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control over her life。 Twice lately； Terri had said to Kay； ‘They ain’ takin’ Robbie； I won’ lerrem；’ and these had not been impotent railings against fate； but statements of intent。
‘I took ’im ter nursery yest’day；’ she told Kay； who had made the mistake of looking astonished。 ‘Why’s tha’ so fuckin’ shockin’？ Aren’ I good enough ter go ter the fuckin’ nurs’ry？’
If Bellchapel’s door was slammed shut against Terri； Kay was sure it would blow to pieces that delicate structure they were trying to build out of the wreckage of a life。 Terri seemed to have a visceral fear of Pagford that Kay did not understand。
‘I ’ate that fuckin’ place；’ she had said； when Kay had mentioned it in passing。
Beyond the fact that her dead grandmother had lived there； Kay knew nothing of Terri’s history with the town； but she was afraid that if Terri was asked to travel there weekly for her methadone her self…control would crumble； and with it the family’s fragile new safety。
Colin had taken over from Parminder； explaining the history of the Fields； Kay nodded； bored； and said ‘mm’； but her thoughts were a long way away。
Colin was deeply flattered by the way this attractive young woman was hanging on his every word。 He felt calmer tonight than at any point since he had read that awful post； which was gone from the website。 None of the cataclysms that Colin had imagined in the small hours had e to pass。 He was not sacked。 There was no angry mob outside his front door。 Nobody on the Pagford Council website； or indeed anywhere else on the inter （he had performed several Google searches）； was demanding his arrest or incarceration。
Fats walked back past the open door； spooning yoghurt into his mouth as he went。 He glanced into the room； and for a fleeting moment met Colin’s gaze。 Colin immediately lost the thread of what he had been saying。
‘… and … yes； well； that’s it in a nutshell；’ he finished lamely。 He glanced towards Tessa for reassurance； but his wife was staring stonily into space。 Colin was a little hurt； he would have thought that Tessa would be glad to see him feeling so much better； so much more in control； after their wretched； sleepless night。 Dreadful swooping sensations of dread were agitating his stomach； but he drew much fort from the proximity of his fellow underdog and scapegoat Parminder； and from the sympathetic attention of the attractive social worker。
Unlike Kay； Tessa had listened to every word that Colin had just said about the Fields’ right to remain joined to Pagford。 There was； in her opinion； no conviction behind his words。 He wanted to believe what Barry had believed； and he wanted to defeat the Mollisons； because that was what Barry had wanted。 Colin did not like Krystal Weedon； but Barry had liked her； so he assumed that there was more worth in her than he could see。 Tessa knew her husband to be a strange mixture of arrogance and humility； of unshakeable conviction and insecurity。
They’re pletely deluded； Tessa thought； looking at the other three； who were poring over some graph that Parminder had extracted from Kay’s notes。 They think they’ll reverse sixty years of anger and resentment with a few sheets of statistics。 None of them was Barry。 He had been a living example of what they proposed in theory： the advancement； through education from poverty to affluence； from powerlessness and dependency to valuable contributor to society。 Did they not see what hopeless advocates they were； pared to the man who had died？
‘People are definitely getting irritable with the Mollisons trying to run everything；’ Colin was saying。
‘I do think；’ said Kay； ‘that they’ll be hard…pushed； if they read this stuff； to pretend that the clinic isn’t doing crucial work。’
‘Not everybody’s forgotten Barry； on the council；’ said Parminder； in a slightly shaky voice。
Tessa realized that her greasy fingers were groping vainly in space。 While the others had talked； she had single…handedly finished the entire bowl of crisps。
VII
It was a bright； balmy morning； and the puting lab at Winterdown prehensive became stuffy as lunchtime approached； the dirty windows speckling the dusty monitors with distracting spots of light。 Even though there was no Fats or Gaia here to distract him； Andrew Price could not concentrate。 He could think of nothing but what he had overheard his parents discussing the previous evening。
They had been talking； quite seriously； about moving to Reading； where Ruth’s sister and brother…in…law lived。 With his ear turned towards the open kitchen door； Andrew had hovered in the tiny dark hall and listened： Simon； it appeared； had been offered a job； or the possibility of a job； by the uncle whom Andrew and Paul barely knew； because Simon disliked him so much。
‘It’s less money；’ Simon had said。
‘You don’t know that。 He hasn’t said—’
‘Bound to be。 And it’ll be more expensive all round； living there。’
Ruth made a nonmital noise。 Scarcely daring to breathe in the hall； Andrew could tell； by the mere fact that his mother was not rushing to agree with Simon； that she wanted to go。
Andrew found it impossible to imagine his parents in any house but Hilltop House； or against any backdrop but Pagford。 He had taken it for granted that they would remain there for ever。 He； Andrew； would leave one day for London； but Simon and Ruth would remain rooted to the hillside like trees； until they died。
He had crept back upstairs to his bedroom and stared out of the window at the twinkling lights of Pagford； cupped in the deep black hollow between the hills。 He felt as though he had never seen the view before。 Somewhere down there； Fats was smoking in his attic room； probably looking at porn on his puter。 Gaia was there too； absorbed in the mysterious rites of her gender。 It occurred to Andrew that she had been through this； she had been torn away from the place she knew and transplanted。 They had something profoundly in mon at last； there was almost melancholy pleasure in the idea that； in leaving； he would share something with her。
