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Paul　had　not　returned。　Perhaps　he　was　still　trying　to　staunch　his　bleeding　nose；　but　more　likely　he　was　too　scared。　Andrew　thought　his　brother　unwise。　It　was　safest　to　leave　only　after　Simon　had　given　you　permission。

His　calls　pleted；　Simon　held　out　the　telephone　to　Ruth　without　speaking；　she　took　it　and　hurried　it　back　into　its　stand。

Simon　sat　thinking　while　his　fractured　toe　pulsated；　sweating　in　the　heat　of　the　wood…burner；　awash　with　impotent　fury。　The　beating　to　which　he　had　subjected　his　wife　and　son　was　nothing；　he　did　not　give　them　a　thought；　a　terrible　thing　had　just　happened　to　him；　and　naturally　his　rage　had　exploded　on　those　nearest　him；　that　was　how　life　worked。　In　any　case；　Ruth；　the　silly　bitch；　had　admitted　to　telling　Shirley　…

Simon　was　building　his　own　chain　of　evidence；　as　he　thought　things　must　have　happened。　Some　fucker　（and　he　suspected　that　gum…chewing　forklift　driver；　whose　expression；　as　Simon　had　sped　away　from　him　in　the　Fields；　had　been　outraged）　talking　about　him　to　the　Mollisons　（somehow；　illogically；　Ruth’s　admission　that　she　had　mentioned　the　puter　to　Shirley　made　this　seem　more　likely）；　and　they　（the　Mollisons；　the　establishment；　the　smooth　and　the　snide；　guarding　their　access　to　power）　had　put　up　this　message　on　their　website　（Shirley；　the　old　cow；　managed　the　site；　which　set　the　seal　on　the　theory）。

‘It’s　your　fucking　friend；’　Simon　told　his　wet…faced；　trembling…lipped　wife。　‘It’s　your　fucking　Shirley。　She’s　done　this。　She’s　got　some　dirt　on　me　to　get　me　off　her　son’s　case。　That’s　who　it　is。’

‘But　Si—’

Shut　up；　shut　up；　you　silly　cow；　thought　Andrew。

‘Still　on　her　side；　are　you？’　roared　Simon；　making　to　stand　again。

‘No！’　squealed　Ruth；　and　he　sank　back　into　the　chair；　glad　to　keep　the　weight　off　his　pounding　foot。

The　Harcourt…Walsh　management　would　not　be　happy　about　those　after…hours　jobs；　Simon　thought。　He　wouldn’t　put　it　past　the　bloody　police　to　e　nosing　around　the　puter。　A　desire　for　urgent　action　filled　him。

‘You；’　he　said；　pointing　at　Andrew。　‘Unplug　that　puter。　All　of　it；　the　leads　and　everything。　You’re　ing　with　me。’

VI
Things　denied；　things　untold；　things　hidden　and　disguised。

The　muddy　River　Orr　gushed　over　the　wreckage　of　the　stolen　puter；　thrown　from　the　old　stone　bridge　at　midnight。　Simon　limped　to　work　on　his　fractured　toe　and　told　everyone　that　he　had　slipped　on　the　garden　path。　Ruth　pressed　ice　to　her　bruises　and　concealed　them　inexpertly　with　an　old　tube　of　foundation；　Andrew’s　lip　scabbed　over；　like　Dane　Tully’s；　and　Paul　had　another　nosebleed　on　the　bus　and　had　to　go　straight　to　the　nurse　on　arrival　at　school。

Shirley　Mollison；　who　had　been　shopping　in　Yarvil；　did　not　answer　Ruth’s　repeated　telephone　calls　until　late　afternoon；　by　which　time　Ruth’s　sons　had　arrived　home　from　school。　Andrew　listened　to　the　one…sided　conversation　from　the　stairs　outside　the　sitting　room。　He　knew　that　Ruth　was　trying　to　take　care　of　the　problem　before　Simon　came　home；　because　Simon　was　more　than　capable　of　seizing　the　receiver　from　her　and　shouting　and　swearing　at　her　friend。

