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　control　over　her　life。　Twice　lately；　Terri　had　said　to　Kay；　‘They　ain’　takin’　Robbie；　I　won’　lerrem；’　and　these　had　not　been　impotent　railings　against　fate；　but　statements　of　intent。

‘I　took　’im　ter　nursery　yest’day；’　she　told　Kay；　who　had　made　the　mistake　of　looking　astonished。　‘Why’s　tha’　so　fuckin’　shockin’？　Aren’　I　good　enough　ter　go　ter　the　fuckin’　nurs’ry？’

If　Bellchapel’s　door　was　slammed　shut　against　Terri；　Kay　was　sure　it　would　blow　to　pieces　that　delicate　structure　they　were　trying　to　build　out　of　the　wreckage　of　a　life。　Terri　seemed　to　have　a　visceral　fear　of　Pagford　that　Kay　did　not　understand。

‘I　’ate　that　fuckin’　place；’　she　had　said；　when　Kay　had　mentioned　it　in　passing。

Beyond　the　fact　that　her　dead　grandmother　had　lived　there；　Kay　knew　nothing　of　Terri’s　history　with　the　town；　but　she　was　afraid　that　if　Terri　was　asked　to　travel　there　weekly　for　her　methadone　her　self…control　would　crumble；　and　with　it　the　family’s　fragile　new　safety。

Colin　had　taken　over　from　Parminder；　explaining　the　history　of　the　Fields；　Kay　nodded；　bored；　and　said　‘mm’；　but　her　thoughts　were　a　long　way　away。

Colin　was　deeply　flattered　by　the　way　this　attractive　young　woman　was　hanging　on　his　every　word。　He　felt　calmer　tonight　than　at　any　point　since　he　had　read　that　awful　post；　which　was　gone　from　the　website。　None　of　the　cataclysms　that　Colin　had　imagined　in　the　small　hours　had　e　to　pass。　He　was　not　sacked。　There　was　no　angry　mob　outside　his　front　door。　Nobody　on　the　Pagford　Council　website；　or　indeed　anywhere　else　on　the　inter　（he　had　performed　several　Google　searches）；　was　demanding　his　arrest　or　incarceration。

Fats　walked　back　past　the　open　door；　spooning　yoghurt　into　his　mouth　as　he　went。　He　glanced　into　the　room；　and　for　a　fleeting　moment　met　Colin’s　gaze。　Colin　immediately　lost　the　thread　of　what　he　had　been　saying。

‘…　and　…　yes；　well；　that’s　it　in　a　nutshell；’　he　finished　lamely。　He　glanced　towards　Tessa　for　reassurance；　but　his　wife　was　staring　stonily　into　space。　Colin　was　a　little　hurt；　he　would　have　thought　that　Tessa　would　be　glad　to　see　him　feeling　so　much　better；　so　much　more　in　control；　after　their　wretched；　sleepless　night。　Dreadful　swooping　sensations　of　dread　were　agitating　his　stomach；　but　he　drew　much　fort　from　the　proximity　of　his　fellow　underdog　and　scapegoat　Parminder；　and　from　the　sympathetic　attention　of　the　attractive　social　worker。

Unlike　Kay；　Tessa　had　listened　to　every　word　that　Colin　had　just　said　about　the　Fields’　right　to　remain　joined　to　Pagford。　There　was；　in　her　opinion；　no　conviction　behind　his　words。　He　wanted　to　believe　what　Barry　had　believed；　and　he　wanted　to　defeat　the　Mollisons；　because　that　was　what　Barry　had　wanted。　Colin　did　not　like　Krystal　Weedon；　but　Barry　had　liked　her；　so　he　assumed　that　there　was　more　worth　in　her　than　he　could　see。　Tessa　knew　her　husband　to　be　a　strange　mixture　of　arrogance　and　humility；　of　unshakeable　conviction　and　insecurity。

