This Time Tomorrow (Beatles Fan Fiction)

July, 1960

'Min, we're leaving Liverpool, not co-ordinating the D-Day landings.'

'I'm saying that we might just have to go. And sooner rather than later.'

'How soon?'

'Before the end of this year. Before Christmas.' Next bloody week perhaps, Minnie thinks. She's going back to the clinic on Monday. She's angry with herself for not doing it today. Now she has a whole weekend to stew over it.

*

Hannah sulks in her bedroom for the rest of the afternoon, her nose in a book. She emerges at six o'clock to start cooking the dinner, casting Minnie derisive looks as she watches her from her same seat at the kitchen table.

'What are you making?'

Hannah shrugs.

'You don't know what you're cooking?' Minnie jokes.

'I'm reheating the leftover Lobscouse from yesterday,' Hannah replies flatly, stirring her pot with her back to Minnie.

'Not Lobscouse again?!'

Hannah turns her head to throw her a black look. 'You don't have to eat it Minnie. You could always cook for yourself.'

Minnie falls silent and five minutes later the front door opens and closes. Hannah doesn't turn around but Minnie sees her stiffen as she continues stirring the lobby pot. Minnie sits up, taking her feet off the chair opposite her as he walks in.

'Good evening, girls,' their father says. They both murmur a reply as he crosses to Hannah. He puts his hand on her cheek and plants a kiss on her temple. Hannah does well. She doesn't flinch until he turns his back on her.

'Have you been working today, Minerva?' he asks as he joins her at the table. He smells of cigarette smoke and wheaty beer. He'll have spent the afternoon, if not the whole day in the pub. He stares at her, challenging her. Someone must have told him Minnie didn't go to work today.

'No,' Minnie replies quietly, head bowed.

'Why not?'

'They didn't need me today.' She looks up, meeting his eyes. 'They had enough cover.' It's a lie. She'd called and said she was ill so she could go to the clinic instead. She's sure he will hear in in her voice. Minnie can hear it. She can never lie to him without the tension and strain showing.

'How old are you now?'

'Nineteen.'

'Nineteen. Four years since you left school and you still contribute next to nothing to this household.'

Minnie tries to hold her tongue. She drops her head again, but she can't stop herself saying, 'I contribute.'

'How exactly? When you can't even find a full time job? Hannah does all the cooking, the cleaning. What do you do, Minerva?'

Minnie casts a look at her sister, still standing with her back to them, stirring her pot relentlessly and a little more ardently than earlier.

'You should try to be more like Hannah. You're the older one. You should set the example, not your little sister.'

'I'm... sorry,' Minnie mumbles. The word sticks in her throat. She hates apologising to him. She would refuse to normally, but she doesn't need any more trouble at the moment. 'I'm working tomorrow.'

He shakes his head and tuts. 'If that cafe can't give you more shifts, you need to find a different job.'

'I could ask for...'