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While John ran errands, I flapped to get ready in time for the cavern club gig, well aware that I only had a limited amount of makeup with me and the same outfit as the boys met us in. Delia wanted to make herself useful and offered to do my hair just as John returned, slamming the door shut behind him.
"Mimi, the groceries are on the kitchen table," he yelled out and walked past the living room to set the vegetables down. I snuck a peak at the flushed boy or man, I should say. He carried an extra few bags in his arms.
Delia sat on the sofa, chatting away about her parents latest planned trip to the country where they were going to stay in a cabin. Delia would get her own room, the ideal notion in case she found herself a hot farmer lad. Mimi had gone upstairs for a break from our never ending gossiping.
"Is that the girlies I hear?" John poked his head comically around the door frame and waggled his fingers in mock greeting, making Delia burst out laughing and me a grin. "I've got to shower and get ready, so we'll leave at half past. If that's cool with ye," John checked his wristwatch for timings, smooth and controlled.
"I've got no choice," I pointed out truthfully to John's apparent amusement.
"No, good ma'am, you haven't," John put on a fake, queens English voice and paced towards me with an outstretched hand. The bag hung from his grip. "A gift," he bowed lowly, staring at the carpet. "Do spare me, your majesty." Delia chuckled harder and John caught her eye to join in.
"Get up, you twit," I lightly jested, curious as to what he meant. He got slightly impatient and rattled the bag in my face. He thrust it into my arms.
"We haven't got all night," he urged me to open it and I didn't fancy an argument. The paper rustled underneath my trembling hands. "Don't get too excited, it ain't nothing special love. The woman in the shop, ahem, told me what to buy," he referred to the gorgeous black turtle neck jumper and deep purple berry coloured miniskirt I pulled out, feeling the soft as butter fabric.
Delia's mouth hung open in friendly jealousy, wide eyed.
"They were cheap," John made sure I knew it wasn't special. There were a new pair of shoes too, black platforms. "I had I make sure I wasn't seen with someone smelling of last nights dinner and looking like it had been spewed up in the gutter," he cast a beady eye over my tired ensemble.
"John, I don't know what to say. Thank you," my heart beat fast at the thought of wearing these. I stared at his youthful face which looked serious for once.
"Yeah," he muttered, turning on his boot heel to stomp upstairs for the shower. I turned to Delia myself in shock and she began squealing first.
"Oh my god! It's gorgeous. You're going to look amazing. The guys at the cavern club won't know what's hit them," Delia complimented, reaching out to stroke the jumper. "You lucky thing. I wish I was going," she jutted her bottom lip out.
"Oh Dels, I'm sorry. I'll bring you back some of your favourite chocolates, if that makes up for it?" I bartered to cheer her up. "Only if you do one of your hairstyles on me?"
"Fine," she agreed decisively, motioning me to squeeze next to her on Mimi's couch. "Bring me a comb."
By time my hair was teased and styled into oblivion and I'd slipped into the new outfit, it was nearly half past. Mimi stalked about silently, banging pots and pans around for the sake of it. I did up the clasp on my new shoes and replied a layer of cherry lipstick, the one essential I carried everywhere I went. You never know when an emergency in the fashion department would arise.
"What do ya think?" I shimmied for Delia, pretending to dance go go style. "The skirts not too short, is it?" I bit my lip nervously, brunette locks brushing my shoulders. I was nervous, for my palms felt clammy.
"Uh yes!" Delia answered, meaning it in the best way possible for her eyes shone brightly.
"Good," I smirked, shaking on the spot to quell my nerves. I didn't know why, maybe it was going out with someone new that made me all... weak.
Sure enough, loud footsteps echoed down the stairs and squeaked their way into the living room. The sight of John in a fresh set of teddy boy style clothes, white shirt and a leather jacket to match was... indescribable. His boots weren't subtle and his face was cocky, knowing he looked dapper for a teenager. A fresh scent of men's aftershave filled my nostrils, a classic scent and his hear greased back neatly, yet messily too.
His jaw hung when he spotted me in my get up. "Give is a twirl, doll," he instructed, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "That's more like it. You'll fit right in ma'am," he curtsied this time, lifting up some fake, imaginary skirts, certain that I was posh. He wolf whistled loudly when I spun around to pick up my bag. Delia mouthed knowingly to me.
"Stop it John," I insisted bashfully, turning a scarlet colour.
"You're too uptight, poshie. To fit in at the club you'll have to relax, play it low key. Swagger," he demonstrated, leaning awfully far back.
"Give her a few drinks and she'll be fine," Delia exposed me, ganging up on his side from the comfort of her seat.
"Now there's a fine idea. I'd pay to see you drunk, Faye," John sniggered.
"Delia! No! I've never had a drink in my life," I shook my head at their messing around.
"Of course you haven't," John groaned exasperatedly. "Yer nothing but a good little daddy's girl, ain't yer?" He tugged my arm impatiently in a friendly way, bouncing excitably. "Come on, we'll make a Liverpool lass out of you yet."
I had to admit I was intrigued. I couldn't wait to hear them perform, see what all the hype was for. "Bye Delia," I blurted, throwing a small wave her way and letting myself be lead by the confident boy.
"Be back earlier tonight," Mimi shouted out behind us and John completely ignored the final warning, aware she hated him wasting his nights in the band. She'd told us as much.
We chatted politely, walking along the dark streets side by side. He'd stare down at me every now and again, enough to make me self conscious. A girl like me and a guy like him weren't your average two walking the street. We were poles apart, him acting the cheeky lad and me the uptight princess type. I allowed him to hand me a cigarette and John lit the end for me like a gentleman should, revealing in the smoke fumes which rose from my mouth.
"I'm surprised you smoke." He nodded in approval.
"I'd be smoking second handedly by now anyway, with the amount you've inhaled. I've seen you have more than five today," I chastised, gripping the cigarette between my two fingers.
"I know. Lovely things," he tutted, kissing his pack of cigarettes playfully.