‘…　just　silly　lies；’　she　was　saying　brightly；　‘but　we’d　be　very　grateful　if　you　could　remove　it；　Shirley。’

He　scowled　and　the　cut　on　his　fat　lip　threatened　to　burst　open　again。　He　hated　hearing　his　mother　asking　the　woman　for　a　favour。　In　that　moment　he　was　irrationally　annoyed　that　the　post　had　not　been　taken　down　already；　then　he　remembered　that　he　had　written　it；　that　he　had　caused　everything：　his　mother’s　battered　face；　his　own　cut　lip　and　the　atmosphere　of　dread　that　pervaded　the　house　at　the　prospect　of　Simon’s　return。

‘I　do　understand　you’ve　got　a　lot　of　things　on　…’　Ruth　was　saying　cravenly；　‘but　you　can　see　how　this　might　do　Simon　damage；　if　people　believe　…’

‘Yes。’　Ruth　sounded　tired。　‘She’s　going　to　take　those　things　about　Dad　off　the　site　so；　hopefully；　that’ll　be　the　end　of　it。’

Andrew　knew　his　mother　to　be　intelligent；　and　much　handier　around　the　house　than　his　ham…fisted　father。　She　was　capable　of　earning　her　own　living。

‘Why　didn’t　she　take　the　post　down　straight　away；　if　you’re　friends？’　he　asked；　following　her　into　the　kitchen。　For　the　first　time　in　his　life；　his　pity　for　Ruth　was　mingled　with　a　feeling　of　frustration　that　amounted　to　anger。

‘She’s　been　busy；’　snapped　Ruth。

One　of　her　eyes　was　bloodshot　from　Simon’s　punch。

‘Did　you　tell　her　she　could　be　in　trouble　for　leaving　defamatory　stuff　on　there；　if　she　moderates　the　boards？　We　did　that　stuff　in　put—’

‘I’ve　told　you；　she’s　taking　it　down；　Andrew；’　said　Ruth　angrily。

She　was　not　frightened　of　showing　temper　to　her　sons。　Was　it　because　they　did　not　hit　her；　or　for　some　other　reason？　Andrew　knew　that　her　face　must　ache　as　badly　as　his　own。

‘So　who　d’you　reckon　wrote　that　stuff　about　Dad？’　he　asked　her　recklessly。

She　turned　a　face　of　fury　upon　him。

‘I　don’t　know；’　she　said；　‘but　whoever　they　are；　it　was　a　despicable；　cowardly　thing　to　do。　Everyone’s　got　something　they’d　like　to　hide。　How　would　it　be　if　Dad　put　some　of　the　things　he　knows　about　other　people　on　the　inter？　But　he　wouldn’t　do　it。’

‘That’d　be　against　his　moral　code；　would　it？’　said　Andrew。

‘You　don’t　know　your　father　as　well　as　you　think　you　do！’　shouted　Ruth　with　tears　in　her　eyes。　‘Get　out　–　go　and　do　your　homework　–　I　don’t　care　–　just　get　out！’

Yet　the　deletion　of　the　post　could　not　remove　it　from　the　consciousness　of　those　who　were　passionately　interested　in　the　forthing　contest　for　Barry’s　seat。　Parminder　Jawanda　had　copied　the　message　about　Simon　Price　onto　her　puter；　and　kept　opening　it；　subjecting　each　sentence　to　the　scrutiny　of　a　forensic　scientist　examining　fibres　on　a　corpse；　searching　for　traces　of　Howard　Mollison’s　literary　DNA。　He　would　have　done　all　he　could　to　disguise　his　distinctive　phraseology；　but　she　was　sure　that　she　recognized　his　pomposity　in　‘Mr　Price　is　certainly　no　stranger　to　keeping　down　costs’；　and　in　‘the　benefit　of　his　many　useful　contacts’。

