“I’m sorry,” said Pascoe.

“No, please, like I say, not your responsibility. In any case, I could have fought it, the staff association were ready to take up the cudgels and all my friends were very supportive. Yes, I’m sure a tribunal would have found in my favour. But it felt like time to move on. I didn’t get religion inside, Mr. Pascoe, not in the formal sense, but I certainly came to see that there is a time for all things under the sun and a man is foolish to ignore the signs. So don’t worry yourself.”

He’s offering me absolution! thought Pascoe. One moment I’m snarling and looming, next I’m on my knees being absolved!

He said, “That still doesn’t explain…”

“Why I’m here?” Roote took another bite, chewed, swallowed. “I’m working for the university gardens department. Bit of a change, I know. Very welcome, though. Hospital portering’s a worthwhile job, but you’re inside most of the time, and working with dead people a lot of the time. Now I’m outdoors, and everything’s alive! Even with autumn coming on, there’s still so much of life and growth around. OK, there’s winter to look forward to, but that’s not the end of things, is it? Just a lying dormant, conserving energy, waiting for the signal to reemerge and blossom again. Bit like prison, if that’s not too fanciful.”

I’m being jerked around here, thought Pascoe. Time to crack the whip.

“The world’s full of gardens,” he said coldly. “Why this one? Why have you come back to Mid-Yorkshire?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have said. That’s my other job, my real work-my thesis. You know about my thesis? Revenge and Retribution in English Drama? Of course you do. It was that which helped set you off in the wrong direction, wasn’t it? I can see how it would, with Mrs. Pascoe being threatened and all. You got that sorted, did you? I never read anything in the papers.”