Cynthia Lennon

Language: English

Pages: 352

ISBN: 0307338568

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Now in paperback, the New York Times bestselling exposé of the real John Lennon

The time has come when I feel ready to tell the truth about John and me, our years together and the years since his death. There is so much that I have never said, so many incidents I have never spoken of and so many feelings I have never expressed: great love on one hand; pain, torment, and humiliation on the other. Only I know what really happened between us, why we stayed together, why we parted, and the price I have paid for being John’s wife. —From the Introduction

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them and stay with friends of his, drummer Jim Keltner and his wife, another Cyn. The next morning I met them at the airport. We got on to the plane together, but my seat was at the back of the first-class section while they sat at the front. It hurt, but I knew John was more comfortable keeping me at a distance. He had always hated reminders of painful episodes in his past and I realized, sadly, that that was all I meant to him now. He liked to make a clean break and move on, but because of

tin of homemade scones. Paul’s dad was reluctant at first—he still hoped his son would go to teacher-training college. But Paul was no longer interested in teaching. Jim saw that and, despite his worries for his elder son, let him go to Hamburg with his blessing. Pete’s mum had always encouraged his dreams of going into entertainment, so she was happy too, and Stuart, the oldest Beatle, had no problems with his mum, Millie. The only person who disapproved was Mimi. She was horrified and did

Paul, Tony and Marjorie signed the register as our witnesses, and a couple of minutes later we were outside the room. We all burst out laughing, overwhelmed by relief that it was over. Tony and Marjorie hugged us, then went back to work. The rest of us looked at one another. What next? Brian suggested we go to nearby Reece’s café for lunch. Outside, the rain was bucketing down. We ran along the street, laughing at the madness of it all, and burst into Reece’s, where we had to queue for the set

friend, just to try something different, but he hadn’t filled in all the forms when the Beatles made their offer. A couple of weeks after our wedding Brian and the boys had gone to London to sign a five-year recording deal with Parlophone. A week later they recorded their first single—“Love Me Do.” John and Paul had written it, and I was surprised they’d chosen it because I didn’t think it was one of their best—I found it a bit monotonous. But John said that was the one George Martin wanted: he

loved shopping even more than I did. Stores would open out of hours for the boys and they’d scoop up goodies in their own version of a supermarket trolley dash. John would come home like a kid laden with gifts for me, toys for Julian and clothes for himself. He bought me a beautiful Cartier gold watch and bracelet in a stunning velvet jewelry box. And he had a thing about lingerie, not just sexy black numbers but unbelievably extravagant creations, negligees that could have been worn at a society

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