Thursday the 30th of September 1958

It was quite late in the afternoon that Paul had come home from school and it was an instant relief when I was in his company. For the majority of the day, I lazily bustled around the house like some silly house cat. Despite only having stayed with the McCartney's for a couple of days I began to feel guilty with each growing second — even with Mr McCartney's reassuring and comforting talk with me after dinner yesterday. It felt completely and utterly wrong to rely on practical strangers to invite me into their home and care for me and then expect nothing in return.

I watched casually, leaning against the kitchen counter as Paul began fixing himself a ham sandwich then he began to tell me about his day at school. Paul offered a half but I shook my head, declining his polite offer. Then he shrugged his shoulders in a manner saying 'it's your loss' and began munching away.

A silence filled the room, both oddly comforting and awkward. In an embarrassing attempt to make conversation I decided to add in a little over-enthusiastic and proud manner, "I completed a crossword in the newspaper." I regretted it as soon as the words fell out of my mouth as Paul was brought the other half of his sandwich to his lips, at first a smile danced across his lips then he chuckled softly, his enchanting hazel coloured eyes boring into mine.

"How lovely," His words would have seemed sarcastic but the way Paul had said it as if he was truly proud of me and somehow it made my heart flutter. Perhaps back in my time, it would have been much more of an achievement as we had begun to rely on our electronic devices for entertainment, but Paul did not know that and I had made a complete fool of myself.

A blush crept into my cheeks and I turned away, grabbing his plate and taking it over to the white sink filled with lukewarm water and other dishes so I could wash it. Paul let out a murmur of protests I couldn't hear as the plate fell into the bottom of the sink with a muffled thud, soap spuds flew in the air sailing in the air directly over Paul, splattering him head to toe, dirtying his near spotless school uniform. Paul blinked for a moment his mouth formed in an 'o' to depict his shock as he blinked rapidly.

My hand flew to my mouth as I tried my best to not to laugh but failing. It was the hardest I had laughed since I had been here and Paul seemed to notice, for he gave me that silly, charming and familiar grin I had seen in so many photographs over my childhood; that smile of his made my insides began to melt and spread with an unexplainable warmth.

Paul whirled to face me the soft and tender smile morphing into a mischievous smirk and it was that moment I was prayed in soap buds too. I let out a little yelp, then subtly began to relax knowing that there was no point in overreacting as it was just soap and water. I used the back of my hand to wipe away the bubbly substance.

"Yer missed a spot," Paul spoke swiping a clean handkerchief from his trouser pocket and taking a step closer to me. The air caught in my throat and my heart began to race rapidly in my chest. Ever so softly the soft cotton handkerchief moved across my cheek and slowly I raised my eyes to meet his, blushing much a deeper crimson than before.

"Thank you," I mumbled, flashing a quick smile.

Paul grinned, "Yer welcome, love."

Once again, his hazel doe-like eyes met my own again and I got lost in their endless pools of brown and sometimes green depending on the light. It was when Paul's younger brother, Mike strolled into the Kitchen for an after school snack, I instantly shifted my gaze to my brown leather shoes.

"Ello' Daisy," Mike greeted then seconds later pressing a hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter. Confusion washed over me in waves, but when I looked over at Paul there was a look an annoyed and frustrated look his eyes that hadn't been their moments before. I suspected it as a sibling thing, but I couldn't know as I was an only child.

"Hi Mike," I spoke with a grin as he began moving around the small kitchen, looking for something to eat.

Paul impatiently tapped his foot looking down at his wristwatch and then turned to face me, ignoring his younger brother, "I'm goin' upstairs to get out of me buggin' uniform."

I nodded and leant back against the counter as Mike bit into his apple, chewing away silently before speaking. "Paul was tellin' one of his mates about ya on the bus ride home today."

I narrowed my eyes questioningly at Mike. "And? I'm sure they were just curious about when Paul ditched school to come home and check on me a couple of days ago."

Mike laughed again but stopped, "Paul was just braggin' about how pretty the Australian bird stayin' at his house was. I thought you'd wanna know seeing that you're so. . . smitten around him."

"Pardon?!" I screeched but Mike just laughed, even more, clutching his stomach as I sent him a death glare.

"Daisy, I was playin' ya, that look on your face was hilarious." I shuddered but felt my whole being instantly relaxed. Thank god. The last thing I wanted was Paul thinking I 'fancied' him as the British would say but in the deepest depths of my mind, I did think he was gorgeous.

I let out a sigh, mumbling a goodbye as I quickly moved out of the kitchen. It was when I had heard three loud raps on the front door and Paul calls out from upstairs, "Daisy---Mike answer the buggin' front door, I'm gettin' changed!" I rolled my eyes Paul but laughed at his Scouse accent.

When I had opened Paul's front door at his request, I could feel my mouth drop at the sight. I blinked rapidly in shock for a few splintering seconds at the teenage styled teddy boy who was the beloved John Lennon with his guitar in hand. Unable to utter a single word to him, I slammed the door in his face.

"PAUL!" I almost screamed, leaning against the closed front door in shock as I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself as I ran a hand through my hair. John freaking Lennon was right in front of me.

Paul stumbled down the stairs in a rush, dressed in black jeans and a simple white shirt and might I add almost falling in the process. Paul's face grew to be both panicked and concerned as he made his way over to me, a look on his face I often noticed he had when he was around me.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his pretty hazel eyes starring into my own. I struggled on my words, unable to understand why I was fazed by the fact John Lennon was outside. I didn't know why I was overreacting, perhaps it was the fact that he wasn't alive in my time or that he was my mother's favourite Beatle, I couldn't be sure.