They’re　pletely　deluded；　Tessa　thought；　looking　at　the　other　three；　who　were　poring　over　some　graph　that　Parminder　had　extracted　from　Kay’s　notes。　They　think　they’ll　reverse　sixty　years　of　anger　and　resentment　with　a　few　sheets　of　statistics。　None　of　them　was　Barry。　He　had　been　a　living　example　of　what　they　proposed　in　theory：　the　advancement；　through　education　from　poverty　to　affluence；　from　powerlessness　and　dependency　to　valuable　contributor　to　society。　Did　they　not　see　what　hopeless　advocates　they　were；　pared　to　the　man　who　had　died？

‘People　are　definitely　getting　irritable　with　the　Mollisons　trying　to　run　everything；’　Colin　was　saying。

‘I　do　think；’　said　Kay；　‘that　they’ll　be　hard…pushed；　if　they　read　this　stuff；　to　pretend　that　the　clinic　isn’t　doing　crucial　work。’

‘Not　everybody’s　forgotten　Barry；　on　the　council；’　said　Parminder；　in　a　slightly　shaky　voice。

Tessa　realized　that　her　greasy　fingers　were　groping　vainly　in　space。　While　the　others　had　talked；　she　had　single…handedly　finished　the　entire　bowl　of　crisps。

VII
It　was　a　bright；　balmy　morning；　and　the　puting　lab　at　Winterdown　prehensive　became　stuffy　as　lunchtime　approached；　the　dirty　windows　speckling　the　dusty　monitors　with　distracting　spots　of　light。　Even　though　there　was　no　Fats　or　Gaia　here　to　distract　him；　Andrew　Price　could　not　concentrate。　He　could　think　of　nothing　but　what　he　had　overheard　his　parents　discussing　the　previous　evening。

They　had　been　talking；　quite　seriously；　about　moving　to　Reading；　where　Ruth’s　sister　and　brother…in…law　lived。　With　his　ear　turned　towards　the　open　kitchen　door；　Andrew　had　hovered　in　the　tiny　dark　hall　and　listened：　Simon；　it　appeared；　had　been　offered　a　job；　or　the　possibility　of　a　job；　by　the　uncle　whom　Andrew　and　Paul　barely　knew；　because　Simon　disliked　him　so　much。

‘It’s　less　money；’　Simon　had　said。

‘You　don’t　know　that。　He　hasn’t　said—’

‘Bound　to　be。　And　it’ll　be　more　expensive　all　round；　living　there。’

Ruth　made　a　nonmital　noise。　Scarcely　daring　to　breathe　in　the　hall；　Andrew　could　tell；　by　the　mere　fact　that　his　mother　was　not　rushing　to　agree　with　Simon；　that　she　wanted　to　go。

Andrew　found　it　impossible　to　imagine　his　parents　in　any　house　but　Hilltop　House；　or　against　any　backdrop　but　Pagford。　He　had　taken　it　for　granted　that　they　would　remain　there　for　ever。　He；　Andrew；　would　leave　one　day　for　London；　but　Simon　and　Ruth　would　remain　rooted　to　the　hillside　like　trees；　until　they　died。

He　had　crept　back　upstairs　to　his　bedroom　and　stared　out　of　the　window　at　the　twinkling　lights　of　Pagford；　cupped　in　the　deep　black　hollow　between　the　hills。　He　felt　as　though　he　had　never　seen　the　view　before。　Somewhere　down　there；　Fats　was　smoking　in　his　attic　room；　probably　looking　at　porn　on　his　puter。　Gaia　was　there　too；　absorbed　in　the　mysterious　rites　of　her　gender。　It　occurred　to　Andrew　that　she　had　been　through　this；　she　had　been　torn　away　from　the　place　she　knew　and　transplanted。　They　had　something　profoundly　in　mon　at　last；　there　was　almost　melancholy　pleasure　in　the　idea　that；　in　leaving；　he　would　share　something　with　her。

But　she　had　not　caused　her　own　displacement。　With　a　squirming　unease　in　his　guts；　he　had　picked　up　his　mobile　and　texted　Fats：　Si…Pie　offered　job　in　Reading。　Might　take　it。

