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ealize that her particular brand of prurience would be inappropriate in front of a bereaved woman； plus； the constrictive symmetry of a foursome had been broken up。
‘How are you？’ he said quietly。 ‘I was going to give you a ring； actually … there’ve been developments with the insurance …’
‘Haven’t we got any nibbles； Sam？’ asked Miles。
Samantha walked from the room； seething at Miles。 The smell of scorched meat met her as she opened the kitchen door。
‘Oh shit； shit； shit …’
She had pletely forgotten the casserole； which had dried out。 Desiccated chunks of meat and vegetables sat； forlorn survivors of the catastrophe； on the singed bottom of the pot。 Samantha sloshed in wine and stock； chiselling the adhering bits off the pan with her spoon； stirring vigorously； sweating in the heat。 Miles’ high…pitched laugh rang out from the sitting room。 Samantha put on long…stemmed broccoli to steam； drained her glass of wine； ripped open a bag of tortilla chips and a tub of hummus； and upended them into bowls。
Mary and Gavin were still conversing quietly on the sofa when she returned to the sitting room； while Miles was showing Kay a framed aerial photograph of Pagford； and giving her a lesson in the town’s history。 Samantha set down the bowls on the coffee table； poured herself another drink and settled into the armchair； making no effort to join either conversation。 It was awfully unfortable to have Mary there； with her grief hanging so heavily around her she might as well have walked in trailing a shroud。 Surely； though； she would leave before dinner。
Gavin was determined that Mary should stay。 As they discussed the latest developments in their ongoing battle with the insurance pany； he felt much more relaxed and in control than he usually did in Miles and Samantha’s presence。 Nobody was chipping away at him； or patronizing him； and Miles was absolving him temporarily of all responsibility for Kay。
‘… and just here； just out of sight；’ Miles was saying； pointing to a spot two inches past the frame of the picture； ‘you’ve got Sweetlove House； the Fawley place。 Big Queen Anne manor house； dormers； stone quoins … stunning； you should visit； it’s open to the public on Sundays in the summer。 Important family locally； the Fawleys。’
‘Stone quoins？’ ‘Important family； locally？’ God； you are an arse； Miles。
Samantha hoisted herself out of her armchair and returned to the kitchen。 Though the casserole was watery； the burnt flavour dominated。 The broccoli was flaccid and tasteless； the mashed potato cool and dry。 Past caring； she decanted it all into dishes and slammed it down on the circular dining…room table。
‘Dinner’s ready！’ she called at the sitting…room door。
‘Oh； I must go；’ said Mary； jumping up。 ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘No； no； no！’ said Gavin； in a tone that Kay had never heard before： kindly and cajoling。 ‘It’ll do you good to eat – kids’ll be all right for an hour。’
Miles added his support and Mary looked uncertainly towards Samantha； who was forced to add her voice to theirs； then dashed back through into the dining room to lay another setting。
She invited Mary to sit between Gavin and Miles； because placing her next to a woman seemed to emphasize her husband’s absence。 Kay and Miles had moved on to discussing social work。
‘I don’t envy you；’ he said； serving Kay a large ladle full of casserole； Samantha could see black； scorched flecks in the sauce spreading across the white plate。 ‘Bloody difficult job。’
‘Well； we’re perennially under…resourced；’ said Kay； ‘but it can be satisfying； especially when you can feel you’re making a difference。’
And she thought of the Weedons。 Terri’s urine sample had tested negative at the clinic yesterday and Robbie had had a full week in nursery。 The recollection cheered her； counterbalancing her slight irritation that Gavin’s attention was still focused entirely on Mary； that he was doing nothing to help ease her conversation with his friends。
‘You’ve got a daughter； haven’t you； Kay？’
‘That’s right： Gaia。 She’s sixteen。’
‘Same age as Lexie； we should get them together；’ said Miles。
‘Divorced？’ asked Samantha delicately。
‘No；’ said Kay。 ‘We weren’t married。 He was a university boyfriend and we split up not long after she was born。’
‘Yeah； Miles and I had barely left university ourselves；’ said Samantha。
Kay did not know whether Samantha meant to draw a distinction between herself； who had married the big smug father of her children； and Kay； who had been left … not that Samantha could know that Brendan had left her …
‘Gaia’s taken a Saturday job with your father； actually；’ Kay told Miles。 ‘At the new café。’
Miles was delighted。 He took enormous pleasure in the idea that he and Howard were so much part of the fabric of the place that everybody in Pagford was connected to them； whether as friend or client； customer or employee。 Gavin； who was chewing and chewing on a bit of rubbery meat that was refusing to yield to his teeth； experienced a further lowering in the pit of his stomach。 It was news to him that Gaia had taken a job with Miles’ father。 Somehow he had forgotten that Kay possessed in Gaia another powerful device for anchoring herself to Pagford。 When not in the immediate vicinity of her slamming doors； her vicious looks and caustic asides； Gavin tended to forget that Gaia had any independent existence at all； that she was not simply part of the unfortable backdrop of stale sheets； bad cooking and festering grudges against which his relationship with Kay staggered on。
‘Does Gaia like Pagford？’ Samantha asked。
‘Well； it’s a bit quiet pared to Hackney；’ said Kay； ‘but she’s settling in well。’
She took a large gulp of wine to wash out her mouth after disgorging the enormous lie。 There had been yet another row before leaving tonight。
（‘What’s the matter with you？’ Kay had asked； while Gaia sat at the kitchen table； hunched over her laptop； wearing a dressing gown over her clothes。 Four or five boxes of dialogue were open on the screen。 Kay knew that Gaia was municating online with the friends she had left behind in Hackney； friends she had had； in most cases； since she had been in primary school。
‘Gaia？’
Refusal to answer was new and ominous。 Kay was used to explosions of bile and rage against herself and； particularly； Gavin。
‘Gaia； I’m talking to you。’
‘I know； I can hear you。’
‘Then kindly have the courtesy to answer me back。’
Black dialogue jerked upwards in the boxes on the screen； funny little icons； blinking and waggling。
‘Gaia； please will you answer me？’
‘What？ What do you want？’
‘I’m trying to ask about your day。’
‘My day was shit。 Yesterday was shit。 Tomorrow will be shit as well。’
‘When did you get home？’
‘The same time I always get home。’
Sometimes； even after all these years； Gaia displayed resentment at having to let herself in； at Kay not being at home to meet her like a storybook mother。
‘Do you want to tell me why your day was shit？’
‘Because you dragged me to live in a shithole。’
Kay willed herself not to shout。 Lately there had been screaming matches that she was sure the whole street had heard。
‘You know that I’m going out with Gavin tonight？’
Gaia muttered something Kay did not catch。
‘What？’
‘I said； I didn’t think he liked taking you out。’
‘What’s that supposed to mean？’
But Gaia did not answer； she simply typed a response into one of the scrolling conversations on the screen。 Kay vacillated； both wanting to press her and afraid of what she might hear。
‘We’ll be back around midnight； I expect。’
Gaia had not responded。 Kay had gone to wait for Gavin in the hall。）
‘Gaia’s made friends；’ Kay told Miles； ‘with a girl who lives in this street； what’s her name – Narinder？’
‘Sukhvinder；’ said Miles and Samantha together。
‘She’s a nice girl；’ said Mary。
‘Have you met her father？’ Samantha asked Kay。
‘No；’ said Kay。
‘He’s a heart surgeon；’ said Samantha； who was on her fourth glass of wine。 ‘Absolutely bloody gorgeous。’
‘Oh；’ said Kay。
‘Like a Bollywood