The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 28

4.10am

"I think we had better take a statement from you, sir," the constable said, leaning on the kitchen top. He was a middle-aged man with dark circles around his eyes. He looked about as tired as George felt. The policewoman who accompanied him had been shaken when she had seen the state Grace was in, blood running down her arm and tears down her face, as her empty eyes just stared. The PC had just taken it all in his stride, barely a reaction from him, apart from shepherding George into the kitchen where he had kept him for the past fifteen minutes. He looks a bit like my dad, George decided. That was a comforting thought.

"Can I go and see her yet?" George asked.

"In a moment," the constable replied without looking up from his police issue notebook.

"What's your name?"

"Constable Barnes, Sir."

"I'm George. George Harrison."

"Yes, I know. Do you... do you own this house, Mr Harrison?"

George nodded. "She's bleeding."

"WPC Percy will take care of her."

"She sliced her arm with a piece of glass," George's voice broke. "On purpose. Who can do that to themselves?"

"Why don't you sit down, sir?"

George slid into one of the chairs at the table. "I mean... I think she might need stitches or something."

"Constable Percy is talking to her. Once she's calmed down we'll take her to the hospital."

George rested his head on his hand. "Did someone call you?" he asked wearily.

The policeman nodded. "The neighbours, sir."

George raised his eyebrows. "Really? She was screaming that loud?" The nearest house was quite a distance away. It had been one of the reasons George had picked the bungalow to begin with.

"Uh, no. They saw a light. The house is supposed to be empty?"

"Oh," George said. "Yes, I've been away. We've just come back."

"Uh-huh," the constable nodded. He opened the kitchen door and stepped through it, pausing to look back at George. "Don't go anywhere, will you, sir?"

George shook his head. The PC closed the door behind him. George sat back in the chair, trying to collect his thoughts. The pieces of the tea cup were still in the sink and on the floor. George got up and picked up a couple of the bigger pieces. He dropped them into the sink with the other fragments of the cup.

The door opened again and Barnes returned. He shut it quietly and joined George at the table. "They're going to be a while," he said, his southern London accent suddenly apparent. "I think we should take a few notes. We can get a proper statement typed up later, can't we, Mr Harrison?"

"Uh, yeah, okay," George agreed.

Barnes took a small pen out of his coat inside pocket. "Now, let's see," he said, flipping through his notebook pages.

"Is she okay?" George asked.

"Oh yes. She's just talking to my colleague. She's fine. The cuts... the cut wasn't that deep."

George nodded.

"Right, so. How did this little domestic start?"

Domestic? George thought. It didn't seem quite the apt term. There was nothing domestic where Grace was concerned.