"How did..." stammered Paul, briefly wondering if he should deny Winston had his name right, but he knew it was no use. Besides, he didn't have the energy to try.
Still smiling in slight annoyance, Winston sat down on the steps next to Paul and, in answer to Paul's unfinished question, spread the large piece of paper across both their laps. Paul's mouth went dry. It was a missing person poster, and he could see his own face staring back at him, those arched eyebrows and long eyelashes that were unmistakable to anyone who knew him. The writing said: MISSING: PAUL McCARTNEY and explained how he had been gone from Liverpool for a month but was suspected to have come here, along with a reward for any information.
"That's you." It wasn't a question. "Paul James McCartney, innit?"
Paul looked at the ground. "James Paul."
Winston made a small noise of triumph. "I knew it had to be something of that sort. You're not a very good liar," he said conversationally. Paul chanced a look at his face. Winston didn't look upset. Actually, the offended smile seemed to have gone from his face, replaced by a normal one. "My name is John," he went on, in a perfectly friendly tone. "John Winston Lennon."
It felt just a little odd to be introduced to someone who'd been his close friend for a month, but mostly, Paul was just relieved to get this off his chest. He really wasn't cut out for hiding things. "I like that better than Winston," he offered. "It's more - normal."
Winston - John - grinned at him. "I like Paul better than James."
Paul smiled at his friend. Then he looked down again at the wanted poster on their laps, and his smile faded. "What am I going to do, Win - er - John? Me dad knows I'm in New York! He'll come and take me home before we can get to the Toppermost of the Poppermost!"
"I'd figured that out, too," remarked John, as calmly as if they were watching all this on television. "You might have saved yourself a lot of bother, Paul." John, Paul was relieved to notice, didn't seem to feel the need to emphasize the name "Paul" whenever he said it.
"Well - I knew you weren't really called Winston!" Paul couldn't resist reminding his friend.
John looked pleased. "Don't worry about it," he said of the wanted poster. His brown eyes were warm and friendly. "It's a big place, New York. They'll never find us here. Not before everyone knows our name, anyway."
Paul bit his lip. "I suppose so."
It seemed a little unreasonable to think that they could avoid his parents' notice when their goal was international superstardom. But John had a way of making it seem all right.
"Suppose we should get back to the others," said Paul, getting up slowly. "Come on, Win - John."
John grinned. Before he followed Paul, he was careful to tear the missing person poster into a hundred little pieces.
By the time the band got back to the car, Brian had already been waiting a long time, and told them to please let him know next time they went wandering off like that and it wasn't at all safe and he was just about to go looking for them. "Do I have to have a search party ready when I take you lot on tour?"
"Oh, don't do that, Brian," John replied lightly. "Paul hates search parties, don't you, Paul?"
"Paul?" Brian repeated, confused. Geo was frowning at them, and Ringo looked curious. "Do you mean James, Winston?"
"No, it's John, actually." John said this with his deadpan look, only breaking out in his trademark grin when he was finished. And so that was how the rest of the band and Brian learned of Paul and John's real names.
"I'm glad you're saying it now," Geo told them as they got in the car. "I can finish me sentence now." He completed the introduction he had tried to give back at the airport last month. "I'm George Harrison."
John smiled. "I thought it might be George. Geo's not short for many things, now, is it?"
John was so clever at this, Paul wondered what the point had been of hiding their proper names with him around, and he said as much.
"He hasn't guessed my name," Ringo pointed out. "It's Richard Starkey, but don't call me that. I'm Ringo."
Everything felt a lot nicer when the bandmates were open about their real names, as if a great weight had been lifted from Paul's shoulders. He was even able to stop worrying about whether his dad would find him before the band made it big. Even though if the band didn't get its own name soon, his dad was sure to see the name Paul McCartney advertised as part of it.
John brought that up the next morning. "Now that we all know each other's proper names, it's time we found a proper band name to go with them. That's also so as Paul's father won't find us and make him go home if he sees his name on a band poster."
The first suggestions involved the bandmates playing with their newly learned real names. "Johnny and the Moon Dogs?"
"Paul and the Sun Cats?"
"Or Sun Kings? George and the Sun Kings?"
"George E. Wood?"
"Don't Call Me Richard?"
But of course, the bandmates had agreed long ago not to use anyone's name in the band name, to keep it fair, not to mention to keep it secret from their parents. Besides....
