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that’s not what bothers me.’
    â€˜Then what does?’
    Harry thought about it, finding a way of framing his ideas. ‘What bothers me … what bothers me is that most people, for most of their lives – for all of their lives if they’re lucky – are, well not exactly invisible, but they don’t register much in the scheme of things. They live their quiet lives and die their quiet deaths and draw so little attention to themselves that the only ripples they leave when they depart are caused by the tears of those few people who might have loved them.’
    He paused and Gregory waited. ‘Go on,’ he said.
    â€˜It feels as though, when people like you, people who, sorry to put it this way, but who live in the underbelly, who spend their lives carving into the bowels of the world …’ He laughed. ‘Lord, listen to me. I think I’ve drunk a little too much.’
    â€˜Go on,’ Gregory prompted again.
    â€˜Well, when people like you associate with people like us, you make us visible. We lose our anonymity. In a way, we lose our protection, if you see what I mean.’
    â€˜I see what you mean.’
    â€˜And, frankly, that makes me sleep very uneasy in my bed. You reveal a world I don’t want to think about. A cruelty I had to acknowledge once and swore I’d try to protect my son from.’ He laughed, harshly. ‘I couldn’t, of course. It coloured every decision I ever made, every action.’
    â€˜What cruelty?’ Gregory asked.
    â€˜My sister was murdered,’ Harry said. ‘She was just a child. Naomi Blake was her best friend. Naomi escaped and my sister died. It was only three – no four – years ago that we found out what happened to her. I spent most of my life wondering. I spent most of Patrick’s life trying to protect him, to make sure lightning didn’t strike twice.’
    Gregory studied him, waiting silently for more. Gregory knew the value of silence, the need most people had to fill it, but it seemed so did Harry and he said nothing. Gregory sensed that he had relayed all he was prepared to on the matter.
    â€˜If you told me to go away and never come back then I’d do my best to oblige,’ he told Harry, finally. ‘But I don’t make empty promises, so I would never promise that you’d never see me again.’
    â€˜You’re expecting trouble,’ Harry said flatly. ‘You’re expecting trouble to come and find us again.’
    Until that moment, Gregory hadn’t fully realized this, but as Harry said it he understood that it was true. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Harry, do you ever get the sense that something is just not right? You may not be able to say why or what, just that it isn’t as it should be.’
    Harry thought about it and then nodded. ‘Since Alec’s car crash it’s felt like I’m waiting for the storm to break,’ he said. ‘I think Alec has been too. I think that’s why he’s been so out of sorts.’
    Out of sorts, Gregory thought. Harry, you have a wonderful sense of understatement.
    â€˜We’ve been exposed, haven’t we? We’re visible now, all of us. We can’t hide in the crowd.’
    Gregory swallowed the last of his whisky. ‘Patrick could never disappear into the crowd,’ he said. ‘Nor should he. He has a rare talent, Harry. But what he’s seen and heard and witnessed will come out in his work, won’t it?’ He got to his feet. ‘I should go,’ he said. ‘Say goodnight to Patrick for me and, Harry, sleep well. You have at least one of those rough men fighting your corner, whatever comes, and I still hope the storm will pass us all by.’
    Harry smiled and there was something sad and knowing in that smile, Gregory thought. ‘My friend,’ Harry said, ‘if the storm breaks over us, then we shall do our best to survive it. I will