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y　she　had　gone　all　those　times　in　her　childhood；　whenever　Terri　had　fallen　apart。　But　Nana　Cath　was　old　and　frail　now；　and　she　had　no　time　for　Robbie。

‘I　understand　that　you　love　your　brother　and　that　you’re　doing　your　best　for　him；　Krystal；’　Kay　said；　‘but　you’re　not　Robbie’s　legal—’

‘Why　ain’　I？　I’m　his　fuckin’　sister；　ain’　I？’

‘All　right；’　said　Kay　firmly。　‘Terri；　I　think　we　need　to　face　facts　here。　Bellchapel　will　definitely　throw　you　off　the　programme　if　you　turn　up；　claim　you　haven’t　used　and　then　test　positive。　Your　drug　worker　made　that　perfectly　clear　to　me　on　the　phone。’

Shrunken　in　the　armchair；　a　strange　hybrid　of　old　lady　and　child　with　her　missing　teeth；　Terri’s　gaze　was　vacant　and　inconsolable。

‘I　think　the　only　way　you　can　possibly　avoid　being　thrown　out；’　Kay　went　on；　‘is　to　admit；　up　front；　that　you’ve　used；　take　responsibility　for　the　lapse　and　show　your　mitment　to　turning　over　a　new　leaf。’

Terri　simply　stared。　Lying　was　the　only　way　Terri　knew　to　meet　her　many　accusers。　Yeah；　all　righ’；　go　on；　then；　give　it　’ere；　and　then；　No；　I　never；　no　I　ain’；　I　never　fuckin’　did　…

‘Was　there　any　particular　reason　you　used　heroin　this　week；　when　you’re　already　on　a　big　dose　of　methadone？’　Kay　asked。

‘Yeah；’　said　Krystal。　‘Yeah；　because　Obbo　turned　up；　an’　she　never　fuckin’　says　no　to　’im！’

‘Shurrup；’　said　Terri；　but　without　heat。　She　seemed　to　be　trying　to　take　in　what　Kay　had　said　to　her：　this　bizarre；　dangerous　advice　about　telling　the　truth。

‘Obbo；’　repeated　Kay。　‘Who’s　Obbo？’

‘Fuckin’　tosser；’　said　Krystal。

‘Your　dealer？’　asked　Kay。

‘Shurrup；’　Terri　advised　Krystal　again。

‘Why　didn’　yeh　jus’　tell　’im　fuckin’　no？’　Krystal　shouted　at　her　mother。

‘All　right；’　said　Kay；　again。　‘Terri；　I’m　going　to　call　your　drug　worker　back。　I’m　going　to　try　and　persuade　her　that　I　think　there　would　be　a　benefit　to　the　family　from　your　staying　on　the　programme。’

‘Will　yeh？’　asked　Krystal；　astonished。　She　had　been　thinking　of　Kay　as　a　huge　bitch；　a　bigger　bitch　even　than　that　foster　mother；　with　her　spotless　kitchen　and　the　way　she　had　of　speaking　kindly　to　Krystal；　which　made　Krystal　feel　like　a　piece　of　shit。

‘Yes；’　said　Kay；　‘I　will。　But；　Terri；　as　far　as　we’re　concerned；　I　mean　the　Child　Protection　team；　this　is　serious。　We　are　going　to　have　to　monitor　Robbie’s　home　situation　closely。　We　need　to　see　a　change；　Terri。’

‘All　righ’；　yeah；’　said　Terri；　agreeing　as　she　agreed　to　everything；　to　everyone。

But　Krystal　said；　‘You　will；　yeah。　She　will。　I’ll　help　’er。　She　will。’

II
Shirley　Mollison　spent　Wednesdays　at　South　West　General　in　Yarvil。　Here；　she　and　a　dozen　fellow　volunteers　performed　non…medical　jobs；　such　as　pushing　the　library　trolley　around　the　beds；　looking　after　patients’　flowers　and　making　trips　to　the　shop　in　the　lobby　for　those　who　were　bed…ridden　and　without　visitors。　Shirley’s　favourite　activity　was　going　from　bed　to　bed；　taking　orders　for　meals。　Once；　carrying　her　clipboard　and　wearing　her　laminated　pass；　she　had　been　mistaken　by　a　passing　doctor　for　a　hospital　administrator。

