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r。

The　organ　clunked　and　wheezed　into　life；　and　she　got　to　her　feet　with　everybody　else。　She　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　backs　of　Niamh　and　Siobhan’s　red…gold　heads；　they　were　exactly　the　age　she　had　been　when　Darshan　had　been　taken　from　them。　Parminder　experienced　a　rush　of　tenderness；　and　an　awful　ache；　and　a　confused　desire　to　hold　them　and　to　tell　them　that　she　knew；　she　knew；　she　understood　…

Morning　has　broken；　like　the　first　morning　…

Gavin　could　hear　a　shrill　treble　from　along　the　row：　Barry’s　younger　son’s　voice　had　not　yet　broken。　He　knew　that　Declan　had　chosen　the　hymn。　That　was　another　of　the　ghastly　details　of　the　service　that　Mary　had　chosen　to　share　with　him。

He　was　finding　the　funeral　an　even　worse　ordeal　than　he　had　expected。　He　thought　it　might　have　been　better　with　a　wooden　coffin；　he　had　had　an　awful；　visceral　awareness　of　Barry’s　body　inside　that　light　wickerwork　case；　the　physical　weight　of　him　was　shocking。　All　those　placently　staring　people；　as　he　walked　up　the　aisle；　did　they　not　understand　what　he　was　actually　carrying？

Then　had　e　the　ghastly　moment　when　he　had　realized　that　nobody　had　saved　him　a　place；　and　that　he　would　have　to　walk　all　the　way　back　again　while　everybody　stared；　and　hide　among　the　standees　at　the　back　…　but　instead　he　had　been　forced　to　sit　in　the　first　pew；　horribly　exposed。　It　was　like　being　in　the　front　seat　of　a　rollercoaster；　bearing　the　brunt　of　every　awful　twist　and　lurch。

Sitting　there；　mere　feet　from　Siobhan’s　sunflower；　its　head　as　big　as　a　saucepan　lid；　in　the　middle　of　a　big　burst　of　yellow　freesias　and　daylilies；　he　actually　wished　that　Kay　had　e　with　him；　he　could　not　believe　it；　but　there　it　was。　He　would　have　been　consoled　by　the　presence　of　somebody　who　was　on　his　side；　somebody　simply　to　keep　him　a　seat。　He　had　not　considered　what　a　sad　bastard　he　might　look；　turning　up　alone。

The　hymn　ended。　Barry’s　older　brother　walked　to　the　front　to　speak。　Gavin　did　not　know　how　he　could　bear　to　do　it；　with　Barry’s　corpse　lying　right　in　front　of　him　beneath　the　sunflower　（grown　from　seed；　over　months）；　nor　how　Mary　could　sit　so　quietly；　with　her　head　bowed；　apparently　looking　at　the　hands　clasped　in　her　lap。　Gavin　tried；　actively；　to　provide　his　own　interior　interference；　so　as　to　dilute　the　impact　of　the　eulogy。

He’s　going　to　tell　the　story　about　Barry　meeting　Mary；　once　he’s　got　past　this　kid　stuff　…　happy　childhood；　high　jinks；　yeah；　yeah　…　e　on；　move　it　along　…

They　would　have　to　put　Barry　back　in　the　car；　and　drive　all　the　way　to　Yarvil　to　bury　him　in　the　cemetery　there；　because　the　tiny　graveyard　of　St　Michael　and　All　Saints　had　been　declared　full　twenty　years　previously。　Gavin　imagined　lowering　the　wickerwork　coffin　into　the　grave　under　the　eyes　of　this　crowd。　Carrying　it　in　and　out　of　the　church　would　be　nothing　pared　to　that　…

One　of　the　twins　was　crying。　Out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye；　Gavin　saw　Mary　reach　out　a　hand　to　hold　her　daughter’s。

