{so if you are a bit confused with the format of the story, there are chapters taking place during the pre-fame days of the Beatles. Those are in the third person. The chapters taking place in the late-sixties, the Let it Be sessions, those are in the first person, from multiple points of view.

I'm sorry I didn't clear that up before.

PEACE AND LOVE L***}

That's a lovely house, Prudence thought. She stood at the end of the walkway and looked at the dwelling in front of her. It was made of dark-brown bricks, with windows painted white and a red door. It stood two stories high, with a cellar below.

The cellar was where she and her friend, Layla, were headed.

"Come 'ead, Pru!" Layla said, walking towards the red door. Prudence sucked in a breath, and followed.

The two reached the door, and Layla rang the doorbell.

"This is so exciting!" she said, a smile on her face. "You've finally decided to come with me!"

"Yeah, well, you're always going on and on about the music here, so I decided to come and get you to quit yer yammering," Prudence retorted with a smile.

But she knew that wasn't why she came that evening.

"You're really going to love it," Layla assured her as the two kept waiting for someone to answer the door.

Prudence nodded and looked herself up and down quickly. Light blue Wing Dings on her feet, a matching purse in her hand, a yellow skirt ending just above the knees, and a light pink blouse on top. Her hair was tied back in a bouncy ponytail, and she ran her hand along the side of her head to keep all stray hairs in check. She quickly whipped out her compact, and looked at her reflection. She had on light red lip gloss, and mascara coated her lashes, making them appear longer than they were, their true length being a characteristic that Prudence rather disliked. Seeing nothing that she could fix, Prudence placed the mirror back in her purse.

The two girls heard footsteps inside the house, and the door opened. A tall, pretty-faced woman appeared at the door. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and she wore a simple floral dress. She put on a welcoming smile.

"Hello, Mona," Layla said, giving her a hug.

"Layla, my dear, it's so good to see you again," the woman returned. She looked at Prudence, and smiled again.

"Hello," Prudence said, smiling herself. "My name is Prudence. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Best-"

"Please, love, call me Mona, everyone does," she interrupted cheerily. She put her hands on her hips. "Now, you two lovelies must be here for the music, right?"

The two girls nodded.

"Well, right this way, then," Mona began to walk down the hall, and Layla and Prudence followed. It was a nice house, with simple decorations. Prudence could hear a dull thudding coming from below.

Mona turned abruptly, and opened a door, leading to a staircase.

"It's right down here, in the Rainbow Room," she explained. "Layla knows the way. They've started some time ago, so I believe you missed most of the set." She flashed an apologetic smile.

"Oh, it's alright, Mona!" Layla replied. "It's our fault for being late. I just wanted to give Prudence here a little taste of fine culture," she added with a grin.

Mona laughed. "Well, they are regulars, you know. It's very comfortable, having my own Pete playing in their band, for them to perform here often."

"It's Johnny and the Moondogs, right?" Prudence asked, making sure.

Mona let out a chuckle. "Oh, is that their name? I heard last week it was the Silver Beetles. Who knows what they call themselves now!" She laughed daintily, and waved the two girls down the stairs.

"Welcome to the Casbah," she said as Prudence descended.

----------------

"I'm gonna write a little letter, gonna mail it to my local DJ!"

George shouted the song into the microphone and plucked at his guitar.

John watched him, playing his own guitar.

"It's a rockin' rhythm record I want my jockey to play!"

Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he silently cursed himself for leaving his leather jacket on.

"Roll over, Beethoven, I gotta hear it again today!"

John leaned against the wall directly behind him, falling into a slouch as he continued to play.

Paul stood right next to him, and George was a couple of metres away. Stu sat on a basket, on the other side of the stage.

Well, you could hardly call it a stage.

Pete was in the back, his drums crowded around him. The five boys were cramped, the playing area tight and hot.

"You know, my temperature's risin', and the jukebox blows a fuse!" George's face was twisted in concentration, trying to sing every note. The band knew he wasn't the best of vocalists.

John looked out at the audience. They were all under his nose, but he couldn't see them too well, having kept his glasses in his pocket. He squinted at them, and smiles and clapping hands emerged from the blur.

"My heart's beatin' rhythm and my soul keeps on singin' the blues!"

Behind all the clapping and jumping teenyboppers, John could see a couple figures make their way into the room. He couldn't make out their faces, but something about one of them was familiar.

"Roll over, Beethoven and tell Tchaikovsky the news!"

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of John's neck and down into his jacket. John ignored it and kept on playing, turning his eyes to his guitar.

"Well, if you feel you like it, go get your lover, then reel and rock it, roll it over and move on up just a trifle further and reel and rock it, roll it over, roll over Beethoven, rockin' in two by two!" George sang it out in nearly one breath, then leaned down to his guitar to play a solo. Paul bounced up and down to the beat. Stu played his bass stiffly, trying to play as best he could. Pete let out a smirk as he played along on the drums.

"Roll over Beethoven!" George yelled. Paul and John joined in.

"Roll over Beethoven!" John felt a scratch in his voice coming on.

"Roll over Beethoven!" The audience chimed in.

"Roll over Beethoven!" John heard his voice faltering. Jesus, he thought, why can't I ever finish a song around here?

"Roll over Beethoven and dig these rhythm and blues!" George sang out the last line and the song was over.

