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and　Howard　was　revealed；　immense　in　a　velvet…faced　overcoat。　Shirley　and　Maureen　bobbed　in　his　wake；　Shirley　neat　and　posed　in　navy　blue；　Maureen　scrawny　as　a　carrion　bird；　in　a　hat　with　a　small　black　veil。

‘Hello；　hello；’　said　Howard；　kissing　Samantha　firmly　on　both　cheeks。　‘And　how’s　Sammy？’

Her　answer　was　swallowed　up　in　a　widespread；　awkward　shuffling；　as　everybody　began　retreating　backwards　off　the　path：　there　was　a　certain　discreet　jockeying　for　position；　nobody　wanted　to　relinquish　their　claim　to　a　place　near　the　church　entrance。　With　this　cleaving　in　two　of　the　crowd；　familiar　individuals　were　revealed　like　separate　pips　along　the　break。　Samantha　spotted　the　Jawandas：　coffee…brown　faces　among　all　the　whey；　Vikram；　absurdly　handsome　in　his　dark　suit；　Parminder　dressed　in　a　sari　（why　did　she　do　it？　Didn’t　she　know　she　was　playing　right　into　the　likes　of　Howard　and　Shirley’s　hands？）　and　beside　her；　dumpy　little　Tessa　Wall　in　a　grey　coat；　which　was　straining　at　the　buttons。

Mary　Fairbrother　and　the　children　were　walking　slowly　up　the　path　to　the　church。　Mary　was　terribly　pale；　and　appeared　pounds　thinner。　Could　she　have　lost　so　much　weight　in　six　days？　She　was　holding　one　of　the　twins’　hands；　with　her　other　arm　around　the　shoulders　of　her　younger　son；　and　the　eldest；　Fergus；　marching　behind。　She　walked　with　her　eyes　fixed　straight　ahead；　her　soft　mouth　pursed　tight。　Other　family　members　followed　Mary　and　the　children；　the　procession　moved　over　the　threshold　and　was　swallowed　up　in　the　dingy　interior　of　the　church。

Everyone　else　moved　towards　the　doors　at　once；　which　resulted　in　an　undignified　jam。　The　Mollisons　found　themselves　shunted　together　with　the　Jawandas。

‘After　you；　Mr　Jawanda；　sir；　after　you　…’　boomed　Howard；　holding　out　an　arm　to　let　the　surgeon　walk　in　first。　But　Howard　made　sure　to　use　his　bulk　to　prevent　anybody　else　taking　precedence　over　him；　and　followed　Vikram　immediately　through　the　entrance；　leaving　their　families　to　follow　on。

A　royal…blue　carpet　ran　the　length　of　the　aisle　of　St　Michael　and　All　Saints。　Golden　stars　glimmered　on　the　vaulted　ceiling；　brass　plaques　reflected　the　glow　of　the　hanging　lamps。　The　stained…glass　windows　were　elaborate　and　gorgeously　hued。　Halfway　down　the　nave；　on　the　epistle　side；　St　Michael　himself　stared　down　from　the　largest　window；　clad　in　silver　armour。　Sky…blue　wings　curved　out　of　his　shoulders；　in　one　hand　he　held　aloft　a　sword；　in　the　other；　a　pair　of　golden　scales。　A　sandalled　foot　rested　on　the　back　of　a　writhing　bat…winged　Satan；　who　was　dark　grey　in　colour　and　attempting　to　raise　himself。　The　saint’s　expression　was　serene。

Howard　stopped　level　with　St　Michael　and　indicated　that　his　party　should　file　into　the　pew　on　the　left；　Vikram　turned　right　into　the　opposite　one。　While　the　remaining　Mollisons；　and　Maureen；　filed　past　him　into　the　pew；　Howard　remained　planted　on　the　royal…blue　carpet；　and　addressed　Parminder　as　she　passed　him。

‘Dreadful；　this。　Barry。　Awful　shock。’

