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room more hospitable。 She had drawn the thin curtains。 They gave a blueish tinge to daylight。
‘Gimme a fag；’ she said。 ‘I’m gasping。’
He lit it for her。 She was more nervous than he had ever seen her； he preferred her cocky and worldly。
‘We ain’ got long；’ she told him； and with the cigarette in her mouth； she began to strip。 ‘Me mum’ll be back。’
‘Yeah； at Bellchapel； isn’t she？’ said Fats； somehow trying to harden Krystal up again in his mind。
‘Yeah；’ said Krystal； sitting on the mattress and pulling off her tracksuit bottoms。
‘What if they close it？’ asked Fats； taking off his blazer。 ‘I heard they’re thinking about it。’
‘I dunno；’ said Krystal； but she was frightened。 Her mother’s willpower； fragile and vulnerable as a fledgling chick； could fail at the slightest provocation。
She had already stripped to her underwear。 Fats was taking off his shoes when he noticed something nestled beside her heaped clothes： a small plastic jewellery box lying open； and curled inside； a familiar watch。
‘Is that my mum’s？’ he said； in surprise。
‘What？’ Krystal panicked。 ‘No；’ she lied。 ‘It was my Nana Cath’s。 Don’t—！’
But he had already pulled it out of the box。
‘It is hers；’ he said。 He recognized the strap。
‘It fuckin’ ain’t！’
She was terrified。 She had almost forgotten that she had stolen it； where it had e from。 Fats was silent； and she did not like it。
The watch in Fats’ hand seemed to be both challenging and reproaching him。 In quick succession he imagined walking out； slipping it casually into his pocket； or handing it back to Krystal with a shrug。
‘It’s mine；’ she said。
He did not want to be a policeman。 He wanted to be lawless。 But it took the recollection that the watch had been Cubby’s gift to make him hand it back to her and carry on taking off his clothes。 Scarlet in the face； Krystal tugged off bra and pants and slipped； naked； beneath the duvet。
Fats approached her in his boxer shorts； a wrapped condom in his hand。
‘We don’ need that；’ said Krystal thickly。 ‘I’m takin’ the pill now。’
‘Are you？’
She moved over on the mattress for him。 Fats slid under the duvet。 As he pulled off his boxers； he wondered whether she was lying about the pill； like the watch。 But he had wanted to try without a condom for a while。
‘Go on；’ she whispered； and she tugged the little foil square out of his hand and threw it on top of his blazer； crumpled on the floor。
He imagined Krystal pregnant with his child； the faces of Tessa and Cubby when they heard。 His kid in the Fields； his flesh and blood。 It would be more than Cubby had ever managed。
He climbed on top of her； this； he knew； was real life。
VIII
At half…past six that evening； Howard and Shirley Mollison entered Pagford Church Hall。 Shirley was carrying an armful of papers and Howard was wearing the chain of office decorated with the blue and white Pagford crest。
The floorboards creaked beneath Howard’s massive weight as he moved to the head of the scratched tables that had already been set end to end。 Howard was almost as fond of this hall as he was of his own shop。 The Brownies used it on Tuesdays； and the Women’s Institute on Wednesdays。 It had hosted jumble sales and Jubilee celebrations； wedding receptions and wakes； and it smelt of all of these things： of stale clothes and coffee urns； and the ghosts of home…baked cakes and meat salads； of dust and human bodies； but primarily of aged wood and stone。 Beaten…brass lights hung from the rafters on thick black flexes； and the kitchen was reached through ornate mahogany doors。
Shirley bustled from place to place； setting out papers。 She adored council meetings。 Quite apart from the pride and enjoyment she derived from listening to Howard chair them； Maureen was necessarily absent； with no official role； she had to be content with the pickings Shirley deigned to share。
Howard’s fellow councillors arrived singly and in pairs。 He boomed out greetings； his voice echoing from the rafters。 The full plement of sixteen councillors rarely attended； he was expecting twelve of them today。
