The small band ran as far away from the policeman as they could, finally stopping for breath in a little park some distance away. "We shouldn't've let him scare us," Winston decided, once the four of them got their breath back. "We can't let them police push us around. We know we're going to the Toppermost of the Poppermost, and we can't let their silly rules stop us."
Geo and Ringo both nodded, but Paul was uncomfortable. "Winston," he reminded his friend, "we can't do much performing from in the police station."
"Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten," Winston turned his smile on Paul appraisingly. "James doesn't want to be found. Who're you hiding from, James?"
"No one!" insisted Paul, too quickly. "I just... I...."
"How about another round of 'Love Me Do'?" Ringo suggested quickly. "Hey -" He beat his drumsticks against his cymbal eagerly - "we could have a name with 'beat' in it somewhere!"
"The Beatniks," grinned Geo.
Paul gave Ringo a quick smile, relieved to get off the subject of police and why he didn't want to get in trouble with them. "Doctor Cinnamon's Laughing Medicine Beats!" he blurted out.
"I think we want something a bit shorter, James," laughed Winston. "The Beat Brothers or the like...."
"The Drumbeats!"
"The Unbeatable Beaters!"
"That's jut daft!"
"Not as daft as James's..."
"Mine was not daft!"
The conversation faded out on good terms as the boys happily spent their time throwing out various name ideas. They did a bit more playing, too, but luckily not enough to attract any more police officers. Paul was glad about this, but his bandmates all agreed that today's practice hadn't gone as well as they'd hoped. Tomorrow they would have to find a good place and really get down to business. All four were determined to get to the Toppermost of the Poppermost.
Meanwhile, back in Liverpool, Mr and Mrs Harrison had set out early in the morning - before the band in New York had woken up, due to the five-hour time zone difference - to talk to Mr McCartney and hopefully help each other find their missing sons. The Harrisons had looked up the McCartneys in the phone book, and took the bus over to their area of town. The Harrisons said very little on the way down. They had barely slept last night for worrying about their son, and Mr Harrison was eager to take some action. The police hadn't gotten back to them about checking the Liverpool airports, and he had half a mind to fly back to New York personally if something didn't turn up soon. But Louise seemed to feel that talking to Mr McCartney was the best thing they could be doing now, and Harold wanted his wife to be happy, so he did what she felt was best.
Mr McCartney lived in a house a little bit bigger than the Harrisons', and he answered the door with a puzzled frown, clearly wondering who the Harrisons were and what they were doing at his house.
Mrs Harrison spoke first. "Excuse us - you don't know who we are, but we heard about you down at the police station. They told us your son had gone missing, same as ours."
Mr McCartney's expression softened a bit at this. "Does your son know mine? Paul?"
"I don't think so," Mrs Harrison admitted. "He doesn't know anyone called Paul."
"Besides, we've been in New York for the last month," Mr Harrison put in, "so he hasn't been in touch with his mates. We don't think they ran off together or anything like that...."
"New York," Mr McCartney repeated. "Paul can't possibly have gotten there. I expect he's wandering round Liverpool somewhere with that guitar of his. I do hope they find your son on time, but I can't see what he has to do with mine."
"Guitar?" Mrs Harrison repeated suddenly. "Your son's got a guitar?"
"Yes, that's the whole reason he... but that really is a long story, and I'm sure it wouldn't interest you." He made as if he were thinking of closing the door. Clearly, discussing his son's disappearance with strangers didn't make him very comfortable.
"But our George has a guitar, too!" Mrs Harrison told him.
Mr Harrison nodded. "He hasn't stopped talking about how much he misses it all month."
Mr McCartney seemed to be trying to decide something. Maybe he felt another couple missing a guitarist son would understand what he was going through, because he opened the door wider. "All right. Come in."
The Harrisons followed Mr McCartney into his house, and the three adults were soon settled in the living room with cookies and tea. Mr McCartney, who told them his first name was Jim, warmed up to the Harrisons quickly after finding out about their sons' shared love of music. He listened politely as the Harrisons told him about their son George and how they had lost him at the New York airport, and then agreed to tell them the story of the last time he'd spoken to his son Paul, which was when they'd been arguing about his lack of interest in his future, and Paul's caring only about his guitar.
"I know what you mean." Mr Harrison nodded. "George never talks about anything else, but he must know he'll have to think about his future eventually. I keep telling him he should consider being an electrician. I don't think he's paid much attention yet, but he's still young. Louise and I feel we should let him have his fun."
Jim McCartney frowned slightly. "Paul needs to think about more than just having fun. I don't want to see him end up on the streets because he couldn't get a decent job." He took a sip of tea, frowning harder as he remembered that Paul was out on the streets right now. "He does sound an awful lot like your George. I might almost think they had run off together if there was any chance of that at all, but Paul must still be in Liverpool. He can't have left the country; the rules don't allow it." His eyes softened behind his stern expression, betraying concern for his son. He had to think that Paul was still nearby. The alternative was too painful to consider.
"Mr McCartney," Louise said kindly, "we'd be happy to help you look for your son. If he is still round here, we can look in all the places George likes - maybe since they've got a lot in common, he's found one and is living there."
Jim smiled and accepted her offer. "I don't want to put you out at all. But I can't think he'd be too far away."