The　idea　of　volunteering　had　e　to　Shirley　during　her　longest　ever　conversation　with　Julia　Fawley；　during　one　of　the　wonderful　Christmas　parties　at　Sweetlove　House。　Here；　she　had　learned　that　Julia　was　involved　in　fund…raising　for　the　paediatric　wing　of　the　local　hospital。

‘What　we　really　need　is　a　royal　visit；’　Julia　had　said；　her　eyes　straying　to　the　door　over　Shirley’s　shoulder。　‘I’m　going　to　get　Aubrey　to　have　a　quiet　word　with　Norman　Bailey。　Excuse　me；　I　must　say　hello　to　Lawrence　…’

Shirley　was　left　standing　there　beside　the　grand　piano；　saying；　‘Oh；　of　course；　of　course；’　to　thin　air。　She　had　no　idea　who　Norman　Bailey　was；　but　she　felt　quite　light…headed。　The　very　next　day；　without　even　telling　Howard　what　she　was　up　to；　she　telephoned　South　West　General　and　asked　about　volunteer　work。　Ascertaining　that　nothing　was　required　but　a　blameless　character；　a　sound　mind　and　strong　legs；　she　had　demanded　an　application　form。

Volunteer　work　had　opened　a　whole　new；　glorious　world　to　Shirley。　This　was　the　dream　that　Julia　Fawley　had　inadvertently　handed　her　beside　the　grand　piano：　that　of　herself；　standing　with　her　hands　clasped　demurely　in　front　of　her；　her　laminated　pass　around　her　neck；　while　the　Queen　moved　slowly　down　a　line　of　beaming　helpers。　She　saw　herself　dropping　a　perfect　curtsy；　the　Queen’s　attention　caught；　she　stopped　to　chat；　she　congratulated　Shirley　on　generously　giving　her　free　time　…　a　flash　and　a　photograph；　and　the　newspapers　next　day　…　‘the　Queen　chats　to　hospital　volunteer　Mrs　Shirley　Mollison　…’　Sometimes；　when　Shirley　really　concentrated　on　this　imaginary　scene；　an　almost　holy　feeling　came　over　her。

Volunteering　at　the　hospital　had　given　Shirley　a　glittering　new　weapon　with　which　to　whittle　down　Maureen’s　pretentions。　When　Ken’s　widow　had　been　transformed；　Cinderella…like；　from　shop…girl　to　business　partner；　she　had　taken　on　airs　that　Shirley　（though　enduring　it　all　with　a　pussy…cat　smile）　found　infuriating。　But　Shirley　had　retaken　the　higher　ground；　she　worked；　not　for　profit　but　out　of　the　goodness　of　her　heart。　It　was　classy　to　volunteer；　it　was　what　women　did　who　had　no　need　of　extra　cash；　women　like　herself　and　Julia　Fawley。　What　was　more；　the　hospital　gave　Shirley　access　to　a　vast　mine　of　gossip　to　drown　out　Maureen’s　tedious　prattling　about　the　new　café。

This　morning；　Shirley　stated　her　preference　for　ward　twenty…eight　in　a　firm　voice　to　the　volunteer　supervisor；　and　was　duly　sent　off　to　the　oncology　department。　She　had　made　her　only　friend　among　the　nursing　staff　on　ward　twenty…eight；　some　of　the　young　nurses　could　be　curt　and　patronizing　to　the　volunteers；　but　Ruth　Price；　who　had　recently　returned　to　nursing　after　a　break　of　sixteen　years；　had　been　charming　from　the　first。　They　were　both；　as　Shirley　put　it；　Pagford　women；　which　made　a　bond。

