Funny Face | a paul mccartney story

five | happiness

September flew by in the blink of an eye, and I was struggling. Financially, mentally, you name it. It was all I could do to pay for the petrol in my car. I would have dinner with Cynthia most nights just to have a meal and someone to talk to. I'm sure she appreciated it as much as I did. A house as big as hers would get extremely lonely fast.

But, no matter how much I skimped and saved to pay my already behind rent, I was evicted from my flat the 1st of October.

Failure to make payment, disturbance of the peace, and allowing guests that are not permitted on the premises. The first one I could understand, however the last two reasons were utter bollocks to me. The only person that had been in my flat before Paul was John- and he wasn't any sort of trouble at all. Hell, nobody ever knew he was there. Nevertheless, I packed what little clothes, records, and toiletries I owned into a suitcase, and left without another word.

I didn't know where to go. I drove to the studio to see if George was there, but he wasn't (much to my dismay). I drove around London to see if I could find a cheap hotel, but found no luck. Before I could have a complete breakdown, I stopped in front of the nearest telephone booth and called Cynthia.

"I tried ringin' ya earlier to see if you were coming over tonight and you didn't answer." She said. "Is ev'rything all right?"

"Erm... no actually. I'll tell you when I get there, okay?"

"Okay, love. I'll be here."

John wasn't home when I arrived at the Lennon residence. Cyn told me that he was in Liverpool visiting his Aunt Mimi. Paul was with him, naturally, only he was at home.

The band had been back from their American tour since the 21st of September. Tuesday and Wednesday of that week saw mid-afternoon recording sessions, which were then followed by a few break days. John would learn in those few days that I would come over for dinner at night and go home later in the evening.

"Have you told Paul yet?" He asked.

"He doesn't need to know my troubles." I scoffed, still basking in the denial that my situation wasn't as bad as it really was. Sadly, once October came around, I had to face reality.

Over dinner that night, I did as I had promised, and I told Cyn about getting evicted from my flat. She sympathized with me, insisting that I stay with her and John, but I resisted:

"Really, Cyn, I couldn't trouble you two like that. You've already have enough to deal with as it is."

Cynthia laughed, and wiped a bit of pudding crumb from her son's mouth, "You're not exactly what I'd call trouble, Melody."

"Ah!" Julian squeaked.

"What?" Cyn playfully chirped.

"No, mama!"

"No? But I've got to."

"No!"

"Mummy has to clean your face."

"Mmmm!"

Julian turned his head completely away from her to avoid the cloth. This is when she began to get frustrated. The phone started ringing during her fight to clean the boy's face. She moved to stand, but then sat back down, and looked to me.

"Could you get that?" She asked.

"Sure." I quickly ran to the phone and answered, "Lennon residence."

"Ha... Cyn?"

"Paul?"

"Oh, Melody!" He laughed. "M'sorry, I thought you were Cynthia."