‘Why?’

‘You’re upsetting them.’

‘Lockland – we’re the Time Police. They should count themselves lucky they’re not all in chains and their . . . home . . . a smoking hole in the ground.’

From across the room, Matthew looked over and raised an eyebrow.

‘And you can pack it in as well,’ said Luke. ‘This I don’t talk to anyone routine isn’t cutting any ice with me, you know.’

Jane touched his arm. ‘Luke, please. Look at them. They’re terrified and there’s no need. Can’t you just . . . you know . . . be a bit . . . nicer? Calm things down a little. Before they all have hysterics. There’s more of them than us.’

‘Yeah,’ said Farrell, ‘and they’re a lot bigger than us as well.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ Luke cleared his throat and began again. ‘Henry Norman Plimpton.’

The family visibly braced themselves, clutching each other for support.

‘On behalf of the Time Police and by the authority vested in me by that organisation, it is my honour to thank you publicly for the unnamed but vital services you have performed for the Time Police today.’

‘You’d better get back there,’ said North to Ellis as he entered the pod. ‘I rather think our Mr Parrish might be snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.’

‘I can’t be bothered,’ said Ellis, sinking into his seat. ‘We’ll let him screw up and then shoot him as he comes up the ramp.’

Luke was well into his stride. ‘Your devotion to duty, your selfless dedication and hard work have ensured that justice has been done today. Your name will ring forever in the halls of the Time Police.’

Farrell nudged him. ‘Don’t get carried away.’ And indeed, the young, female Plimpton had dried her tears and was now regarding Luke with glowing admiration. And something else he found vaguely disquieting.

Plonking herself directly before him, she smiled. ‘Hello. My name’s Kylie. What’s yours?’

He stared and then looked quickly away, realising for the first time that the poor girl had something metallic embedded in her belly button. Obviously at some time in her past, a surgical procedure had gone horribly wrong; she deserved his compassion, not his condemnation. He would be the first to admit there were many areas in which he wasn’t particularly over-endowed – respect, punctuality, self-discipline, or any other Time Police virtue you cared to name, for example – but in one particular area, he was world-class.

Bowing slightly, he murmured, ‘Madam, I am honoured, but to be allowed to address the daughter of the famous Henry Plimpton is a privilege to which I could not possibly aspire.’

‘You could try,’ she said, hopefully.

‘And, sadly, fail. Please accept my compliments and best wishes for a long and prosperous life.’

He bowed again.

She blushed. Henry Plimpton blushed. Jane blushed in sympathy. It’s possible the dogs blushed, too.