1959, Lennon's house, 251 Menlove Avenue, Liverpool

Your older brother, John Lennon, had a band. Him, Paul, Pete and George were The Quarrymen, playing in bars and getting just enough money for cigs and sometimes booze. Today was one of those unpleasant, in your opinion, days: a gig at John's place.

It was always loud and smokey and full of obnoxious laughter. Aunt Mimi wasn't at home, so John couldn't care less about not causing trouble. Usually you rested in your room, reading or just hiding your head under the pillow to muffle the noise. John's friends knew about you, but haven't really seen you.

You were tidying your closet, sorting the pile of clothes into laundry basket. With a basket full dirty clothes, you walked downstairs to bathroom, when someone bumped into you with a grunt. You nearly lost balance — damn, you weren't looking forward to collecting back your clothes — but just in time, the said someone grabbed your wrist, steadying you.

"Careful there, lassie."

It was the lead guitarist of John's band — a tall lean bloke with 'teddy boy' style, sharp features and messy hair, George. He smiled a playful grin with protruding canines and pulled his hand away. You noticed Paul — it seemed George was trying to find him — who approached the two of you, giving him a brotherly pat on the back, earning a glare from the guitarist.

"Ye're Johnny's wee sister, right?"