I NEVER WANTED YOU

1967

'Daddy?'

'Yes, Julian?'

'Why are you never home?'

John sighed and gazed into the curious brown eyes of his four year old son. The boy was so perceptive and intelligent for his age. John lifted the boy onto his lap and Julian nuzzled his nose into his father's shoulder.

'Well, Jules, you know my band, The Beatles?'

'Yeah.'

'We have to travel a lot, and make music, you see.'

'But I miss you,' said Julian, his bottom lip wobbling. John ruffled the boy's hair.

'I miss you too, darling, but I have to do it. You know the way you have to go to school in September? It's a bit like that.'

Julian nodded, his face solemn. Soon, he was asleep, his head lolling back on his father's chest. John rang Paul.

'Hello?'

'Paul, it's John. Could you come round?'

The men sat nursing glasses of whiskey and smoking. Cynthia had brought Julian to bed.

'Paul, I dunno what to do. Julian's so upset. I'm all over the place.'

Paul stubbed out his cigarette and lit a fresh one.

'I don't know either, John. I don't have a kid.'

'Thanks for your help,' said John. He refused to speak to Paul after that, so Paul, cursing, left. Cynthia came into the kitchen.

'Cyn, Julian hates me,' said John. Cynthia stroked her husband's hair.

'He loves you, John. You're his daddy.'

'Then why does he wish I wouldn't go away?'

'That's because he loves you so much and he misses you. Can't you maybe stay home more often these days, anyway?'

'Cyn, you know we're going to India in June. George is obsessed with all this mysticism rubbish. You have to come too. Mimi's minding Jules.'

'Right, yeah, I know. But after that, maybe you could spend more time with Julian. He won't be little forever, you know.'

1970

'I hate you!'

'Fuck you, you little cunt! I never wanted you.'

John left, slamming the door. Julian buried his face in a pillow. Fucking stupid Dad! He loathed the man.

Cynthia crept into the room.

'Are you alright, Jules?'

'Go away.'

1980

'Your dad's dead. I'm so sorry, darling.'

Julian crumbled to the floor, screaming silently. In New York, he was surrounded by ravenous members of the media. A security guard elbowed them out of the way and led him into the apartment. Sean sat on the floor, colouring. Yoko hooked her arm in Julian's. He'd never liked her, but now he seized her in a tight embrace.

'I miss him so much, Yoko.'

'I know, Julian. I loved him, too. But you know, he loved you very much.'

'I know.'

1986

'Daddy?'

'Yes, Harriet?'

'What was Granddad like?'

Julian scooped his three year old daughter into his arms.

'Well, he was a good man. He was very talented and he was in a famous band. He could be angry, but he was lovely most of the time.'

'I wish I knew him.'

'I wish you did, too, sweetheart.'

2000

'John was so much cooler than you ever were!'

Harriet stormed out of the room, a vinyl copy of Imagine tucked under her arm. Julian sighed and put the kettle on. His daughter had been so aggressive lately. She was seventeen and a huge fan of her grandfather's band, The Beatles. She blared them from her room day and night and had met Paul, George and Ringo. She looked just like John, they said. The same auburn hair, brown eyes and pointy nose.

Harriet's mother, Vivienne, was out of the picture. She had problems of her own and so Julian had been awarded full custody of his daughter when she was five. She'd always been such a sweet girl, but now she was caught in the maelstrom of puberty and waging wars with her father every day.

When she returned that evening, she was drunk. She breathed fumes on her father.

'I love John,' she murmured, wrapping her arms around her father's neck.

'Where the fuck have you been, Harriet?'

'Out enjoying life. Hey, can I go to Paul's this weekend?'

'Paul's got his own bloody life, girl. Now go to bed right now.'

'Ugh, Uncle Sean is so much cooler than you. Can I go to New York again soon?'

'Bed, now!'

2003

Sean and Harriet sat in the corner booth of a noodle bar in Soho. Sean was leafing through a magazine and Harriet was checking out a huddle of good-looking Columbia college boys.

'I'm so sick of England,' she said.

Sean looked at her through black-framed glasses. Harriet had always idolised her uncle. He was twenty-eight, a musician and lived in a loft in Manhattan. She yearned to live with him in New York.

'Harriet, stop it. You're just saying that.'

'Sean, I really want to live here. With you.'

Sean sighed and closed his magazine. He adored his niece but she could be such a pain.

'And what about your dad, hmm? You think he'd like that?'

'I don't care about him.'

'Well, I think you should, Harriet. He's always been there for you. Are you really so selfish? You're twenty years old now, it's time to grow up.'

Harriet pouted.

'You used to be fun.'

Sean grinned and flicked her nose.

'I'm still fun. Want to go to that new club tonight? My friend makes really neat fake IDs. Your uncle is cool, right?'

Harriet laughed and nodded.

Sean ordered her a Coke and rum and they pushed through the throngs of sweaty dancers.

'Hey Harriet, you got a boyfriend?,' shouted Sean's creepy friend, Todd. Harriet shook her head. Sean glared at Todd.

'Hey, that's my niece, you bastard. Leave her alone.'

Todd shrugged and slouched off to make out with a blonde athlete from NYU.

'Sorry about him,' Sean yelled over the throbbing bassline. Harriet shrugged and they slipped into a long leather seat.

Sean sipped a mojito, his favourite drink. He was wearing a flowery shirt and tight black jeans.

'So, you like it here?'

'Yeah,' said Harriet.

Afterwards, they got pancakes from a late night vendor and went back to Sean's apartment. They listened to records until Harriet fell asleep next to Sean.

The next Sunday, Harriet hugged her uncle in the airport before boarding the plane. At home, Julian was eager to please.

'Did you have a nice time, Harriet?'

'Yeah.'

'Good.'

He took her for dinner, but she barely spoke. That night, he felt it was time for a discussion.

'Harriet, what do you want from me?'

'I want to go to New York with Sean.'

Julian was stunned. New York, where his father was gunned down. The city scarred his memory. And now it wanted to steal his precious daughter.

'Why?'

'I hate England,' she said. Just like Dad.

'Well, are you sure?'

'Yes. Please, Dad?'

'We'll talk about it in the morning.'

Julian was shocked when his daughter hugged him and kissed his unshaven cheek.

'Love you, Dad.'

'Love you too, Harriet.'

It would be alright.