The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 52

The holding cell only afforded the narrowest of windows, right at the top of the walls and too high to see out of. There were metal bars, painted black on the outside, an echo of the police station’s Victorian origins. The inside had been glazed. George stood staring at the pocket of sky he could make out through the glass. Strange pinkie-peach coloured clouds were gravid with snow. Much had fallen in the night and flurries blocked half of light out.

“Mr Harrison? Are you listening?” the solicitor asked. He was perched on the wooden bench opposite to where George stood, a ring binder open on his lap. He was young looking. Far too young for someone who George would consider to be fully qualified to practice law.

“You say Paul sent you?” George asked abruptly.

“Yes, I’ve already explained,” the solicitor replied. “Please, Mr Harrison. We don’t have long before we need to leave.”

“Very magnanimous of him.”

“Sorry?”

“Paul. To send me the youngest lawyer in London.”

The solicitor took his glasses off and polished the lens with his shirt. “I can assure you, Mr Harrison. I am quite experienced in this particular… area. I have been practicing law for twelve years and partner at Hunter, Carter and James for nearly five. Of course, if you don’t want to make use of my services, you are free to choose any solicitor you want.”

“No,” George turned away from the window. “No, it’s fine. Carry on. You were saying?”

“Very... magnanimous of you, sir,” he mumbled, shuffling through his papers.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Daniel. Daniel Carter, Mr Harrison.”

“George, please,” he offered, and turned to sit on the bench attached to the wall opposite.

“George,” Daniel repeated with a small smile. “Uh, right, so where was I? Oh, yes, so Sir Edward Gray is to be your QC. He’s going to meet us at the court…”

“QC?” George interrupted.

“Yes, your barrister. It’s not usual for the barrister to attend the bail hearing but I’ve been informed that Sir Gray would like to attend this one. You are in good hands with Edward Gray. I’ve worked with him a few times. He is very thorough. Very meticulous.”

“So what happens now?”

“Well, we will put together our case for defence. As far as I can see the police mostly have circumstantial evidence. The point of the car being found outside of the victim’s flat maybe tricky but…”

The victim. George glanced back up at the windows. Snow was beginning to silently fall again. Forty-eight hours ago the victim had a name. The victim was Grace. And she’d been fine. George had been fine. The biggest problem he had was the possibility of the band breaking up and the fact his best friend might have slept with his girlfriend. It all seemed so trivial now.

“No,” George said, interrupting Daniel again. “I mean, right now. What happens right now?”

“Oh.” He closed the file and shifted it from his lap onto the bench. “Well, in a moment or two we’ll travel to the court for the bail hearing. They will set a date for the trial too. It will be at least six months away. Probably more.”

George swallowed. His throat was dry. “And will they grant bail?”

Daniel’s mouth twisted. “It’s hard to say to be honest. There isn’t much precedent in this kind of situation. It is a very serious crime you have been charged with Mr Harri- George.”

“And if they don’t grant bail?”

“You’ll be remanded in custody until the trial.”

George took a deep breath. “Where?” he asked.

“Belmarsh prison, I should think. It’s the nearest category A.”

George wasn’t sure what a category A was, but he could guess. What he couldn’t imagine was being inside one of these soulless barred rooms for the least the next six months.

His mind kept wandering back to the events of the past couple of days, the last few months. He wondered what Pattie would think to all this. He wondered what his poor mother and father would. He hadn’t had the chance to ask if he could call them. They’d no doubt have heard the news. All sorts of things must be going through their minds, he thought sadly.

And in all of this, it appeared the only one who was bothered with him was Paul. Only Paul had made any attempt to help him, to speak to him. Michael Archer had washed his hands of him, gleefully. John was furious with him. He’d even asked George if he’d… done it. If he believed George was guilty, what chance did he have of convincing a jury he was innocent? Following two or three years of crazy Beatlemania, of unconditional love and devotion from their fans, of never having a moment to themselves, suddenly, George had never felt so alone.

Daniel was still talking, but George couldn’t concentrate. There was too much going on inside his head. He had hardly slept during the night.

“I was wondering if you would mind…” Daniel leaned down, feeling inside his brown leather briefcase by his feet. He drew out a cardboard record sleeve and sheepishly offered it to George. “Would you mind terribly if I asked for your autograph?”

George took the record cover from him, mildly considering that, yes, he did mind, but his weariness overruled any inclination to be offended. “Sure,” he said dismissively and took the pen from Daniel too. He looked down at the record cover. ‘With The Beatles’, their second album. Four Beatles with moptops. The picture taken in half light, half darkness. They’d wanted it to look like the pictures Astrid had taken of them back in the Hamburg days. George suddenly felt a longing to be back there now. To be seventeen again. It felt like it was decades ago.

He signed the back of the record sleeve quickly. George Harrison. It almost didn’t look like his signature. He turned it over, handing it back to Daniel but hesitated. Something in the photograph. Something about Paul. He drew the record closer again and stared at the image, at Paul. John was at the front of the picture, then George in the middle, Paul behind him and Ringo below. But there was something about the picture of Paul. Something George should remember…

The key turned in the heavy cell door and the guard opened it. “Time to go, sir,” he said, holding out a pair of handcuffs towards George.

“Is that really necessary?” Daniel asked, getting to his feet.

“Sorry, sir. Regulations,” the guard replied.

George gave the record cover back to Daniel and stood up, holding his wrists out for the cuffs, feeling unreal, in some kind of dream. The guard snapped them closed. They felt heavy and a little too tight.

“After you, sir.”

When George stepped out of the police station, blinking in the sudden brightness, the snow was coming down quickly. He shivered in his shirtsleeves. Daniel Carter had brought him a clean shirt to wear, but the thin jacket George had brought to the police station with him yesterday was not really made for winter.

The Black Maria police van was waiting for him at the back of the police station, away from the crowds George had been told had been camping outside. Both press and fans. Both in support and against him.

The two doors at the back of the van were open, waiting to swallow him up. George glanced back over his shoulder. “Are you coming?” he asked Daniel, walking behind him, suddenly fearful of making the trip alone.

“I’ll be following behind in the car,” Daniel replied and gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you there.”

George nodded slightly and stepped up into the van.