solitude, however short-lived, was to be welcomed. But the Jag moved on past the pumps and coasted to a halt by the air-line. Typical. They were not even going to buy a pint of milk, let alone a gallon of petrol. Then he realized who was sitting in the passenger seat, staring at him through the drizzle-spotted window: Iris. Her face was grey and expressionless, her gaze directed straight at him but somehow unfocused. She looked tired and drained and close to some unmarked limit of tolerance.
The driver's door slammed. A tall thick-set man in tweed jacket and cavalry twills rounded the bonnet and strode towards the shop. He had low-peaked dark hair slicked down in an old-fashioned style. His face was set and flushed, cheeks quivering with the force of his tread. His eyes were small and intent, swivelling to meet Harry's as he walked. He was everything Harry had feared Ken Hewitt would be: tough, remorseless and accustomed to getting his own way. Harry had met his type before, all too often. More often, he sometimes thought, than he deserved. It was already certain that this encounter would not go well.
"Harry Barnett?" The words were out of Hewitt's mouth before the door had clunked shut behind him.
"Yes. You must be Ken Hewitt."
That's right." He marched up to the counter, seemingly in doubt until the last moment whether to haul Harry out from behind it. But both of them could feel the weight of Iris's attention through the glass. The only force they could afford to use was that of personality. In which department Harry was heavily outgunned. "I've decided to put a stop to your meddling in my wife's affairs."
"I'm not meddling."
"Hope told us about your visit. Don't you call impersonating a non-existent relative meddling?"
"I am a relative."
"Not in law. Not in practice. And not in my opinion."
"An opinion you plan to impose on Iris, no doubt."
"You're the one imposing, Barnett. And it's got to stop."
"I don't think that's for you to say. If you were Claude, it might be different. But Claude's dead. I reckon that leaves me the closest to a father David has."
"You reckon? I'll tell you what I reckon He broke off as the man from the pick-up came in and sauntered over to the magazine rack. Hewitt lowered his voice and leant across the counter. "I love Iris. I respect her. I don't think you've ever done either. Otherwise she wouldn't have kept you at arm's length. Leave her alone'
"All I'm trying to do is '
"Make yourself seem important. Make Iris think you matter. But you don't. You never have and you never will. You're just a mistake she made too long ago to be worth remembering."
"Where does that leave David?"
"Where he's been for the past month. Beyond help. Especially yours."
"Does Iris think the same?"
"She was just coming round to thinking it when you crawled out from under a stone."
Harry smiled grimly. "Sorry about that."
"You will be. If you don't crawl back there."
That's a threat, right?"
"I'll get a court order if necessary, Barnett. I'll stop you interfering. One way or the other."
Harry sighed. "What did she ever see in you?"
"What do you think? Look in the mirror and work it out."
"You want him switched off, don't you?"
"I want him put out of his misery. I want Iris to stop hoping for what can never happen and to start mourning her son. You're an obstacle to that process. One I intend to remove."
"Why do you think he took the overdose?"
"Stay out of it."
"Or did someone .. . make him take it?"
"Don't try to put crazy thoughts like that into Iris's head, Barnett. I'm serious. Don't'
"This lot and twenty Rothmans king size," said the man from the pick-up, dumping a four-pack of cokes, two sausage rolls, a Mars bar and a girlie magazine between them. "Plus ten quids' worth of four star." He glanced warily at Hewitt. "Not interrupting, am I?"
"No," said Hewitt levelly. "We've finished."
Harry watched him leave, then turned to look out at the car. But Iris was staring straight ahead at
The driver's door slammed. A tall thick-set man in tweed jacket and cavalry twills rounded the bonnet and strode towards the shop. He had low-peaked dark hair slicked down in an old-fashioned style. His face was set and flushed, cheeks quivering with the force of his tread. His eyes were small and intent, swivelling to meet Harry's as he walked. He was everything Harry had feared Ken Hewitt would be: tough, remorseless and accustomed to getting his own way. Harry had met his type before, all too often. More often, he sometimes thought, than he deserved. It was already certain that this encounter would not go well.
"Harry Barnett?" The words were out of Hewitt's mouth before the door had clunked shut behind him.
"Yes. You must be Ken Hewitt."
That's right." He marched up to the counter, seemingly in doubt until the last moment whether to haul Harry out from behind it. But both of them could feel the weight of Iris's attention through the glass. The only force they could afford to use was that of personality. In which department Harry was heavily outgunned. "I've decided to put a stop to your meddling in my wife's affairs."
"I'm not meddling."
"Hope told us about your visit. Don't you call impersonating a non-existent relative meddling?"
"I am a relative."
"Not in law. Not in practice. And not in my opinion."
"An opinion you plan to impose on Iris, no doubt."
"You're the one imposing, Barnett. And it's got to stop."
"I don't think that's for you to say. If you were Claude, it might be different. But Claude's dead. I reckon that leaves me the closest to a father David has."
"You reckon? I'll tell you what I reckon He broke off as the man from the pick-up came in and sauntered over to the magazine rack. Hewitt lowered his voice and leant across the counter. "I love Iris. I respect her. I don't think you've ever done either. Otherwise she wouldn't have kept you at arm's length. Leave her alone'
"All I'm trying to do is '
"Make yourself seem important. Make Iris think you matter. But you don't. You never have and you never will. You're just a mistake she made too long ago to be worth remembering."
"Where does that leave David?"
"Where he's been for the past month. Beyond help. Especially yours."
"Does Iris think the same?"
"She was just coming round to thinking it when you crawled out from under a stone."
Harry smiled grimly. "Sorry about that."
"You will be. If you don't crawl back there."
That's a threat, right?"
"I'll get a court order if necessary, Barnett. I'll stop you interfering. One way or the other."
Harry sighed. "What did she ever see in you?"
"What do you think? Look in the mirror and work it out."
"You want him switched off, don't you?"
"I want him put out of his misery. I want Iris to stop hoping for what can never happen and to start mourning her son. You're an obstacle to that process. One I intend to remove."
"Why do you think he took the overdose?"
"Stay out of it."
"Or did someone .. . make him take it?"
"Don't try to put crazy thoughts like that into Iris's head, Barnett. I'm serious. Don't'
"This lot and twenty Rothmans king size," said the man from the pick-up, dumping a four-pack of cokes, two sausage rolls, a Mars bar and a girlie magazine between them. "Plus ten quids' worth of four star." He glanced warily at Hewitt. "Not interrupting, am I?"
"No," said Hewitt levelly. "We've finished."
Harry watched him leave, then turned to look out at the car. But Iris was staring straight ahead at
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