Harold Harrison was getting a bit restless for his own son, and decided that he would go down to the police station again and see if they had searched the Liverpool airports yet. So he went back down that way, while Louise Harrison went to take Jim McCartney to some of George's favourite spots.
Geo and Ringo both nodded, but Paul was uncomfortable. "Winston," he reminded his friend, "we can't do much performing from in the police station."
"Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten," Winston turned his smile on Paul appraisingly. "James doesn't want to be found. Who're you hiding from, James?"
"No one!" insisted Paul, too quickly. "I just... I...."
"How about another round of 'Love Me Do'?" Ringo suggested quickly. "Hey -" He beat his drumsticks against his cymbal eagerly - "we could have a name with 'beat' in it somewhere!"
"The Beatniks," grinned Geo.
Paul gave Ringo a quick smile, relieved to get off the subject of police and why he didn't want to get in trouble with them. "Doctor Cinnamon's Laughing Medicine Beats!" he blurted out.
"I think we want something a bit shorter, James," laughed Winston. "The Beat Brothers or the like...."
"The Drumbeats!"
"The Unbeatable Beaters!"
"That's jut daft!"
"Not as daft as James's..."
"Mine was not daft!"
The conversation faded out on good terms as the boys happily spent their time throwing out various name ideas. They did a bit more playing, too, but luckily not enough to attract any more police officers. Paul was glad about this, but his bandmates all agreed that today's practice hadn't gone as well as they'd hoped. Tomorrow they would have to find a good place and really get down to business. All four were determined to get to the Toppermost of the Poppermost.
Meanwhile, back in Liverpool, Mr and Mrs Harrison had set out early in the morning - before the band in New York had woken up, due to the five-hour time zone difference - to talk to Mr McCartney and hopefully help each other find their missing sons. The Harrisons had looked up the McCartneys in the phone book, and took the bus over to their area of town. The Harrisons said very little on the way down. They had barely slept last night for worrying about their son, and Mr Harrison was eager to take some action. The police hadn't gotten back to them about checking the Liverpool airports, and he had half a mind to fly back to New York personally if something didn't turn up soon. But Louise seemed to feel that talking to Mr McCartney was the best thing they could be doing now, and Harold wanted his wife to be happy, so he did what she felt was best.
Mr McCartney lived in a house a little bit bigger than the Harrisons', and he answered the door with a puzzled frown, clearly wondering who the Harrisons were and what they were doing at his house.
Mrs Harrison spoke first. "Excuse us - you don't know who we are, but we heard about you down at the police station. They told us your son had gone missing, same as ours."
Mr McCartney's expression softened a bit at this. "Does your son know mine? Paul?"
"I don't think so," Mrs Harrison admitted. "He doesn't know anyone called Paul."
"Besides, we've been in New York for the last month," Mr Harrison put in, "so he hasn't been in touch with his mates. We don't think they ran off together or anything like that...."
"New York," Mr McCartney repeated. "Paul can't possibly have gotten there. I expect he's wandering round Liverpool somewhere with that guitar of his. I do hope they find your son on time, but I can't see what he has to do with mine."
"Guitar?" Mrs Harrison repeated suddenly. "Your son's got a guitar?"
"Yes, that's the whole reason he... but that really is a long story, and I'm sure it wouldn't interest you." He made as if he were thinking of closing the door. Clearly, discussing his son's disappearance with strangers didn't make him very comfortable.
"But our George has a guitar, too!" Mrs Harrison told him.
Mr Harrison nodded. "He hasn't stopped talking about how much he misses it all month."
Mr McCartney seemed to be trying to decide something. Maybe he felt another couple missing a guitarist son would understand what he was going through, because he opened the door wider. "All right. Come in."
The Harrisons followed Mr McCartney into his house, and the three adults were soon settled in the living room with cookies and tea. Mr McCartney, who told them his first name was Jim, warmed up to the Harrisons quickly after finding out about their sons' shared love of music. He listened politely as the Harrisons told him about their son George and how they had lost him at the New York airport, and then agreed to tell them the story of the last time he'd spoken to his son Paul, which was when they'd been arguing about his lack of interest in his future, and Paul's caring only about his guitar.
"I know what you mean." Mr Harrison nodded. "George never talks about anything else, but he must know he'll have to think about his future eventually. I keep telling him he should consider being an electrician. I don't think he's paid much attention yet, but he's still young. Louise and I feel we should let him have his fun."
Jim McCartney frowned slightly. "Paul needs to think about more than just having fun. I don't want to see him end up on the streets because he couldn't get a decent job." He took a sip of tea, frowning harder as he remembered that Paul was out on the streets right now. "He does sound an awful lot like your George. I might almost think they had run off together if there was any chance of that at all, but Paul must still be in Liverpool. He can't have left the country; the rules don't allow it." His eyes softened behind his stern expression, betraying concern for his son. He had to think that Paul was still nearby. The alternative was too painful to consider.
"Mr McCartney," Louise said kindly, "we'd be happy to help you look for your son. If he is still round here, we can look in all the places George likes - maybe since they've got a lot in common, he's found one and is living there."
Jim smiled and accepted her offer. "I don't want to put you out at all. But I can't think he'd be too far away."
Harold Harrison was getting a bit restless for his own son, and decided that he would go down to the police station again and see if they had searched the Liverpool airports yet. So he went back down that way, while Louise Harrison went to take Jim McCartney to some of George's favourite spots.