"I still want to put "beat" in there somewhere," insisted Ringo.
"And what about an insect?" John added again.
George and Paul sighed. "I think our band name will have 'beat' and an insect in it," George remarked.
"Whether we like it or not," added Paul, trying not to laugh. "The Beating... some insect or other?"
"The Beating Ants?"
"The Beating Hornets!"
"The Beating Houseflies!"
"Those aren't band names!" George sing-songed, wrinkling his eyebrows.
"Come on, what other insects do we know?" said Ringo. "Maybe it'd sound better if it began with the same letter?"
"We can't call ourselves the Beating Butterflies!" laughed John.
"How about..." Ringo thought. "The Beating Beetles?"
Paul nodded. "That's not bad."
"It sounds like we're saying the same word twice," George pointed out. "They sound exactly the same, beat and beetle."
"We could add on something that sounds different," John suggested. "The Silver Beetles. Oh - what about: Long John and the Silver Beetles?"
His bandmates agreed it was a clever name, but none of them would break their decision to leave their own names out of the band name. "Besides, it hasn't got 'beat' in it," added Ringo.
George sighed. "I think we will end up calling ourselves the Beating Beetles."
"We can't," protested Paul. "It's good, but it's not perfect. Our band name has got to be perfect. You heard what Brian said. We'll be livin' with it forever!"
"It seems highly unlikely we will find a perfect band name," George argued. "We've been trying all month...."
"Wait." John's eyes shone. "What if we put the words together?"
His bandmates looked at him. "Huh?"
"They do sound the same, so why not? If we mash 'beat' and 'beetles' together, we get...."
"'Beatles', only with an A instead of the second E," George finished for him. He thought about that for a moment. "That's not bad, John!"
"The Beatles?" Paul tasted the new word on his tongue. "I like it."
Ringo tapped the bedpost eagerly with his drumsticks. "It's perfect!"
The foursome came together in a circle. "John!" John announced, putting his hand into the centre.
"Paul!" Paul added, putting his hand on top of John's.
"George!" George said, adding his own hand to the mix.
"Ringo!" said Ringo, setting his ringed hand on top of his mates'.
All four raised their hands into the air as one and cried, "The Beatles!"
Still smiling in slight annoyance, Winston sat down on the steps next to Paul and, in answer to Paul's unfinished question, spread the large piece of paper across both their laps. Paul's mouth went dry. It was a missing person poster, and he could see his own face staring back at him, those arched eyebrows and long eyelashes that were unmistakable to anyone who knew him. The writing said: MISSING: PAUL McCARTNEY and explained how he had been gone from Liverpool for a month but was suspected to have come here, along with a reward for any information.
"That's you." It wasn't a question. "Paul James McCartney, innit?"
Paul looked at the ground. "James Paul."
Winston made a small noise of triumph. "I knew it had to be something of that sort. You're not a very good liar," he said conversationally. Paul chanced a look at his face. Winston didn't look upset. Actually, the offended smile seemed to have gone from his face, replaced by a normal one. "My name is John," he went on, in a perfectly friendly tone. "John Winston Lennon."
It felt just a little odd to be introduced to someone who'd been his close friend for a month, but mostly, Paul was just relieved to get this off his chest. He really wasn't cut out for hiding things. "I like that better than Winston," he offered. "It's more - normal."
Winston - John - grinned at him. "I like Paul better than James."
Paul smiled at his friend. Then he looked down again at the wanted poster on their laps, and his smile faded. "What am I going to do, Win - er - John? Me dad knows I'm in New York! He'll come and take me home before we can get to the Toppermost of the Poppermost!"
"I'd figured that out, too," remarked John, as calmly as if they were watching all this on television. "You might have saved yourself a lot of bother, Paul." John, Paul was relieved to notice, didn't seem to feel the need to emphasize the name "Paul" whenever he said it.
"Well - I knew you weren't really called Winston!" Paul couldn't resist reminding his friend.
John looked pleased. "Don't worry about it," he said of the wanted poster. His brown eyes were warm and friendly. "It's a big place, New York. They'll never find us here. Not before everyone knows our name, anyway."
Paul bit his lip. "I suppose so."
It seemed a little unreasonable to think that they could avoid his parents' notice when their goal was international superstardom. But John had a way of making it seem all right.
