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　it　just　another　way　of　getting　at　Sukhvinder？　Andrew　did　not　like　it　at　all　…

‘What’s　the　matter　with　you？’　Simon　barked　across　the　table。

‘Nothing；’　Andrew　muttered；　and　then；　backtracking；　‘it’s　a　shock；　isn’t　it　…　your　job　…’

‘Oh；　you’re　shocked；　are　you？’　shouted　Simon；　and　Paul　dropped　his　spoon　and　dribbled　ice　cream　down　himself。　‘（Clean　it　up；　Pauline；　you　little　pansy！）　Well；　this　is　the　real　world；　Pizza　Face！’　he　shouted　at　Andrew。　‘Fuckers　everywhere　trying　to　do　you　down！　So　you；’　he　pointed　across　the　table　at　his　eldest　son；　‘you　get　some　dirt　on　Mollison；　or　don’t　bother　ing　home　tomorrow！’

‘Si—’

Simon　pushed　his　chair　away　from　the　table；　threw　down　his　own　spoon；　which　bounced　onto　the　floor　with　a　clatter；　and　stalked　from　the　room；　slamming　the　door　behind　him。　Andrew　waited　for　the　inevitable；　and　was　not　disappointed。

‘It’s　a　terrible　shock　for　him；’　a　shaken　Ruth　whispered　at　her　sons。　‘After　all　the　years　he’s　given　that　pany　…　he’s　worried　how　he’s　going　to　look　after　us　all　…’

When　the　alarm　rang　at　six　thirty　the　next　morning；　Andrew　slammed　it　off　within　seconds　and　virtually　leapt　out　of　bed。　Feeling　as　though　it　was　Christmas　Day；　he　washed　and　dressed　at　speed；　then　spent　forty　minutes　on　his　hair　and　face；　dabbing　minuscule　amounts　of　foundation　onto　the　most　obvious　of　his　spots。

He　half　expected　Simon　to　waylay　him　as　he　crept　past　his　parents’　room；　but　he　met　nobody；　and　after　a　hasty　breakfast　he　wheeled　Simon’s　racing　bicycle　out　of　the　garage　and　sped　off　down　the　hill　towards　Pagford。

It　was　a　misty　morning　that　promised　sunshine　later。　The　blinds　were　still　down　in　the　delicatessen；　but　the　door　tinkled　and　gave　when　he　pushed　it。

‘Not　this　way！’　shouted　Howard；　waddling　towards　him。　‘You　e　in　round　the　back！　You　can　leave　the　bike　by　the　bins；　get　it　away　from　the　front！’

The　rear　of　the　delicatessen；　reached　by　a　narrow　passageway；　prised　a　tiny　dank　patch　of　stone…paved　yard；　bordered　by　high　walls；　sheds　with　industrial…sized　metal　bins　and　a　trapdoor　that　led　down　vertiginous　steps　to　a　cellar。

‘You　can　chain　it　up　somewhere　there；　out　of　the　way；’　said　Howard；　who　had　appeared　at　the　back　door；　wheezing　and　sweaty…faced。　While　Andrew　fumbled　with　the　padlock　on　the　chain；　Howard　dabbed　at　his　forehead　with　his　apron。

‘Right；　we’ll　start　with　the　cellar；’　he　said；　when　Andrew　had　secured　the　bicycle。　He　pointed　at　the　trapdoor。　‘Get　down　there　and　see　the　layout。’

He　bent　over　the　hatch　as　Andrew　climbed　down　the　steps。　Howard　had　not　been　able　to　climb　down　into　his　own　cellar　for　years。　Maureen　usually　tottered　up　and　down　the　steps　a　couple　of　times　a　week；　but　now　that　it　was　fully　stocked　with　goods　for　the　café；　younger　legs　were　indispensible。

‘Have　a　good　look　around；’　he　shouted　at　the　out…of…sight　Andrew。　‘See　where　we’ve　got　the　gateaux　and　all　the　baked　goods？　See　the　big　bags　of　coffee　beans　and　the　boxes　of　teabags？　And　in　the　corner　–　the　toilet　rolls　and　the　bin　bags？’

