Lovely Rita

Chapter 8

"Miss? Miss!" was what I heard when I finally came to. I rubbed my eyes and quickly realised I was now sitting upright against a wall under a dodgy streetlamp by the bollard I had used for balance before. A man dressed in an odd, outdated fashion was sat with me, holding out a bottle of water. I took it clumsily.
"Thank you," I said, my head spinning madly. I held onto it as if that would stop it from spinning, before sipping from the bottle of water I had been given. The man looked at me concernedly, and also with a spot of confusion. "If I might ask, what happened?" I managed to mumble to the man.
"You collapsed next to that," He said in an accent that was almost impossible to understand, motioning to the bollard a metre or two away."But I picked y'up and now you're alright, so if you're gonna be okay then I'll jog on back home. I just hate to see a pretty lady in distress is all." He smiled. I blushed slightly and nodded.
"I'll be okay. I'll just walk it off. Thank you." I smiled, standing and steadying myself against the wall. It was still dark, with no sign of getting light yet. I must have only just collapsed, I assumed. I started to walk off, when all of a sudden I had the urge to look at the bottle of water I had been handed. It had an interesting label on it, but what was even more interesting was the date.
"1966?" I furrowed my eyebrows, whispering to myself. I shook my head, but then my curiosity got the better of me. Turning back down the street, I decided to check out what the NEMS store looked like. That old guy had said that after Epstein died everything 'went to pot', so if this was 1966, Brian wouldn't be dead yet...
I got to the store, where a car was parked in an illegal way just as Pete's had been, and looked up at it with closed eyes. With a deep breath in, I opened my eyes to see the NEMS store in its full glory; title block all there, store filled with records of all of the 1960s musicians that I was so fond of. My mouth was agape at the store, which wasn't closed down this time, just closed for the night.
"What? This is insane!" I whispered. I clapped a hand to my mouth in disbelief. I backed away from the store laughing confusedly to myself. Suddenly I hit something hard, and stumbled forward as an alarm sounded on the old fashioned car. I looked around, flustered. I had no idea what to do! I didn't even know what was happening or where I was! I was in that strange little street, but it all looked so different!

"What's up with me car?" I heard a low male voice say from my right. I looked down the street to see the silhouette approaching in the darkness.
"Sorry, I tripped and fell onto it. I'll pay for any damage, if there is any. I'm a sort-of traffic warden myself you see, so I'd hate for you to go without compensation or whatev..." I trailed off as the silhouette became illuminated by the flashing car lights and street lamp. "Oh..." I mumbled. The man with the sunken eyes breathed a chuckle.
"Nice to meet you too!" He said. I chuckled. This was unbelievable. I was stood in front of the young Paul McCartney... YOUNG, as in nowhere near 70 years old.
"SO, so sorry Sir!" I said, clasping both hands to my mouth as he stopped the alarm on his very beautiful classic car. He shot me a confused look.
"Nah, no need to call me 'Sir' love, just Paul'll do." He smiled that photo-shoot smile at me. That was the smile that would have sent the sixties fangirls crazy, I imagined. It even made me feel a little light headed, and I was used to seeing pictures all the time.
"Sorry, this is all just such a shock. I'm Rita." I said clumsily, putting out a hand for him to shake. He was probably surprised that I wasn't jumping him or screaming to be honest. That's what he was used to. He shook it warmly. "Um... I know this will probably sound strange to you, but... What year are we in?" I asked, looking down at my subconsciously shuffling feet.
"August 1966, ma'am." He replied, with growing curiosity in his eyes, flicking his dark, chocolate coloured hair out of his face.
"Oh my god..." I said, stumbling backwards. Paul stepped to my side and grabbed me before I fell.
"Look, do you want a ride home? You can chat to me about your sudden memory loss and drunken behaviour. And maybe write off the car incident?" Paul said sweetly, giving a husky chuckle at the end. I nodded and stepped into Paul's car.