'Am I right in assuming…' mocked Dalziel. 'I bet you're a whizz in an interrogation, lad! Yes, you're bloody right! He were a violent sod were Thomas, and he made no distinction of friend, foe or family.'

'Wasn't anything done about him?' demanded Pascoe indignantly.

'Oh we kept him straight in the pubs and streets,' said Dalziel. 'But in them days, what a man got up to in his own house was his own business, short of breaking bones, and not even then sometimes. There was some as said there was more than just beatings went on when the kids were young.'

'Incest, you mean?' said Pascoe horror-struck. 'And you say nothing was done?'

'You need complaint, you need proof,' said Dalziel grimly. 'One of these days it's all going to start coming out, things that go on behind closed curtains. My old boss, Wally Tallantire, used to say, "An Englishman's home is his knocking-shop, Andy." That's why the church and the Tories rabbit on about the family. Keeps it under wraps.'

This cold view of society chilled Pascoe to the marrow. He said, 'If you thought something like that was going on…'

'I didn't, 'cos apart from a few D and Ds, Thomas didn't really bother us. It weren't till Tankie got his call-up papers the family came to my notice. Came as a shock to Tankie. Everyone knew National Service were coming to an end and the clever buggers were finding six new ways of getting deferred before breakfast every sodding morning. Tankie just said he weren't going. That's when I came in the picture. I arrested him, told him not to be stupid and if he didn't let himself be handed over to the army he'd end up in a civvy jail for the duration, and while you could get home from the army, you didn't get leave from prison – though the way things are going, they'll soon be sending the buggers off to Majorca for a few days in the summer!'

Avoiding the temptation of an excursion into the interesting territory of penal philosophy, Pascoe said, 'Not the best advice you ever gave by the sound of it. Sir.'