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wiftly erased。 She was crying because she never seemed to laugh any more； and also because the previous evening； while they had been listening to the jubilant distant thump of the disco in the church hall； Vikram had said； ‘Why don’t we visit Amritsar this summer？’
The Golden Temple； the holiest shrine of the religion to which he was indifferent。 She had known at once what Vikram was doing。 Time lay slack and empty on her hands as never before in her life。 Neither of them knew what the GMC would decide to do with her； once it had considered her ethical breach towards Howard Mollison。
‘Mandeep says it’s a big tourist trap；’ she had replied； dismissing Amritsar at a stroke。
Sukhvinder had crossed the lawn without Parminder noticing。 She was dressed in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt。 Parminder hastily wiped her face and squinted at Sukhvinder； who had her back to the sun。
‘I don’t want to go to work today。’
Parminder responded at once； in the same spirit of automatic contradiction that had made her turn down Amritsar。 ‘You’ve made a mitment； Sukhvinder。’
‘I don’t feel well。’
‘You mean you’re tired。 You’re the one who wanted this job。 Now you fulfil your obligations。’
‘But—’
‘You’re going to work；’ snapped Parminder； and she might have been pronouncing sentence。 ‘You’re not giving the Mollisons another reason to plain。’
After Sukhvinder walked back to the house Parminder felt guilty。 She almost called her daughter back； but instead she made a mental note that she must try and find time to sit down with her and talk to her without arguing。
V
Krystal was walking along Foley Road in the early morning sunlight； eating a banana。 It was an unfamiliar taste and texture； and she could not make up her mind whether she liked it or not。 Terri and Krystal never bought fruit。
Nikki’s mother had just turfed her unceremoniously out of the house。
‘We got things to do； Krystal；’ she had said。 ‘We’re going to Nikki’s gran’s for dinner。’
As an afterthought； she had handed Krystal the banana to eat for breakfast。 Krystal had left without protest。 There was barely enough room for Nikki’s family around the kitchen table。
The Fields were not improved by sunshine； which merely showed up the dirt and the damage； the cracks in the concrete walls； the boarded windows and the litter。
The Square in Pagford looked freshly painted whenever the sun shone。 Twice a year； the primary school children had walked through the middle of town； crocodile fashion； on their way to church for Christmas and Easter services。 （Nobody had ever wanted to hold Krystal’s hand。 Fats had told them all that she had fleas。 She wondered whether he remembered。） There had been hanging baskets full of flowers； splashes of purple； pink and green； and every time Krystal had passed one of the planted troughs outside the Black Canon； she had pulled off a petal。 Each one had been cool and slippery in her fingers； swiftly being slimy and brown as she clutched it； and she usually wiped it off on the underside of a warm wooden pew in St Michael’s。
She let herself into her house and saw at once； through the open door to her left； that Terri had not gone to bed。 She was sitting in her armchair with her eyes closed and her mouth open。 Krystal closed the door with a snap； but Terri did not stir。
Krystal was at Terri’s side in four strides； shaking her thin arm。 Terri’s head fell forwards onto her shrunken chest。 She snored。
Krystal let go of her。 The vision of a dead man in the bathroom swam back into her subconscious。
‘Silly bitch；’ she said。
Then it occurred to her that Robbie was not there。 She pounded up the stairs； shouting for him。
‘’M’ere；’ she heard him say； from behind her own closed bedroom door。
When she shouldered it open； she saw Robbie standing there； naked。 Behind him； scratching his bare chest； lying on her own mattress； was Obbo。
‘All righ’； Krys？’ he said； grinning。
She seized Robbie and pulled him into his own room。 Her hands trembled so badly that it took her ages to dress him。
‘Did ’e do somethin’ to yer？’ she whispered to Robbie。
‘’M’ungry；’ said Robbie。
When he was dressed； she picked him up and ran downstairs。 She could hear Obbo moving around in her bedroom。
‘Why’s ’e ’ere？’ she shouted at Terri； who was drowsily awake in her chair。 ‘Why’s ’e with Robbie？’
Robbie fought to get out of her arms； he hated shouting。
‘An’ wha’ the fuck’s that？’ screamed Krystal； spotting； for the first time； two black holdalls lying beside Terri’s armchair。
‘S’nuthin’；’ said Terri vaguely。
But Krystal had already forced one of the zips open。
‘S’nuthin’！’ shouted Terri。
Big； brick…like blocks of hashish wrapped neatly in sheets of polythene： Krystal； who could barely read； who could not have identified half the vegetables in a supermarket； who could not have named the Prime Minister； knew that the contents of the bag； if discovered on the premises； meant prison for her mother。 Then she saw the tin； with the coachman and horses on the lid； half…protruding from the chair on which Terri was sitting。
‘Yeh’ve used；’ said Krystal breathlessly； as disaster rained invisibly around her and everything collapsed。 ‘Yeh’ve fuckin’—’
She heard Obbo on the stairs and she snatched up Robbie again。 He wailed and struggled in her arms； frightened by her anger； but Krystal’s grip was unbreakable。
‘Fuckin’ lerrim go；’ called Terri fruitlessly。 Krystal had opened the front door and was running as fast as she could； encumbered by Robbie who was resisting and moaning； back along the road。
VI
Shirley showered and pulled clothes out of the wardrobe while Howard slept noisily on。 The church bell of St Michael and All Saints； ringing for ten o’clock matins； reached her as she buttoned up her cardigan。 She always thought how loud it must be for the Jawandas； living right opposite； and hoped that it struck them as a loud proclamation of Pagford’s adherence to the old ways and traditions of which they； so conspicuously； were not a part。
