1st January 1966, John/Cynthia, the Lennons' house

[writejohnlennon]

I woke up with a killing hangover and the latent feeling that I had done something utterly wrong. I made a face and moaned into the pillow. I was used to hangovers, and I knew a few pills would fix this, but the guilt was something new. It was only a vague feeling for the moment, hovering indistinctly in my chest, more like the ghost of an emotion

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[cyn_lennon64]

I went straight from the taxi home to the kitchen with a single thought of going to bed. I really didn't want to have to go up there only to argue with John about where we had both been all night and who was in the wrong. There was also the fear that John might not be alone upstairs or that he wouldn't be home at all.

My relationship with John had had been less than perfect for a long time now and I didn't want to remind me of that at that moment After what had been such a wonderful night, I was determined nothing would mar my good mood.

I turned the radio on as I set about making breakfast, singing along loudly and unable to stifle a huge grin when Dusty's latest hit came on.

"Where does our love lie?
In the middle of nowhere
Will it soon pass me by?
In the middle of nowhere

Baby, wont you tell me
What am I to do?
I'm in the middle of nowhere
Getting nowhere with you..."

[writejohnlennon]

Hearing the sound of a car stopping in front of our house, I went to the window, just in time to see Cynthia coming home. My eyes widened. She'd spent the night out? Anger suddenly rose in me. With who? How could she DARE... Through the burn of the fury I was experiencing, a faint voice managed to reason me. Who was I to yell at her about that? Who was I to talk to her about faithfulness?

I banged my head on the windowpane repeatedly, until it really started hurting. I could hear her putting the radio on and beginning to sing along. For the shortest moment, I thought there were tears in my eyes. I snorted. Ridiculous.

Going down the stairs, I leaned against the frame of the door and watched her make breakfast for a while, my face hard and unreadable. My lips thinned to become an almost non-existing angry line. "Good morning, Cynthia." I managed to greet her, more or less nicely.

[cyn_lennon64]

"Morning John," I chirped cheerfully, still half-humming. "I'm making porridge for breakfast. There's enough for both of us if you'd like."

I took in the sight of my hung over and sleep-dishevelled husband. He didn't look entirely happy but I couldn't tell just how much his apparent bad mood was to do with me and how much was due to the excesses of the night before. Still, I thought it would be best to tread carefully and deflect any probing questions if and when he asked them.

So I just flashed him a smile and went back to preparing breakfast as I bobbed my head in time to the music.

[writejohnlennon]

I watched her smile and fumble around cheerfully and my anger rose again. I couldn't contain a somewhat cruel snort. There I was, utterly miserable, feeling sorry for her and there she was, whistling around. I slumped down in a chair. "No porridge, thanks." I said neutrally. "But I wouldn't say no to some painkillers..." I rubbed my sore forehead, fixedly staring at the cereal box on the table, not even reading the stupid little sentences written behind it.

I took a large calming breath and steadied myself for whatever was to come. "So... Where were you tonight?" The question came out friendly enough, although a bit gruff. "I've been worrying." That wasn't entirely false. I'd been worrying about her state of mind this morning, before I realised that I really shouldn't have. I may have been deploring the crumbling of our marriage, but Cynthia seemed to have moved on already. I took a sip of orange juice to chase the bitter taste that suddenly filled my mouth.

[cyn_lennon64]

"Oh, I was with Dusty," I told John. Though I tried to keep my voice as casual and light as I could manage, my heart began to race in my chest. "You know, Norman's garden is enormous. Really huge."

It was strange. I couldn't bring myself feel guilty about what I had done. Though almost a year of being in a relationship with Joanie had made me realise that seeing a woman behind your husband's back isn't so different than it would be with a man. There was still the secrecy, the sneaking about and the rush of confusion every time your lover asked you if you would leave your husband for them.

But I'd convinced myself it wouldn't be as confusing with Dusty. I wasn't going to let myself fall in love with her for one thing. Romance without the heartache. Simple. Right?

"We got a bit lost and we spent hours just walking around and talking. It was nice." Suddenly nervous that my husband might see the flush I could feel rising in my face, I turned away, adding softly, "She's really nice."