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se in close proximity。 Both jumped and spun round。
‘Doct’ Jawan—’
‘You understand the confidentiality agreement you signed when you took this job； don’t you； Karen？’
The receptionist looked aghast。
‘Yeah； I – I wasn’t – Laura already – I was ing to give you this note。 The Yarvil and District Gazette’s rang。 Mrs Weedon’s died and one of her granddaughters is saying—’
‘And are those for me？’ asked Parminder coldly； pointing at the patient records in Karen’s hand。
‘Oh – yeah；’ said Karen； flustered。 ‘He wanted to see Dr Crawford； but—’
‘You’d better get back to the front desk。’
Parminder took the patient records and strode back out to reception； fuming。 Once there； and facing the patients； she realized that she did not know whom to call； and glanced down at the folder in her hand。
‘Mr – Mr Mollison。’
Howard heaved himself up； smiling； and walked towards her with his familiar rocking gait。 Dislike rose like bile in Parminder’s throat。 She turned and walked back to her surgery； Howard following her。
‘All well with Parminder？’ he asked； as he closed her door and settled himself； without invitation； on the patient’s chair。
It was his habitual greeting； but today it felt like a taunt。
‘What’s the problem？’ she asked brusquely。
‘Bit of an irritation；’ he said。 ‘Just here。 Need a cream； or something。’
He tugged his shirt out of his trousers and lifted it a few inches。 Parminder saw an angry red patch of skin at the edge of the fold where his stomach spilt out over his upper legs。
‘You’ll need to take your shirt off；’ she said。
‘It’s only here that’s itching。’
‘I need to see the whole area。’
He sighed and got to his feet。 As he unbuttoned his shirt he said； ‘Did you get the agenda I sent through this morning？’
‘No； I haven’t checked emails today。’
This was a lie。 Parminder had read his agenda and was furious about it； but this was not the moment to tell him so。 She resented his trying to bring council business into her surgery； his way of reminding her that there was a place where she was his subordinate； even if here； in this room； she could order him to strip。
‘Could you； please – I need to look under …’
He hoisted the great apron of flesh upwards； the upper legs of his trousers were revealed； and finally the waistband。 With his arms full of his own fat he smiled down at her。 She drew her chair nearer； her head level with his belt。
An ugly scaly rash had spread in the hidden crease of Howard’s belly： a bright scalded red； it stretched from one side to the other of his torso like a huge； smeared smile。 A whiff of rotting meat reached her nostrils。
‘Intertrigo；’ she said； ‘and lichen simplex there； where you’ve scratched。 All right； you can put your shirt back on。’
He dropped his belly and reached for his shirt； unfazed。
‘You’ll see I’ve put the Bellchapel building on the agenda。 It’s generating a bit of press interest at the moment。’
She was tapping something into the puter； and did not reply。
‘Yarvil and District Gazette；’ Howard said。 ‘I’m doing them an article。 Both sides；’ he said； buttoning up his shirt； ‘of the question。’
She was trying not to listen to him； but the sound of the newspaper’s name caused the knot in her stomach to tighten。
‘When did you last have your blood pressure done； Howard？ I’m not seeing a test in the last six months。’
‘It’ll be fine。 I’m on medication for it。’
‘We should check； though。 As you’re here。’
He sighed again； and laboriously rolled up his sleeve。
‘They’ll be printing Barry’s article before mine；’ he said。 ‘You know he sent them an article？ About the Fields？’
‘Yes；’ she said； against her own better judgement。
‘Haven’t got a copy； have you？ So I don’t duplicate anything he’s said？’
Her fingers trembled a little on the cuff。 It would not meet around Howard’s arm。 She unfastened it and got up to fetch a bigger one。
‘No；’ she said； her back to him。 ‘I never saw it。’
