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’s got nobody to look out for her。” D’you know what he spent our wedding anniversary doing？’
‘No；’ said Gavin again。
‘Writing an article for the local paper about Krystal。 Krystal and the Fields。 The bloody Fields。 If I never hear them mentioned again； it’ll be too soon。 I want another gin。 I don’t drink enough。’
Gavin picked up her glass automatically and returned to the drinks cupboard； stunned。 He had always regarded her and Barry’s marriage as literally perfect。 Never had it occurred to him that Mary might be other than one hundred per cent approving of every venture and crusade with which the ever…busy Barry concerned himself。
‘Rowing practice in the evenings； driving them to races at the weekends；’ she said； over the tinkling of ice he was adding to her glass； ‘and most nights he was on the puter； trying to get people to support him about the Fields； and getting stuff on the agenda for council meetings。 And everyone always said； “Isn’t Barry marvellous； the way he does it all； the way he volunteers； he’s so involved with the munity。”’ She took a big gulp of her fresh gin and tonic。 ‘Yes； marvellous。 Absolutely marvellous。 Until it killed him。 All day long； on our wedding anniversary； struggling to meet that stupid deadline。 They haven’t even printed it yet。’
Gavin could not take his eyes off her。 Anger and alcohol had restored colour to her face。 She was sitting upright； instead of cowed and hunched over； as she had been recently。
‘That’s what killed him；’ she said clearly； and her voice echoed a little in the kitchen。 ‘He gave everything to everybody。 Except to me。’
Ever since Barry’s funeral； Gavin had dwelled； with a sense of deep inadequacy； on the paratively small gap that he was sure he would leave behind in his munity； should he die。 Looking at Mary； he wondered whether it would not be better to leave a huge hole in one person’s heart。 Had Barry not realized how Mary felt？ Had he not realized how lucky he was？
The front door opened with a loud clatter； and he heard the sound of the four children ing in； voices and footsteps and the thumping of shoes and bags。
‘Hi； Gav；’ said eighteen…year…old Fergus； kissing his mother on top of her head。 ‘Are you drinking； Mum？’
‘It’s my fault；’ said Gavin。 ‘Blame me。’
They were such nice kids； the Fairbrother kids。 Gavin liked the way they talked to their mother； hugged her； chatted to each other and to him。 They were open； polite and funny。 He thought of Gaia； her vicious asides； silences like jagged glass； the snarling way she addressed him。
‘Gav； we haven’t even talked about the insurance；’ said Mary； as the children surged around the kitchen； finding themselves drinks and snacks。
‘It doesn’t matter；’ said Gavin； without thinking； before correcting himself hastily； ‘shall we go through to the sitting room or …？’
‘Yes； let’s。’
She wobbled a little getting down from the high kitchen stool； and he caught her arm again。
‘Are you staying for dinner； Gav？’ called Fergus。
‘Do； if you want to；’ said Mary。
A surge of warmth flooded him。
‘I’d love to；’ he said。 ‘Thanks。’
IV
‘Very sad；’ said Howard Mollison； rocking a little on his toes in front of his mantelpiece。 ‘Very sad indeed。’
Maureen had just finished telling them all about Catherine Weedon’s death； she had heard everything from her friend Karen the receptionist that evening； including the plaint from Cath Weedon’s granddaughter。 A look of delighted disapproval was crumpling her face； Samantha； who was in a very bad mood； thought she resembled a monkey nut。 Miles was making conventional sounds of surprise and pity； but Shirley was staring up at the ceiling with a bland expression on her face； she hated it when Maureen held centre stage with news that she ought to have heard first。
‘My mother knew the family of old；’ Howard told Samantha； who already knew it。 ‘Neighbours in Hope Street。 Cath was decent enough in her way； you know。 The house was always spotless； and she worked until she was into her sixties。 Oh； yes； she was one of the world’s grafters； Cath Weedon； whatever the rest of the family became。’