‘Yes；’　she　said；　loathing　him。

‘I　always　think　those　frocks　look　fy；　are　they？’　he　added；　nodding　at　her　sari。

She　did　not　answer；　but　took　her　place　beside　Jaswant。　Howard　sat　down　too；　making　of　himself　a　prodigious　plug　at　the　end　of　the　pew　that　would　seal　it　off　to　newers。

Shirley’s　eyes　were　fixed　respectfully　on　her　knees；　and　her　hands　were　clasped；　apparently　in　prayer；　but　she　was　really　mulling　over　Howard　and　Parminder’s　little　exchange　about　the　sari。　Shirley　belonged　to　a　section　of　Pagford　that　quietly　lamented　the　fact　that　the　Old　Vicarage；　which　had　been　built　long　ago　to　house　a　High　Church　vicar　with　mutton…chop　whiskers　and　a　starched…aproned　staff；　was　now　home　to　a　family　of　Hindus　（Shirley　had　never　quite　grasped　what　religion　the　Jawandas　were）。　She　thought　that　if　she　and　Howard　went　to　the　temple；　or　the　mosque；　or　wherever　it　was　the　Jawandas　worshipped；　they　would　doubtless　be　required　to　cover　their　heads　and　remove　their　shoes　and　who　knew　what　else；　otherwise　there　would　be　outcry。　Yet　it　was　acceptable　for　Parminder　to　flaunt　her　sari　in　church。　It　was　not　as　though　Parminder　did　not　have　normal　clothes；　for　she　wore　them　to　work　every　day。　The　double　standard　of　it　all　was　what　rankled；　not　a　thought　for　the　disrespect　it　showed　to　their　religion；　and；　by　extension；　to　Barry　Fairbrother　himself；　of　whom　she　was　supposed　to　have　been　so　fond。

Shirley　unclasped　her　hands；　raised　her　head；　and　gave　her　attention　over　to　the　outfits　of　people　who　were　passing；　and　of　the　size　and　number　of　Barry’s　floral　tributes。　Some　of　these　had　been　heaped　up　against　the　munion　rail。　Shirley　spotted　the　offering　from　the　council；　for　which　she　and　Howard　had　organized　the　collection。　It　was　a　large；　round　traditional　wreath　of　white　and　blue　flowers；　which　were　the　colours　of　Pagford’s　arms。　Their　flowers　and　all　the　other　wreaths　were　overshadowed　by　the　life…sized　oar；　made　of　bronze　chrysanthemums；　which　the　girls’　rowing　team　had　given。

Sukhvinder　turned　in　her　pew　to　look　for　Lauren；　whose　florist　mother　had　made　the　oar；　she　wanted　to　mime　that　she　had　seen　it　and　liked　it；　but　the　crowd　was　dense　and　she　could　not　spot　Lauren　anywhere。　Sukhvinder　was　mournfully　proud　that　they　had　done　it；　especially　when　she　saw　that　people　were　pointing　it　out　to　each　other　as　they　settled　themselves　in　their　seats。　Five　of　the　eight　girls　on　the　team　had　stumped　up　money　for　the　oar。　Lauren　had　told　Sukhvinder　how　she　had　tracked　down　Krystal　Weedon　at　lunchtime；　and　exposed　herself　to　the　piss…taking　of　Krystal’s　friends；　who　were　sitting　smoking　on　a　low　wall　by　the　newsagent’s。　Lauren　had　asked　Krystal　if　she　wanted　to　chip　in。　‘Yeah；　I　will；　all　righ’；’　Krystal　had　said；　but　she　had　not；　so　her　name　was　not　on　the　card。　Nor；　as　far　as　Sukhvinder　could　see；　had　Krystal　e　to　the　funeral。

Sukhvinder’s　insides　were　like　lead；　but　the　ache　of　her　left　forearm　coupled　with　the　sharp　twinges　of　pain　when　she　moved　it　was　a　counter…irritant；　and　at　least　Fats　Wall；　glowering　in　his　black　suit；　was　nowhere　near　her。　He　had　not　made　eye　contact　with　her　when　their　two　families　had　met；　briefly；　in　the　churchyard；　he　was　restrained　by　the　presence　of　their　parents；　as　he　was　sometimes　restrained　by　the　presence　of　Andrew　Price。

