‘There is nothing normal about this team, sir.’

The not-normal team emerged from the garage area into a street stretching away to left and right. The sign opposite said, ‘Beaver Avenue.’

‘Don’t forget to tell him you told him so,’ said Farrell to Lockland.

Parrish gritted his teeth. ‘Can you just shut up, please.’

Farrell nodded in satisfaction. ‘They all say that sooner or later.’

‘Look at all these cars,’ said Lockland, staring around. ‘They’re everywhere.’

There were indeed cars everywhere. Parked at the side of the road. Parked on the pavement. Parked higgledy-piggledy in what had once been people’s front gardens. Cars roared up and down the road, music thumping from the open windows, hooting at each other or the occasional small child running out into the road.

Jane peered. ‘What are those hump things in the road?’

‘Sleeping policemen,’ said Farrell.

‘They bury policemen under the road? What for?’

‘To slow down the traffic, I think.’

‘Can we get on?’ said Parrish impatiently. ‘I have a date tonight with that blonde in Logistics.’

Farrell stared. ‘What, the big one with the scar?’

‘No – that’s a bloke.’

‘Turned you down, did he?’

‘Just because the two of you never have any sort of sex life that’s no reason for me to fall to your level.’

‘Number Seventeen’s this way,’ said Lockland pointing. ‘Bit of a rough area,’ she said, as they picked their way along the cracked pavement.

‘Well, yeah,’ said Parrish. ‘They bury policemen under the road. Watch your backs, people.’

‘All these cars,’ said Lockland, as they squeezed between two parked on the pavement. ‘I’ve never seen a car up close.’

‘You’ve never seen a car?’

She flushed at his patronising tone. ‘Well, there aren’t many of them around these days. You have to have money to own a car.’

‘And no social conscience,’ said Farrell.

‘I had two. Cars, I mean.’

‘Why?’ enquired Farrell with great interest.

‘Why, what?’

‘Why did you have two cars? Did you drive them simul­taneously? Did you straddle the roofs like a Roman rider?’

‘What? Of course not. I had a sports car and a 4x4.’

Farrell grinned. ‘I suspect you didn’t have them for very long.’

Parrish scowled and made no response.

‘There were no cars where we lived,’ said Lockland, still looking around. ‘They were really scarce.’

‘With Parrish here making them scarcer by the moment.’

They continued down the street.

‘It’s quite noisy, isn’t it?’ said Lockland, and it was. People shouted to each other over the noise of passing traffic. Their children shouted over the noise of their parents shouting over passing traffic. Dogs barked just to make themselves heard. Thumping music dopplered past them.

Lockland bent over something on the pavement. ‘Oh my goodness, is that a piece of poo?’