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August 1963


Sometimes, John could hate himself. Really, loath himself. He didn’t know why he did it. He just couldn’t stop himself.

He stood behind the net curtain in the bay window and peered down at the back yard below, careful not to be seen. She was still there. And so was he, what an idiot. John was very nearly tempted to lean out of the window and yell, ‘Oi! Ringo!’ Ah, but then, that would spoil the game wouldn’t it? That would mean he’d have to acknowledge who Ringo was talking to, and that was against the rules.

But it hadn’t been a game for a long time. Games were meant to be played for fun and there was nothing fun about this.

What the hell did they have to talk about? Ringo hardly knew her. At least, that’s what John thought. He dared to take a step closer to the window. They were almost directly underneath it. If he could just open it a crack, he might be able to hear what they were saying...

As his fingers just touched the window frame, a knock at the bedroom door nearly made him jump up out of his skin. Swinging round, he threw the door open to a rather startled looking bellboy. 

‘What?’ John snapped.

‘Uh, tel... telephone for you, Mr Lennon,’ the bellboy stammered back.

John followed the bellboy downstairs to the hotel reception in silence. He picked up the waiting receiver to the black GPO phone on the front desk, wishing he could go somewhere a little bit more private and put it to his ear.

‘Hello?’ he said, or rather grunted into the phone.

‘John?’ Her voice was faint, echoey, as if she was at the end of a very long tunnel.

‘Cyn?’ John replied, dropping his voice. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I can hardly hear you, the lines bad. I was just calling to say we might come up tomorrow, instead of today. Julian’s a little under the weather. I can’t be doing with taking him on the train.’

‘Oh, right,’ John said flatly.

‘Are you cross?’

‘No. I thought Brian said he’d send you a car?’

‘He did, but I’d rather make my own way.’

‘Right, fine then. See you tomorrow.’

‘You are cross.’

‘I’m not,’ John sighed, beginning to lose his patience.

‘It’s not like we would even see you. We have to stay in a different B and B and...’

‘Jesus, Cyn, if you don’t want to come, then don’t bother,’ John replied sharply, shooting a glare at the woman busying herself, behind the reception desk, pretending not to listen. Cyn was still talking, protesting, but John wasn’t listening anymore - Ringo had just opened the door. When he saw she wasn’t with him, only then did he realised he’d been holding his breath. Ringo raised a hand to him as he headed towards the stairs.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he talked over Cynthia. ‘Look, I’ve got to go, Cyn. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ He dropped the phone back into it’s cradle before she could reply. ‘Ringo!’ he shouted after the drummer.

Ringo paused on the fourth step up and waited for John to catch up with him before continuing up the creaky wooden staircase towards the bedrooms. The hotel was a 12 room bed and breakfast. If this was the finest Llandudno had to offer, it was left wanting. That was the strange thing about UK tours. One night you’d be in the Plaza. The next night you were in Yr Gorsaf Guest House.

‘Alright?’ Ringo said.

‘Yeah, that was, er, Cyn. She’s not coming. Not tonight anyway.’

Ringo nodded, disinterested.

‘She might come tomorrow instead.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Ringo stopped outside room 3 on the second floor. They all had their own rooms; an unusual luxury, mostly down to the fact the rooms were tiny. You could hardly get one single bed in there, never mind two. ‘Neil said we’d go back down at about five, so I thought I’d try and get a kip before,’ Ringo said.

‘Oh, okay,’ John replied, still standing.

‘Something you wanted?’

‘No,’ he replied, a little too quickly.

Ringo smiled. ‘So what was all that about earlier?’

‘What?’

Ringo shrugged. ‘Never mind,’ he said, taking the room key from his pocket and opening the door to the room. John stood in the way as he went to close it. ‘You don’t have to go home, son, but you can’t stay here,’ Ringo told him wryly.

‘Did she... Did she say anything?’ John asked quietly.

‘Who?’ Ringo replied facetiously.

John narrowed his eyes at him.

‘Yeah,’ Ringo continued. ‘She said lots of things.’

‘About me?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No, why would she? You just totally ignored her when we came in before.’

‘How do you know her anyway?’

‘Ruby? Everyone knows Ruby, don’t they?’

‘Do they?’ John was used to these verbal jousts they’d have. The piss taking, the jibes, the ribbing. But right this moment, he wasn’t in the mood. ‘So... what did she want?’

Ringo pursed his lips. ‘Want? Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘There must be an echo in here. She didn’t want anything in particular.’

‘So she just happened to be here. Waiting outside this hotel. Just coincidence?’

‘She’s going to the show.’

‘Tonight?’

Ringo shrugged. ‘Why? What’s she to you?’

‘She’s... she’s no one. No one at all.’



***



Five Years Earlier


SMACK!


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