Late　the　previous　evening；　her　anonymous　cyber…torturer　had　sent　her　a　black　and　white　picture　of　a　naked　Victorian　child；　covered　in　soft　dark　hair。　She　had　seen　it　and　deleted　it　while　dressing　for　the　funeral。

When　had　she　last　been　happy？　She　knew　that　in　a　different　life；　long　before　anyone　had　grunted　at　her；　she　had　sat　in　this　church；　and　been　quite　content　for　years；　she　had　sung　hymns　with　gusto　at　Christmas；　Easter　and　Harvest　Festival。　She　had　always　liked　St　Michael；　with　his　pretty；　feminine；　Pre…Raphaelite　face；　his　curly　golden　hair　…　but　this　morning；　for　the　first　time；　she　saw　him　differently；　with　his　foot　resting　almost　casually　on　that　writhing　dark　devil；　she　found　his　untroubled　expression　sinister　and　arrogant。

The　pews　were　packed。　Muffled　clunks；　echoing　footsteps　and　quiet　rustlings　animated　the　dusty　air　as　the　unlucky　ones　continued　to　file　in　at　the　back　of　the　church　and　took　up　standing　room　along　the　left…hand　wall。　Some　hopeful　souls　tiptoed　down　the　aisle　in　case　of　an　overlooked　place　in　the　crammed　pews。　Howard　remained　immovable　and　firm；　until　Shirley　tapped　his　shoulder　and　whispered；　‘Aubrey　and　Julia！’

At　which　Howard　turned　massively；　and　waved　the　service　sheet　to　attract　the　Fawleys’　attention。　They　came　briskly　down　the　carpeted　aisle：　Aubrey；　tall；　thin　and　balding　in　his　dark　suit；　Julia　with　her　light…red　hair　pulled　back　into　a　chignon。　They　smiled　their　thanks　as　Howard　moved　along；　shunting　the　others　up；　making　sure　that　the　Fawleys　had　plenty　of　room。

Samantha　was　jammed　so　tightly　between　Miles　and　Maureen　that　she　could　feel　Maureen’s　sharp　hip　joint　pressing　into　her　flesh　on　one　side　and　the　keys　in　Miles’　pocket　on　the　other。　Furious；　she　attempted　to　secure　herself　a　centimetre　or　so　more　room；　but　neither　Miles　nor　Maureen　had　anywhere　else　to　go；　so　she　stared　straight　ahead；　and　turned　her　thoughts　vengefully　to　Vikram；　who　had　lost　none　of　his　appeal　in　the　month　or　so　since　she　had　last　seen　him。　He　was　so　conspicuously；　irrefutably　good…looking；　it　was　silly；　it　made　you　want　to　laugh。　With　his　long　legs　and　his　broad　shoulders；　and　the　flatness　of　his　belly　where　his　shirt　tucked　into　his　trousers；　and　those　dark　eyes　with　the　thick　black　lashes；　he　looked　like　a　god　pared　to　other　Pagford　men；　who　were　so　slack　and　pallid　and　porky。　As　Miles　leaned　forward　to　exchange　whispered　pleasantries　with　Julia　Fawley；　his　keys　ground　painfully　into　Samantha’s　upper　thigh；　and　she　imagined　Vikram　ripping　open　the　navy　wrap　dress　she　was　wearing；　and　in　her　fantasy　she　had　omitted　to　put　on　the　matching　camisole　that　concealed　her　deep　canyon　of　cleavage　…

The　organ　stops　creaked　and　silence　fell；　except　for　a　soft　persistent　rustle。　Heads　turned：　the　coffin　was　ing　up　the　aisle。

