'All right, all right,' said Pascoe, disturbed by what for Ellie was an untypical flight of fantasy. 'So…?'

'So for a moment, that girl is out of our time and into, say, the early Mesolittyic period. The water runs clear. And because of the time shift, it's still daylight. And those faces, what did she say, "like beasts at their watering", small wary brown-skinned people, Cresswellians perhaps, or some tribe of prehistoric man. And the birds she saw, pterodactyls perhaps.'

'Jesus!' said Pascoe.

'All right. Be dismissive. But it seems to me that this famous open mind you're always yapping about is about as open as a bank on Saturday.'

'I was merely expressing surprise at the depth of your knowledge of prehistory,' he protested speciously.

She looked sheepish.

'I know about as much as you, she admitted. 'That's why I wanted the transcript. Thelma was in on the dig, it's one of her hobbies. I thought she might be able to put me right.'

'A lady of many parts, that one,' said Pascoe. 'Mainly untouched by human hand, or so she would have us believe.'

'What on earth can you mean?' she said, grinning.

'All right,' he said, opening his briefcase. 'Here it is. We've got a copy at the station, but don't lose it all the same. Though strictly speaking, it's hardly an official document! And in return, promise me you won't let those viragos con you into taking on more than you can cope with. OK?'

'Yes, sir,' she said.

He kissed her again, sternly, and left.

But as he backed out of the drive he suddenly thought pterodactyls and chuckled so much he almost hit the milkman.