The table was half full when Aubrey Fawley arrived； walking； as he always did； as if into a high wind； with an air of reluctant forcefulness； slightly stooped； his head bowed。
‘Aubrey！’ called Howard joyfully； and for the first time he moved forward to greet the newer。 ‘How are you？ How’s Julia？ Did you get my invitation？’
‘Sorry； I don’t—’
‘To my sixty…fifth？ Here – Saturday – day after the election。’
‘Oh； yes； yes。 Howard； there’s a young woman outside – she says she’s from the Yarvil and District Gazette。 Alison something？’
‘Oh；’ said Howard。 ‘Strange。 I’ve just sent her my article； you know； the one answering Fairbrother’s … Maybe it’s something to do … I’ll go and see。’
He waddled away； full of vague misgivings。 Parminder Jawanda entered as he approached the door； scowling as usual； she walked straight past without greeting him； and for once Howard did not ask ‘how’s Parminder？’。
Out on the pavement he found a young blonde woman； stocky and square； with an aura of impermeable cheerfulness that Howard recognized immediately as determination of his own brand。 She was holding a notebook and looking up at the Sweetlove initials carved over the double doors。
‘Hello； hello；’ said Howard； his breathing a little laboured。 ‘Alison； is it？ Howard Mollison。 Have you e all this way to tell me I can’t write for toffee？’
She beamed； and shook the hand he proffered。
‘Oh； no； we like the article；’ she assured him。 ‘I thought； as things are getting so interesting； I’d e and sit in on the meeting。 You don’t mind？ Press are allowed； I think。 I’ve looked up all the regulations。’
She was moving towards the door as she spoke。
‘Yes； yes； press are allowed；’ said Howard； following her and pausing courteously at the entrance to let her through first。 ‘Unless we have to deal with anything in camera； that is。’
She glanced back at him； and he could make out her teeth； even in the fading light。
‘Like all those anonymous accusations on your message board？ From the Ghost of Barry Fairbrother？’
‘Oh dear；’ wheezed Howard； smiling back at her。 ‘They’re not news； surely？ A couple of silly ments on the inter？’
‘Has it only been a couple？ Somebody told me the bulk of them had been taken off the site。’
‘No； no； somebody’s got that wrong；’ said Howard。 ‘There have only been two or three； to my knowledge。 Nasty nonsense。 Personally；’ he said； improvising on the spot； ‘I think it’s some kid。’
‘A kid？’
‘You know。 Teenager having fun。’
‘Would teenagers target Parish councillors？’ she asked； still smiling。 ‘I heard； actually； that one of the victims has lost his job。 Possibly as a result of the allegations made against him on your site。’
‘News to me；’ said Howard untruthfully。 Shirley had seen Ruth at the hospital the previous day and reported back to him。
‘I see on the agenda；’ said Alison； as the pair of them entered the brightly lit hall； ‘that you’ll be discussing Bellchapel。 You and Mr Fairbrother made good points on both sides of the argument in your articles … we had quite a few letters to the paper after we printed Mr Fairbrother’s piece。 My editor liked that。 Anything that makes people write letters …’
‘Yes； I saw those；’ said Howard。 ‘Nobody seemed to have much good to say about the clinic； did they？’
The councillors at the table were watching the pair of them。 Alison Jenkins returned their gaze； still smiling imperturbably。
‘Let me get you a chair；’ said Howard； puffing slightly as he lifted one down from a nearby stack and settling Alison some twelve feet from the table。
‘Thank you。’ She pulled it six feet forward。
‘Ladies and gentlemen；’ called Howard； ‘we’ve got a press gallery here tonight。 Miss Alison Jenkins of the Yarvil and District Gazette。’
A few of them seemed interested and gratified by Alison’s appearance； but most looked suspicious。 Howard stumped back to the head of the table； where Aubrey and Shirley were questioning him with their eyes。
‘Barry Fairbrother’s Ghost；