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‘Wha’s　that？’　asked　Obbo；　fiddling　with　his　lighter；　but　neither　woman　enlightened　him。　Terri　met　her　daughter’s　gaze　for　a　bare　two　seconds；　her　eyes　fell；　reluctantly；　to　Robbie　in　his　pyjamas；　still　clinging　tightly　to　Krystal’s　leg。

‘Yeah；　I　wuz　gonna　go　ter　bed；　Obbo；’　she　mumbled；　without　looking　at　him。　‘I’ll　mebbe　see　yer　another　time。’

‘I　’eard　your　Nan　died；’　he　said。　‘Cheryl　wuz　tellin’　me。’

Pain　contorted　Terri’s　face；　she　looked　as　old　as　Nana　Cath　herself。

‘Yeah；　I’m　goin’　ter　bed。　C’mon；　Robbie。　e　wi’　me；　Robbie。’

Robbie　did　not　want　to　let　go　of　Krystal　while　Obbo　was　still　there。　Terri　held　out　her　claw…like　hand。

‘Yeah；　go　on；　Robbie；’　Krystal　urged　him。　In　certain　moods；　Terri　clutched　her　son　like　a　teddy　bear；　better　Robbie　than　smack。　‘Go　on。　Go　wi’　Mum。’

He　was　reassured　by　something　in　Krystal’s　voice；　and　allowed　Terri　to　take　him　upstairs。

‘See　yeh；’　said　Krystal；　without　looking　at　Obbo；　but　stalking　away　from　him　into　the　kitchen；　pulling　the　last　of　Fats　Wall’s　roll…ups　out　of　her　pocket　and　bending　to　light　it　off　the　gas　ring。　She　heard　the　front　door　close　and　felt　triumphant。　Fuck　him。

‘You　got　a　lovely　arse；　Krystal。’

She　jumped　so　violently　that　a　plate　slipped　off　the　heaped　side　and　smashed　on　the　filthy　floor。　He　had　not　gone；　but　had　followed　her。　He　was　staring　at　her　chest　in　its　tight　T…shirt。

‘Fuck　off；’　she　said。

‘Big　girl；　intcha？’

‘Fuck　off。’

‘I　’eard　you　give　it　away　free；’　said　Obbo；　closing　in。　‘You　could　make　better　money’n　yer　mum。’

‘Fuck—’

His　hand　was　on　her　left　breast。　She　tried　to　knock　it　away；　he　seized　her　wrist　in　his　other　hand。　Her　lit　cigarette　grazed　his　face　and　he　punched　her；　twice；　to　the　side　of　the　head；　more　plates　shattered　on　the　filthy　floor　and　then；　as　they　wrestled；　she　slipped　and　fell；　the　back　of　her　head　smacked　on　the　floor；　and　he　was　on　top　of　her：　she　could　feel　his　hand　at　the　waistband　of　her　tracksuit　bottoms；　pulling。

‘No　–　fuck　–　no！’

His　knuckles　in　her　belly　as　he　undid　his　own　flies　–　she　tried　to　scream　and　he　smacked　her　across　the　face　–　the　smell　of　him　was　thick　in　her　nostrils　as　he　growled　in　her　ear；　‘Fuckin’　shout　and　I’ll　cut　yer。’

He　was　inside　her　and　it　hurt；　she　could　hear　him　grunting　and　her　own　tiny　whimper；　she　was　ashamed　of　the　noise　she　made；　so　frightened　and　so　small。

He　came　and　clambered　off　her。　At　once　she　pulled　up　her　tracksuit　bottoms　and　jumped　up　to　face　him；　tears　pouring　down　her　face　as　he　leered　at　her。

‘I’ll　tell　Mist’　Fairbrother；’　she　heard　herself　sob。　She　did　not　know　where　it　came　from。　It　was　a　stupid　thing　to　say。

‘The　fuck’s　he？’　Obbo　tugged　up　his　flies；　lit　a　cigarette；　taking　his　time；　blocking　her　exit。　‘You　fuckin’　’im　too；　are　yeh？　Little　slapper。’

