Once outside in the garden, Ellis checked carefully in all directions and then, having ascertained they were completely out of sight and alone, suddenly and violently pushed Parrish back against the wall.

Parrish was outraged. ‘Ow. What the hell? Are you allowed to do that to junior ranks?’

‘Hand it over.’

Parrish was suddenly still. ‘Sorry, sir, not with you.’

‘Hand it over.’

‘Hand what over?’

‘The lottery ticket.’

There was a tiny, almost infinitesimal pause. ‘Sorry, sir, not with you.’

‘The lottery ticket. The one you took from underneath the clock. The one you were asking about when you said, “Where is it?” to Henry Plimpton and everyone else thought you were asking about the pod. Give it to me, now, and if you say “Sorry, sir, not with you” one more time, I will beat you to a bloody pulp and then remove the ticket from your possibly lifeless body. Choose life, Parrish. Give me the damned ticket.’

The pause was much longer this time and then, very slowly, Parrish unzipped a pocket and pulled out a crumpled slip of paper.

‘Hand it over.’

He did so.

Holding his eye, Major Ellis stepped back, tore the ticket into tiny pieces, let them fall, and then ground them into the damp earth with his heel.

The two of them looked at each other.

‘Why would you do that, Parrish? Your family is rich.’

‘My father is rich. I’m not.’

‘But you will be. One day. And how would you ever have cashed in the ticket?’

Parrish sighed and stared over Ellis’s shoulder for a moment. Lowering his voice, he said, ‘I’d have thought of something. Because that money . . .’ he nodded down at the mangled remains of the ticket, ‘. . . would have enabled me to be my own man. I could have bought myself out of the Time Police – and don’t tell me there wouldn’t have been massive rejoicing on your part because I’m not stupid and I know very well how much no one wants me there. But with this money I could have met my father on equal terms. Well, not equal because he’d still have about a hundred times more money than me, but I wouldn’t have been the dependent pauper he sees whenever he looks at me. That money would have bought me some respect.’

For the first time, Major Ellis, himself a much-loved son of beloved parents, put himself in the shoes of Luke Parrish, son of an indifferent and absent father, and now forced on to the Time Police, who didn’t want him either. Was it possible that many of his exploits – especially the more spectacular ones – were nothing more than a young man shouting, ‘Look at me, Dad. Please look at me’? It was at this moment that Major Ellis realised that leading this team might be more challenging than he had anticipated.