‘Minda；　you　don’t　know　Simon　Price；’　said　Tessa　Wall。　She　and　Colin　were　having　supper　with　the　Jawandas　in　the　Old　Vicarage　kitchen；　and　Parminder　had　started　on　the　subject　of　the　post　almost　the　moment　they　had　crossed　the　threshold。　‘He’s　a　very　unpleasant　man　and　he　could　have　upset　any　number　of　people。　I　honestly　don’t　think　it’s　Howard　Mollison。　I　can’t　see　him　doing　anything　so　obvious。’

‘Don’t　kid　yourself；　Tessa；’　said　Parminder。　‘Howard　will　do　anything　to　make　sure　Miles　is　elected。　You　watch。　He’ll　go　for　Colin　next。’

Tessa　saw　Colin’s　knuckles　whiten　on　his　fork　handle；　and　wished　that　Parminder　would　think　before　she　spoke。　She；　of　anyone；　knew　what　Colin　was　like；　she　prescribed　his　Prozac。

Vikram　was　sitting　at　the　end　of　the　table　in　silence。　His　beautiful　face　fell　naturally　into　a　slightly　sardonic　smile。　Tessa　had　always　been　intimidated　by　the　surgeon；　as　she　was　by　all　very　good…looking　men。　Although　Parminder　was　one　of　Tessa’s　best　friends；　she　barely　knew　Vikram；　who　worked　long　hours　and　involved　himself　much　less　in　Pagford　matters　than　his　wife。

‘I　told　you　about　the　agenda；　didn’t　I？’　Parminder　rattled　on。　‘For　the　next　meeting？　He’s　proposing　a　motion　on　the　Fields；　for　us　to　pass　to　the　Yarvil　mittee　doing　the　boundary　review；　and　a　resolution　on　forcing　the　drug　clinic　out　of　their　building。　He’s　trying　to　rush　it　all　through；　while　Barry’s　seat’s　empty。’

She　kept　leaving　the　table　to　fetch　things；　opening　more　cupboard　doors　than　was　necessary；　distracted　and　unfocused。　Twice　she　forgot　why　she　had　got　up；　and　sat　down　again；　empty…handed。　Vikram　watched　her；　everywhere　she　moved；　from　beneath　his　thick　eyelashes。

‘I　rang　Howard　last　night；’　Parminder　said；　‘and　I　told　him　we　ought　to　wait　until　we’re　back　up　to　the　full　plement　of　councillors　before　we　vote　on　such　big　issues。　He　laughed；　he　says　we　can’t　wait。　Yarvil　wants　to　hear　our　views；　he　said；　with　the　boundary　review　ing　up。　What　he’s　really　scared　of　is　that　Colin’s　going　to　win　Barry’s　seat；　because　it　won’t　be　so　easy　to　foist　it　all　on　us　then。　I’ve　emailed　everyone　I　think　will　vote　with　us；　to　see　if　they　can’t　put　pressure　on　him　to　delay　the　votes；　for　one　meeting　…

‘“The　Ghost　of　Barry　Fairbrother”；’　Parminder　added　breathlessly。　‘The　bastard。　He’s　not　using　Barry’s　death　to　beat　him。　Not　if　I　can　help　it。’

Tessa　thought　she　saw　Vikram’s　lips　twitch。　Old　Pagford；　led　by　Howard　Mollison；　generally　forgave　Vikram　the　crimes　that　it　could　not　forget　in　his　wife：　brownness；　cleverness　and　affluence　（all　of　which；　to　Shirley　Mollison’s　nostrils；　had　the　whiff　of　a　gloat）。　It　was；　Tessa　thought；　grossly　unfair：　Parminder　worked　hard　at　every　aspect　of　her　Pagford　life：　school　fêtes　and　sponsored　bakes；　the　local　surgery　and　the　Parish　Council；　and　her　reward　was　implacable　dislike　from　the　Pagford　old　guard；　Vikram；　who　rarely　joined　or　participated　in　anything；　was　fawned　upon；　flattered　and　spoken　of　with　proprietary　approval。

‘Mollison’s　a　megalomaniac；’　Parminder　said；　pushing　food　nervously　around　her　plate。　‘A　bully　and　a　megalomaniac。’

