The head policeman turned to the others surrounding the Beatles. "That's them, the boys we're looking for. It's the same British boys that were causing trouble all last month."
Paul was nervous. "Could we just give wewe our autograph and promise not to do it again?" he tried, lowering his eyelids charmingly and hoping this would help.
At the same time, Ringo's head swivelled from one police officer to the inayofuata uncertainly. "But - what about our show...?"
At that point, a new voice broke through from just behind the police officers. "Paul? Have wewe got him? Is he all right?"
Paul's moyo sank. "Not now, Dad...." he thought helplessly. It would have been perfect if his dad had come later, say just as the Beatles were performing on a real stage to thunderous applause and numerous offers of tours and record deals, and he could finally see that Paul was a real rock star, but now....
Before Paul could even catch a glimpse of his dad, someone else pushed her way through the ring of police. "George!!!!"
Mrs Harrison scooped up George in her arms and covered his face in kisses. George wriggled uncomfortably. "Gerroff, Mum!"
"You two." A policeman pointed sharply at John and Ringo. "What's your part in all this? We've heard some funny things about what you've been up to all month...."
George's dad had broken through the crowd after his wife, and had now joined her in squeezing the breath out of George, who looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else. Paul was just about to say something in John and Ringo's defence when he felt someone grab hold of his arm, and looked round with dismay to see his own dad.
"Right, Paul. We're leaving. I don't want wewe anywhere near those boys, understand?"
"But Dad!" Paul protested. "We were just about to do our big show... we can't leave... we were nearly at the...." His voice trailed off under his father's stern expression. Jim McCartney was not in a mood to be bargained with and in no mood to hear about the Toppermost of the Poppermost.
"That's enough, Paul. I don't want wewe anywhere near those boys again, do wewe understand? They're trouble."
"But...."
Brian Epstein made his way into the crowd. "Excuse me - Brian Epstein, the Beatles' manager. Might I ask what is going on here?"
The head policeman responded. "I don't know what they've told you, Mr Epstein. These two young boys are runaways, and we have reason to suspect that the other two are responsible for keeping them away for their families for zaidi than five weeks."
"What reason is this, Policeman?" inquired John, in a tone that was pleasant on the surface, but dripped with derision underneath.
"They didn't!" added Paul earnestly. "They're our mates! Do wewe think they - kidnapped us au something?"
He took in the looks on the faces of all three parents and the police officers, and got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Come along, Paul," alisema his father firmly, beginning to lead him out of the crowd.
"You're coming with us," the police officers informed Ringo and John. "We're going to find out just who your parents are and where wewe come from."
"Come along, Georgie," whispered his mum tearfully. "We've missed you, my love."
"But..."
"You can't do this!"
"Our show...."
But the adults weren't listening. The only one who had any thoughts for the Beatles' onyesha and its importance was Brian, and he was powerless to overrule the Beatles' parents au the police.
And so Paul could only watch helplessly as his precious band was pulled apart in three different directions, the promise of a future as a rock hero fading before his eyes.