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‘We’ll　follow　in　the　car；　you　go　with　Dad；’　Miles　shouted　at　Shirley；　who　seemed　bewildered；　and　unwilling　to　get　into　the　ambulance。

Maureen；　who　had　just　shown　her　last　customer　out　of　the　Copper　Kettle；　stood　on　the　doorstep；　listening。

‘Lots　of　sirens；’　she　said　over　her　shoulder　to　an　exhausted　Andrew；　who　was　mopping　tables。　‘Something　must　have　happened。’

And　she　took　a　deep　breath；　as　though　she　hoped　to　taste　the　tang　of　disaster　on　the　warm　afternoon　air。

I
Many；　many　times　had　Colin　Wall　imagined　the　police　ing　to　his　door。　They　arrived；　at　last；　at　dusk　on　Sunday　evening：　a　woman　and　a　man；　not　to　arrest　Colin；　but　to　look　for　his　son。

A　fatal　accident　and　‘Stuart；　is　it？’　was　a　witness。　‘Is　he　at　home？’

‘No；’　said　Tessa；　‘oh；　dear　God　…　Robbie　Weedon　…　but　he　lives　in　the　Fields　…　why　was　he　here？’

The　policewoman　explained；　kindly；　what　they　believed　to　have　happened。　‘The　teenagers　took　their　eye　off　him’　was　the　phrase　she　used。

Tessa　thought　she　might　faint。

‘You　don’t　know　where　Stuart　is？’　asked　the　policeman。

‘No；’　said　Colin；　gaunt　and　shadow…eyed。　‘Where　was　he　last　seen？’

‘When　our　colleague　pulled　up；　Stuart　seems　to　have；　ah；　run　away。’

‘Oh；　dear　God；’　said　Tessa　again。

‘He’s　not　answering；’　said　Colin　calmly；　he　had　already　dialled　Fats　on　his　mobile。　‘We’ll　need　to　go　and　look　for　him。’

Colin　had　rehearsed　for　calamity　all　his　life。　He　was　ready。　He　took　down　his　coat。

‘I’ll　try　Arf；’　said　Tessa；　running　to　the　telephone。

Isolated　above　the　little　town；　no　news　of　the　calamities　had　yet　reached　Hilltop　House。　Andrew’s　mobile　rang　in　the　kitchen。

‘’Lo；’　he　said；　his　mouth　full　of　toast。

‘Andy；　it’s　Tessa　Wall。　Is　Stu　with　you？’

‘No；’　he　said。　‘Sorry。’

But　he　was　not　at　all　sorry　that　Fats　was　not　with　him。

‘Something’s　happened；　Andy。　Stu　was　down　at　the　river　with　Krystal　Weedon；　and　she　had　her　little　brother　with　her；　and　the　boy’s　drowned。　Stu’s　run　–　run　off　somewhere。　Can　you　think　where　he　might　be？’

‘No；’　said　Andrew　automatically；　because　that　was　his　and　Fats’　code。　Never　tell　the　parents。

But　the　horror　of　what　she　had　just　told　him　crept　through　the　phone　like　a　clammy　fog。　Everything　was　suddenly　less　clear；　less　certain。　She　was　about　to　hang　up。

‘Wait；　Mrs　Wall；’　he　said。　‘I　might　know　…　there’s　a　place　down　by　the　river　…’

‘I　don’t　think　he’d　go　near　the　river　now；’　said　Tessa。

Seconds　flicked　by；　and　Andrew　was　more　and　more　convinced　that　Fats　was　in　the　Cubby　Hole。

‘It’s　the　only　place　I　can　think　of；’　he　said。

‘Tell　me　where—’

‘I’d　have　to　show　you。’

‘I’ll　be　there　in　ten　minutes；’　she　shouted。

Colin　was　already　patrolling　the　streets　of　Pagford　on　foot。　Tessa　drove　the　Nissan　up　the　winding　hill　road；　and　found　Andrew　waiting　for　her　on　the　corner；　where　he　usually　caught　the　bus。　He　directed　her　down　through　the　town。　The　street　lights　were　feeble　by　twilight。

