Evelyn sat in front of the telly and wondered what made them better than the rest. She'd heard so many birds say it. Hell, she secretly felt it herself, but she didn't understand why. No one had sat her down to explain the in and outs of what made a Beatle better than, say, a Hurricane, and she didn't think anyone could, really.

She'd known they were good when she first saw them, but she hadn't thought they'd ever get this far. She hadn't not thought that it either, though. It was a matter of not thinking, because it didn't seem worthwhile. It was good fun once you were there and when it was done, it was done, because they were boys. Everyone was just boys and girls.

But nothing seemed impossible when you viewed it through the eyes of a fan.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Ellie gushed. "You 'aven't said a word all program, but I know ye'r thinkin' it."

"They're great, yeah. I just..."

"Wha'?"

"Isn't it odd? Paul's my age and George is younger than me. It could be anyone of us."

Ellie shrugged. "I think it's inspirin', that. Who'd thought Liverpool would 'ave such talent? Not the likes of this show, I bet."

Thank Your Lucky Stars.

She did. They did too, they must've. They were the lucky stars.

They were wearing identical suits, positioned in their usual spots, looking nothing short of Beatle perfection. Smiles and all, ready to take on the world as they held their instruments and sang away.

"George looks so young," Evelyn mused.

"'e is."

"Ringo looks a bit odd with the new hairdo."

"I like it better. Fits him."

"John looks nice."

Ellie laughed as Evelyn leaned forward in the chair, inspecting the Liverpool native. The telly was in black and white, so there wasn't a whole lot to gaze at, but what was there, she did. Her inquisitive nature got the best of her in moments such as these, and the girlish crush that swirled through her didn't help it any. It was useless to deny it to herself, because she was hyper aware of its presence.

John had rang the office three times since they'd returned to tour with Helen Shapiro, and Evelyn couldn't help but think the worst of him. He talked about what she was writing, told her about what he was doing, but it always felt insidious. She liked him, didn't she? And he liked her too, and their row had made that more clear. The more she thought about him, the more obvious and painful it began to become. His argument resurfaced in her head every time she looked at the box beneath her desk, and she couldn't help it.

He told her about this program and she used a guise, giving the pretense it was work related when she invited Ellie over to watch it with her. Somehow viewing it didn't seem nearly as bad as it would had she been alone. Then it would've been for personal gain completely.

"So ye've found a favorite Beatle?" the girl teased. "I always thought ye were a Paulie gerl, an' what wit' the way he flirted with ye at the Cavern, I thought ye'd have been wit' 'im by now." Ellie clapped her hands, pointing at the screen when it shifted over to the mentioned Beatle. "Oh, look Evie. He's fit. How d'ya do it, work wit' them an' not be all...I dunno, excited all the time. Doesn't it feel surreal?"

"Sure," Evelyn nodded. "I mean, they're just men until they're this. It's a bit odd." She looked at George and his shy smile and grinned herself. She didn't know him all that well, but he came across as nice boy. He'd given her a ride home from the office the day he and Paul stopped by, and told her whenever she went to a show at the Cavern he'd be glad to give her a ride back.

Paul was kind too, though admittedly a bit of a flirt. He let Evelyn interview him but winked at her quite often and listened too intently, being charming, leaning his head a little to the left so his doe eyes look invested. He was, no doubt about it; Paul answered each question and interacted with her until he had to go. Then he bid her goodbye by kissing her cheek and promising to make room for her if she'd like it at the Cavern. "Jus' give us a ring, luv, we'll put ye in the front row fer the good entertainment."

"Innit grand, this?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"'m envious of yer job."

"Oh, don't be," Evelyn sat back in her chair, wrapping her blanket tighter around her. Her flat was always cold, no matter how much she tinkered with the thermostat. Her job certainly couldn't afford a flat with a nicer heating arrangement. "It's not all that pleasant sometimes. I don't think Bill and Virginia have a relationship outside of that magazine."

"But they're madly in love aren't they?"

Evelyn nodded. "Of course. They're going to be married soon."

"An' ye met the Beatles!"

"But now I know how "fagged" out they are are, as it were, an'..." She looked at Ellie, weighing in her options. Ellie was a great friend, never asking for anything, not exploiting her position, not even suggesting it, but this was different. There was a line between giving too much information and giving the wrong information, a bad kind. Telling Ellie about what had happened with John and how she felt would be bad.

