London
December 24, 1965
Cynthia*
Too afraid to leave the kitchen, Cynthia sat in the corner behind the table with a glass of wine in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. She stared at the bottle of Merlot beside her and took a long drag off her cigarette. He was upstairs in the office with the door closed and she didn’t want to provoke him. Instead she replayed it over and over in her mind, trying to wrap her head around what had actually happened.
The first blow took her by surprise, stunned her really. Andrew had never been the type to lose his cool or fly off the handle.
She knew he had been up all night the moment she walked through the front door. His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes. He was in the same clothes he wore the day before.
“Where were you?”
“I was at John’s but nothing happen—”
He didn’t even let her finish, robbing her of the opportunity to explain.
Perhaps she should have thought it through, prepared herself better for how he may have reacted. Andrew had always been jealous of John, never wanting to hear about their relationship, always turning the radio or telly off when the Beatles came on.
To Andrew, John was just “a low life from Liverpool who got lucky.”
She felt her cheek become hot as the stinging moved through her face. Immediately covering it with the palm of her hand, she looked to him with tears in her eyes. She hoped apologizing would calm him down - that it could end there.
“Andrew luv, please. I’m so sorry. You need to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you…”
He wasn’t listening. “Are you leaving me?”
“Darling, you’ve got to calm down. Why don’t we sit and talk in the sitting room?”
The second time caused her to lose her footing as she stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. She felt an explosion of warm liquid in her mouth, the taste of iron. Blood was on the back off her index and middle fingers. Her lip had split.
“You think you could just make a bloody fool of me like this and get away with it? Do you think he’s better than me?”
She didn’t remember much after that. It all happened so quickly. She was sure she protested, lied - tried anything to get him away from her - but he wouldn’t hear any of it. She only felt the pain in her stomach and then her legs shortly thereafter as he kicked her. It wasn’t long before everything went black.
She figured she must have been out only for a few minutes as she heard heavy footsteps on the floor above her head and the door to the home office slam. She tried to stand but her knees felt weak; her body heavy. Pain shot up her right leg, forcing her to reach for the end of the kitchen table to keep her balance. She managed to pick up her pack of cigarettes as well as the glass and bottle of wine he had been drinking at the table as he sat waiting for her. Anything to numb the pain.
An hour had past since then and she still didn’t have enough energy to get out of the flat - she assumed that was the only reason he left her downstairs alone. She needed just a little more time to make it into the sitting room and get to the phone. Only a few more minutes.
When the doorbell rang, she looked to the ceiling and silently thanked God. She needed to somehow get herself over to the front door before they rang again, before Andrew heard the bell and came downstairs.
As she slid herself along the kitchen floor towards the door she called out as softly as she could in order for them to hear her, “Just a minute….”
Reaching up to the doorknob she used all of the strength left in her to turn it and pull the door open.
“Jesus Christ Cyn.”
She had never been so happy to hear his voice.
John knelt down and lifted her to her feet, helping her put one of her arms around his neck for support as he wrapped one of his around her waist. “What the hell happened?”
She winced in pain as she put weight on her right leg. “We need to hurry…he’s still upstairs.” She mumbled.
“Who’s upstairs?”
“We need to leave right now…”
“Bloody answer me Cyn!” He yelled. “Who did this to you?”
“Andrew…he got so upset when I came in and it all happened so fast —”
She felt both of her legs give out from under her as he suddenly lifted her up and began carrying her towards the car. His arms were tight and tense. She knew he was going back in but she was too tired to protest.
“I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll murder him.”
Les frantically stepped out of the car as they approached him and quickly opened the back door. “Alright luv?” He gave her a sympathetic look before turning to John, “Let’s get you both back to the house yeah?”
“Not yet. Wait for me here.” He gently sat her down in the back of the Rolls. “It’ll be alright Cyn. Just stay here and rest for a bit until I get back.”
“John please, don’t do anything stu—” The door slammed before she was able to finish.
She closed her eyes tightly as she rested her head back against the leather seat, praying he wouldn’t make things worse or manage to hurt himself in the process. John had struck her once when they were back in college and, when she forgave him and they eventually got back together, became increasingly protective of her. If someone so much as looked at her the wrong way, John was the first one there, running his mouth. He had gotten himself into trouble for it on more than one occasion.
“Will you then? Fuck off! You come near her again and I’ll break your fucking legs!” About ten minutes had passed since he had gone inside. Opening her eyes she leaned forward to look out the window and saw John back outside in front of the flat, shouting at Andrew who was standing in the doorway and shouting back at him. She mentally begged him to hurry up and get into the car before people realized there was a Beatle screaming at the top of his bloody lungs in the middle of the street.
He mumbled numerous expletives under his breath as he got back into the car, slamming the door behind him. She noticed he was shaking. Though John didn’t hesitate to verbally attack, he dreaded an actual physical confrontation.
“What happened in there…”
“I battered his fuckin’ ribs in that’s what happened. Jumped up little —”
“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine Cyn. He won’t come near you again.” He turned to her as the car began to pull out, exhaling deeply. “How are you feeling now?” He ran his thumb very softly over her bottom lip that had been split. “Bloody bastard…”
“I think I’ll feel better after a hot bath and a bit of sleep…” She took his hand that had been up by her face and kissed the back of it gently. “Thank you…”
“It’s alright luv.” He pulled her closer and she closed her eyes as she felt his strong arms wrap around her.
