Lovely Rita

I was now 58 years old and Spring had sprung in 1998. Mary was 28 years old and moved out, and I lived alone with Duncan. She took up photography, and found success both here and in the UK with it. Mary also has no idea who her father is, and is fine staying in the dark. Her mind held the belief that her father hadn't brought her up, so she put everything down to me as her only parent. She didn't particularly want to know who her Dad was, and I was fine with that. I wouldn't tell her unless I was forced to, or felt some need.

She was also recently married to a man called Alistair, who I found charming. Needless to say I was a terribly proud Mother.

Recently, however, it hadn't been the same with my husband, Duncan. To top it off, the closed letter I was holding in my hands was written by hand, in handwriting I recognised all too well. I hadn't opened it yet, as I was creating anticipation for myself as I stood in the open kitchen of the house I had owned for years.

I took a seat at the kitchen table and slid my finger under the lip of the envelope that was loosely sealed. I unfolded the paper inside and began to read.

'Dearest Julie,
I hope you and little Mary (she's probably not so little now!) are doing well. I just wantedd to tell you I've watched every single one of your films as they've come out, and you never cease to amaze me. I've got some kids now too! Their names are Stella and James. They're not so little anymore though either. I feel very old!
Now that the pleasantries are done, I want to explain why I really wrote you this letter.
I need you.
There's noone else I could think of but you, noone I could tell all of these things I need to say, apart from our John. Everytime I've thought about who to talk to, I could think of no one but you.
Linda's sick. Very sick. I've been finding it really difficult to deal with, and Stella and James are cut up about it too. It just seems like everything's falling apart around me and I'm feeling so desperate and alone. The one woman I know is stronger than anyone, and can handle anything then move on without a second glance is you. I need your help.
I'll leave my address if you feel you can come down; we're in Tucson, Arizona right now, so it's not major travel - I'll pay for everything and get a driver for you when you arrive so you don't get hounded. I'll explain everythign when you get here. I hope you can come; I don't know what I'll do without you.
All my love,
Paul.'

I was in tears by the end of the letter. It must have taken a lot for him to admit all of that, considering it seemed as though he hadn't told anyone else how he was holding up. I heard Duncan shuffling, so I slid the letter off of the counter and into the pocket of my jeans.

"What was that?" Dunc asked gruffly. He was in a pissed off mood, I could tell. He'd been a bit extra-iffy the last few days, and I felt more and more alone and isolated. Life wasn't dandy right now with him, but I pretended for Mary; I never wanted her to worry.

"Just a... charge from one of the many credit cards I lose track of. Must've been a bit shopping-happy." I chuckled, trying ot hide the tears I was desperately suppressing from the letter I had read. I only lied because otherwise he would get paranoid, and I couldn't be dealing with his bullshit hassle right now.

He sighed.
"Really? You need to be more careful - that's a stupid waste of a good few dollars." He said, his strong American accent slicing through me. He always put me down and called me names, so stupid was no surprise. It still hurt though.

"I know honey, I'm so sorry. It's not like it's a big worry." I said, smiling meekly at him. He sighed heavily and left the room. We hardly conversed anymore, and when we did it always resulted in confrontation and make up sex, after which he would fall asleep and it would mask it until I did something else that got on his nerves.
I didn't enjoy it at all, and I never reached climax with Duncan anymore. Not since he had changed. He still looked at me with the possessive eyes I hadn't noticed as the younger starlet, desperate for a husband to cover up the fact I would be a single Mother in the entertainment industry. I realised he was very chauvinistic when he revealed his true colours. He was exactly the kind of man that expected a woman to be naked and serve food and beer. The trouble with this was, everyone that knew the true me, and what I stood for, was either in Liverpool, New York, Arizona or... dead. I had lost my motivation, otuspokenness and enthusiasm in my beliefs when Duncan changed. I had threatened to leave so many times, and yet I always found myself crawling back.

*****

I was ready for bed at 9pm (being tired constantly and relying on sleeping pills to repress my anxiety made this necessary) and had the television on mindlessly playing in the background of my thoughts, ad I deliberated about what I should do regarding Paul.

In one part of my mind I felt bad for leaving here to go to a man that, apart from the odd phone call or letter every now and then, didn't really have anything to do with me anymore.
But in the other part of my mind, I wanted desperately to be there for the man I had always loved. For Stella, James and Heather. I bit my nails in frustration.

"What the fuck is this?" I heard yelled from the en suite bathroom.

