“John!” Ringo yelled to the night air, “John!”  

“Don’t go too far in front,” Paul warned a few paces behind, “Can’t see further than a couple of yards,” he glanced back over his shoulder, “George, keep up!”  

George jogged to level with Paul, “He won’t be out here, will he?” he said, “He wouldn’t have gone into a field.”  

“John!” Ringo shouted again.  

“Well, there was nothing else at the end of that road, so where else could he have gone?” Paul reasoned.  

George sighed, “Perhaps he doubled back? He’s probably sitting in the car right now, laughing at us.”  

“Jo-,” Ringo stopped abruptly. Paul and George came up behind him. “There’s a house over there, can you see it?” Ringo said, pointing to a small, white building, barely visible in the mist that had come down after the snow had ceased.  

“Where?” Paul said, peering.  

“There’s no one there,” George said, “its all shut up, no ones been there in years.”  

“Except maybe John,” Ringo said.  

“It looks kinda spooky to me,” George said hesitantly. The other two looked at him. Paul pushed Ringo forward and they set off towards the house.  

“Fuck me,” Liam said for the third time, “Its bloody brass monkeys!”  

“It’s not much further,” John said again.  

“Do you know where you’re goin’, mate?” Liam said.  

“Liam, you could have stayed in the pub. You could have not dressed as if it’s the middle of June. But you did, so shut it,” Noel said.  

“Fuck me,” Liam said, shivering and holding his arms around his body.  

“There!” John said, elated, “There’s the car!” It had been a further journey back to the car than he had expected, and for a while he had thought he had taken the wrong direction. John hurried ahead towards the vehicle, still parked up, lopsided on the bank by the junction. Noel and Liam followed him slowly.  

“You’d better drive us back when we’ve fixed this bloody thing,” Liam complained.  

“How old's this car?” Noel asked, coming to stand next to John at the passenger’s side. “No wonders it’s broken down. It must be thirty years old or more!”  

“They’re not here,” John said, distractedly, peering through the frosted glass in to the empty, dark car.  

“Who?” Noel said.  

“Me… Me mates, I was travelling with…” John walked round to the driver’s side, “I left them here.”  

“Yeah, well, I’d leave too,” Liam said.  

“Get the bonnet up then,” Noel said, rubbing his hands together.  

John opened the door and found the leaver to flick the lid up.  

“Told you there was no one here,” George said grumpily, kicking the snow off his boots.  

“Where else could he have gone?” Ringo asked, mildly. “Perhaps he’s inside?”  

“Inside? How?” George looked up at the old building. “It’s all closed up, you couldn’t get in there.” He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and walked over to a near by bench, sitting down heavily on it.  

“You’ll get a wet arse,” Ringo said. George ignored him. Paul walked over and stood on the other end of the bench to see into the buildings window.  

“It looks like a pub,” Paul said, “An old country pub, but its all dusty and rundown.”  

“Is John in there?” Ringo asked.  

Paul shook his head, jumping down from the bench. “How far’s the phone box from here?”  

“Well, it’d be just down there, wouldn’t it?” Ringo said, scanning the landscape, “Back on the main road.”  

“Right, well, we should go and call me dad.”  

“What about John?” George said, from the bench.  

“What about him?” Paul replied, “Silly bugger wanders off, he can get himself home.”  

George sighed.  

“Look, it’s snowing again,” Ringo said, holding out his gloved palm to catch the drifting snowflakes.  

George shivered and moaned, “I’m gonna get consumption at this rate.”  

“Consumption?” Paul grinned, “Perhaps TB and small pox while yer at it, eh?”  

“I’ve been out in this for over an hour,” George replied, “I’m soaked through, I’m tired and I just want to go home.”  

“And we don’t?” Ringo asked.  

George looked up in the direction of the road. “It’s miles away,” he said, defeated.  

“Well, maybe we could wait and dry off a bit?” Paul said, kindly, “Or at least until the snow stops again.”  

“What, here?” Ringo said.  

“In there,” Paul pointed to the pub, “Maybe we’ll find some bourbon left behind.”  

“In there?” echoed Ringo, “And how do we get in there?”  

“The window. Its off its latch,” Paul said, looking up at the window he had just been peering through.  

“Its tiny,” George said, craning his neck back, “You’ll never fit.”  

“No, I won’t fit,” Paul agreed. Paul and George turned to look at Ringo.

“Try it now,” Noel shouted from behind the propped bonnet. John turned the key. The engine rattled and groaned and puttered out. “Hmm,” Noel leaned over it, resting on both his hands, “It’s no good, we’ll have to push it,” he said, lowering the top and letting it drop at the last couple of inches.  

“Push?” Liam said, “I’m not fuckin’ pushing no fuckin’ car,”  

“Get behind, it’ll warm you up,” Noel said, shoving Liam towards the rear of the car. John stood, holding the driver’s door. “When I say,” Noel said, putting his hands on the edge of the boot, “jump in and start it.”  

