‘Can this car take a corner or what? Say what you like about the Italians, they build a mean ice cream and a meaner car.’

Rebus gritted his lower intestine. He was determined to talk seriously with Pond. It was too good a chance to miss, the two of them trapped like this. He tried to talk without his teeth knocking each other out of his mouth.

‘So, you’ve known Mr Jack since school?’

‘I know, I know, it’s hard to believe, isn’t it? I look so much younger than him. But yes, we only lived three streets apart. I think Bilbo lived in the same street as Beggar. Sexton and Mack lived in the same street, too. I mean, the same street as one another, not the same as Beggar and Bilbo. Suey and Gowk lived a bit further away, other side of the school from the rest of us.’

‘So what drew you all together?’

‘I don’t know. Funny, I’ve never really thought about it. I mean, we were all pretty clever, I suppose. Down a gear for this corner . . . and . . . like shit off a goddamned shovel!’

Rebus felt as though his seat was trying to push its way through his body.

‘More like a motorbike than a car. What do you think, Inspector?’

‘Do you keep in touch with Mack?’ Rebus asked at last.

‘Oh, you know about Mack? Well . . . no, not really. Beggar was the catalyst. I think it was only because I kept in touch with him that I kept in touch with everybody else. But after Mack . . . well, when he went into the nuthouse . . . no, I don’t keep in touch. I think Gowk does. You know, she was the cleverest of the lot of us, and look what happened to her.’

‘What did happen to her?’

‘She married that spunk-head and started shovelling Valium because it was the only way she could cope.’

‘Is her problem common knowledge then?’

He shrugged. ‘I only know because I’ve seen it happen to other people . . . other times.’

‘Have you tried talking to her?’

‘It’s her life, Inspector. I’ve got enough trouble keeping myself together.’

The Pack. What did a pack do when one of its number grew lame or sick? They left it to die, the fittest trotting along at the head . . .

Pond seemed to sense Rebus’s thoughts. ‘Sorry if that sounds callous. I was never one for tea and sympathy.’

‘Who was?’

‘Sexton was always ready with a willing ear. But then she buggered off south. Suey, too, I suppose. You could talk to him. He never had any answers, mind, but he was a good listener.’

Rebus hoped he’d be as good a talker. There were more and more questions to be answered. He decided – how would an American phrase it? – yes, to throw Pond a few curve-balls.

‘If Elizabeth Jack had a lover, who would be your guess?’