In a bid to gain some temporary peace, Dave grabbed the gardening fork and walked. Each step down the long lawn was a step away from where he really wanted to be. He reached the pear tree and remembered that it was important not to knock the blossoms that seemed to fall away if you as much as looked at them. The sun was hot but couldn't be relied upon. It was if some great god had his hand on the cosmic dimmer switch and kept turning the knob because he had nothing else to do. Dave dug in. It was tedious work. Every turn of the earth revealed more plastic, more rubbish. Never mind getting at the roots of the ground elder. 'You've got to dig down. Get out every bit of root.' Dave could never think the words ground elder without hearing this statement from his grandfather. He plucked a blue crisp packet out of the earth. Pulled up coils of transparent plastic bags. The tree also presented another problem to be wary of and Dave was acutely aware of it as he dug closer. Closer to the body buried beneath it.