My nightmares came one after the other, taunting me, kicking me, letting my fears run wild. A man with an axe appeared in front of me, raising his arm to strike....I screamed, and woke up. A man was beside me, tapping me softly on the shoulder. I gasped and pulled myself into a ball.
"Shhhh, luv, it's all right, calm down. I was just wondering if you were all right. I saw you all alone..." his voice trailed off. I looked up at him. Between the hat and the overcoat, I couldn't really tell who he was, or what he looked like. Though the voice sounded oddly familiar, I did not put two and two together until his sheepdog came bounding up behind him.
"Martha!" he called out softly to her. She barked happily, and scampered to be petted by his side. But none of this matter to me. I was too far gone in suffering to even recognize that I was in the holy presence of a Beatle. I buried my head in my arms.
"Oh, no. Come on now, do you speak English?" I raised my tear-stained face once more to look at Paul. "All right then, don't move, I'll look in your pack and try to find something there about you." He moved cautiously to remove my backpack from under my elbows. Finding me putting up no fight, he sighed, relieved, and opened it up. There was my wallet on the top.
"Allegra Anne Master," he read, "Citizen of the USA, age 16." He looked at me oddly. "So you do speak English! Are you deaf? No, you couldn't have a license if you were. Are you mute?" I didn't utter a word. "This is getting me nowhere. Come on, stand up now. How about you come to my house for a little bit, just to get you cleaned up?" He reached over and touched my cheek. I flinched and jerked back. "Holy Christ," he commented quietly, "something's not right with you, is it? Come 'ed then, let's go now. Maybe you'll feel better once you're dry." He offered me a hand, but I didn't move to take it. His eyes widened, and he backed up and began to walk slowly away. He watched me with the doe-brown eyes that I had for so long studied on my bedroom wall. Tears fell down my cheeks; I didn't know what to do. Leaving me was the only opportunity for a new beginning. I raised myself slowly to my feet, picked backpack and my suitcase, and followed his walking form into the unknown.
Paul and I reached a black Rolls Royce, standing by which was a man that I assumed must be Alf Bicknell. I stayed about five feet behind Paul as he walked up to the man and whispered something in his ear. Alf nodded, and Paul got into the car. He left the door open, and waved me over.
"Come on. Come on now, it's all right. When we get home you can have something to eat." I stepped closer slowly, and finally got into the car and sat beside him. Once there, I tightened the belt around my waist, and clutched my pack tightly to my chest, lowering my head to rest upon it. From in front, Alf turned up the radio. On it, of course, was a Beatles song, 'We Can Work it Out'. Of all songs. I felt tears going down my face again as the pain in m lower stomach tightened. I felt tears going down my face again as the pain in my lower stomach tightened. I looked down at myself. There, between my legs, was the telltale splotch of dried blood. I gagged and almost vomited. Paul's head jerked up.
"Oh, &%(*%, Alf stop the car! Stop, stop! Head out the window, luv! Breathe now, breathe!" I held my head out the window as the car slowed to a halt. Paul patted my hair, and I zoomed my head back inside the window to hide it once again between my arms. I could feel Paul looking contemplatively at me. All of a sudden, something dawned on him, and he reached his arm over again to lightly touch my left thigh. A muffled squeak escaped from my mouth, which I stifled immediately, but I nonetheless jumped as far away from him as I could.
"Oh...." Paul murmured, "Oh....I see." Afraid that he did, in fact, know what had happened, I made sure to keep my mouth closed right up until the car had pulled inside the big black gates of Paul's house in St. John's Wood. I yanked my backpack out of the car, and stepped in the door. Paul followed behind me, lugging my suitcase behind him. I almost gasped as I entered the hallway. The house was gigantic, with beautiful wooden floors that gleamed with wax. The walls were decorated by fine paintings, and expensive sculptures stood all around. The only telltale sign that Paul was a Beatle was a guitar resting beside a couch in what I assumed to be the sunroom. I breathed in gently. The air was clean, cool and crisp. Safe. Paul looked kindly at me, and smiled softly.
"I'll be right back, alright? I just have to make a call. If you want you can use the bathroom..." he left slowly, keeping his eyes on me until he went into the kitchen for the phone. I entered the bathroom, and pulled out a comb from the smallest pocket of my backpack. I looked in the mirror. Puffy eyes stared back at me. A smudge of dirt was on my chin. My hair had fallen out of its ponytail and strayed around my jaw-line. With a towel, I washed my face. I took out my hair and brushed it clean of all tangles and burrs, leaving it to fall down my back. I took off my sweater and tied it around my waist, trying to conceal the blood on my pants that proved what had happened. As I did, I heard the end of Paul's conversation:
"I know, man! I couldn't leave her there. She's a wreck, the poor thing! No....No, I'm not sure, but that's what I'd guess. Yeah, she's from the US. YEAH, she's pretty but who gives a (*&%(, I think something really bad happened to her and I want to find out what it was! Yeah, send Cyn around sometime, maybe she'll talk to another girl. Allegra. Yeah, I know. I dunno if I'll be in the studio for a while....well, as long as it damn well takes! She was hurt, John. There's blood on her. There. I know, terrible...I gotta go now, alright, mate? Tell the others why I'm not there. If you want to, drop by sometime. I've got another idea for the album. Ta. Bye." Paul hung up the phone, and I stood dumbly, waiting for instruction.
He came back into the hall.
"All right, then...." he said calmly, "what say we get you a room?" He moved to help put my pack on my back, but I jumped away again before he could touch me. "Allegra......"
My eyes opened wide, he did know my name. It wasn't surprising. After all, he had seen it on my license back in the park. But it was startling to think that he knew me, and that I knew him. "Open your eyes. What are you afraid of? Open your eyes, whatever it is, it's over."
I looked at him, my eyes were filled with tears. He couldn't understand what I had been through, how much I hurt inside, and that I didn't have a mother there to help me. "Will you tell me what happened?" I considered this for a moment or two, and then shook my head. "What if something was here...what if a girl were here?" A girl? Like who? I asked myself. Paul answered my unasked question. "Cynthia. I have a friend named Cynthia. She's a little older than you, but she's great. My friend...er...well, I guess you know who I am, right?" I nodded. "Okay, she can come over soon. I'll ring John and tell him." He must have known that I was bleeding, or had been, because, without looking at my face, and trying to act nonchalant he asked me, "Would you like some...well, something to wear? I dunno what....a bathrobe maybe? We can wash your clothes here." I crossed my arms protectively in front of my chest and bent my head down. "Well, I guess that was a yes...in a way." Said Paul, and laughed, but didn't smile. His eyes were worried as he went upstairs and came back down momentarily with a blue robe.
"It's...well, it's a friend's. You're her size; it'll fit. Here, you can go change." I went back into the bathroom and took off my pants, shirt and sweater. I didn't look down at the blood for fear of seeing more. I folded the clothing up into a pile and went back outside after tying the robe around me as tightly as I could. Paul was waiting pateintly for me. His eyes alighted on my hair falling down my back and he took in a breath and slowly lifted up a hand. As it neared my head, I began to flinch. Paul slowed down its movement, and, holding his breath, picked up a few strands of my hair and played with them.
"Just like hers....." he said wonderingly, "just like hers....." I was happy when he let go again and we headed upstairs.