He　sauntered　up　the　hall　and　was　gone。

She　was　shaking　as　she　had　never　done　in　her　life。　She　thought　she　might　be　sick；　she　could　smell　him　all　over　her。　The　back　of　her　head　throbbed；　there　was　a　pain　inside　her；　and　wetness　seeping　into　her　pants。　She　ran　out　of　the　room　into　the　living　room　and　stood；　shivering；　with　her　arms　wrapped　around　herself；　then　she　knew　a　moment　of　terror；　that　he　would　e　back；　and　hurried　to　the　front　door　to　lock　it。

Back　in　the　sitting　room　she　found　a　long　stub　in　the　ashtray　and　lit　it。　Smoking；　shaking　and　sobbing；　she　sank　into　Terri’s　usual　chair；　then　jumped　up　because　she　heard　footsteps　on　the　stairs：　Terri　had　reappeared；　looking　confused　and　wary。

‘Wha’ssa　matter　with　you？’

Krystal　gagged　on　the　words。

‘He　jus’　–　he　jus’　fucked　me。’

‘Wha’？’　said　Terri。

‘Obbo　–　’e　jus’—’

‘’E　wouldn’。’

It　was　the　instinctive　denial　with　which　Terri　met　all　of　life：　he　wouldn’t；　no；　I　never；　no；　I　didn’t。

Krystal　flew　at　her　and　pushed　her；　emaciated　as　she　was；　Terri　crumpled　backwards　into　the　hall；　shrieking　and　swearing；　Krystal　ran　to　the　door　she　had　just　locked；　fumbled　to　unfasten　it　and　wrenched　it　open。

Still　sobbing；　she　was　twenty　yards　along　the　dark　street　before　she　realized　that　Obbo　might　be　waiting　out　here；　watching。　She　cut　across　a　neighbour’s　garden　at　a　run　and　took　a　zig…zag　route　through　back　ways　in　the　direction　of　Nikki’s　house；　and　all　the　time　the　wetness　spread　in　her　pants　and　she　thought　she　might　throw　up。

Krystal　knew　that　it　was　rape；　what　he　had　done。　It　had　happened　to　Leanne’s　older　sister　in　the　car　park　of　a　nightclub　in　Bristol。　Some　people　would　have　gone　to　the　police；　she　knew　that；　but　you　did　not　invite　the　police　into　your　life　when　your　mother　was　Terri　Weedon。

I’ll　tell　Mist’　Fairbrother。

Her　sobs　came　faster　and　faster。　She　could　have　told　Mr　Fairbrother。　He　had　known　what　real　life　was　like。　One　of　his　brothers　had　done　time。　He　had　told　Krystal　stories　of　his　youth。　It　had　not　been　like　her　youth　–　nobody　was　as　low　as　her；　she　knew　that　–　but　like　Nikki’s；　like　Leanne’s。　Money　had　run　out；　his　mother　had　bought　her　council　house　and　then　been　unable　to　keep　up　the　payments；　they　had　lived　for　a　while　in　a　caravan　lent　by　an　uncle。

Mr　Fairbrother　took　care　of　things；　he　sorted　things　out。　He　had　e　to　their　house　and　talked　to　Terri　about　Krystal　and　rowing；　because　there　had　been　an　argument　and　Terri　was　refusing　to　sign　forms　for　Krystal　to　go　away　with　the　team。　He　had　not　been　disgusted；　or　he　had　not　shown　it；　which　came　to　the　same　thing。　Terri；　who　liked　and　trusted　nobody；　had　said；　‘’E　seems　all　righ’；’　and　she　had　signed。

Mr　Fairbrother　had　once　said　to　her；　‘It’ll　be　tougher　for　you　than　these　others；　Krys；　it　was　tougher　for　me。　But　you　can　do　better。　You　don’t　have　to　go　the　same　way。’

He　had　meant　working　hard　at　school　and　stuff；　but　it　was　too　late　for　that　and；　anyway；　it　was　all　bollocks。　How　would　reading　help　her　now？