Automatically； because it was what she so often did； Shirley walked along the hall； turned into Patricia’s old bedroom and sat down at the puter。
Patricia ought to be here； sleeping on the sofa…bed that Shirley had made up for her。 It was a relief not to have to deal with her this morning。 Howard； who had still been humming ‘The Green； Green Grass of Home’ when they arrived at Ambleside in the early hours； had not realized that Patricia was absent until Shirley had had the key in the front door。
‘Where’s Pat？’ he had wheezed； leaning against the porch。
‘Oh； she was upset that Melly didn’t want to e；’ sighed Shirley。 ‘They had a row or something … I expect she’s gone home to try and patch things up。’
‘Never a dull moment；’ said Howard； bouncing lightly off alternate walls of the narrow hallway as he navigated his way carefully towards the bedroom。
Shirley brought up her favourite medical website。 When she typed in the first letter of the condition she wished to investigate； the site offered its explanation of EpiPens again； so Shirley swiftly revised their use and content； because she might yet have an opportunity to save their potboy’s life。 Next； she carefully typed in ‘eczema’； and learned； somewhat to her disappointment； that the condition was not infectious； and could not； therefore； be used as an excuse to sack Sukhvinder Jawanda。
From sheer force of habit； she then typed in the address of the Pagford Parish Council website； and clicked onto the message board。
She had grown to recognize at a glance the shape and length of the user name The_Ghost_of_Barry_Fairbrother； just as a besotted lover knows at once the back of their beloved’s head； or the set of their shoulders； or the tilt of their walk。
A single glimpse at the topmost message sufficed： excitement exploded； he had not forsaken her。 She had known that Dr Jawanda’s outburst could not go unpunished。
Affair of the First Citizen of Pagford
She read it； but did not； at first； understand： she had been expecting to see Parminder’s name。 She read it again； and gave the suffocated gasp of a woman being hit by icy water。
Howard Mollison； First Citizen of Pagford； and long…standing resident Maureen Lowe have been more than business partners for many years。 It is mon knowledge that Maureen holds regular tastings of Howard’s finest salami。 The only person who appears not to be in on the secret is Shirley； Howard’s wife。
pletely motionless in her chair； Shirley thought： it’s not true。
It could not be true。
Yes； she had once or twice suspected … had hinted； sometimes； to Howard …
No； she would not believe it。 She could not believe it。
But other people would。 They would believe the Ghost。 Everybody believed him。
Her hands were like empty gloves； fumbling and feeble； as she tried； with many a blunder； to remove the message from the site。 Every second that it remained there； somebody else might be reading it； believing it； laughing about it； passing it to the local newspaper … Howard and Maureen； Howard and Maureen …
The message was gone。 Shirley sat and stared at the puter monitor； her thoughts scurrying like mice in a glass bowl； trying to escape； but there was no way out； no firm foothold； no way of climbing back to the happy place she had occupied before she saw that dreadful thing； written in public for the world to see …
He had laughed at Maureen。
No； she had laughed at Maureen。 Howard had laughed at Kenh。
Always together： holidays and workdays and weekend excursions …
… only person who appears not to be in on the secret …
… she and Howard did not need sex： separate beds for years； they had a silent understanding …
… holds regular tastings of Howard’s finest salami …
（Shirley’s mother was alive in the room with her： cackling and jeering； a glass slopping wine … Shirley could not bear dirty laughter。 She had never been able to bear ribaldry or ridicule。）
She jumped up； tripping over the chair legs； and hurried back to the bedroom。 Howard was still asleep； lying on his back； making rumbling； porcine noises。
‘Howard；’ she said。 ‘Howard。’
It took a whole minute to rouse him。 He was confused and disorientated； but as she stood over him； she saw him still as a knight protector who could save her。
‘Howard； the Ghost of Barry Fairbrother’s put up another message。’
Disgruntled at his rude awakening； Howard made a growling groaning noise into the pillow。
‘About you；’ said Shirley。
They did very little plain speaking； she and Howard。 She had always liked that。 But today she was driven to it。
‘About you；’ she repeated； ‘and Maureen。 It says you’ve been – having an affair。’
His big hand slid up over his face and he rubbed his eyes。 He rubbed them longer； she was convinced； than he needed。
‘What？’ he said； his face shielded。
‘You and Maureen； having an affair。’
‘Where’s he get that from？’
No denial； no outrage； no scathing laughter。 Merely a cautious request for a source。
Ever afterwards； Shirley would remember this moment as a death； a life truly ended。
VII
‘Fuckin’ shurrup； Robbie！ Shurrup！’
Krystal had dragged Robbie to a bus stop several streets away； so that neither Obbo nor Terri could find them。 She was not sure she had enough money for the fare； but she was determined to get to Pagford。 Nana Cath was gone； Mr Fairbrother was gone； but Fats Wall was there； and she needed to make a baby。
‘Why wuz ’e in the room with yeh？’ Krystal shouted at Robbie； who grizzled and did not answer。
There was only a tiny amount of battery power left on Terri’s mobile phone。 Krystal called Fats’ number； but it went to voicemail。
In Church Row； Fats was busy eating toast and listening to his parents having one of their familiar； bizarre conversations in the study across the hall。 It was a wele distraction from his own thoughts。 The mobile in his pocket vibrated but he did not answer it。 There was nobody he wanted to talk to。 It would not be Andrew。 Not after last night。
‘Colin； you know what you’re supposed to do；’ his mother was saying。 She sounded exhausted。 ‘Please； Colin—’