Let’s　get　on　with　it；　for　fuck’s　sake。　Please。

‘I　think　it’s　fair　to　say　that　Barry　always　knew　his　own　mind；’　Barry’s　brother　was　saying　hoarsely。　He　had　got　a　few　laughs　with　tales　of　Barry’s　scrapes　in　childhood。　The　strain　in　his　voice　was　palpable。　‘He　was　twenty…four　when　we　went　off　on　my　stag　weekend　to　Liverpool。　First　night　there；　we　leave　the　campsite　and　go　off　to　the　pub；　and　there　behind　the　bar　is　the　landlord’s　student　daughter；　a　beautiful　blonde；　helping　out　on　a　Saturday　night。　Barry　spent　the　whole　night　propping　up　the　bar；　chatting　her　up；　getting　her　into　trouble　with　her　dad　and　pretending　he　didn’t　know　who　the　rowdy　lot　in　the　corner　were。’

A　weak　laugh。　Mary’s　head　was　drooping；　both　hands　were　clutching　those　of　the　child　on　either　side。

‘He　told　me　that　night；　back　in　the　tent；　that　he　was　going　to　marry　her。　I　thought；　Hang　on；　I’m　the　one　who’s　supposed　to　be　drunk。’　Another　little　titter。　‘Baz　made　us　go　back　to　the　same　pub　the　next　night。　When　we　got　home；　the　first　thing　he　did　was　buy　her　a　postcard　and　send　it　to　her；　telling　her　he’d　be　back　next　weekend。　They　were　married　a　year　to　the　day　after　they　met；　and　I　think　everyone　who　knew　them　would　agree　that　Barry　knew　a　good　thing　when　he　saw　it。　They　went　on　to　have　four　beautiful　children；　Fergus；　Niamh；　Siobhan　and　Declan　…’

Gavin　breathed　carefully　in　and　out；　in　and　out；　trying　not　to　listen；　and　wondering　what　on　earth　his　own　brother　would　find　to　say　about　him　under　the　same　circumstances。　He　had　not　had　Barry’s　luck；　his　romantic　life　did　not　make　a　pretty　story。　He　had　never　walked　into　a　pub　and　found　the　perfect　wife　standing　there；　blonde；　smiling　and　ready　to　serve　him　a　pint。　No；　he　had　had　Lisa；　who　had　never　seemed　to　think　him　up　to　scratch；　seven　years　of　escalating　warfare　had　culminated　in　a　dose　of　the　clap；　and　then；　with　barely　a　break；　there　had　been　Kay；　clinging　to　him　like　an　aggressive　and　threatening　barnacle　…

But；　all　the　same；　he　would　ring　her　later；　because　he　didn’t　think　he　would　be　able　to　stand　going　back　to　his　empty　cottage　after　this。　He　would　be　honest；　and　tell　her　how　horrible　and　stressful　the　funeral　had　been；　and　that　he　wished　she　had　e　with　him。　That　would　surely　deflect　any　lingering　umbrage　about　their　row。　He　did　not　want　to　be　alone　tonight。

Two　pews　back；　Colin　Wall　was　sobbing；　with　small　but　audible　gasps；　into　a　large；　wet　handkerchief。　Tessa’s　hand　rested　on　his　thigh；　exerting　gentle　pressure。　She　was　thinking　about　Barry；　about　how　she　had　relied　upon　him　to　help　her　with　Colin；　of　the　consolation　of　shared　laughter；　of　Barry’s　boundless　generosity　of　spirit。　She　could　see　him　clearly；　short　and　ruddy；　jiving　with　Parminder　at　their　last　party；　imitating　Howard　Mollison’s　strictures　on　the　Fields；　advising　Colin　tactfully；　as　only　he　could　have　done；　to　accept　Fats’　behaviour　as　adolescent；　rather　than　sociopathic。

