He had cut his teeth on documentaries, served three years as an assistant director on Coronation Street, directed a couple of moderately successful sitcoms, then confirmed his status and greatly increased his salary over the four series of Call Alec Dawson. Despite his proven talent, Joe was an unprepossessing figure. He was a little below average height, thin-limbed and scrawny rather than slim. His hair was straight, grey and thinning rapidly and his nose was a little crooked; it had been badly set after an accident in his last year at school forty years ago. His small grey eyes missed very little; they were set deep, behind silver-rimmed spectacles, in a face which was now deeply lined. Few things in television could surprise Joe Hartley any more. But this was reality, not television. He had never before been interviewed by the police in a murder case. He was nervous and it showed. Peach did nothing to ease the strain. A man on edge was likely to reveal much more than one who was relaxed and unthreatened – particularly when it came to those things he would rather conceal.