Fats　had　still　not　responded；　and　Andrew　had　not　seen　him　all　morning；　because　they　shared　none　of　their　classes。　He　had　not　seen　Fats　for　the　previous　two　weekends　either；　because　he　had　been　working　at　the　Copper　Kettle。　Their　longest　conversation；　recently；　had　concerned　Fats’　posting　about　Cubby　on　the　council　website。

‘I　think　Tessa　suspects；’　Fats　had　told　Andrew　casually。　‘She　keeps　looking　at　me　like　she　knows。’

‘What’re　you　gonna　say？’　Andrew　had　muttered；　scared。

He　knew　Fats’　desire　for　glory　and　credit；　and　he　knew　Fats’　passion　for　wielding　the　truth　as　a　weapon；　but　he　was　not　sure　that　his　friend　understood　that　his　own　pivotal　role　in　the　activities　of　the　Ghost　of　Barry　Fairbrother　must　never　be　revealed。　It　had　never　been　easy　to　explain　to　Fats　the　reality　of　having　Simon　as　a　father；　and；　somehow；　Fats　was　being　more　difficult　to　explain　things　to。

When　his　IT　teacher　had　passed　by　out　of　sight；　Andrew　looked　up　Reading　on　the　inter。　It　was　huge　pared　with　Pagford。　It　had　an　annual　music　festival。　It　was　only　forty　miles　from　London。　He　contemplated　the　train　service。　Perhaps　he　would　go　up　to　the　capital　at　weekends；　the　way　he　currently　took　the　bus　to　Yarvil。　But　the　whole　thing　seemed　unreal：　Pagford　was　all　he　had　ever　known；　he　still　could　not　imagine　his　family　existing　anywhere　else。

At　lunchtime　Andrew　headed　straight　out　of　school；　looking　for　Fats。　He　lit　up　a　cigarette　just　out　of　sight　of　the　grounds；　and　was　delighted　to　hear；　as　he　was　slipping　his　lighter　casually　back　into　his　pocket；　a　female　voice　that　said；　‘Hey’。　Gaia　and　Sukhvinder　caught　up　with　him。

‘All　right；’　he　said；　blowing　smoke　away　from　Gaia’s　beautiful　face。

The　three　of　them　had　something　these　days　that　nobody　else　had。　Two　weekends’　work　at　the　café　had　created　a　fragile　bond　between　them。　They　knew　Howard’s　stock　phrases；　and　had　endured　Maureen’s　prurient　interest　in　all　of　their　home　lives；　they　had　smirked　together　at　her　wrinkled　knees　in　the　too…short　waitress’s　dress　and　had　exchanged；　like　traders　in　a　foreign　land；　small　nuggets　of　personal　information。　Thus　the　girls　knew　that　Andrew’s　father　had　been　sacked；　Andrew　and　Sukhvinder　knew　that　Gaia　was　working　to　save　for　a　train　ticket　back　to　Hackney；　and　he　and　Gaia　knew　that　Sukhvinder’s　mother　hated　her　working　for　Howard　Mollison。

‘Where’s　your　Fat　friend？’　she　asked；　as　the　three　of　them　fell　into　step　together。

‘Dunno；’　said　Andrew。　‘Haven’t　seen　him。’

‘No　loss；’　said　Gaia。　‘How　many　of　those　do　you　smoke　a　day？’

‘Don’t　count；’　said　Andrew；　elated　by　her　interest。　‘D’you　want　one？’

‘No；’　said　Gaia。　‘I　don’t　like　smoking。’

He　wondered　instantly　whether　the　dislike　extended　to　kissing　people　who　smoked。　Niamh　Fairbrother　had　not　plained　when　he　had　stuck　his　tongue　into　her　mouth　at　the　school　disco。

