Part One Saturday

IEvery parking space in church utility Row was interpreted by nine oclock in the forenoon. Darkly captive mourners scatd, whistlely, in p publicizes and in groups, up and polish the street, converging, exchangeable a menstruation of iron filings drawn to a magnet, on St Michael and unaccompanied(a) Saints. The path leadership to the church accessions became labored, because everyplaceflowed those who were displaced fanned fall by among the graves, seeking safe rootless policy to stand amid the indicatest unitarynesss, fearful of trampling on the dead, yet grudging to move too farthermost from the church entrance. It was clear to separately unmatchable that thither would non be enough pews for all the people who had suffice to produce good-by to Barry Fairbrother.His co-workers from the bank, who were grouped around the close extravagant of the Sweetlove tombs, wished that the august representative from school principal emergeice would move on and take his inane beautiful-talk and his clumsy jokes with him. Lauren, Holly and Jennifer from the run-in team had separated from their parents to huddle to initiateher in the shade of a mossy-fingered yew. Parish councillors, a motley bunch, talked solemnly in the middle of the path a clutch of balding heads and thick-lensed glasses a smatte donut of black replete(p)n hats and cultured pearls. Men from the squash and golf clubs hailed each other in subdued fashion old fri hold clog ups from university recognized each other from afar and edged together and in between milled what seemed to be most of Pagford, in their smartest and most sombre-hued clothes. The air dr peerlessd with quiet conver sit d letions lay bring emerges flickered, reflection and waiting.Tessa skirts best coat, which was of colou eject wool, was cut so tightly around the armholes that she could non raise her harness above chest height. Standing be spatial relation her son on one font of the church path, she was exc hang sad wee smiles and waves with acquaintances, while continuing to argue with Fats by dint of lips she was trying non to move too obviously.For Gods sake, Stu. He was your captures best fri pole. however this once, show almost consideration.No one told me it was sacking to go on this bloody large. You told me itd be over by half- prehistoric el level.Dont swear. I state wed part St Michaels at closely half-past eleven so I thought itd be over, didnt I? So I arranged to meet Arf. heretofore youve got to coiffure to the burial, your fathers a pall-bearer Ring Arf and circulate him itll receive to be tomorrow instead.He keystonet do tomorrow. Anyway, I choosent got my mobile on me. snug told me non to roleplay it to church.Dont call your father Cubby You can ring Arf on mine, give tongue to Tessa, burrowing in her shift.I dont k at a time his bod by heart, lied Fats coldly.She and Colin had ea cristal dinner with forth Fats the preli minary evening, beca mapping he had cycled up to Andrews place, where they were working on their English have together. That, at each rate, was the tale Fats had given his come, and Tessa had pre xded to believe it. It conform to her too well to have Fats out of the way, incapable of upsetting Colin.At least he was tiring the reinvigorated tally that Tessa had bought for him in Yarvil. She had unconnected her temper at him in the third shop, because he had looked wish well a scarecrow in everything he had act on, gawky and graceless, and she had thought angrily that he was doing it on purpose that he could have in savourlessed the suit with a sense of fitness if he chose.Shh say Tessa pre-emptively. Fats was non speaking, plainly Colin was approaching them, leading the Jawandas he seemed, in his overwrought state, to be misidentify the role of pall-bearer with that of usher hovering by the gates, welcoming people. Par sagaciousnesser looked grim and gaunt in her sari , with her barbarianren trailing back end her Vikram, in his baleful suit, looked like a word-painting star.A some yards from the church doors, Samantha Mollison was waiting beside her husband, aspect up at the bright turned-white sky and musing on all the use sunshine beating d declare on tallness of the high detonator of c gilded. She was refusing to be dislodged from the breathed-sur betd path, no matter how many old ladies had to cool their ankles in the grass her patent-leather high heels aptitude sink into the soft man, and become dirty and clogged.When acquaintances hailed them, Miles and Samantha responded pleasantly, provided they were non speaking to each other. They had had a row the previous evening. A few people had asked after Lexie and Libby, who commonly came home at weekends, simply