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‘Failed hopelessly,’ said William, as he checked the parade book He and Fred were down to patrol the Barton estate, if only to remind the local criminals that London still had a few bobbies on the beat

‘Then you’ll have to try again next year,’ said the sergeant, unwilling to indulge the young man If Constable Waranted toin self-doubt, he had no intention of rescuing the lad

Sir Julian continued sharpening the carving knife until he was confident blood would run

‘Two slices or one, my boy?’ he asked his son

‘Two please, Father’

Sir Julian sliced the roast with the skill of a seasoned carver

‘So did you pass your detective’s exam?’ he asked William as he handed him his plate

‘I won’t know for at least another couple of weeks,’ said Willia his mother a bowl of brussel sprouts ‘But I’m not optimistic However, you’ll be pleased to hear I’m in the final of the station’s snooker championship’

‘Snooker?’ said his father, as if it were a game he was unfamiliar with

‘Yes, so else I’ve learnt in the last two years’

‘But will you win?’ demanded his father

‘Unlikely I’ainst the favourite, who’s won the cup for the past six years’

‘So you’ve failed your detective’s exam and are about to be runner-up in the—’

‘I’ve alondered why they’r

e called brussel sprouts, and not just sprouts, like carrots or potatoes,’ said Marjorie, trying to head off another duel between father and son