“His dad came into the kitchen. ‘John, Constable Leighton’s here. He wants to ask you something.”
John put his knife and fork down, turned in his chair, and pressed his head against his father’s side.
“What on earth’s the matter? It’s nothing. It’s just Mr Leighton.”
“They’ll take George away?”
At the sound of his name the dog wagged his tail, which thudded against the floorboards.
“What?”
“That’s what Mrs Martin said. They’ll take him away They’ll put him to sleep.”
“What are you. . ? Look - ”
His father gently pulled the boy’s head from him so that he could look at his face.
“Let’s have a word with Mr Leighton together, shall we?
The boy shook his head.
“ Nobody’s going to harm George.”
“Come on. It’ll be alright.”
“He seems rather upset,” his dad was saying as he came into the sitting room where Sergeant Leighton was sitting, his hat on the chair arm.
“Oh?”
[Then from Mr Leighton’s questions we can get a picture of the trip to the field and George chasing the chickens, but we have the problem that we’d have to have the whole of the main incident told through dialogue. Perhaps we could go into John’s head and get some of his feelings as he speaks. Something like, ‘As he spoke John felt the rough dig at his shoulder, then the wrinkled face looking down at him as if out of the sky. . . ]
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