‘Yeah；’　Andrew’s　voice　echoed　up　from　the　depths。

‘You　can　call　me　Mr　Mollison；’　said　Howard；　with　a　slightly　tart　edge　to　his　wheezy　voice。

Down　in　the　cellar；　Andrew　wondered　whether　he　ought　to　start　straight　away。

‘OK　…　Mr　Mollison。’

It　sounded　sarcastic。　He　hastened　to　make　amends　with　a　polite　question。

‘What’s　in　these　big　cupboards？’

‘Have　a　look；’　said　Howard　impatiently。　‘That’s　what　you’re　down　there　for。　To　know　where　you　put　everything　and　where　you　get　it　from。’

Howard　listened　to　the　muffled　sounds　of　Andrew　opening　the　heavy　doors；　and　hoped　that　the　boy　would　not　prove　gormless　or　need　a　lot　of　direction。　Howard’s　asthma　was　particularly　bad　today；　the　pollen　count　was　unseasonably　high；　on　top　of　all　the　extra　work；　and　the　excitement　and　petty　frustrations　of　the　opening。　The　way　he　was　sweating；　he　might　need　to　ring　Shirley　to　bring　him　a　new　shirt　before　they　unlocked　the　doors。

‘Here’s　the　van！’　Howard　shouted；　hearing　a　rumble　at　the　other　end　of　the　passageway。　‘Get　up　here！　You’re　to　carry　the　stuff　down　to　the　cellar　and　put　it　away；　all　right？　And　bring　a　couple　of　gallons　of　milk　through　to　me　in　the　café。　You　got　that？’

‘Yeah　…　Mr　Mollison；’　said　Andrew’s　voice　from　below。

Howard　walked　slowly　back　inside　to　fetch　the　inhaler　that　he　kept　in　his　jacket；　which　was　hanging　up　in　the　staff　room　behind　the　delicatessen　counter。　Several　deep　breaths　later；　he　felt　much　better。　Wiping　his　face　on　his　apron　again；　he　sat　down　on　one　of　the　creaking　chairs　to　rest。

Several　times　since　he　had　been　to　see　her　about　his　skin　rash；　Howard　had　thought　about　what　Dr　Jawanda　had　said　about　his　weight：　that　it　was　the　source　of　all　his　health　problems。

Nonsense；　obviously。　Look　at　the　Hubbards’　boy：　built　like　a　beanpole；　and　shocking　asthma。　Howard　had　always　been　big；　as　far　back　as　he　could　remember。　In　the　very　few　photographs　taken　of　him　with　his　father；　who　had　left　the　family　when　Howard　was　four　or　five；　he　was　merely　chubby。　After　his　father　had　left；　his　mother　had　sat　him　at　the　head　of　the　table；　between　herself　and　his　grandmother；　and　been　hurt　if　he　did　not　take　seconds。　Steadily　he　had　grown　to　fill　the　space　between　the　two　women；　as　heavy　at　twelve　as　the　father　who　had　left　them。　Howard　had　e　to　associate　a　hearty　appetite　with　manliness。　His　bulk　was　one　of　his　defining　characteristics。　It　had　been　built　with　pleasure；　by　the　women　who　loved　him；　and　he　thought　it　was　absolutely　characteristic　of　Bends…Your…Ear；　that　emasculating　killjoy；　that　she　wanted　to　strip　him　of　it。

But　sometimes；　in　moments　of　weakness；　when　it　became　difficult　to　breathe　or　to　move；　Howard　knew　fear。　It　was　all　very　well　for　Shirley　to　act　as　though　he　had　never　been　in　danger；　but　he　remembered　long　nights　in　the　hospital　after　his　bypass；　when　he　had　not　been　able　to　sleep　for　worry　that　his　heart　might　falter　and　stop。　Whenever　he　caught　sight　of　Vikram　Jawanda；　he　remembered　that　those　long　dark　fingers　had　actually　touched　his　naked；　beating　heart；　the　bonhomie　with　which　he　brimmed　at　each　encounter　was　a　way　of　driving　out　that　primitive；　instinctive　terror。　They　had　told　him　at　the　hospital　afterwards　that　he　needed　to　lose　some　weight；　but　he　had　dropped　two　stone　naturally　while　he　was　forced　to　live　off　their　dreadful　food；　and　Shirley　had　been　intent　on　fattening　him　up　again　once　he　was　out　…

