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iry。

Even　as　Pagford　was　rejoicing　that　Sweetlove　House　had　fallen　into　such　safe　hands；　Yarvil　was　busily　constructing　a　swath　of　council　houses　to　its　south。　The　new　streets；　Pagford　learned　with　unease；　were　consuming　some　of　the　land　that　lay　between　the　city　and　the　town。

Everybody　knew　that　there　had　been　an　increasing　demand　for　cheap　housing　since　the　war；　but　the　little　town；　momentarily　distracted　by　Aubrey　Fawley’s　arrival；　began　to　buzz　with　mistrust　of　Yarvil’s　intentions。　The　natural　barriers　of　river　and　hill　that　had　once　been　guarantors　of　Pagford’s　sovereignty　seemed　diminished　by　the　speed　with　which　the　red…brick　houses　multiplied。　Yarvil　filled　every　inch　of　the　land　at　its　disposal；　and　stopped　at　the　northern　border　of　Pagford　Parish。

The　town　sighed　with　a　relief　that　was　soon　revealed　to　be　premature。　The　Cantermill　Estate　was　immediately　judged　insufficient　to　meet　the　population’s　needs；　and　the　city　cast　about　for　more　land　to　colonize。

It　was　then　that　Aubrey　Fawley　（still　more　myth　than　man　to　the　people　of　Pagford）　made　the　decision　that　triggered　a　festering　sixty…year　grudge。

Having　no　use　for　the　few　scrubby　fields　that　lay　beyond　the　new　development；　he　sold　the　land　to　Yarvil　Council　for　a　good　price；　and　used　the　cash　to　restore　the　warped　panelling　in　the　hall　of　Sweetlove　House。

Pagford’s　fury　was　unconfined。　The　Sweetlove　fields　had　been　an　important　part　of　its　buttress　against　the　encroaching　city；　now　the　ancient　border　of　the　parish　was　to　be　promised　by　an　overspill　of　needy　Yarvilians。　Rowdy　town　hall　meetings；　seething　letters　to　the　newspaper　and　Yarvil　Council；　personal　remonstrance　with　those　in　charge　–　nothing　succeeded　in　reversing　the　tide。

The　council　houses　began　to　advance　again；　but　with　one　difference。　In　the　brief　hiatus　following　pletion　of　the　first　estate；　the　council　had　realized　that　it　could　build　more　cheaply。　The　fresh　eruption　was　not　of　red　brick　but　of　concrete　in　steel　frames。　This　second　estate　was　known　locally　as　the　Fields；　after　the　land　on　which　it　had　been　built；　and　was　marked　as　distinct　from　the　Cantermill　Estate　by　its　inferior　materials　and　design。

It　was　in　one　of　the　Fields’　concrete　and　steel　houses；　already　cracking　and　warping　by　the　late　1960s；　that　Barry　Fairbrother　was　born。

IV
In　spite　of　Yarvil　Council’s　bland　assurances　that　maintenance　of　the　new　estate　would　be　its　own　responsibility；　Pagford　–　as　the　furious　townsfolk　had　predicted　from　the　first　–　was　soon　landed　with　new　bills。　While　the　provision　of　most　services　to　the　Fields；　and　the　upkeep　of　its　houses；　fell　to　Yarvil　Council；　there　remained　matters　that　the　city；　in　its　lofty　way；　delegated　to　the　parish：　the　maintenance　of　public　footpaths；　of　lighting　and　public　seating；　of　bus　shelters　and　mon　land。

Graffiti　blossomed　on　the　bridges　spanning　the　Pagford　to　Yarvil　road；　Fields　bus　shelters　were　vandalized；　Fields　teenagers　strewed　the　play　park　with　beer　bottles　and　threw　rocks　at　the　street　lamps。　A　local　footpath；　much　favoured　by　tourists　and　ramblers；　became　a　popular　spot　for　Fields　youths　to　congregate；　‘and　worse’；　as　Howard　Mollison’s　mother　put　it　darkly。　It　fell　to　Pagford　Parish　Council　to　clean；　to　repair　and　to　replace；　and　the　funds　dispersed　by　Yarvil　were　felt　from　the　first　to　be　inadequate　for　the　time　and　expense　required。

No　part　of　Pagford’s　unwanted　burden　caused　more　fury　or　bitterness　than　the　fact　that　Fields　children　now　fell　inside　the　catchment　area　of　St　Thomas’s　Church　of　England　Primary　School。　Young　Fielders　had　the　right　to　don　the　coveted　blue　and　white　uniform；　to　play　in　the　yard　beside　the　foundation　stone　laid　by　Lady　Charlotte　Sweetlove　and　to　deafen　the　tiny　classrooms　with　their　strident　Yarvil　accents。