both girls were staying over at friends houses. Samantha k virgin that Miles regretted their absence he love playing paterfamilias in pothouselic. Perhaps, she thought, with a most pleasurable bounds of fury, he would ask her and the girls to pose with him for a picture on his pick leaf permits. She would enjoy telling him what she thought of that idea.She could tell that he was perplexityd by the dramaout. No doubt he was regretting that he did non have a starring role in the forthcoming service it would have been an sample opportunity to begin a surreptitious campaign for Barrys seat on the council with this hulky audience of captive voters. Samantha do a mental find to drop a sarcastic allusion to the missed opportunity when a competent occasion arose.Gavin called Miles, at the sight of a long- beaten(prenominal), fair and concentrate head.Oh, hi, Miles. Hi, Sam.Gavins new black tie shone once morest his white shirt. on that point were violet bags below his get off look. Samantha leaned in on tiptoes, so that he could not decently cancel petting her on the cheek and inhaling her musky perfume.Big turnout, isnt it? Gavin said, gazing around.Gavins a pall-bearer, Miles told his wife, in precisely the way that he would have announced that a small and unpromising child had been awarded a book token for effort. In truth, he had been a miniscule surprised when Gavin had told him he had been accorded this honour. Miles had vaguely imagined that he and Samantha would be privileged guests, surrounded by a certain aura of whodunit and importance, having been at the deathbed. It might have been a nice gesture if Mary, or some remains close to Mary, had asked him, Miles, to take away a lesson, or say a few words to ac existledge the important part he had play in Barrys final moments.Samantha was deliberately unsurprised that Gavin had been singled out.You and Barry were quite close, werent you, Gav?Gavin nodded. He matte up jittery and a little sick. He had had a very defective nighttimes sleep, waking in the early hours from horrible dreams in which, first, he had dropped the place, so that Barrys body spil t out onto the church grade and, secondly, he had overslept, missed the funeral, and arrived at St Michael and All Saints to find Mary all in the graveyard, white-faced and furious, screaming at him that he had ruined the whole thing.Im not sure where I ought to be, he said, looking around. Ive never done this earlier.Nothing to it, mate, said Miles. Theres exclusively one requirement, really. Dont drop anything, hehehe.Miles girlish laugh contrasted oddly with his deep speaking voice. incomplete Gavin nor Samantha smiled.Colin Wall loomed out of the mass of bodies. Big and awkward-looking, with his high, knobbly forehead, he ever made Samantha estimate of Frankensteins monster.Gavin, he said. There you are. I cerebrate we should in all likelihood stand out on the pavement, theyll be here in a few minutes.Right-ho, said Gavin, meliorate to be ordered around.Colin, said Miles, with a nod.Yes, hello, said Colin, flustered, in advance turning away and forcing his way back w ith the mass of mourners. thusly came another small flurry of movement, and Samantha perceive Howards shouted voice Excuse me so sorry trying to join our family The congregation parted to avoid his belly, and Howard was revealed, immense in a velvet-faced overcoat. Shirley and Maureen bobbed in his wake, Shirley meet and composed in naval forces drab, Maureen scrawny as a carrion bird, in a hat with a small black veil.Hello, hello, said Howard, kissing Samantha firmly on both cheeks. And hows Sammy?Her answer was swallowed up in a widespread, awkward shuffling, as everybody began retreating backwards off the path on that point was a certain discreet jockeying for position nobody extremityed to relinquish their title to a place come on the church entrance. With this cleaving in devil of the crowd, familiar individuals were revealed like separate pips on the break. Samantha spotted the Jawandas coffee-brown faces among all the whey Vikram, absurdly passome in his unlig hted suit Parminder dressed in a sari (why did she do it? Didnt she hold out she was playing right into the likes of Howard and Shirleys hands?) and beside her, chunky little Tessa Wall in a grey coat, which was straining at the buttons.Mary Fairbrother and the children were walking soft up the path to the church. Mary was abominably pale, and appeared pounds thinner. Could she have lost so much weight in six days? She was safekeeping one of the twins hands, with her other arm around the shoulders of her jr. son, and the eldest, Fergus, marching behind. She walked with her eyes fixed straight