Tessa　was　scared　of　what　the　loss　of　Barry　Fairbrother　would　mean　to　the　man　beside　her；　scared　of　how　they　would　manage　to　acmodate　this　huge　ragged　absence；　scared　that　Colin　had　made　a　vow　to　the　dead　that　he　could　not　keep；　and　that　he　did　not　realize　how　little　Mary；　to　whom　he　kept　wanting　to　talk；　liked　him。　And　through　all　Tessa’s　anxiety　and　sorrow　was　threaded　the　usual　worry；　like　an　itchy　little　worm：　Fats；　and　how　she　was　going　to　avert　an　explosion；　how　she　would　make　him　e　with　them　to　the　burial；　or　how　she　might　hide　from　Colin　that　he　had　not　e　–　which　might；　after　all；　be　easier。

‘We　are　going　to　finish　today’s　service　with　a　song　chosen　by　Barry’s　daughters；　Niamh　and　Siobhan；　which　meant　a　lot　to　them　and　their　father；’　said　the　vicar。　He　managed；　by　his　tone；　to　disassociate　himself　personally　from　what　was　about　to　happen。

The　beat　of　the　drum　rang　so　loudly　through　hidden　speakers　that　the　congregation　jumped。　A　loud　American　voice　was　saying　‘uh　huh；　uh　huh’　and　Jay…Z　rapped：

Good　girl　gone　bad　–

Take　three　–

Action。

No　clouds　in　my　storms　…

Let　it　rain；　I　hydroplane　into　fame

in’　down　with　the　Dow　Jones　…

Some　people　thought　that　it　was　a　mistake：　Howard　and　Shirley　threw　outraged　glances　at　each　other；　but　nobody　pressed　stop；　or　ran　up　the　aisle　apologizing。　Then　a　powerful；　sexy　female　voice　started　to　sing：

You　had　my　heart　

And　we’ll　never　be　worlds　apart

Maybe　in　magazines

But　you’ll　still　be　my　star　…

The　pall…bearers　were　carrying　the　wicker　coffin　back　down　the　aisle；　and　Mary　and　the　children　were　following。

…　Now　that　it’s　raining　more　than　ever　

Know　that　we’ll　still　have　each　other

You　can　stand　under　my　umbuh…rella

You　can　stand　under　my　umbuh…rella

The　congregation　filed　slowly　out　of　the　church；　trying　not　to　walk　in　time　to　the　beat　of　the　song。

II
Andrew　Price　took　the　handlebars　of　his　father’s　racing　bicycle　and　walked　it　carefully　out　of　the　garage；　making　sure　that　he　did　not　scrape　the　car。　Down　the　stone　steps　and　through　the　metal　gate　he　carried　it；　then；　in　the　lane；　he　put　his　foot　on　one　pedal；　scooted　a　few　yards　and　swung　his　other　leg　over　the　saddle。　He　soared　left　onto　the　vertiginously　sloping　hillside　road　and　sped；　without　touching　his　brakes；　down　towards　Pagford。

The　hedgerows　and　sky　blurred；　he　imagined　himself　in　a　velodrome　as　the　wind　whipped　his　clean　hair　and　his　stinging　face；　which　he　had　just　scrubbed　clean。　Level　with　the　Fairbrothers’　wedge…shaped　garden　he　applied　the　brakes；　because　some　months　previously　he　had　taken　this　sharp　turn　too　fast　and　fallen　off；　and　had　had　to　return　home　immediately　with　his　jeans　ripped　open　and　grazes　all　down　one　side　of　his　face　…

He　freewheeled；　with　only　one　hand　on　the　bars；　into　Church　Row；　and　enjoyed　a　second；　though　lesser；　downhill　burst　of　speed；　slightly　checked　when　he　saw　that　they　were　loading　a　coffin　onto　a　hearse　outside　the　church；　and　that　a　dark…clothed　crowd　was　spilling　out　between　the　heavy　wooden　doors。　Andrew　pedalled　furiously　around　the　corner　and　out　of　sight。　He　did　not　want　to　see　Fats　emerging　from　church　with　a　distraught　Cubby；　wearing　the　cheap　suit　and　tie　that　he　had　described　with　ical　disgust　during　yesterday’s　English　lesson。　It　would　have　been　like　interrupting　his　friend　having　a　crap。