Cheers erupted from the audience. Pete stood up and waved with a smile. Paul, George, and Stu took off their guitars and made their way off the "stage", with Pete behind them. John put down his guitar and took off his jacket before jumping down from the playing area and walking to the back of the club.

"Good job, boys!" he shouted, and the band cheered as they made their way into the Aztec room, where they all plopped down on the nearest chairs. Other than the band, there wasn't anyone there. Everyone was either in the Rainbow Room, waiting for the next act, or at the bar, getting Cokes.

"It's so bloody hot," Paul whined, and John nodded in agreement. He reached for a small fan on the table next to him and flipped it on, sighing in relief at the small, cool air that came from it.

John looked at the wall closest to where he sat. He saw the spot where he had scratched out his name a few weeks back. John Winston Lennon, it read.

"Now, boys," he said, "we celebrate another performance well done." He stood up. "Drinks for everyone!"

Everyone shouted their agreement, except for Stu. He just leaned forward in his chair and put his head in his hands.

"What's the matter, Stu?" George asked. Stu didn't look up.

"M'head," he muttered.

"D'you want me to walk you back?' John asked, concerned. Stu's headaches came and went, and when they came, they were terrible. Being Stu's close friend, John saw how excrutiating the experience was for him.

Stu stood up, and shook his head. "No, it's fine," he said, brushing his hands on his dungarees. "I can go m'self. You lads enjoy yourselves." He smiled faintly, picked up his case, and turned with a wave.

"See ya, Stu," Paul said.

"I won't be out too late, Mummy," John joked. Stu let out a chuckle and was gone.

"Are we still getting drinks?" Pete asked.

"Of course we are, my boy!" John replied with a hearty laugh. "We'll drink Cokes until the sun comes up!" Everyone laughed along, and the boys made their way to the bar.

John saw a bird in the doorway. He stopped, and squinted a little. With a smile of realization, he walked up to the girl.

"Ello, ello, ello, Pru," he said, sauntering over. The rest of the band stood behind him, staring at each other quizzically.

"Hi, John," she said back, a hint of shyness in her voice.

"I've never seen you here before," he observed.

"I've never been here before," she replied curtly.

"Did you like what you heard?" John asked, crossing his arms in interest.

"It was alright," Prudence replied casually.

In truth, she loved it. She and Layla only heard the last song, but she loved every second of it. It was fun. It was energetic. It was crazy. She had never heard anything like it.

And John, he was something else. He was the reason she decided to come in the first place. He moved at all the right times. He felt the music. All of them did, really. But it was John who enthralled her.

"Eh, John, who's this?" Paul asked from behind, a bit offended by Prudence's "alright" statement.

John didn't miss a beat. "This is my grandmother," he replied. "Speak loudly to her, she's goin' a bit deaf."

The boys laughed, and Prudence grinned.

"I'm Prudence, from John's art school," she said to the other boys. "This is my friend, Layla."

John looked at the other girl. He hadn't noticed her until now. She was pretty, the kind of girl that Paul would like.

Just as he expected, Paul introduced himself first, eagerly. "My name's Paul," he said, batting his eyelashes. Layla giggled, and John rolled his eyes.

"I'm George," George said shyly, extending his hand, which Prudence and Layla both shook.

"And I'm Pete," the drummer said. He pointed to Layla. "I think I've seen ye around here before."

"Yeah," Layla said. "I come sometimes. Your mum's a real nice lady."

"That she is, that she is," Pete said with a smirk.

"Stu isn't here," John said. "He plays bass. He left already."

"Oh," Prudence said. She remembered Stu, seeing him with John all the time in school. She looked at Layla, and said, "I think I have to go, too. I've got a curfew, you know."

"Right," Layla replied, not paying too much attention. Paul was already by her side, offering to buy her a drink.

"D'you really have to go now?" John asked. "There's so much more fun to be had."

Prudence smiled, but shook her head. "My mum would go ballistic if I didn't come home in time."

John nodded his understanding, a bit upset he wouldn't get to spend more time with her.

Prudence waved goodbye to the rest of the boys with a smile.

"It was nice to meet you," George piped up politely.

"Bye, Prudence!" Layla said, affirming the fact that she was going to stay with Paul for a while longer.

Prudence nodded and turned to go upstairs.

As she walked away, John turned to the remaining boys and said, "I'll see you later, ta!" and rushed off to follow her.

Once he caught up to her in the starcase, he grabbed her arm, and she stopped.

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"You can't just make polite conversation and leave," he said.

"I told you, John, I have to go," she said.

'Well, can I at least walk you home?"

Prudence hesitated, biting her lip.

"I don't know..." she trailed off.

"Oh, come on, Pru, why not?"

"If my mum sees you-"

"Tell her I'm just a friend! I am just a friend, aren't I?"

When Prudence heard that, something in her burst. She hadn't thought of John like that. He was a friend, but he wasn't just a friend. At least, she didn't want him to be just a friend.

"I'm sorry, John, I can't," she said, shaking his arm off and making her way up the rest of the stairs.

Her tone left John standing there, not trying to follow her. He watched her as she left, shouting, "Goodbye!" up the stairs.

He turned back, and slumped against the stairs.

Why did he say that?

He hadn't meant that, had he?

He hoped he wasn't just a friend.

It was just something he said.

John sat like that for a while longer, before returning to the club, grabbing his guitar case, and making his way home alone.