Shelter In Your Love (Beatles Fan Fiction)

12. Red Hot

George is taking ages and I start to get bored. There is a small pile of tatty books on the table at the end of the room. I bend down to read the titles. The spine of one book has been ripped off so I pick it up and open it to see what it is. As I open the cover, an envelope and letter falls out. I stoop to pick it up but as I'm about to tuck it back in, the scrawled handwriting catches my eye.

I love, love, love...

I turn the envelope over. It's addressed to John. The return address says Liverpool. The loose page is a reply - John's reply - only half finished.

Dear Cyn,

I love, love, love you, Cyn! I miss, miss, miss you!

I know it's wrong to read other peoples letters but its too late. I unfold the page and read it quickly. It's mostly about what's been going on but almost every sentence is punctuated with a declaration of 'I love you, Cyn!' Unsurprisingly, there's no mention of Minnie.

'What are you doing?'

I look up guiltily. George stands in the doorway, bare chested, his towel and a shirt in his hands.

'I was just... What's this?'

He comes into the room, throws the towel and shirt onto the bed and takes letters and the book from me. 'It's nothing to do with us,' he says firmly, tucking the pages back into the book.

'Who's Cyn?'

'Do you always go snooping through people's things?' He sounds annoyed, which makes me annoyed.

'I wasn't. I was just looking at the books and it fell out. Who is John's writing to?'

'It's nothing to do with us,' he repeats. 'It's none of your business.'

'I think it is. He's here with my sister, and all the while writing love letters to someone else? Who is she?'

George stuffs the book back roughly into the pile on the table and they all fall over. He crosses the room, starts pulling clothes out of a bag, looking for something to wear.

'George?' I go to him. He turns away again, ignoring me. 'Answer me.' I reach for his arm. 'George -'

George turns back to me suddenly, grabbing my hands and holding them together in his. 'Hannah, honestly, let it go. It's between them, okay? Not us.'

'She's my sister...'

'I know, I know. But -'

'At least tell me who she is?'

He lets go of me, puts his hands on his hips and sighs. 'Cynthia,' he says eventually. 'She's John's girlfriend.'

'Since when?'

'Since... I don't know. Ages.'

'Before Minnie?'

'I don't know. Yes. Probably.'

'Does Minnie know?'

'I don't know, Hannah. Look, let it go. Okay?'

'No. I've got to tell her.'

'No good will come from that, will it? No one will thank you for it.'

'Minnie might.'

'Han, Cyn's in Liverpool, Minnie's here. What harm is it doing, really?'