ahead, her soft mouth pursed tight. new(prenominal) family members followed Mary and the children the procession moved over the threshold and was swallowed up in the dingy interior of the church.Everyone else moved towards the doors at once, which resulted in an undignified jam. The Mollisons set themselves shunted together with the Jawandas.After you, Mr Jawanda, sir, after you boomed H oward, holding out an arm to let the surgeon walk in first. yet Howard made sure to use his bulk to prevent anybody else taking precedence over him, and followed Vikram immediately by the entrance, leaving their families to follow on.A royal- hot carpet ran the length of the gangplank of St Michael and All Saints. Golden stars glimmered on the vaulted ceiling brass plaques reflected the glow of the abeyance lamps. The stained-glass windows were elaborate and gorgeously hued. Halfway subjugate the nave, on the epistle side, St Michael himself stared down from the largest window, cloaked in silver armour. Sky-blue wings curved out of his shoulders in one hand he held aloft a sword, in the other, a pair of golden scales. A sandalled base rest on the back of a writhing bat-winged Satan, who was dark grey in colour and attempting to raise himself. The saints expression was serene.Howard stopped level with St Michael and indicated that his party should file into the pew on the lef t wing Vikram move right into the antonym one. While the remain Mollisons, and Maureen, filed past him into the pew, Howard remained planted on the royal-blue carpet, and addressed Parminder as she passed him.Dreadful, this. Barry. Awful shock.Yes, she said, detestation him.I always think those frocks look comfy are they? he added, nodding at her sari.She did not answer, but took her place beside Jaswant. Howard sat down too, making of himself a prodigious plug at the end of the pew that would seal it off to newcomers.Shirleys eyes were fixed respect aboundingy on her knees, and her hands were clasped, apparently in prayer, but she was really mulling over Howard and Parminders little supersede well-nigh the sari. Shirley belonged to a section of Pagford that quietly lamented the fact that the Old Vicarage, which had been reinforced long ago to house a High Church vicar with mutton-chop whisker and a starched-aproned staff, was now home to a family of Hindus (Shirley had never quite grasped what piety the Jawandas were). She thought that if she and Howard went to the temple, or the mosque, or wherever it was the Jawandas worshipped, they would doubtless be required to cover their heads and remove their shoes and who knew what else, otherwise there would be outcry. unless it was acceptable for Parminder to flaunt her sari in church. It was not as though Parminder did not have common clothes, for she wore them to work every day. The double measure of it all was what rankled not a thought for the disrespect it showed to their religion, and, by extension, to Barry Fairbrother himself, of whom she was so-called to have been so fond.Shirley unclasped her hands, raised her head, and gave her attention over to the outfits of people who were passing, and of the surface and number of Barrys floral tributes. Some of these had been heaped up against the communion rail. Shirley spotted the offering from the council, for which she and Howard had organized the co llection. It was a large, round traditional wreath of white and blue flowers, which were the colours of Pagfords arms. Their flowers and all the other wreaths were overshadowed by the life-sized oar, made of tan chrysanthemums, which the girls rowing team had given.Sukhvinder rancid in her pew to look for Lauren, whose florist shop mother had made the oar she wanted to mime that she had seen it and liked it, but the crowd was dense and she could not spot Lauren anywhere. Sukhvinder was mournfully towering that they had done it, oddly when she saw that people were pointing it out to each other as they colonised themselves in their seats. Five of the eight girls on the team had stumped up silver for the oar. Lauren had told Sukhvinder how she had tracked down Krystal Weedon at lunchtime, and exposed herself to the piss-taking of Krystals friends, who were sitting smoking on a low wall by the newsagents. Lauren had asked Krystal if she wanted to chip in. Yeah, I will, all righ, Krystal had said but she had not, so her name was not on the card. Nor, as far as Sukhvinder could see, had Krystal come to the funeral.Sukhvinders insides were like lead, but the stand of her left forearm coupled with the sharp twinges of pain when she moved it was a counter-irritant, and at least Fats Wall, glowering in his black suit, was nowhere near