once we start getting a crowd." Annie said optimistically. "We could always tell them the Beatles were going to be in the audience. That would get them into the club, now wouldn't it?"

Sandy giggled. "Annie, you're terrible."

"I only want us to have an audience so we can keep these gigs," Annie insisted. "Besides, it's obvious that they care more about the Boys than us, so you know we ought to exploit that."

"They'd never believe us anyhow."

"I know. But wouldn't it be lovely if it did happen?"

"What? The Beatles showing up to see us play some time?"

"Yeah."

Sandy nodded in agreement. "Who knows? Maybe some day we will get that lucky."

"P'raps." They had reached the bus stop by now. Annie checked her watch, then glanced up the street. "Should be here any moment now. Can't keep my students waiting."

"Good. I'm freezing." Sandy hugged herself, trying to keep warm. "I wish I knew what happened to my gloves."

"Did you look at your parents?"

"That would be too easy, wouldn't it?" She sighed. "Michael should be by the house tonight. I'll ring him at work, ask if he could look for me."

"You could just go back and look."

"Not with the bus coming." She pointed down the road, where the doubledecker could just be seen several blocks away. "Besides, Michael will take care of me. He always does."

"I wish he'd take care of me," Annie murmured.

"Sorry?"

"What time will you be back, then?"

"Oh, the usual, I should think, 4:30 or so. I hope our sisters are in a better mood by then."

"So do I."

The bus stopped in front of them; they stepped up, paid their fares, and grabbed seats near the door.

Jamie struck a Dm7 chord and squawked, "My mum's a twat, and my dad's no better, I think they'd like me more if I were a worn-out sweater."

Rory nearly fell off her bed laughing. "Brill, James," she finally managed, "but we won't be able to play that some place as uppity as Chez Vrai."

"Ya' don't think he'll make us sign some purity pledge, do you?"

"If he does, he can shove it up his slimy posh bum." Rory relit the joint and inhaled deeply. "I might playact at being a good girl, but he's not going to get it in writing." She passed the joint to her friend, then picked up her acoustic again. "I'd rather be fuckin' shot."

Jamie drew in a lungful of smoke and then replied "I'm sure that could be arranged."

"I'm not going to pretend to be something I'm fuckin' not, just to make records."

"Would you compromise a little?"

"I'm going to fuckin' have to, aren't I? We're all going to get sold out, if we're not fuckin' careful." Rory put her guitar down. "I'm hungry. How about you?"

"Famished. Is there any chocolate left?"

"We might find a Flake bar or two if Annie hasn't eaten them all."

"Righto." Jamie took a final drag on the joint, and left it in Rory's ashtray. She followed her friend into the kitchen.

Rory had already opened the refrigerator and was scrounging through it impatiently. "There's some leftover roast beef."

"Chocolate."

"Camembert?"

"Chocolate."

"Milk?"

"Chocolate!"

"You drive a hard bargain. You sound like my bleedin' sister, though, with her choccy fixation!" She reached on top of the refrigerator, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled down a Dairy Milk bar and a packet of Bassett's Jelly Babies. "Ah ha! I'll even give you the choice," she added, holding up both prizes.

Jamie's eyebrows drew together as she surveyed the sweets.

"Don't be all day about it!"

"I'm thinking!" Jamie snickered.

Rory twisted her mouth up into a mock scowl. "A likely story."

"Fine. I'll have the jelly babies, then. I know you can't stand them."

"Ta." She tossed the packet to Jamie, then settled down at the rickety table and unwrapped the chocolate. Jamie sat as well, and they snacked in companionable silence.

The flat door opened, and Sandy's cheery voice called out, "Hallo! Anyone about?"

Jamie made a face. "There goes my happy-go-lucky mood."

"Just think of her like a puppy-- easily pleased, easily ignored." Rory raised her voice. "In the kitchen, Sands."

Sandy bounded in and headed right for the refrigerator, where she pulled out a bottle of Coca-Cola. "Recovered from lunch, are we?"

"Well, it's certainly not nearly as painful as it was," Rory commented.

"Honestly, Sands, how can you stand it?" Jamie wondered.

"It's not that bad, you know." Sandy popped the cap off her coke and sat next to her sister. "You just have to take what Mum says in the spirit in which she offers it. She means well."

"That's like saying Hitler was only trying to help out his fellow Germans."

Sandy frowned. "I thought that marijuana stuff was supposed to make you more mellow."

"You should have heard her before she smoked up," Rory commented.

"And who said I was smoking anything, anyway?" Jamie added testily.

"I'm not stupid, you know. The flat reeks of it."

Rory giggled, "It's a fair cop."

"Anyway, James," Sandy continued, "I'll do this now to get it over with. I'm supposed to encourage you to consider going back to art school, so consider yourself encouraged."

"Christ!" Jamie spat. "Now she's got you doing it, too."

"What's this?" Rory asked.

"Ah, part of the pre-lunch lecture. I should go back to art school because at least it's something to fall back on, even if it's only art."

"Nice backhanded compliment there," Rory said.

"You know my parents. Art is evil. That's why my Uncle Terry was cut out of my grandfather's inheritance. But speaking of school, Sands, what's this I hear about you going to apply for late admission to that drama school of yours?"

"I told Mum I was thinking of it-- and that was mostly to shut her up about what a waste it is being in the band."

"Why don't I believe you?"

Sandy pointedly glanced up at the time. "Eh, Rory, shouldn't you be leaving, if you're going to meet up with Michael?"

"I still haven't decided if I'm going. D'you think I'll get a proper apology out of him?"

"He wishes," Jamie muttered.

"I'm sure if pressed--"

"Or rubbed--" Jamie threw in, sending both herself and Rory into giggles.

"Oh, you're impossible to talk to sometimes!" Sandy grabbed her cola and stomped out of the room.

The other girls only laughed harder. Rory finally wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up. "I suppose I'll head on down to the Ship."

"You're actually going to meet him?"

The black-haired guitarist shrugged. "Why not? I suppose he really does mean well, even if he is a pompous arse. Besides, I have just thought of the perfect way to get him back for his remarks last night."

"How?"

"Oh, by pressing him."

on to part 4 | back to part 2 | back to index