’Ow’s　me　boy？

He　ain’　your　fuckin’　boy。

’Ow　d’you　know？

Leanne’s　sister　had　had　to　get　the　morning…after　pill。　Krystal　would　ask　Leanne　about　the　pill　and　go　and　get　it。　She　could　not　have　Obbo’s　baby。　The　thought　of　it　made　her　retch。

I　gotta　get　out　of　here。

She　thought　fleetingly　of　Kay；　and　then　discarded　her：　as　bad　as　the　police；　to　tell　a　social　worker　that　Obbo　walked　in　and　out　of　their　house；　raping　people。　She　would　take　Robbie　for　sure；　if　she　knew　that。

A　clear　lucid　voice　in　Krystal’s　head　was　speaking　to　Mr　Fairbrother；　who　was　the　only　adult　who　had　ever　talked　to　her　the　way　she　needed；　unlike　Mrs　Wall；　so　well…intentioned　and　so　blinkered；　and　Nana　Cath；　refusing　to　hear　the　whole　truth。

I　gotta　get　Robbie　out　of　here。　How　can　I　get　away？　I　gotta　get　away。

Her　one　sure　refuge；　the　little　house　in　Hope　Street；　was　already　being　gobbled　up　by　squabbling　relatives　…

She　scurried　around　a　corner　underneath　a　street　lamp；　looking　over　her　shoulder　in　case　he　was　watching　her；　following。

And　then　the　answer　came　to　her；　as　though　Mr　Fairbrother　had　shown　her　the　way。

If　she　got　knocked　up　by　Fats　Wall；　she　would　be　able　to　get　her　own　place　from　the　council。　She　would　be　able　to　take　Robbie　to　live　with　her　and　the　baby　if　Terri　used　again。　And　Obbo　would　never　enter　her　house；　not　ever。　There　would　be　bolts　and　chains　and　locks　on　the　door；　and　her　house　would　be　clean；　always　clean；　like　Nana　Cath’s　house。

Half　running　along　the　dark　street；　Krystal’s　sobs　slowed　and　subsided。

The　Walls　would　probably　give　her　money。　They　were　like　that。　She　could　imagine　Tessa’s　plain；　concerned　face；　bending　over　a　cot。　Krystal　would　have　their　grandchild。

She　would　lose　Fats　in　getting　pregnant；　they　always　went；　once　you　were　expecting；　she　had　watched　it　happen　nearly　every　time　in　the　Fields。　But　perhaps　he　would　be　interested；　he　was　so　strange。　It　did　not　much　matter　to　her　either　way。　Her　interest　in　him；　except　as　the　essential　ponent　in　her　plan；　had　dwindled　to　almost　nothing。　What　she　wanted　was　the　baby：　the　baby　was　more　than　a　means　to　an　end。　She　liked　babies；　she　had　always　loved　Robbie。　She　would　keep　the　two　of　them　safe；　together；　she　would　be　like　a　better；　kinder；　younger　Nana　Cath　to　her　family。

Anne…Marie　might　e　and　visit；　once　she　was　away　from　Terri。　Their　children　would　be　cousins。　A　very　vivid　image　of　herself　and　Anne…Marie　came　to　Krystal；　they　were　standing　at　the　school　gates　of　St　Thomas’s　in　Pagford；　waving　off　two　little　girls　in　pale　blue　dresses　and　ankle　socks。

The　lights　were　on　in　Nikki’s　house；　as　they　always　were。　Krystal　broke　into　a　run。

I
Samantha　Mollison　had　now　bought　herself　all　three　of　the　DVDs　released　by　Libby’s　favourite　boy　band。　She　kept　them　hidden　in　her　socks　and　tights　drawer；　beside　her　diaphragm。　She　had　her　story　ready；　if　Miles　spotted　them：　they　were　a　gift　for　Libby。　Sometimes　at　work；　where　business　was　slower　than　ever；　she　searched　the　inter　for　pictures　of　Jake。　It　was　during　one　of　these　trawling　sessions　–　Jake　in　a　suit　but　with　no　shirt；　Jake　in　jeans　and　a　white　vest　–　that　she　discovered　that　the　band　was　playing　at　Wembley　in　a　fortnight’s　time。