They　parked　by　the　trees　where　Andrew　usually　threw　down　Simon’s　racing　bike。　Tessa　got　out　of　the　car　and　followed　Andrew　to　the　edge　of　the　water；　puzzled　and　frightened。

‘He’s　not　here；’　she　said。

‘It’s　along　there；’　said　Andrew；　pointing　at　the　sheer　dark　face　of　Pargetter　Hill；　running　straight　down　to　the　river　with　barely　a　lip　of　bank　before　the　rushing　water。

‘What　do　you　mean？’　asked　Tessa；　horrified。

Andrew　had　known　from　the　first　that　she　would　not　be　able　to　e　with　him；　short　and　dumpy　as　she　was。

‘I’ll　go　and　see；’　he　said。　‘If　you　wait　here。’

‘But　it’s　too　dangerous！’　she　cried　over　the　roar　of　the　powerful　river。

Ignoring　her；　he　reached　for　the　familiar　hand　and　footholds。　As　he　inched　away　along　the　tiny　ledge；　the　same　thought　came　to　both　of　them；　that　Fats　might　have　fallen；　or　jumped；　into　the　river　thundering　so　close　to　Andrew’s　feet。

Tessa　remained　at　the　water’s　edge　until　she　could　not　make　Andrew　out　any　longer；　then　turned　away；　trying　not　to　cry　in　case　Stuart　was　there；　and　she　needed　to　talk　to　him　calmly。　For　the　first　time；　she　wondered　where　Krystal　was。　The　police　had　not　said；　and　her　terror　for　Fats　had　obliterated　every　other　concern　…

Please　God；　let　me　find　Stuart；　she　prayed。　Let　me　find　Stuart；　please；　God。

Then　she　pulled　her　mobile　from　her　cardigan　pocket　and　called　Kay　Bawden。

‘I　don’t　know　whether　you’ve　heard；’　she　shouted；　over　the　rushing　water；　and　she　told　Kay　the　story。

‘But　I’m　not　her　social　worker　any　more；’　said　Kay。

Twenty　feet　away；　Andrew　had　reached　the　Cubby　Hole。　It　was　pitch　black；　he　had　never　been　here　this　late。　He　swung　himself　inside。

‘Fats？’

He　heard　something　move　at　the　back　of　the　hole。

‘Fats？　You　there？’

‘Got　a　light；　Arf？’　said　an　unrecognizable　voice。　‘I　dropped　my　bloody　matches。’

Andrew　thought　of　shouting　out　to　Tessa；　but　she　did　not　know　how　long　it　took　to　reach　the　Cubby　Hole。　She　could　wait　a　few　more　moments。

He　passed　over　his　lighter。　By　its　flickering　flame；　Andrew　saw　that　his　friend’s　appearance　was　almost　as　changed　as　his　voice。　Fats’　eyes　were　swollen；　his　whole　face　looked　puffy。

The　flame　went　out。　Fats’　cigarette　tip　glowed　bright　in　the　darkness。

‘Is　he　dead？　Her　brother？’

Andrew　had　not　realized　that　Fats　did　not　know。

‘Yeah；’　he　said；　and　then　he　added；　‘I　think　so。　That’s　what　I　–　what　I　heard。’

There　was　a　silence；　and　then　a　soft；　piglet…like　squeal　reached　him　through　the　darkness。

‘Mrs　Wall；’　yelled　Andrew；　sticking　his　head　out　of　the　hole　as　far　as　it　would　go；　so　that　he　could　not　hear　Fats’　sobs　over　the　sound　of　the　river。　‘Mrs　Wall；　he’s　here！’