（Though；　as　it　happened；　Shirley　was　not　Pagford…born。　She　and　her　younger　sister　had　grown　up　with　their　mother　in　a　cramped　and　untidy　flat　in　Yarvil。　Shirley’s　mother　had　drunk　a　lot；　she　had　never　divorced　the　girls’　father；　whom　they　did　not　see。　Local　men　had　all　seemed　to　know　Shirley’s　mother’s　name；　and　smirked　when　they　said　it　…　but　that　was　a　long　time　ago；　and　Shirley　took　the　view　that　the　past　disintegrated　if　you　never　mentioned　it。　She　refused　to　remember。）

Shirley　and　Ruth　greeted　each　other　with　delight；　but　it　was　a　busy　morning　and　there　was　no　time　for　anything　but　the　most　rudimentary　exchange　about　Barry　Fairbrother’s　sudden　death。　They　agreed　to　meet　for　lunch　at　half…past　twelve；　and　Shirley　strode　off　to　fetch　the　library　trolley。

She　was　in　a　wonderful　mood。　She　could　see　the　future　as　clearly　as　if　it　had　already　happened。　Howard；　Miles　and　Aubrey　Fawley　were　going　to　unite　to　cut　the　Fields　adrift　for　ever；　and　this　would　be　the　occasion　for　a　celebratory　dinner　at　Sweetlove　House　…　

Shirley　found　the　place　dazzling：　the　enormous　garden　with　its　sundial；　its　topiary　hedges　and　its　ponds；　the　wide　panelled　hallway；　the　silver…framed　photograph　on　the　grand　piano；　showing　the　owner　sharing　a　joke　with　the　Princess　Royal。　She　detected　no　condescension　whatsoever　in　the　Fawleys’　attitude　towards　her　or　her　husband；　but　then　there　were　so　many　distracting　scents　peting　for　her　attention　whenever　she　came　within　the　Fawleys’　orbit。　She　could　just　imagine　the　five　of　them　sitting　down　to　a　private　dinner　in　one　of　those　delicious　little　side　rooms；　Howard　sitting　next　to　Julia；　she　on　Aubrey’s　right　hand；　and　Miles　in　between　them。　（In　Shirley’s　fantasy；　Samantha　was　unavoidably　detained　elsewhere。）

Shirley　and　Ruth　found　each　other　by　the　yoghurts　at　half…past　twelve。　The　clattering　hospital　canteen　was　not　yet　as　crowded　as　it　would　be　by　one；　and　the　nurse　and　the　volunteer　found；　without　too　much　difficulty；　a　sticky；　crumb…strewn　table　for　two　against　the　wall。

‘How’s　Simon？　How　are　the　boys？’　asked　Shirley；　when　Ruth　had　wiped　down　the　table；　and　they　had　decanted　the　contents　of　their　trays　and　sat　facing　each　other；　ready　for　chat。

‘Si’s　fine；　thanks；　fine。　Bringing　home　our　new　puter　today。　The　boys　can’t　wait；　you　can　imagine。’

This　was　quite　untrue。　Andrew　and　Paul　both　possessed　cheap　laptops；　the　PC　sat　in　the　corner　of　the　tiny　sitting　room　and　neither　boy　touched　it；　preferring　to　do　nothing　that　took　them　within　the　vicinity　of　their　father。　Ruth　often　spoke　of　her　sons　to　Shirley　as　though　they　were　much　younger　than　they　were：　portable；　tractable；　easily　amused。　Perhaps　she　sought　to　make　herself　younger；　to　emphasize　the　age　difference　between　herself　and　Shirley　–　which　stood　at　nearly　two　decades　–　to　make　them　even　more　like　mother　and　daughter。　Ruth’s　mother　had　died　ten　years　previously；　she　missed　having　an　older　woman　in　her　life；　and　Shirley’s　relationship　with　her　own　daughter　was；　she　had　hinted　to　Ruth；　not　all　it　could　have　been。

‘Miles　and　I　have　always　been　very　close。　Patricia；　though；　she　was　always　rather　a　difficult　character。　She’s　up　in　London　now。’