Howard　sat　for　a　moment　more；　enjoying　the　ease　with　which　he　breathed　after　using　his　inhaler。　Today　meant　a　great　deal　to　him。　Thirty…five　years　previously；　he　had　introduced　fine　dining　to　Pagford　with　the　élan　of　a　sixteenth…century　adventurer　returning　with　delicacies　from　the　other　side　of　the　world；　and　Pagford；　after　initial　wariness；　had　soon　begun　to　nose　curiously　and　timidly　into　his　polystyrene　pots。　He　thought　wistfully　of　his　late　mother；　who　had　been　so　proud　of　him　and　his　thriving　business。　He　wished　that　she　could　have　seen　the　café。　Howard　heaved　himself　back　to　his　feet；　took　his　deerstalker　from　its　hook　and　placed　it　carefully　on　his　head　in　an　act　of　self…coronation。

His　new　waitresses　arrived　together　at　half…past　eight。　He　had　a　surprise　for　them。

‘Here　you　are；’　he　said；　holding　out　the　uniforms：　black　dresses　with　frilly　white　aprons；　exactly　as　he　had　imagined。　‘Ought　to　fit。　Maureen　reckoned　she　knew　your　sizes。　She’s　wearing　one　herself。’

Gaia　forced　back　a　laugh　as　Maureen　stalked　into　the　delicatessen　from　the　café；　smiling　at　them。　She　was　wearing　Dr　Scholl’s　sandals　over　her　black　stockings。　Her　dress　finished　two　inches　above　her　wrinkled　knees。

‘You　can　change　in　the　staff　room；　girls；’　she　said；　indicating　the　place　from　which　Howard　had　just　emerged。

Gaia　was　already　pulling　off　her　jeans　beside　the　staff　toilet　when　she　saw　Sukhvinder’s　expression。

‘Whassamatter；　Sooks？’　she　asked。

The　new　nickname　gave　Sukhvinder　the　courage　to　say　what　she　might　otherwise　have　been　unable　to　voice。

‘I　can’t　wear　this；’　she　whispered。

‘Why？’　asked　Gaia。　‘You’ll　look　OK。’

But　the　black　dress　had　short　sleeves。

‘I　can’t。’

‘But　wh　–　Jesus；’　said　Gaia。

Sukhvinder　had　pulled　back　the　sleeves　of　her　sweatshirt。　Her　inner　arms　were　covered　in　ugly　criss…cross　scars；　and　angry　fresh…clotted　cuts　travelled　up　from　her　wrist　to　her　inner　arm。

‘Sooks；’　said　Gaia　quietly。　‘What　are　you　playing　at；　mate？’

Sukhvinder　shook　her　head；　with　her　eyes　full　of　tears。

Gaia　thought　for　a　moment；　then　said；　‘I　know　–　e　here。’

She　was　stripping　off　her　long…sleeved　T…shirt。

The　door　suffered　a　big　blow　and　the　imperfectly　closed　bolt　shot　open：　a　sweating　Andrew　was　halfway　inside；　carrying　two　weighty　packs　of　toilet　rolls；　when　Gaia’s　angry　shout　stopped　him　in　his　tracks。　He　tripped　out　backwards；　into　Maureen。

‘They’re　changing　in　there；’　she　said；　in　sour　disapproval。

‘Mr　Mollison　told　me　to　put　these　in　the　staff　bathroom。’

Holy　shit；　holy　shit。　She　had　been　stripped　to　her　bra　and　pants。　He　had　seen　nearly　everything。

‘Sorry；’　Andrew　yelled　at　the　closed　door。　His　whole　face　was　throbbing　with　the　force　of　his　blush。