But she didn't know he had a wife, did she? And it wasn't like Evelyn was going to do anything. Perhaps telling someone about it, just saying the silly words, would free her from them.

"Oh Ellie, I like 'im, John, an' we've kissed an' it can't be like that. We work together."

Ellie looked dumbfounded by the information, before letting out a squeal.

"Shut it," Evelyn put her lips to her mouth, "ye'll get me in trouble."

"Tell me all about it! 'ow long 'ave ya been snoggin' 'im?" Ellie grinned, "Oh Evie, I can't believe it. Ye've kissed a Beatle."

"Well, it was awhile ago, an' it hasn't occurred more than once. It was a silly mistake, we were both bevied up." Evelyn looked at the television. They were there one minute and gone the next, but it was great. She knew it to be. Even with her lacking knowledge of music, she understood that to be true. "I can't like him. He doesn't know I do."

"'ow many people get t'say they were with a Beatle?"

"I don't know that. What I do know is that being with him would be wrong. Very." Evelyn empathized. "Unprofessional, you understand. I couldn't, no matter what I feel, because he's..." It almost slipped casually, the word married, but she caught herself quick enough. "'e's me co-worker."

Ellie shrugged. "Sod it then, once this is all over."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh ye know, once the article ends. Surely it won't go on forever, will it? Not once they make it big time."

Evelyn nodded her head. "Yeah," she answered quietly, "S'ppose not."

What was "big time" and how close were they to making it there, she wondered.
————

"Did ya see them on the telly last night?" Bill adjusted the papers on his desk. "'m sure everyone will be cryin' at the Cavern later on, talkin' about 'ow their boys are leaving them."

"Yes, I did," Evelyn responded. "Maybe so. It's a bit sad, though, isn't it—them going like that?"

"Sure," Bill shrugged. "But I know John, an' 'e's wanted this more than juss about anything. Paul and George, too. They've been speakin' about things like this before anyone thought it possible."

"They were never meant t'belong to any one town," Virginia spoke. "They juss aren't. They're lovely lads an' all of England deserves them."

"Yeh," Bill agreed. "Speaking of not belonging t'anyone—Brian left ya a telegram, Evelyn." Bill picked up a paper off his desk and handed it to her. "'e wants ya on a tour."

"Oh," Evelyn read over the letter, scooping out the details. "I'll still work here," she said, more as a statement than a question. "I want to write for you," she told Bill. "No one else, not even Brian Epstein, will do. I like it here."

Brian meant London, and home, and places she'd been meaning to escape for a very long time now. She didn't want that.

"I've spoken with him. 'e wants ye fer the tour they're doin' after this one. We've agreed it'll be fer me," Bill smiled. "But ye'll travel with them, an' interview them."

"What about John's article?"

"No need," he shook his head. "It'll be placed on hold fer a week, anyhow, bein' that we're goin' t'do a special Beatles version of Mersey Beat in light of their recent number one."

"Mersey Beatle," spoke Virginia, laughing, "straight from Wooler's mouth onto our paper."

Evelyn grinned. Of course she wanted that, this would be her first, honest chance at writing. No ghost about it, this would be a serious piece. "Well yes, of course I'll do it. When does he want me?"

"Tomorrow. Meet 'im at his office."

"Bill, this is wonderful," Evelyn thought aloud.

"We think so, too. Everythin' is fallin' into place, it seems. If Stu was 'ere it'd be perfect. We'd all be well off, I know it. Stu would be doin' art, an' John would be doin' what 'e's good fer, an' I'd be 'ere, an' he'd—Stu—would surely be a millionaire."

Evelyn remembered him, Stu. Not that she had met him, but she remembered the name, and the story. The boy at the Cavern—she remembered his words from that night.

Whoever he was, that Stu, and whatever part of life he belonged to, didn't matter to Evelyn at the moment. All that mattered was the fact that he was missing something important, life changing perhaps, and she mourned for him.

When she was younger her Nan would tell her that the dead never stopped watching so as long as you gave them something to watch, and she felt Stu was now watching more than ever.

"He's here," she reassured, "An' he's got perhaps the most grand view of the events."

"You think?"

Evelyn nodded, positive, "Absolutely."