II
The　policewoman　had　been　gentle　and　kind；　in　the　cluttered　cottage　by　the　river；　where　dank　water　now　covered　blankets；　chintzy　chairs　and　worn　rugs。　The　old　lady　who　owned　the　place　had　brought　a　hot…water　bottle　and　a　cup　of　boiling　tea；　which　Sukhvinder　could　not　lift　because　she　was　shaking　like　a　drill。　She　had　disgorged　chunks　of　information：　her　own　name；　and　Krystal’s　name；　and　the　name　of　the　dead　little　boy　that　they　were　loading　onto　an　ambulance。　The　dog…walker　who　had　pulled　her　from　the　river　was　rather　deaf；　he　gave　a　statement　to　the　police　in　the　next　room；　and　Sukhvinder　hated　the　sound　of　his　bellowed　account。　He　had　tethered　his　dog　to　a　tree　outside　the　window；　and　it　whined　persistently。

Then　the　police　had　called　her　parents　and　they　had　e；　Parminder　knocking　over　a　table　and　smashing　one　of　the　old　lady’s　ornaments　as　she　crossed　the　room　with　clean　clothes　in　her　arms。　In　the　tiny　bathroom；　the　deep　dirty　gash　on　Sukhvinder’s　leg　was　revealed；　peppering　the　fluffy　bath　mat　with　black　spots；　and　when　Parminder　saw　the　wound　she　shrieked　at　Vikram；　who　was　thanking　everyone　loudly　in　the　hall；　that　they　must　take　Sukhvinder　to　the　hospital。

She　had　vomited　again　in　the　car；　and　her　mother；　who　was　beside　her　in　the　back　seat；　had　mopped　her　up；　and　all　the　way　there　Parminder　and　Vikram　had　kept　up　a　flow　of　loud　talk；　her　father　kept　repeating　himself；　saying　things　like　‘she’ll　need　a　sedative’　and　‘that　cut　will　definitely　need　stitches’；　and　Parminder；　who　was　in　the　back　seat　with　the　shaking　and　retching　Sukhvinder；　kept　saying；　‘You　might　have　died。　You　might　have　died。’

It　was　as　if　she　was　still　underwater。　Sukhvinder　was　somewhere　she　could　not　breathe。　She　tried　to　cut　through　it　all；　to　be　heard。

‘Does　Krystal　know　he’s　dead？’　she　asked　through　chattering　teeth；　and　Parminder　had　to　ask　her　to　repeat　the　question　several　times。

‘I　don’t　know；’　she　answered　at　last。　‘You　might　have　died；　Jolly。’

At　the　hospital；　they　made　her　undress　again；　but　this　time　her　mother　was　with　her　in　the　curtained　cubicle；　and　she　realized　her　mistake　too　late　when　she　saw　the　expression　of　horror　on　Parminder’s　face。

‘My　God；’　she　said；　grabbing　Sukhvinder’s　forearm。　‘My　God。　What　have　you　done　to　yourself？’

Sukhvinder　had　no　words；　so　she　allowed　herself　to　subside　into　tears　and　uncontrollable　shaking；　and　Vikram　shouted　at　everyone；　including　Parminder；　to　leave　her　alone；　but　also　to　damn　well　hurry　up；　and　that　her　cut　needed　cleaning　and　she　needed　stitches　and　sedatives　and　X…rays　…

Later；　they　put　her　in　a　bed　with　a　parent　on　each　side　of　her；　and　both　of　them　stroked　her　hands。　She　was　warm　and　numb；　and　there　was　no　pain　in　her　leg　any　more。　The　sky　beyond　the　windows　was　dark。

‘Howard　Mollison’s　had　another　heart　attack；’　she　heard　her　mother　tell　her　father。　‘Miles　wanted　me　to　go　to　him。’

‘Bloody　nerve；’　said　Vikram。

To　Sukhvinder’s　drowsy　surprise；　they　talked　no　more　about　Howard　Mollison。　They　merely　continued　to　stroke　her　hands　until；　shortly　afterwards；　she　fell　asleep。

On　the　far　side　of　the　building；　in　a　shabby　blue　room　with　plastic　chairs　and　a　fish　tank　in　the　corner；　Miles　and　Samantha　were　sitting　on　either　side　of　Shirley；　waiting　for　news　from　theatre。　Miles　was　still　wearing　his　slippers。