The　pall…bearers　were　almost　ically　mismatched：　Barry’s　brothers　were　both　five　foot　six；　and　Colin　Wall；　at　the　rear；　six　foot　two；　so　that　the　back　end　of　the　coffin　was　considerably　higher　than　the　front。　The　coffin　itself　was　not　made　of　polished　mahogany；　but　of　wickerwork。

It’s　a　bloody　picnic　basket！　thought　Howard；　outraged。

Looks　of　surprise　flitted　across　many　faces　as　the　willow　box　passed　them；　but　some　had　known　all　about　the　coffin　in　advance。　Mary　had　told　Tessa　（who　had　told　Parminder）　how　the　choice　of　material　had　been　made　by　Fergus；　Barry’s　eldest　son；　who　wanted　willow　because　it　was　a　sustainable；　quick…growing　material　and　therefore　environmentally　friendly。　Fergus　was　a　passionate　enthusiast　for　all　things　green　and　ecologically　sound。

Parminder　liked　the　willow　coffin　better；　much　better；　than　the　stout　wooden　box　in　which　most　English　disposed　of　their　dead。　Her　grandmother　had　always　had　a　superstitious　fear　of　the　soul　being　trapped　inside　something　heavy　and　solid；　deploring　the　way　that　British　undertakers　nailed　down　the　lids。　The　pall…bearers　lowered　the　coffin　onto　the　brocade…draped　bier　and　retreated：　Barry’s　son；　brothers　and　brother…in…law　edged　into　the　front　pews；　and　Colin　walked　jerkily　back　to　join　his　family。

For　two　quaking　seconds　Gavin　hesitated。　Parminder　could　tell　that　he　was　unsure　of　where　to　go；　his　only　option　to　walk　back　down　the　aisle　under　the　eyes　of　three　hundred　people。　But　Mary　must　have　made　a　sign　to　him；　because　he　ducked；　blushing　furiously；　into　the　front　pew　beside　Barry’s　mother。　Parminder　had　only　ever　spoken　to　Gavin　when　she　had　tested　and　treated　him　for　chlamydia。　He　had　never　met　her　gaze　again。

‘I　am　the　resurrection　and　the　life；　saith　the　Lord；　he　that　believeth　in　me；　though　he　were　dead；　yet　shall　he　live：　and　whosoever　liveth　and　believeth　in　me　shall　never　die　…’

The　vicar　did　not　sound　as　if　he　were　thinking　about　the　sense　of　the　words　issuing　from　his　mouth；　but　only　about　his　own　delivery；　which　was　sing…song　and　rhythmic。　Parminder　was　familiar　with　his　style；　she　had　attended　carol　services　for　years　with　all　the　other　St　Thomas’s　parents。　Long　acquaintance　had　not　reconciled　her　to　the　white…faced　warrior　saint　staring　down　at　her；　nor　all　the　dark　wood；　the　hard　pews；　the　alien　altar　with　its　jewelled　golden　cross；　nor　the　dirgey　hymns；　which　she　found　chilly　and　unsettling。

So　she　withdrew　her　attention　from　the　self…conscious　drone　of　the　vicar　and　thought　again　of　her　father。　She　had　seen　him　out　of　the　kitchen　window；　flat　on　his　face；　while　her　radio　continued　to　blare　from　on　top　of　the　rabbit　hutch。　He　had　been　lying　there　for　two　hours　while　she；　her　mother　and　her　sisters　had　been　browsing　in　Topshop。　She　could　still　feel　her　father’s　shoulder　beneath　his　hot　shirt　as　she　had　shaken　it。　‘Dadiii。　Dadiiiii。’

They　had　scattered　Darshan’s　ashes　in　the　sad　little　River　Rea　in　Birmingham。　Parminder　could　remember　the　dull　clay　look　of　its　surface；　on　an　overcast　day　in　June；　and　the　stream　of　tiny　white　and　grey　flakes　floating　away　from　her。

The　organ　clunked　and　wheezed　into　life；　and　she　got　to　her　feet　with　everybody　else。　She　caug