'Why?'

'I didn't want to stir anything up,' he said, feeling noble.

'For crying out loud!' said Mrs Abbott. 'You don't reckon I could do me job without Bert knowing?'

'No, I suppose not,' said Pascoe, discomfited.

'Bloody right not,' said Mrs Abbott. 'And I'll tell you something else for nothing. It's a job. I get paid for it. And whatever I do, I do with lights on me, and a camera, and a lot of technicians about who don't give a bugger, and you can see everything I do up there on the screen. I'm not like half these so-called real actresses who play the Virgin Mary all day, then screw themselves into another big part all night. Lorraine! I told you to keep off of that road!'

'Well, thank you, Mrs Abbott,' said Pascoe, glancing at his watch. 'You've been most helpful. I'm sorry to have troubled you.'

'No trouble, love,' said Mrs Abbott.

He dug into his pocket and produced a ten-pence piece which he gave to Lorraine 'for sweeties'. She waited for her mother's nod before accepting and Pascoe drove off feeling relieved that after all he had not been categorized as a 'funny bugger', and feeling also that at the moment Jack Shorter would top his own personal list.

He needn't have worried about his meeting. It started late because of the non-arrival of one of the senior members and was almost immediately suspended because of the enforced departure of another. Reluctantly Pascoe found a phone and rang Ellie to say that his estimate of a seven o'clock homecoming had been optimistic.

'Surprise,’ she said. 'Will you eat there?'

'I suppose so,’ he said.

'I was hoping you'd take me out. You get better service with a policeman.'

'Sorry,' said Pascoe. 'Better try an old boy-friend. See you!'