‘I　can’t　believe　Parminder　Jawanda　wouldn’t　e；’　he　said　for　the　umpteenth　time；　his　voice　cracking。　Samantha　got　up；　moved　past　Shirley；　and　put　her　arms　around　Miles；　kissing　his　thick　hair；　speckled　with　grey；　breathing　in　his　familiar　smell。

Shirley　said；　in　a　high；　strangled　voice；　‘I’m　not　surprised　she　wouldn’t　e。　I’m　not　surprised。　Absolutely　appalling。’

All　she　had　left　of　her　old　life　and　her　old　certainties　was　attacking　familiar　targets。　Shock　had　taken　almost　everything　from　her：　she　no　longer　knew　what　to　believe；　or　even　what　to　hope。　The　man　in　theatre　was　not　the　man　she　had　thought　she　had　married。　If　she　could　have　returned　to　that　happy　place　of　certainty；　before　she　had　read　that　awful　post　…

Perhaps　she　ought　to　shut　down　the　whole　website。　Take　away　the　message　boards　in　their　entirety。　She　was　afraid　that　the　Ghost　might　e　back；　that　he　might　say　the　awful　thing　again　…

She　wanted　to　go　home；　right　now　and　disable　the　website；　and　while　there；　she　could　destroy　the　EpiPen　once　and　for　all　…

He　saw　it　…　I　know　he　saw　it　…

But　I’d　never　have　done　it；　really。　I　wouldn’t　have　done　it。　I　was　upset。　I’d　never　have　done　it　…

What　if　Howard　survived；　and　his　first　words　were：　‘She　ran　out　of　the　room　when　she　saw　me。　She　didn’t　call　an　ambulance　straight　away。　She　was　holding　a　big　needle　…’

Then　I’ll　say　his　brain’s　been　affected；　Shirley　thought　defiantly。

And　if　he　died　…

Beside　her；　Samantha　was　hugging　Miles。　Shirley　did　not　like　it；　she　ought　to　be　the　centre　of　attention；　it　was　her　husband　who　was　lying　upstairs；　fighting　for　his　life。　She　had　wanted　to　be　like　Mary　Fairbrother；　cosseted　and　admired；　a　tragic　heroine。　This　was　not　how　she　had　imagined　it—

‘Shirley？’

Ruth　Price；　in　her　nurse’s　uniform；　had　e　hurrying　into　the　room；　her　thin　face　forlorn　with　sympathy。

‘I　just　heard　–　I　had　to　e　–　Shirley；　how　awful；　I’m　so　sorry。’

‘Ruth；　dear；’　said　Shirley；　getting　up；　and　allowing　herself　to　be　embraced。　‘That’s　so　kind。　So　kind。’

Shirley　liked　introducing　her　medical　friend　to　Miles　and　Samantha；　and　receiving　her　pity　and　her　kindness　in　front　of　them。　It　was　a　tiny　taste　of　how　she　had　imagined　widowhood　…

But　then　Ruth　had　to　go　back　to　work；　and　Shirley　returned　to　her　plastic　chair　and　her　unfortable　thoughts。

‘He’ll　be　OK；’　Samantha　was　murmuring　to　Miles；　as　he　rested　his　head　on　her　shoulder。　‘I　know　he’ll　pull　through。　He　did　last　time。’

Shirley　watched　little　neon…bright　fish　darting　hither　and　thither　in　their　tank。　It　was　the　past　that　she　wished　she　could　change；　the　future　was　a　blank。

‘Has　anyone　phoned　Mo？’　Miles　asked　after　a　while；　wiping　his　eyes　on　the　back　of　one　hand；　while　the　other　gripped　Samantha’s　leg。　‘Mum；　d’you　want　me　to—？’

‘No；’　said　Shirley　sharply。　‘We’ll　wait　…　until　we　know。’

In　the　theatre　upstairs；　Howard　Mollison’s　body　overflowed　the　edges　of　the　operating　table。　His　chest　was　wide　open；　revealing　the　ruins　of　Vikram　Jawanda’s　handiwork。　Nieen　people　laboured　to　repair　the　damage；　while　the　machines　to　which　Howard　was　connected　made　soft　implacable　noises；　confirming　that　he　continued　to　live。

A