‘Wanker；’　muttered　Gaia；　on　the　other　side。　She　was　holding　out　her　T…shirt　to　Sukhvinder。　‘Put　it　on　underneath　the　dress。’

‘That’ll　look　weird。’

‘Never　mind。　You　can　get　a　black　one　for　next　week；　it’ll　look　like　you’re　wearing　long　sleeves。　We’ll　tell　him　some　story　…’

‘She’s　got　eczema；’　Gaia　announced；　when　she　and　Sukhvinder　emerged　from　the　staff　room；　fully　dressed　and　aproned。　‘All　up　her　arms。　It’s　a　bit　scabby。’

‘Ah；’　said　Howard；　glancing　at　Sukhvinder’s　white　T…shirted　arms　and　then　back　at　Gaia；　who　looked　every　bit　as　gorgeous　as　he　had　hoped。

‘I’ll　get　a　black　one　for　next　week；’　said　Sukhvinder；　unable　to　look　Howard　in　the　eye。

‘Fine；’　he　said；　patting　Gaia　in　the　small　of　her　back　as　he　sent　the　pair　of　them　through　to　the　café。　‘Brace　yourselves；’　he　called　to　his　staff　at　large。　‘We’re　nearly　there　…　doors　open；　please；　Maureen！’

There　was　already　a　little　knot　of　customers　waiting　on　the　pavement。　A　sign　outside　read：　The　Copper　Kettle；　Opening　Today　–　First　Coffee　Free！

Andrew　did　not　see　Gaia　again　for　hours。　Howard　kept　him　busy　heaving　milk　and　fruit　juices　up　and　down　the　steep　cellar　steps；　and　swabbing　the　floor　of　the　small　kitchen　area　at　the　back。　He　was　given　a　lunch　break　earlier　than　either　of　the　waitresses。　The　next　glimpse　he　got　of　her　was　when　Howard　summoned　him　to　the　counter　of　the　café；　and　they　passed　within　inches　of　each　other　as　she　walked　in　the　other　direction；　towards　the　back　room。

‘We’re　swamped；　Mr　Price！’　said　Howard；　in　high　good　humour。　‘Get　yourself　a　clean　apron　and　mop　down　some　of　these　tables　for　me　while　Gaia　has　her　lunch！’

Miles　and　Samantha　Mollison　had　sat　down　with　their　two　daughters　and　Shirley　at　a　table　in　the　window。

‘It　seems　to　be　going　awfully　well；　doesn’t　it？’　Shirley　said；　looking　around。　‘But　what　on　earth　is　that　Jawanda　girl　wearing　under　her　dress？’

‘Bandages？’　suggested　Miles；　squinting　across　the　room。

‘Hi；　Sukhvinder！’　called　Lexie；　who　knew　her　from　primary　school。

‘Don’t　shout；　darling；’　Shirley　reproved　her　granddaughter；　and　Samantha　bristled。

Maureen　emerged　from　behind　the　counter　in　her　short　black　dress　and　frilly　apron；　and　Shirley　corpsed　into　her　coffee。

‘Oh　dear；’　she　said　quietly；　as　Maureen　walked　towards　them；　beaming。

It　was　true；　Samantha　thought；　Maureen　looked　ridiculous；　especially　next　to　a　pair　of　sixteen…year…olds　in　identical　dresses；　but　she　was　not　going　to　give　Shirley　the　satisfaction　of　agreeing　with　her。　She　turned　ostentatiously　away；　watching　the　boy　mopping　tables　nearby。　He　was　spare　but　reasonably　broad…shouldered。　She　could　see　his　muscles　working　under　the　loose　T…shirt。　Incredible　to　think　that　Miles’　big　fat　backside　could　ever　have　been　that　small　and　tight　–　then　the　boy　turned　into　the　light　and　she　saw　his　acne。

‘Not　half　bad；　is　it？’　Maureen　was　croaking　to　Miles。　‘We’ve　been　full　all　day。’

‘All　right；　girls；’　Miles　addressed　his　family；　‘what’ll　we　have　to　keep