I snapped out of the muddle of thoughts I was in the middle of and looked to the door, feeling the effects of my sleeping pills falling over me, as my eyelids felt a little heavier.
"What's what?" I said as Duncan appeared in the doorframe, his heavy, broad shoulders blocking a lot of light from the room.

"This letter?" He said, his eyebrows furrowed in anger, not confusion. I let out a desperate breath. He'd searched through my pockets just to find out if I was lying.

"Oh, honey, it's just my..."

"Save it, okay? I know you're all pals with those Beatles guys. It's a wonder you aren't fucking all the poor bastards, or the ones that are left anyway." That hurt. He was always accusing me of cheating. Just when he mentioned Joh in such a derogatory way, it got me upset.
"You do know they're all married, right?" He finished off. That hurt. A lot. I didn't want to cry, but I felt tears stream down my face as I sat in muddled silence.

"I'm not, I never said... He wants me to help and I'm going to go." I sniffed. I hated that he thought I was such a slut. I slid out of bed to try and resolve this the way we always did.

"I would never cheat on you with anyone. Even if they had been a Beatle in the past. Don't be silly. He just wants my help as a friend." I said, leaning into him and putting my arms around him.

"You're not fucking going, if that's what you think." He said, matter-of-factly. I looked up at him in shocked confusion at why he needed more justification.

"W-why?" I said. I could feel his body tense with anger under my embrace.

"Because you can't be trusted!" He said, holding the letter out in front of him. He was furiously scanning over it again and again with his eyes.

"Dunc, that hurt. I'm not going to lie to you. I wasn't going to do anything of the sort! Paul's wife is sick, if you actually read it properly." I said, pulling myself away from him, He looked into my eyes sharply, his anger bubbling almost visibly. He crumpled the letter in his hand and began walking towards me. I backed away. I was incredibly scared.

"What did you just say to me?" He said monotonously, almost in a continous growl. I sniffed back terrified tears and swallowed hard.

"I just said... If you.. read it properly you would see Linda is sick... why would I sleep with a man whose wife is.. possibly dying?!" I yelled through tearful pauses.

"Stop getting hysterical! You'll wake the people nearby! I can't trust you and I know what those guys used to be like too, especially the McCartney one. I don't want you to go and that's final. You're my wife, not his." He said, knowing full well about the womanising Hamburg days being a bit of a Beatles fan himself.

I knew that was true, in the early days, but once Paul met Linda, and when I knew him, he had been nothing but honest and never cheated once where it mattered. I didn't matter. Duncan, however, had never met any of them.

"Well you're fucking wrong!" I yelled back, my back finally reaching the wall on the opposite side of the room from Duncan.

"I'm not fucking stupid Julie!" He said, striking me hard on my face. I fell to the floor, clutching the stinging, hot cheek.
You don't often hear of older couples where domestic abuse occurs, but clearly this now was one. It had happened a little in the past, but never on this level of anger. Now that I knew someone else out there needed me except Duncan, I didn't feel bad about my next move at all.

I stood up silently, but angrily, and slipped on the long white skirt I had folded up for the morning. A white strappy top was laying at the foot ofmy bed, and I pulled that over my bra and grabbed an empty shoulder bag to fill with necessities. I stormed out of the bedroom.

"Baby wait..." Duncan said. I had no time for his pathetic excuses. I shoved my sleeping pills, a hairbrush, some money, a cellphone and cosmetic bits into my bag and walked up to him.

"Goodbye, Duncan." I said, looking right into his eyes coldly. With that, I took the letter from his hands and left the house I owned. I reminded myself to sort a divorce settlement. I needed to call Mary right now more than anything, and then Paul. I needed them as much as Paul needed me right now I think.

I retrieved the cell from my bag and dialled Mary's number. The tone rang three times before Mary picked up.

"Hello?" She said, sounding bewildered as I was usually asleep by now. My blood pressure had been raised though and it was cancelling out my pills effects.

"Honey, it's me. I left Duncan. I'm going to Arizona and you're coming with me. I need you right now." I said in a tone of voice that meant business. She was no longer my baby; she was a business woman with a strong head and hard working attitude, just like her Dad, but she was also still my daughter. And what Mum says, goes.

"Oh, God... Um, okay Mum." She paused.
"Arizona?" Mary said, her pitch rising in confusion. I knew how difficult this all must be to comprehend.

"I'll explain everythign later. Meet you at the airport for 10pm say? It's desperate."

"Okay." She said, before telling me she loved me and not to worry. I smiled as if she could see me. I loved her like you wouldn't believe.

The flight would typically be short, but with so much to mull over I knew it would seem like forever.