John nodded and the three of them started to push, Noel and Liam from behind and John from the side. The car stuck, then slowly rolled down from the grass verge and picked up momentum. John steered the car to the centre of the road with one hand, holding the door with the other. They began to run. “Now!” Noel shouted as they gained speed. John jumped in the drivers seat and turned the key. The engine clunked and thunked and sparked and refused to start. The car rolled to a stop. Noel and Liam leaned on the boot to catch their breath. John got out and came around to the back.  

“It’s no good, its dead,” he said morosely.  

“Perhaps we need a bit more speed?” Noel suggested, “Shame this roads so flat, we could do with a hill.”  

“More speed?” Liam said, still gasping for breath, shaking his head.  

“Few more trips to the gym, and less to the pub, eh, our kid?”  

“You steer,” John said to him, “ I’ll push back here.”  

Liam didn’t need telling twice. He nodded and skipped round to the drivers seat, having suddenly and miraculously recovered. Noel pursed his lips and turned around to start pushing the car again. John joined him and they began to roll the car forward, pushing against the ground with their feet as hard as they could. Again the car picked up speed, again Noel shouted, “Now!” and again the engine failed. “Keep going!” Noel said to John, and “Keep trying,” he shouted to his brother.  

John and Noel ran side by side, leaning all their weight into the car, and looking down at their feet as they went, which was why the pair of them nearly fell over themselves when Liam suddenly stamped on the breaks.  

Noel snatched his head up ready to yell a string of expletives at Liam when he saw the reason Liam had stamped on the breaks. The van, heading straight for them, swerved and squealed to a stop a few inches in front of the nose of the car.  

“Fuck,” John said.  

The driver of the van wound down his window and leaned out, “Alright mate?” he shouted in a thick Mancunian accent, “Where d’yer nick the car from, Liam? I’d take it back if I were you!”  

Liam got out of the car with a lopsided grin on his face, “Digsy, yer tosser! You tryin’ to kill us?”  

“Aren’t you meant to be playin’ somewhere tonight?” Digsy yelled back.  

“Yeah, about two hours ago.”  

“Oh well, I’ll catch yer at Knebworth or somat then,” he replied, jumping down from the cab of the van. “Alright, Noel? D’yer want a jump?”  

Ringo struggled and squeezed and fell awkwardly head first into the musty, stale smelling bar room.  

“Ringo?” George shouted, through the window, standing on the bench on the other side of it, “Are you in?”  

“No, where d’yer think I am?” Ringo replied, picking himself up and dusting his clothes down.  

“Open the door then,” George said.  

Ringo looked up at him. It was lucky the windowpane was too dirty for George to see what he mouthed at him. Ringo disappeared in search of the front door.  

“Look,” Paul said, “There’s headlights,” he nodded in the direction of the road. George turned and climbed down from the bench.  

“Typical,” he said, “the first car in an hour and its gonna pass right by us.”  

“Its turning down here,” Paul said, standing.  

Ringo finally managed to budge the rusty old bolt and pulled the door open, expecting Paul and George on the other side of it. Instead, two dazzling headlights met him. He put his hand up to shield his eyes, squinting to make out John behind the steering wheel.  

“This place was open half an hour ago,” John said confusedly, leaning out of the window, “It was… there were people in there.”  

“It hasn’t been open in years,” Paul said, “I think the cold might be getting to his brain,” he added out of the side of his mouth to George.  

John frowned, but shrugged, “Well, strange things happen on Christmas Eve,” he said, “Come ‘ed then, if you wanna get to t’pool before dawn! There’s a glass of mulled wine with my name on it!”  

“How did you get it to start?” Ringo said, stepping out of the pub’s porch.  

“Magic!” John replied, “Well, get in, then! I’m driving!”  

The three Beatles looked at each other worriedly. Paul shrugged, “Who wants to live forever, right?” he asked and stepped towards the passenger’s seat.  

Ringo and George followed hesitantly, “Geddout, you haven’t got a licence,” Ringo said opening the door for John.  

“Would you give it a rest?” John said, revving the engine, “It is Christmas y’know,” he said, looking up at the sky through the windscreen. The heavy snow clouds were beginning to disperse and the stars shone through.  

Noel leaned against the door window as Digsy and Liam continued to argue, shouting at each other over the obnoxiously loud radio, blaring out Slade’s Merry Christmas. Noel looked up and studied the calm night sky.  

“Y’know,” he said quietly to Liam, sitting next to him, “Perhaps I will give yer band a go.”  

“Good man, I knew you would,” Liam replied.  

“On some conditions,” Noel added, but Liam had already returned to squabbling with Digsy.  

Noel turned away, feeling calm amidst the chaos. In his head music began to play, images took shape and the lyrics to a new song began to form, “I live my life in the city…”  

      Authors Note: 1st quote is from Live Forever by Oasis, written by Noel Gallagher about John Lennon. 2nd quote is from Rock and Roll Star by Oasis. And Liam Gallagher really does think he is John!