It　swiftly　became　mon　lore　in　Pagford　that　houses　in　the　Fields　had　bee　the　prize　and　goal　of　every　benefit…supported　Yarvil　family　with　school…age　children；　that　there　was　a　great　ongoing　scramble　across　the　boundary　line　from　the　Cantermill　Estate；　much　as　Mexicans　streamed　into　Texas。　Their　beautiful　St　Thomas’s　–　a　mag　for　professional　muters　to　Yarvil；　who　were　attracted　by　the　tiny　classes；　the　rolltop　desks；　the　aged　stone　building　and　the　lush　green　playing　field　–　would　be　overrun　and　swamped　by　the　offspring　of　scroungers；　addicts　and　mothers　whose　children　had　all　been　fathered　by　different　men。

This　nightmarish　scenario　had　never　been　fully　realized；　because　while　there　were　undoubtedly　advantages　to　St　Thomas’s　there　were　also　drawbacks：　the　need　to　buy　the　uniform；　or　else　to　fill　in　all　the　forms　required　to　qualify　for　assistance　for　the　same；　the　necessity　of　attaining　bus　passes；　and　of　getting　up　earlier　to　ensure　that　the　children　arrived　at　school　on　time。　Some　households　in　the　Fields　found　these　onerous　obstacles；　and　their　children　were　absorbed　instead　by　the　large　plain…clothes　primary　school　that　had　been　built　to　serve　the　Cantermill　Estate。　Most　of　the　Fields　pupils　who　came　to　St　Thomas’s　blended　in　well　with　their　peers　in　Pagford；　some；　indeed；　were　admitted　to　be　perfectly　nice　children。　Thus　Barry　Fairbrother　had　moved　up　through　the　school；　a　popular　and　clever　class　clown；　only　occasionally　noticing　that　the　smile　of　a　Pagford　parent　stiffened　when　he　mentioned　the　place　where　he　lived。

Nevertheless；　St　Thomas’s　was　sometimes　forced　to　take　in　a　Fields　pupil　of　undeniably　disruptive　nature。　Krystal　Weedon　had　been　living　with　her　great…grandmother　in　Hope　Street　when　the　time　came　for　her　to　start　school；　so　that　there　was　really　no　way　of　stopping　her　ing；　even　though；　when　she　moved　back　to　the　Fields　with　her　mother　at　the　age　of　eight；　there　were　high　hopes　locally　that　she　would　leave　St　Thomas’s　for　good。

Krystal’s　slow　passage　up　the　school　had　resembled　the　passage　of　a　goat　through　the　body　of　a　boa　constrictor；　being　highly　visible　and　unfortable　for　both　parties　concerned。　Not　that　Krystal　was　always　in　class：　for　much　of　her　career　at　St　Thomas’s　she　had　been　taught　one…on…one　by　a　special　teacher。

By　a　malign　stroke　of　fate；　Krystal　had　been　in　the　same　class　as　Howard　and　Shirley’s　eldest　granddaughter；　Lexie。　Krystal　had　once　hit　Lexie　Mollison　so　hard　in　the　face　that　she　had　knocked　out　two　of　her　teeth。　That　they　had　already　been　wobbly　was　not　felt；　by　Lexie’s　parents　and　grandparents；　to　be　much　of　an　extenuation。

It　was　the　conviction　that　whole　classes　of　Krystals　would　be　waiting　for　their　daughters　at　Winterdown　prehensive　that　finally　decided　Miles　and　Samantha　Mollison　on　removing　both　their　daughters　to　St　Anne’s；　the　private　girls’　school　in　Yarvil；　where　they　had　bee　weekly　boarders。　The　fact　that　his　granddaughters　had　been　driven　out　of　their　rightful　places　by　Krystal　Weedon；　swiftly　became　one　of　Howard’s　favourite　conversational　examples　of　the　estate’s　nefarious　influence　on　Pagford　life。

V
The　first　effusion　of　Pagford’s　outrage　had　annealed　into　a　quieter；　but　no　less　powerful；　sense　of　grievance。　The　Fields　polluted　and　corrupted　a　place　of　peace　and　beauty；　and　the　smouldering　townsfolk　remained　determined　to　cut　the　estate　adrift。　Yet　boundary　reviews　had　e　and　gone；　and　reforms　in　local　government　had　swept　the　area　without　effecting　any　change：　the　Fields　remained　part　of　Pagford。　Newers　to　the　town　learned　quickly　that　abhorrence　of　the　estate　was　a　necessary　passport　to　the　goodwill　of　that　hard　core　of　Pagfordians　who　ran　everything。

But　now；　at　long　last　–　over　sixty　years　after　Old　Aubrey　Fawley　had　handed　Yarvil　that　fatal　parcel　of　land　–　after　decades　of　patient　work；　of　strategizing　and　petitioning；　of　collating　information　and　haranguing　sub…mittees　–　the　anti…Fielders　of　Pagford　found　themselves；　at　last；　on　the　trembling　threshold　of　victory。

The　recession　was　forcing　local　authorities　to　streamline；　cut　and　reorganize。　There　were　those　on　the　higher　body　of　Yarvil　District　Council　who　foresaw　an　advantage　to　their　electoral　fortunes　if　the　crumbling　little　estate；　likely　to　fare　poorly　under　the　austerity　measures　imposed　by　the　national　government；　were　to　be　scooped　up；　and　its　disgruntled　inhabitants　joined　to　their　own　voters。