He watched her work the pump； and observed the pressure dial with the indulgent smile of a man observing some pagan ritual。
‘Too high；’ she told him； as the needle registered one hundred and seventy over a hundred。
‘I’m on pills for it；’ he said； scratching where the cuff had been； and letting down his sleeve。 ‘Dr Crawford seems happy。’
She scanned the list of his medications onscreen。
‘You’re on amlodipine and bendroflumethiazide for your blood pressure； yes？ And simvastatin for your heart … no beta…blocker …’
‘Because of my asthma；’ said Howard； tweaking his sleeve straight。
‘… right … and aspirin。’ She turned to face him。 ‘Howard； your weight is the single biggest factor in all of your health problems。 Have you ever been referred to the nutritionist？’
‘I’ve run a deli for thirty…five years；’ he said； still smiling。 ‘I don’t need teaching about food。’
‘A few lifestyle changes could make a big difference。 If you were able to lose …’
With the ghost of a wink； he said fortably； ‘Keep it simple。 All I need is cream for the itch。’
Venting her temper on the keyboard； Parminder banged out prescriptions for anti…fungal and steroid creams； and when they were printed； handed them to Howard without another word。
‘Thank you kindly；’ he said； as he heaved himself out of the chair； ‘and a very good day to you。’
II
‘Wha’ d’you wan’？’
Terri Weedon’s shrunken body was dwarfed by her own doorway。 She put claw…like hands on either jamb； trying to make herself more imposing； barring the entrance。 It was eight in the morning； Krystal had just left with Robbie。
‘Wanna talk ter yeh；’ said her sister。 Broad and mannish in her white vest and tracksuit bottoms； Cheryl sucked on a cigarette and squinted at Terri through the smoke。 ‘Nana Cath’s died；’ she said。
‘Wha’？’
‘Nana Cath’s died；’ repeated Cheryl loudly。 ‘Like you fuckin’ care。’
But Terri had heard the first time。 The news had hit her so hard in the guts that she had asked to hear it again out of confusion。
‘Are you blasted？’ demanded Cheryl； glaring into the taut and empty face。
‘Fuck off。 No； I ain’t。’
It was the truth。 Terri had not used that morning； she had not used for three weeks。 She took no pride in it； there was no star chart pinned up in the kitchen； she had managed longer than this before； months； even。 Obbo had been away for the past fortnight； so it had been easier。 But her works were still in the old biscuit tin； and the craving burned like an eternal flame inside her frail body。
‘She died yesterday。 Danielle on’y fuckin’ bothered to lemme know this mornin’；’ said Cheryl。 ‘An’ I were gonna go up the ’ospital an’ see ’er again today。 Danielle’s after the ’ouse。 Nana Cath’s ’ouse。 Greedy bitch。’
Terri had not been inside the little terraced house on Hope Street for a long time； but when Cheryl spoke she saw； very vividly； the knick…knacks on the sideboard and the curtains。 She imagined Danielle there； pocketing things； ferreting in cupboards。
‘Funeral’s Tuesday at nine； up the crematorium。’
‘Right；’ said Terri。
‘It’s our ’ouse as much as Danielle’s；’ said Cheryl。 ‘I’ll tell ’er we wan’ our share。 Shall I？’
‘Yeah；’ said Terri。
She watched until Cheryl’s canary hair and tattoos had vanished around the corner； then retreated inside。
Nana Cath dead。 They had not spoken for a long time。 I’m washin’ my ’ands of yeh。 I’ve ’ad enough； Terri； I’ve ’ad it。 She had never stopped seeing Krystal； though。 Krystal had bee her blue…eyed girl。 She had been to watch Krystal row in her stupid boat races。 She had said Krystal’s name on her deathbed； not Terri’s。
Fine； then； you old bitch。 Like I care。 Too late now。
Tight…chested and trembling； Terri moved through her stinking kitchen in search of cigarettes； but really craving the spoon； the flame and the needle。
Too late； now； to say to the old lady what she ought to have said。 Too late； now； to bee again her Terri…Baby。 Big girls don’t cry … big girls don’t cry … It had been years before she had realized that the song Nana Cath had sung her； in her raspi