‘Doesn’t　Marco　smoke？’　asked　Sukhvinder。

‘No；　he’s　always　in　training；’　said　Gaia。

Andrew　had　bee　almost　inured　to　the　thought　of　Marco　de　Luca　by　now。　There　were　advantages　to　Gaia　being　safeguarded；　as　it　were；　by　an　allegiance　beyond　Pagford。　The　power　of　the　photographs　of　them　together　on　her　Facebook　page　had　been　blunted　by　his　familiarity　with　them。　He　did　not　think　it　was　his　own　wishful　thinking　that　the　messages　she　and　Marco　left　for　each　other　were　being　less　frequent　and　less　friendly。　He　could　not　know　what　was　happening　by　telephone　or　email；　but　he　was　sure　that　Gaia’s　air；　when　he　was　mentioned；　was　dispirited。

‘Oh；　there　he　is；’　said　Gaia。

It　was　not　the　handsome　Marco　who　had　e　into　view；　but　Fats　Wall；　who　was　talking　to　Dane　Tully　outside　the　newsagent’s。

Sukhvinder　braked；　but　Gaia　grabbed　her　upper　arm。

‘You　can　walk　where　you　like；’　she　said；　tugging　her　gently　onwards；　her　flecked　green　eyes　narrowing　as　they　approached　the　place　where　Fats　and　Dane　were　smoking。

‘All　right；　Arf；’　called　Fats；　as　the　three　of　them　came　close。

‘Fats；’　said　Andrew。

Trying　to　head　off　trouble；　especially　Fats　bullying　Sukhvinder　in　front　of　Gaia；　he　asked；　‘Did　you　get　my　text？’

‘What　text？’　said　Fats。　‘Oh　yeah　–　that　thing　about　Si？　You　leaving；　then；　are　you？’

It　was　said　with　a　cavalier　indifference　that　Andrew　could　only　attribute　to　the　presence　of　Dane　Tully。

‘Yeah；　maybe；’　said　Andrew。

‘Where　are　you　going？’　asked　Gaia。

‘My　old　man’s　been　offered　a　job　in　Reading；’　said　Andrew。

‘Oh；　that’s　where　my　dad　lives！’　said　Gaia　in　surprise。　‘We　could　hang　out　when　I　go　and　stay。　The　festival’s　awesome。　D’you　wanna　get　a　sandwich；　then；　Sooks？’

Andrew　was　so　stupefied　by　her　voluntary　offer　to　spend　time　with　him；　that　she　had　disappeared　into　the　newsagent’s　before　he　could　gather　his　wits　and　agree。　For　a　moment；　the　dirty　bus　stop；　the　newsagent’s；　even　Dane　Tully；　tattooed　and　shabby　in　a　T…shirt　and　tracksuit　bottoms；　seemed　to　glow　with　an　almost　celestial　light。

‘Well；　I　got　things　to　do；’　said　Fats。

Dane　sniggered。　Before　Andrew　could　say　anything　or　offer　to　acpany　him；　he　had　loped　away。

Fats　was　sure　that　Andrew　would　be　nonplussed　and　hurt　by　his　cool　attitude；　and　he　was　glad　of　it。　Fats　did　not　ask　himself　why　he　was　glad；　or　why　a　general　desire　to　cause　pain　had　bee　his　overriding　emotion　in　the　last　few　days。　He　had　lately　decided　that　questioning　your　own　motives　was　inauthentic；　a　refinement　of　his　personal　philosophy　that　had　made　it　altogether　easier　to　follow。

As　he　headed　into　the　Fields；　Fats　thought　about　what　had　happened　at　home　the　previous　evening；　when　his　mother　had　entered　his　bedroom　for　the　first　time　since　Cubby　had　punched　him。

（‘That　message　about　your　father　on　the　Parish　Council　website；’　she　had　said。　‘I’ve　got　to　ask　you　this；　Stuart；　and　I　wish　–　Stuart；　did　you　write　it？’

It　had　taken　her　a　few　days　to　summon　the　courage　to　accuse　him；　and　he　was　prepared。

‘No；’　he　said。

Perhaps　it　would　have　been　more　authentic　to　say　yes；　but　he　had　p