As　Andrew　cycled　slowly　around　the　Square；　he　slicked　his　hair　back　off　his　face　with　one　hand；　wondering　what　the　cold　air　had　done　to　his　purple…red　acne　and　whether　the　anti…bacterial　face　wash　had　done　anything　to　soothe　the　angry　look　of　it。　And　he　told　himself　the　cover　story：　he　had　e　from　Fats’　house　（which　he　might　have　done；　there　was　no　reason　why　not）；　which　meant　that　Hope　Street　was　as　obvious　a　route　down　to　the　river　as　cutting　through　the　first　side　street。　Therefore　there　was　no　need　for　Gaia　Bawden　（if　she　happened　to　be　looking　out　of　the　window　of　her　house；　and　happened　to　see　him；　and　happened　to　recognize　him）　to　think　that　he　had　e　this　way　because　of　her。　Andrew　did　not　anticipate　having　to　explain　to　her　his　reason　for　cycling　up　her　street；　but　he　still　held　the　fake　story　in　his　mind；　because　he　believed　it　gave　him　an　air　of　cool　detachment。

He　simply　wanted　to　know　which　was　her　house。　Twice　already；　at　weekends；　he　had　cycled　along　the　short　terraced　street；　every　nerve　in　his　body　tingling；　but　he　had　been　unable；　as　yet；　to　discover　which　house　harboured　the　Grail。　All　he　knew；　from　his　furtive　glimpses　through　the　dirty　school…bus　windows；　was　that　she　lived　on　the　right　hand　even…numbered　side。

As　he　turned　the　corner；　he　tried　to　pose　his　features；　acting　the　part　of　a　man　cycling　slowly　towards　the　river　by　the　most　direct　route；　lost　in　his　own　serious　thoughts；　but　ready　to　acknowledge　a　classmate；　should　they　show　themselves　…

She　was　there。　On　the　pavement。　Andrew’s　legs　continued　to　pump；　though　he　could　not　feel　the　pedals；　and　he　was　suddenly　aware　how　thin　the　tyres　were　on　which　he　balanced。　She　was　rummaging　in　her　leather　handbag；　her　copper…brown　hair　hanging　around　her　face。　Number　ten　on　the　door　ajar　behind　her；　and　a　black　T…shirt　falling　short　of　her　waist；　a　band　of　bare　skin；　and　a　heavy　belt　and　tight　jeans　…　when　he　was　almost　past　her；　she　closed　the　door　and　turned；　her　hair　fell　back　from　her　beautiful　face；　and　she　said；　quite　clearly；　in　her　London　voice；　‘Oh；　hi。’

‘Hi；’　he　said。　His　legs　kept　pedalling。　Six　feet　away；　twelve　feet　away；　why　hadn’t　he　stopped？　Shock　kept　him　moving；　he　dared　not　look　back；　he　was　at　the　end　of　her　street　already；　for　fuck’s　sake　don’t　fall　off；　he　turned　the　corner；　too　stunned　to　gauge　whether　he　was　more　relieved　or　disappointed　that　he　had　left　her　behind。

Holy　shit。

He　cycled　on　towards　the　wooded　area　at　the　base　of　Pargetter　Hill；　where　the　river　glinted　intermittently　through　the　trees；　but　he　could　see　nothing　except　Gaia　burned　onto　his　retina　like　neon。　The　narrow　road　turned　into　an　earthy　footpath；　and　the　gentle　breeze　off　the　water　caressed　his　face；　which　he　did　not　think　had　turned　red；　because　it　had　all　happened　so　quickly。

‘Fucking　hell！’　he　said　aloud　to　the　fresh　air　and　the　deserted　path。

He　raked　excitedly　through　this　magnificent；　unexpected　treasure　trove：　her　perfect　body；　revealed　in　tight　denim　and　stretchy　cotton；　number　te