"I-I saw a spider," I lied quickly and Paul seemed to find it hilarious he laughed but stopped abruptly as John pounded on the front door cursing in a manner my grandmother would deem inappropriate. The air caught in my lungs as Paul opened the door to let John inside.

I panicked, frozen dead in the spot knowing I had no chance of fleeing, despite wanting to dart past John and to dart outside to scream, then to run and never stop. I wanted to go home now, more than before. In my few short day's here I had come to notice that Paul's company was easy, simple and quite enjoyable. Despite Paul not considered by any family members to be claimed as their favourite, despite how awesome he is --- but with this little adventure into the past I would consider him my favourite but . . . my mother loved John with all her heart, I could remember even with being able to remember so little about her seeing that I seven when she passed away. The Beatles were apart of my mum and seeing John even for a mere moment in person made me feel so much closer to her than I had in years. It brought tears to my eyes.

"Macca," John spoke with a grin at his mate and Paul returned the smile. It was then that John Lennon turned his gaze to me and my whole body felt as it had been scorched from the inside out. With one eye half-closed and scrunching my face up, I slowly met his gaze.

"Well," John muttered his tender brown eyes meeting Paul's as they shared a look that I didn't understand and then turning his attention back to me, "You're no Brigitte Bardot."

What made it funny was I had no idea who the hell this woman was and frankly I didn't care. I very unattractively snorted as I looked him over, "Well, you're no Elvis Presley."

Then Paul made an inhuman noise of amusement which instantly caused John to send Paul a sharp, unappreciative look. Paul shrugged, despite his face blank, there was a twinkle in his eyes. Without a second thought, I dashed upstairs, not bothering with a goodbye to Paul as I stumbled into Mike's room. Mike sat on the carpeted floor of his bedroom with some playing cards, "Do ya want me to deal ya in? We can play 'Go Fish.'" I grinned as I took a seat across him, "Sure."

"I assume that Lennon came over?" I frowned as Mike fleetingly met my eyes before turning back to his cards, I knew I had to play dumb, act like I had no idea who he was.

"Y'know, yer the first bird I've ever witnessed to say something like that to him," Mike admitted.

"Huh?" I spoke, dumbfounded as I placed down a pair of cards, adding it to my other pairs as we continued our game of 'Go Fish.'

"Most birds worship the ground Lennon walks across but not you, Twist. Must be that high strung Australian blood of yours or somethin.' Do ya have a three?"

"Yes, I have a three. He and Paul seem like good mates," I slyly added knowing I was changing the subject while nibbling anxiously at my bottom lip as I gave Mike my three of hearts.

"They are, like brothers those two. They go everywhere together. John and Paul are even in the same band --- The Quarry Men. I'm sure Paul's bragged to you about his musical talents." I brought the cards higher in an attempt to cover my reddening cheeks as I remembered Paul's perfect rendition of Elvis Presley's 'Love Me Tender.'

"Somewhat," I answered which caused Mike to laugh over the sounds of strumming guitars and heavenly voices.

"Hah!" Mike exclaimed, shuffling all his card pairs together. "Looks like I'm in the lead!"

I rolled my eyes at Mike and grew tempted by the thought of observing the greatest partnership in music history, "I'm going to get a glass of water. Do you want me to get you one too?"

Mike shook his head as I stood up, shuffled out of his room as I very sneakily continued down the short hall towards the staircase, careful not to make noise or trip on my way down.

That was until I lost my footing and face planted, exactly right where Paul and John could see me — but Paul wasn't here, John freaking Lennon was.

"Have a nice trip, angel?" John drawled from the living room. When I pushed myself up, wincing when I saw that John was laying down on the small two-seater couch with his feet crossed over the edge with his hands tucked under his head and his guitar propped up against the side table next to the couch.

"Oh yes, it was. . . Hawaii is quite pleasant this time of year."

John didn't miss a beat and it was striking how brutally honest about everything he was, "If yer wondering where yer boyfriend Paulie is—,"

"—Paul isn't my boyfriend," I stated firmly but it just made the growing smile on John's face even wider as if he knew something I didn't. I snickered at the sight, despite a very small part of myself enchanted by the very sight of a musical legend even if I wanted to slap him across the head.

"—on the loo practising acoustics."

"Okay," I drawled moving away from John and out of the living room. It was then that I could hear Paul, strumming away at his guitar with that beautiful and captivating voice of his, so I followed it and it led me to the toilet. How convenient. "Paul?" I spoke softly.

The door was swung open and I could a riff of an unfamiliar song fill the air. The air caught in my lungs at the sight of him. Paul stopped strumming his acoustic guitar and looked up at me with gentle eyes. "Yes, love?"

"Why on earth are you playing your guitar on the toilet?" Paul shook his head with laughter, I knew he was laughing from the look on my face.

"It sounds better in here than it does out there."

"Alright. . ." I whispered with a small grin.

"What's wrong, Daisy? Ya have that look on your face again." I frowned, noticing that all but a familiar look of concern on that pretty face of his.

"Nothing is wrong."

And even if there was I couldn't tell you.

"Did John say something to ya?" Paul spoke in a rush, an overprotective look in his flashing in his eyes I had never seen before.

"No of course not. I mean, he did ask me how my trip was when I fell over on the stairs. Honestly, I think I'm just a little homesick."

Paul didn't seem all that convinced as he stood up with his guitar in hand as he brushed past me. "Daisy why don't I show ye around Liverpool? You've barely left the house since yer got 'ere."

"That would be awesome," I grinned, Paul McCartney showing me around Liverpool was something I couldn't exactly turn down.

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a/n: i know my characterisation of john
isn't perfect and that's the reason i haven't updated this story in a while because i've rewritten this chapter five bloody times for me to even be somewhat satisfied with it — but i do hope you enjoyed the chapter.