Vikram　laid　down　his　knife　and　fork　and　sat　back　in　his　chair。

‘So　why；’　he　asked；　‘is　he　happy　being　chair　of　the　Parish　Council？　Why　hasn’t　he　tried　to　get　on　the　District　Council？’

‘Because　he　thinks　that　Pagford　is　the　epicentre　of　the　universe；’　snapped　Parminder。　‘You　don’t　understand：　he　wouldn’t　swap　being　chair　of　Pagford　Parish　Council　for　being　Prime　Minister。　Anyway；　he　doesn’t　need　to　be　on　the　council　in　Yarvil；　he’s　already　got　Aubrey　Fawley　there；　pushing　through　the　big　agenda。　All　revved　up　for　the　boundary　review。　They’re　working　together。’

Parminder　felt　Barry’s　absence　like　a　ghost　at　the　table。　He　would　have　explained　it　all　to　Vikram　and　made　him　laugh　in　the　process；　Barry　had　been　a　superb　mimic　of　Howard’s　speech　patterns；　of　his　rolling；　waddling　walk；　of　his　sudden　gastrointestinal　interruptions。

‘I　keep　telling　her；　she’s　letting　herself　get　too　stressed；’　Vikram　told　Tessa；　who　was　appalled　to　find　herself　blushing　slightly；　with　his　dark　eyes　upon　her。　‘You　know　about　this　stupid　plaint　–　the　old　woman　with　emphysema？’

‘Yes；　Tessa　knows。　Everyone　knows。　Do　we　have　to　discuss　it　at　the　dinner　table？’　snapped　Parminder；　and　she　jumped　to　her　feet　and　began　clearing　the　plates。

Tessa　tried　to　help；　but　Parminder　told　her　crossly　to　stay　where　she　was。　Vikram　gave　Tessa　a　small　smile　of　solidarity　that　made　her　stomach　flutter。　She　could　not　help　remembering；　as　Parminder　clattered　around　the　table；　that　Vikram　and　Parminder　had　had　an　arranged　marriage。
。电子书
（‘It’s　only　an　introduction　through　the　family；’　Parminder　had　told　her；　in　the　early　days　of　their　friendship；　defensive　and　annoyed　at　something　she　had　seen　in　Tessa’s　face。　‘Nobody　makes　you　marry；　you　know。’

But　she　had　spoken；　at　other　times；　of　the　immense　pressure　from　her　mother　to　take　a　husband。

‘All　Sikh　parents　want　their　kids　married。　It’s　an　obsession；’　Parminder　said　bitterly。）

Colin　saw　his　plate　snatched　away　without　regret。　The　nausea　churning　in　his　stomach　was　even　worse　than　when　he　and　Tessa　had　arrived。　He　might　have　been　encased　in　a　thick　glass　bubble；　so　separate　did　he　feel　from　his　three　dining　panions。　It　was　a　sensation　with　which　he　was　only　too　familiar；　that　of　walking　in　a　giant　sphere　of　worry；　enclosed　by　it；　watching　his　own　terrors　roll　by；　obscuring　the　outside　world。

Tessa　was　no　help：　she　was　being　deliberately　cool　and　unsympathetic　about　his　campaign　for　Barry’s　seat。　The　whole　point　of　this　supper　was　so　that　Colin　could　consult　Parminder　on　the　little　leaflets　he　had　produced；　advertising　his　candidacy。　Tessa　was　refusing　to　get　involved；　blocking　discussion　of　the　fear　that　was　slowly　engulfing　him。　She　was　refusing　him　an　outlet。

Trying　to　emulate　her　coolness；　pretending　that　he　was　not；　after　all；　caving　under　self…imposed　pressure；　he　had　not　told　her　about　the　telephone　call　from　the　Yarvil　and　District　Gazette　that　he　had　received　at　school　that　day。　The　journalist　on　the　end　of　the　line　had　wanted　to　talk　about　Krystal　Weedon。