But she had not caused her own displacement。 With a squirming unease in his guts； he had picked up his mobile and texted Fats： Si…Pie offered job in Reading。 Might take it。
Fats had still not responded； and Andrew had not seen him all morning； because they shared none of their classes。 He had not seen Fats for the previous two weekends either； because he had been working at the Copper Kettle。 Their longest conversation； recently； had concerned Fats’ posting about Cubby on the council website。
‘I think Tessa suspects；’ Fats had told Andrew casually。 ‘She keeps looking at me like she knows。’
‘What’re you gonna say？’ Andrew had muttered； scared。
He knew Fats’ desire for glory and credit； and he knew Fats’ passion for wielding the truth as a weapon； but he was not sure that his friend understood that his own pivotal role in the activities of the Ghost of Barry Fairbrother must never be revealed。 It had never been easy to explain to Fats the reality of having Simon as a father； and； somehow； Fats was being more difficult to explain things to。
When his IT teacher had passed by out of sight； Andrew looked up Reading on the inter。 It was huge pared with Pagford。 It had an annual music festival。 It was only forty miles from London。 He contemplated the train service。 Perhaps he would go up to the capital at weekends； the way he currently took the bus to Yarvil。 But the whole thing seemed unreal： Pagford was all he had ever known； he still could not imagine his family existing anywhere else。
At lunchtime Andrew headed straight out of school； looking for Fats。 He lit up a cigarette just out of sight of the grounds； and was delighted to hear； as he was slipping his lighter casually back into his pocket； a female voice that said； ‘Hey’。 Gaia and Sukhvinder caught up with him。
‘All right；’ he said； blowing smoke away from Gaia’s beautiful face。
The three of them had something these days that nobody else had。 Two weekends’ work at the café had created a fragile bond between them。 They knew Howard’s stock phrases； and had endured Maureen’s prurient interest in all of their home lives； they had smirked together at her wrinkled knees in the too…short waitress’s dress and had exchanged； like traders in a foreign land； small nuggets of personal information。 Thus the girls knew that Andrew’s father had been sacked； Andrew and Sukhvinder knew that Gaia was working to save for a train ticket back to Hackney； and he and Gaia knew that Sukhvinder’s mother hated her working for Howard Mollison。
‘Where’s your Fat friend？’ she asked； as the three of them fell into step together。
‘Dunno；’ said Andrew。 ‘Haven’t seen him。’
‘No loss；’ said Gaia。 ‘How many of those do you smoke a day？’
‘Don’t count；’ said Andrew； elated by her interest。 ‘D’you want one？’
‘No；’ said Gaia。 ‘I don’t like smoking。’
He wondered instantly whether the dislike extended to kissing people who smoked。 Niamh Fairbrother had not plained when he had stuck his tongue into her mouth at the school disco。
‘Doesn’t Marco smoke？’ asked Sukhvinder。
‘No； he’s always in training；’ said Gaia。
Andrew had bee almost inured to the thought of Marco de Luca by now。 There were advantages to Gaia being safeguarded； as it were； by an allegiance beyond Pagford。 The power of the photographs of them together on her Facebook page had been blunted by his familiarity with them。 He did not think it was his own wishful thinking that the messages she and Marco left for each other were being less frequent and less friendly。 He could not know what was happening by telephone or email； but he was sure that Gaia’s air； when he was mentioned； was dispirited。
‘Oh； there he is；’ said Gaia。
It was not the handsome Marco who had e into view； but Fats Wall； who was talking to Dane Tully outside the newsagent’s。
Sukhvinder braked； but Gaia grabbed her upper arm。
‘You can walk where you like；’ she said； tugging her gently onwards； her flecked green eyes narrowing as they approached the place where Fats and Dane were smoking。
‘All right； Arf；’ called Fats； as the three of them came close。
‘Fats；’ said Andrew。
Trying to head off trouble； especially Fats bullying Sukhvinder in front of Gaia； he asked； ‘Did you get my text？’
‘What text？’ said Fats。 ‘Oh yeah – that thing about Si？ You leaving； then； are you？’
It was said with a cavalier indifference that Andrew could only attribute to the presence of Dane Tully。
‘Yeah； maybe；’ said Andrew。
‘Where are you going？’ asked Gaia。
‘My old man’s been offered a job in Reading；’ said Andrew。
‘Oh； that’s where my dad lives！’ said Gaia in surprise。 ‘We could hang out when I go and stay。 The festival’s awesome。 D’you wanna get a sandwich； then； Sooks？’
Andrew was so stupefied by her voluntary offer to spend time with him； that she had disappeared into the newsagent’s before he could gather his wits and agree。 For a moment； the dirty bus stop； the newsagent’s； even Dane Tully； tattooed and shabby in a T…shirt and tracksuit bottoms； seemed to glow with an almost celestial light。
‘Well； I got things to do；’ said Fats。
Dane sniggered。 Before Andrew could say anything or offer to acpany him； he had loped away。
Fats was sure that Andrew would be nonplussed and hurt by his cool attitude； and he was glad of it。 Fats did not ask himself why he was glad； or why a general desire to cause pain had bee his overriding emotion in the last few days。 He had lately decided that questioning your own motives was inauthentic； a refinement of his personal philosophy that had made it altogether easier to follow。
As he headed into the Fields； Fats thought about what had happened at home the previous evening； when his mother had entered his bedroom for the first time since Cubby had punched him。
（‘That message about your father on the Parish Council website；’ she had said。 ‘I’ve got to ask you this； Stuart； and I wish – Stuart； did you write it？’
It had taken her a few days to summon the courage to accuse him； and he was prepared。
‘No；’ he said。
Perhaps it would have been more authentic to say yes； but he had p