She　had　a　friend　from　university　who　lived　in　West　Ealing。　She　could　stay　over；　sell　it　to　Libby　as　a　treat；　a　chance　to　spend　time　together。　With　more　genuine　excitement　than　she　had　felt　in　a　long　time；　Samantha　managed　to　buy　two　very　expensive　tickets　for　the　concert。　When　she　let　herself　into　the　house　that　evening；　she　glowed　with　a　delicious　secret；　almost　as　though　she　were　ing　home　from　a　date。

Miles　was　already　in　the　kitchen；　still　in　his　work　suit；　with　the　phone　in　his　hand。　He　stared　at　her　as　she　entered；　and　his　expression　was　strange；　difficult　to　read。

‘What？’　said　Samantha；　a　little　defensively。

‘I　can’t　get　hold　of　Dad；’　said　Miles。　‘His　bloody　phone’s　engaged。　There’s　been　another　post。’

And　when　Samantha　looked　nonplussed；　he　said　with　a　trace　of　impatience；　‘Barry　Fairbrother’s　Ghost！　Another　message！　On　the　council　website！’

‘Oh；’　said　Samantha；　unwinding　her　scarf。　‘Right。’

‘Yeah；　I　met　Betty　Rossiter　just　now；　ing　up　the　street；　she　was　full　of　it。　I’ve　checked　the　message　board；　but　I　can’t　see　it。　Mum　must’ve　taken　it　down　already　–　well；　I　bloody　hope　she　has；　she’ll　be　in　the　firing　line　if　Bends…Your…Ear　goes　to　a　lawyer。’

‘About　Parminder　Jawanda；　was　it？’　asked　Samantha；　her　tone　deliberately　casual。　She　did　not　ask　what　the　accusation　had　been；　first；　because　she　was　determined　not　to　be　a　nosy；　gossiping　old　bag　like　Shirley　and　Maureen；　and　secondly；　because　she　thought　she　already　knew：　that　Parminder　had　caused　the　death　of　old　Cath　Weedon。　After　a　moment　or　two；　she　asked；　sounding　vaguely　amused；　‘Did　you　say　your　mother　might　be　in　the　firing　line？’

‘Well；　she’s　the　site　administrator；　so　she’s　liable　if　she　doesn’t　get　rid　of　defamatory　or　potentially　defamatory　statements。　I’m　not　sure　she　and　Dad　understand　how　serious　this　could　be。’

‘You　could　defend　your　mother；　she’d　like　that。’

But　Miles　had　not　heard；　he　was　pressing　redial　and　scowling；　because　his　father’s　mobile　was　still　engaged。

‘This　is　getting　serious；’　he　said。

‘You　were　all　quite　happy　when　it　was　Simon　Price　who　was　getting　attacked。　Why’s　this　any　different？’

‘If　it’s　a　campaign　against　anyone　on　the　council；　or　standing　for　council　…’

Samantha　turned　away　to　hide　her　grin。　His　concern　was　not　about　Shirley　after　all。

‘But　why　would　anyone　write　stuff　about　you？’　she　asked　innocently。　‘You　haven’t　got　any　guilty　secrets。’

You　might　be　more　bloody　interesting　if　you　had。

‘What　about　that　letter？’

‘What　letter？’

‘For　God’s　–　Mum　and　Dad　said　there　was　a　letter；　an　anonymous　letter　about　me！　Saying　I　wasn’t　fit　to　fill　Barry　Fairbrother’s　shoes！’

Samantha　opened　the　freezer　and　stared　at　the　unappetizing　contents；　aware　that　Miles　could　no　longer　see　her　expression　with　the　door　open。

‘You　don’t　think　anyone’s　got　anything　on　you；　do　you？’　she　asked。

‘No　–　but　I’m　a　lawyer；　aren’t　I？　There　might　be　people　with　a　grudge。　I　don’t　think　this　kind　of　anonymous　stuff　…　I　mean；　so　far　it’s　all　about　the　other　side；　but　there　could　be　reprisals　…　I　don’t　like　the　way　this　thing’s　going。’

‘Well