Pagford　had　its　own　representative　in　Yarvil：　District　Councillor　Aubrey　Fawley。　This　was　not　the　man　who　had　enabled　the　construction　of　the　Fields；　but　his　son；　‘Young　Aubrey’；　who　had　inherited　Sweetlove　House　and　who　worked　through　the　week　as　a　merchant　banker　in　London。　There　was　a　whiff　of　penance　in　Aubrey’s　involvement　in　local　affairs；　a　sense　that　he　ought　to　make　right　the　wrong　that　his　father　had　so　carelessly　done　to　the　little　town。　He　and　his　wife　Julia　donated　and　gave　out　prizes　at　the　agricultural　show；　sat　on　any　number　of　local　mittees；　and　threw　an　annual　Christmas　party　to　which　invitations　were　much　coveted。

It　was　Howard’s　pride　and　delight　to　think　that　he　and　Aubrey　were　such　close　allies　in　the　continuing　quest　to　reassign　the　Fields　to　Yarvil；　because　Aubrey　moved　in　a　higher　sphere　of　merce　that　manded　Howard’s　fascinated　respect。　Every　evening；　after　the　delicatessen　closed；　Howard　removed　the　tray　of　his　old…fashioned　till；　and　counted　up　coins　and　dirty　notes　before　placing　them　in　a　safe。　Aubrey；　on　the　other　hand；　never　touched　money　during　his　office　hours；　and　yet　he　caused　it　to　move　in　unimaginable　quantities　across　continents。　He　managed　it　and　multiplied　it　and；　when　the　portents　were　less　propitious；　he　watched　magisterially　as　it　vanished。　To　Howard；　Aubrey　had　a　mystique　that　not　even　a　worldwide　financial　crash　could　dent；　the　delicatessen…owner　was　impatient　of　anyone　who　blamed　the　likes　of　Aubrey　for　the　mess　in　which　the　country　found　itself。　Nobody　had　plained　when　things　were　going　well；　was　Howard’s　oft…repeated　view；　and　he　accorded　Aubrey　the　respect　due　to　a　general　injured　in　an　unpopular　war。

Meanwhile；　as　a　district　councillor；　Aubrey　was　privy　to　all　kinds　of　interesting　statistics；　and　in　a　position　to　share　a　good　deal　of　information　with　Howard　about　Pagford’s　troublesome　satellite。　The　two　men　knew　exactly　how　much　of　the　district’s　resources　were　poured；　without　return　or　apparent　improvement；　into　the　Fields’　dilapidated　streets；　that　nobody　owned　their　own　house　in　the　Fields　（whereas　the　red…brick　houses　of　the　Cantermill　Estate　were　almost　all　in　private　hands　these　days；　they　had　been　prettified　almost　beyond　recognition；　with　window…boxes　and　porches　and　neat　front　lawns）；　that　nearly　two…thirds　of　Fields…dwellers　lived　entirely　off　the　state；　and　that　a　sizeable　proportion　passed　through　the　doors　of　the　Bellchapel　Addiction　Clinic。

VI
Howard　carried　the　mental　image　of　the　Fields　with　him　always；　like　a　memory　of　a　nightmare：　boarded　windows　daubed　with　obscenities；　smoking　teenagers　loitering　in　the　perennially　defaced　bus　shelters；　satellite　dishes　everywhere；　turned　to　the　skies　like　the　denuded　ovules　of　grim　metal　flowers。　He　often　asked　rhetorically　why　they　could　not　have　organized　and　made　the　place　over　–　what　was　stopping　the　residents　from　pooling　their　meagre　resources　and　buying　a　lawnmower　between　the　lot　of　them？　But　it　never　happened：　the　Fields　waited　for　the　councils；　District　and　Parish；　to　clean；　to　repair；　to　maintain；　to　give　and　give　and　give　again。

Howard　would　then　recall　the　Hope　Street　of　his　boyhood；　with　its　tiny　back　gardens；　each　hardly　more　than　tablecloth…sized　squares　of　earth；　but　most；　including　his　mother’s；　bristling　with　runner　beans　and　potatoes。　There　was　nothing；　as　far　as　Howard　could　see；　to　stop　the　Fielders　growing　fresh　vegetables；　nothing　to　stop　them　disciplining　their　sinister；　hooded；　spray…painting　offspring；　nothing　to　stop　them　pulling　themselves　together　as　a　munity　and　tackling　the　dirt　and　the　shabbiness；　nothing　to　stop　them　cleaning　themselves　up　and　taking　jobs；　nothing　at　all。　So　Howard　was　forced　to　draw　the　conclusion　that　they　were　choosing；　of　their　own　free　will；　to　live　the　way　they　lived；　and　that　the　estate’s　air　of　slightly　threatening　degradation　was　nothing　more　than　a　physical　manifestation　of　ignorance　and　indolence。

Pagford；　by　contrast；　shone　with　a　kind　of　moral　radiance　in　Howard’s　mind；　as　though　the　collective　soul　of　the　munity　was　made　manifest　in　its　cobbled　st