The evening of August 23, 1964 Jock strolled without a care to the front row of the Hollywood Bowl. Unlike in Vancouver, where the air was spiced with the first pinch of fall, it was very much summer here. The sun lingered low in the sky and the scent of eucalyptus and jasmine wafted down from the woods around one of the world’s great natural amphitheatres. A warm wind stroked Jock’s face to the opening chord of A Hard Day’s Night.

That’s as far as the serenity went. The front row and its important folks were stampeded. Nobody remotely noticed anything else anymore, not even when Juno took over and Magically removed herself to the sidelines. She leaned against a redundant security barrier and took a deep breath.

The next voice she heard wasn’t John, Paul, George or Ringo’s. It cooed into her ear, ‘Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess!’

Juno turned to look at the face that went with the velvety timbre. It was round, a little chubby maybe, with intense dark eyes and the hint of a shadow between sensuous lips and a straight manly nose. The hairstyle was clearly modelled on the four famous dos that were currently onstage. But even more clearly it was here that any hero worship on behalf of Juno’s opposite ended. His little smile hovered somewhere between amused and sardonic. It was mighty sure of itself.

Juno wasn’t aware of her heart beating real fast, nor the butterflies that were flapping ’round her belly. All that existed were those eyes and that smile playing on those lips.

‘Well?’ he said. With a start Juno noticed that he was offering her a cup. And that he’d noticed her start. His smile widened.