Howard was enjoying giving credit where credit was due。
‘The husband lost his job when they closed the steelworks。 Hard drinker。 No； she didn’t always have it easy； Cath。’
Samantha was barely managing to look interested； but fortunately Maureen interrupted。
‘And the Gazette’s on to Dr Jawanda！’ she croaked。 ‘Imagine how she must be feeling； now the paper’s got it！ Family’s kicking up a stink – well； you can’t blame them； alone in that house for three days。 D’you know her； Howard？ Which one is Danielle Fowler？’
Shirley got up and stalked out of the room in her apron。 Samantha slugged a little more wine； smiling。
‘Let’s think； let’s think；’ said Howard。 He prided himself on knowing almost everyone in Pagford； but the later generations of Weedons belonged more to Yarvil。 ‘Can’t be a daughter； she had four boys； Cath。 Granddaughter； I expect。’
‘And she wants an inquiry；’ said Maureen。 ‘Well； it was always going to e to this。 It’s been on the cards。 If anything； I’m surprised it’s taken this long。 Dr Jawanda wouldn’t give the Hubbards’ son antibiotics and he ended up hospitalized for his asthma。 Do you know； did she train in India； or—？’
Shirley； who was listening from the kitchen while she stirred the gravy； felt irritated； as she always did； by Maureen’s monopolization of the conversation； that； at least； was how Shirley put it to herself。 Determined not to return to the room until Maureen had finished； Shirley turned into the study and checked to see whether anyone had sent in apologies for the next Parish Council meeting； as secretary； she was already putting together the agenda。
‘Howard – Miles – e and look at this！’
Shirley’s voice had lost its usual soft； flutey quality； it rang out shrilly。
Howard waddled out of the sitting room followed by Miles； who was still in the suit he had worn all day at work。 Maureen’s droopy； bloodshot； heavily mascara…ed eyes were fixed on the empty doorway like a bloodhound’s； her hunger to know what Shirley had found or seen was almost palpable。 Maureen’s fingers； a clutch of bulging knuckles covered in translucent leopard…spotted skin； slid the crucifix and wedding ring up and down the chain around her neck。 The deep creases running from the corners of Maureen’s mouth to her chin always reminded Samantha of a ventriloquist’s dummy。
Why are you always here？ Samantha asked the older woman loudly； inside her own head。 You couldn’t make me lonely enough to live in Howard and Shirley’s pocket。
‘No； you haven’t。 Well； good； because Mum and Dad have invited us over。’ And before she could protest； he had added sharply； ‘It’s nothing to do with the council。 It’s to discuss arrangements for Dad’s sixty…fifth。’
Anger was almost a relief； it eclipsed her anxiety； her fear。 She had followed Miles out to the car； cradling her sense of ill…usage。 When he asked； at last； on the corner of Evertree Crescent； ‘How was your day？’ she answered； ‘Absolutely bloody fantastic。’
‘Wonder what’s up？’ said Maureen； breaking the silence in the sitting room。
Samantha shrugged。 It was typical of Shirley to have summoned her menfolk and left the women in limbo； Samantha was not going to give her mother…in…law the satisfaction of showing interest。
Howard’s elephantine footsteps made the floorboards under the hall carpet creak。 Maureen’s mouth was slack with anticipation。
‘Well； well； well；’ boomed Howard； lumbering back into the room。
‘I was checking the council website for apologies；’ said Shirley； a little breathless in his wake。 ‘For the next meeting—’
‘Someone’s posted accusations about Simon Price；’ Miles told Samantha； pressing past his parents； seizing the role of announcer。
‘What kind of accusations？’ asked Samantha。
Howard’s laughter boomed through the room； Maureen gave an affected shriek of horror； but Miles scowled and Shirley looked furious。
‘Not quite that； Sammy； no；’ said Howard。 ‘No； they’ve called themselves “The Ghost of Barry Fairbrother