From the highest point of the drive it was possible to catch a glimpse of the sea to the east. Or to look down upon the complex of buildings which made up the college. Work had restarted on the foundations of the new biology lab and the green sward of the garden was now irremediably scarred. But no one seemed to be protesting any more.
In fact with the heat-wave still in full blast, no one seemed energetic enough to protest about anything. Pascoe felt a pang almost of sympathy for Cockshut as he changed gear and the car gathered speed down the hill to the main gates. The cool draught through the open windows was very welcome.
There were students scattered around the grass on either side of the drive. Some sleeping, some in close embrace, one or two even reading books. He could feel Dalziel’s indignation beside him.
“Look at the sods!’ he said finally. ‘ look at them. And this is supposed to be a place of bloody learning.”
Pascoe didn’t answer and Dalziel as though sensing a criticism pressed the point.
“What do you think, Sergeant? What about you? Did you learn anything here? That’s what these places are supposed to be for, isn’t it? To teach the ignorant.”
A group of students walking down the drive hand in hand scattered laughing as the car came towards them. Pascoe felt an odd surge of tenderness for them, for everybody. And with it there came into his mind a line from Fallowfield’s letter. Pain is a risk we take in becoming fond of people, isn’t it?
The car passed through the gates.
“Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘ think I learned something.”