"Suppose we should get back to the others," said Paul, getting up slowly. "Come on, Win - John."
John grinned. Before he followed Paul, he was careful to tear the missing person poster into a hundred little pieces.
By the time the band got back to the car, Brian had already been waiting a long time, and told them to please let him know next time they went wandering off like that and it wasn't at all safe and he was just about to go looking for them. "Do I have to have a search party ready when I take you lot on tour?"
"Oh, don't do that, Brian," John replied lightly. "Paul hates search parties, don't you, Paul?"
"Paul?" Brian repeated, confused. Geo was frowning at them, and Ringo looked curious. "Do you mean James, Winston?"
"No, it's John, actually." John said this with his deadpan look, only breaking out in his trademark grin when he was finished. And so that was how the rest of the band and Brian learned of Paul and John's real names.
"I'm glad you're saying it now," Geo told them as they got in the car. "I can finish me sentence now." He completed the introduction he had tried to give back at the airport last month. "I'm George Harrison."
John smiled. "I thought it might be George. Geo's not short for many things, now, is it?"
John was so clever at this, Paul wondered what the point had been of hiding their proper names with him around, and he said as much.
"He hasn't guessed my name," Ringo pointed out. "It's Richard Starkey, but don't call me that. I'm Ringo."
Everything felt a lot nicer when the bandmates were open about their real names, as if a great weight had been lifted from Paul's shoulders. He was even able to stop worrying about whether his dad would find him before the band made it big. Even though if the band didn't get its own name soon, his dad was sure to see the name Paul McCartney advertised as part of it.
John brought that up the next morning. "Now that we all know each other's proper names, it's time we found a proper band name to go with them. That's also so as Paul's father won't find us and make him go home if he sees his name on a band poster."
The first suggestions involved the bandmates playing with their newly learned real names. "Johnny and the Moon Dogs?"
"Paul and the Sun Cats?"
"Or Sun Kings? George and the Sun Kings?"
"George E. Wood?"
"Don't Call Me Richard?"
But of course, the bandmates had agreed long ago not to use anyone's name in the band name, to keep it fair, not to mention to keep it secret from their parents. Besides....
"I still want to put "beat" in there somewhere," insisted Ringo.
"And what about an insect?" John added again.
George and Paul sighed. "I think our band name will have 'beat' and an insect in it," George remarked.
"Whether we like it or not," added Paul, trying not to laugh. "The Beating... some insect or other?"
"The Beating Ants?"
"The Beating Hornets!"
"The Beating Houseflies!"
"Those aren't band names!" George sing-songed, wrinkling his eyebrows.
"Come on, what other insects do we know?" said Ringo. "Maybe it'd sound better if it began with the same letter?"
"We can't call ourselves the Beating Butterflies!" laughed John.
"How about..." Ringo thought. "The Beating Beetles?"
Paul nodded. "That's not bad."
"It sounds like we're saying the same word twice," George pointed out. "They sound exactly the same, beat and beetle."
"We could add on something that sounds different," John suggested. "The Silver Beetles. Oh - what about: Long John and the Silver Beetles?"
His bandmates agreed it was a clever name, but none of them would break their decision to leave their own names out of the band name. "Besides, it hasn't got 'beat' in it," added Ringo.
George sighed. "I think we will end up calling ourselves the Beating Beetles."
"We can't," protested Paul. "It's good, but it's not perfect. Our band name has got to be perfect. You heard what Brian said. We'll be livin' with it forever!"
"It seems highly unlikely we will find a perfect band name," George argued. "We've been trying all month...."
"Wait." John's eyes shone. "What if we put the words together?"
His bandmates looked at him. "Huh?"
"They do sound the same, so why not? If we mash 'beat' and 'beetles' together, we get...."
"'Beatles', only with an A instead of the second E," George finished for him. He thought about that for a moment. "That's not bad, John!"
"The Beatles?" Paul tasted the new word on his tongue. "I like it."
Ringo tapped the bedpost eagerly with his drumsticks. "It's perfect!"
The foursome came together in a circle. "John!" John announced, putting his hand into the centre.
"Paul!" Paul added, putting his hand on top of John's.
"George!" George said, adding his own hand to the mix.
"Ringo!" said Ringo, setting his ringed hand on top of his mates'.
All four raised their hands into the air as one and cried, "The Beatles!"