her. He had not made eye contact with her when their two families had met, briefly, in the churchyard he was restrained by the presence of their parents, as he was sometimes restrained by the presence of Andrew Price.Late the previous evening, her unidentified cyber-torturer had sent her a black and white picture of a crude Victorian child, covered in soft dark hair. She had seen it and deleted it while fertilization for the funeral.When had she brave been happy? She knew that in a different life, long in the lead anyone had grunted at her, she had sat in this church, and been quite content for years she had strain hymns wit h gusto at Christmas, Easter and Harvest Festival. She had always liked St Michael, with his even turn overly, feminine, Pre-Raphaelite face, his curly golden hair but this morning, for the first time, she saw him differently, with his foot resting almost casually on that writhing dark devil she free-base his untroubled expression sinister and arrogant.The pews were packed. Muffled clunks, echoing footsteps and quiet rustlings shake the dusty air as the unlucky ones proceed to file in at the back of the church and took up standing room along the left-hand wall. Some hopeful souls tiptoed down the aisle in courting of an overlooked place in the crammed pews. Howard remained immovable and firm, until Shirley tapped his shoulder and whispered, Aubrey and JuliaAt which Howard turned bulkyly, and waved the service sheet to attract the Fawleys attention. They came briskly down the carpeted aisle Aubrey, tall, thin and balding in his dark suit, Julia with her light-red hair pulled b ack into a chignon. They smiled their thanks as Howard moved along, shunting the others up, making sure that the Fawleys had plenty of room.Samantha was crowd so tightly between Miles and Maureen that she could detect Maureens sharp hip conjunction pressing into her flesh on one side and the keys in Miles pocket on the other. Furious, she attempted to secure herself a centimetre or so more room, but neither Miles nor Maureen had anywhere else to go, so she stared straight ahead, and turned her thoughts vengefully to Vikram, who had lost none of his appeal in the month or so since she had last seen him. He was so conspicuously, irrefutably good-looking, it was silly it made you want to laugh. With his long legs and his broad shoulders, and the flatness of his belly where his shirt tucked into his trousers, and those dark eyes with the thick black lashes, he looked like a deity compared to other Pagford men, who were so slack and pallid and porky. As Miles leaned forward to commut ing whispered pleasantries with Julia Fawley, his keys ground painfully into Samanthas upper thigh, and she imagined Vikram ripping at large(p) the navy wrap dress she was wearing, and in her fantasy she had omitted to put on the unified camisole that concealed her deep canyon of cleavage The organ lettuce creaked and silence heavy-handed, except for a soft persistent rustle. Heads turned the coffin was coming up the aisle.The pall-bearers were almost eccentricly mismatched Barrys brothers were both louvre foot six, and Colin Wall, at the rear, six foot two, so that the back end of the coffin was considerably higher than the anterior. The coffin itself was not made of lissom mahogany, but of wickerwork.Its a bloody picnic basket thought Howard, indignant.Looks of surprise flitted across many faces as the willow box passed them, but some had known all nigh the coffin in advance. Mary had told Tessa (who had told Parminder) how the prize of material had been made by Fergus, Barrys eldest son, who wanted willow because it was a sustainable, quick-growing material and therefore environmentally friendly. Fergus was a passionate enthusiast for all things green and ecologically sound.Parminder liked the willow coffin better, much better, than the audacious wooden box in which most English disposed of their dead. Her gran had always had a superstitious fear of the soul being detain inside something heavy and solid, deploring the way that British lowtakers nailed down the lids. The pall-bearers lowered the coffin onto the brocade-draped bier and retreated Barrys son, brothers and brother-in-law edged into the front pews, and Colin walked jerkily back to join his family.For two quaking seconds Gavin hesitated. Parminder could tell that he was fainthearted of where to go, his single option to walk back down the aisle under the eyes of tierce hundred people. But Mary must have made a sign to him, because he ducked, blushing furiously, into the front pew beside Barrys mother. Parminder had only ever spoken to Gavin when she had time-tested and treated him for chlamydia. He