Ruth　longed　to　probe；　but　a　quality　that　she　and　Shirley　shared　and　admired　in　each　other　was　a　genteel　reticence；　a　pride　in　presenting　an　unruffled　surface　to　the　world。　Ruth　laid　her　piqued　curiosity　aside；　therefore；　though　not　without　a　private　hope　that　she　would　find　out；　in　due　course；　what　made　Patricia　so　difficult。

Shirley　and　Ruth’s　instant　liking　for　each　other　had　been　rooted　in　their　mutual　recognition　that　the　other　was　a　woman　like　herself；　a　woman　whose　deepest　pride　lay　in　having　captured　and　retained　the　affection　of　her　husband。　Like　Freemasons；　they　shared　a　fundamental　code；　and　were　therefore　secure　in　each　other’s　pany　in　a　way　that　they　were　not　with　other　women。　Their　plicity　was　still　more　enjoyable　for　being　spiced　by　a　sense　of　superiority；　because　each　secretly　pitied　the　other　for　her　choice　of　husband。　To　Ruth；　Howard　was　physically　grotesque；　and　she　was　puzzled　to　understand　how　her　friend；　who　retained　a　plump　yet　delicate　prettiness；　could　ever　have　agreed　to　marry　him。　To　Shirley；　who　could　not　remember　ever　setting　eyes　on　Simon；　who　had　never　heard　him　mentioned　in　connection　with　the　higher　workings　of　Pagford；　and　who　understood　Ruth　to　lack　even　a　rudimentary　social　life；　Ruth’s　husband　sounded　a　reclusive　inadequate。

‘So　I　saw　Miles　and　Samantha　bringing　Barry　in；’　Ruth　said；　launching　into　the　main　subject　without　preamble。　She　had　much　less　conversational　finesse　than　Shirley；　finding　it　difficult　to　disguise　her　greed　for　Pagford　gossip；　of　which　she　was　deprived；　stuck　high　on　the　hill　above　town；　isolated　by　Simon’s　unsociability。　‘Did　they　actually　see　it　happen？’

‘Oh　yes；’　said　Shirley。　‘They　were　having　dinner　at　the　golf　club。　Sunday　night；　you　know；　the　girls　were　back　at　school；　and　Sam　prefers　eating　out；　she’s　not　much　of　a　cook　…’

Bit　by　bit；　over　their　shared　coffee　breaks；　Ruth　had　learned　some　of　the　inside　story　of　Miles　and　Samantha’s　marriage。　Shirley　had　told　her　how　her　son　had　been　obliged　to　marry　Samantha；　because　Samantha　had　fallen　pregnant　with　Lexie。

‘They’ve　made　the　best　of　it；’　Shirley　sighed；　brightly　brave。　‘Miles　did　the　right　thing；　I　wouldn’t　have　had　it　any　other　way。　The　girls　are　lovely。　It’s　a　pity　Miles　didn’t　have　a　son；　he　would　have　been　wonderful　with　a　boy。　But　Sam　didn’t　want　a　third。’

Ruth　treasured　up　every　veiled　criticism　Shirley　made　of　her　daughter…in…law。　She　had　taken　an　immediate　dislike　to　Samantha　years　before；　when　she　had　acpanied　four…year…old　Andrew　to　the　nursery　class　at　St　Thomas’s；　and　there　met　Samantha　and　her　daughter　Lexie。　With　her　loud　laugh；　and　her　boundless　cleavage；　and　a　fine　line　in　risqué　jokes　for　the　schoolyard　mothers；　Samantha　had　struck　Ruth　as　dangerously　predatory。　For　years；　Ruth　had　watched　scornfully　as　Samantha　stuck　out　her　massive　chest　while　talking　to　Vikram　Jawanda　at　parents’　evenings；　and　steered　Simon　around　the　edge　of　classrooms　to　avoid　having　to　talk　to　her。

Shirley　was　still　recounting　the　second…hand　tale　of　Barry’s　final　journey；　giving　all　possible　weight　to　Miles’　quick　thi