had never met her gaze again.I am the resurrection and the life, saith the ennoble he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he incur and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die The vicar did not sound as if he were thinking about the sense of the words issuing from his mouth, but only about his own delivery, which was sing-song and rhythmic. Parminder was familiar with his style she had attended carol run for years with all the other St Thomass parents. Long acquaintance had not conciliate her to the white-faced warrior saint staring down at her, nor all the dark wood, the hard pews, the alien altar with its jewelled golden cross, nor the dirgey hymns, which she found chilly and unsettling.So she withdrew her attention from the self-conscious drone of the vicar and thought again of her father. She had seen him out of the kitchen window, flat on his face, while her radio continued to blare from on top of the rabbit hutch. He had been lying there for two hours while she, her mother and her sisters had been browsing in Topshop. She could still feel her fathers shoulder beneath his fiery shirt as she had shaken it. Dadiii. Dadiiiii.They had scattered Darshans ashes in the sad little River Rea in Birmingham. Parminder could remember the dull clay look of its surface, on an cloud cover day in June, and the stream of tiny white and grey flakes floating away from her.The organ clunked and wheezed into life, and she got to her feet with everybody else. She caught a glimpse of the backs of Niamh and Siobhans red-gold heads they were exactly the age she had been when Darshan had been taken from them. Parminder experienced a rush of tenderness, and an grievous ache, and a confused go for to hold them and to tell them that she knew, she knew, she understood Morning has broken, like the first morning Gavin could hea r a shrill treble from along the row Barrys jr. sons voice had not yet broken. He knew that Declan had chosen the hymn. That was another of the pale details of the service that Mary had chosen to share with him.He was conclusion the funeral an even worse ordeal than he had expected. He thought it might have been better with a wooden coffin he had had an awful, visceral awake(predicate)ness of Barrys body inside that light wickerwork case the forcible weight of him was shocking. All those complacently staring people, as he walked up the aisle did they not understand what he was actually carrying?Then had come the ghastly moment when he had realized that nobody had saved him a place, and that he would have to walk all the way back again while everybody stared, and hide among the standees at the back but instead he had been forced to sit in the first pew, horribly exposed. It was like being in the front seat of a rollercoaster, bearing the brunt of every awful twist and lurch.Sit ting there, mere feet from Siobhans sunflower, its head as big as a saucepan lid, in the middle of a big burst of yellow-bellied freesias and daylilies, he actually wished that Kay had come with him he could not believe it, but there it was. He would have been consoled by the presence of somebody who was on his side somebody simply to keep him a seat. He had not considered what a sad bastard he might look, turning up alone.The hymn ended. Barrys quondam(a) brother walked to the front to speak. Gavin did not know how he could bear to do it, with Barrys corpse lying right in front of him beneath the sunflower (grown from seed, over months) nor how Mary could sit so quietly, with her head bowed, apparently looking at the hands clasped in her lap. Gavin tried, actively, to provide his own interior interference, so as to dilute the impact of the eulogy.Hes spill to tell the story about Barry meeting Mary, once hes got past this kid immobilise happy childhood, high jinks, yeah, yeah Come on, move it along They would have to put Barry back in the car, and drive all the way to Yarvil to pass him in the cemetery there, because the tiny graveyard of St Michael and All Saints had been declared full twenty years previously. Gavin imagined lowering the wickerwork coffin into the grave under the eyes of this crowd. Carrying it in and out of the church would be postcode compared to that unmatchable of the twins was crying. Out of the respite of his eye, Gavin saw Mary reach out a hand to hold her daughters.Lets get on with it, for sleep withs sake. Please.I think its fair to say that Barry always knew his own mind, Barrys brother was saying hoarsely. He had got a few laughs with tales of Barrys scrapes in childhood. The strain in his voice was palpable. He was twenty- 4 when we went off on my stag weekend to Liverpool. First night there, we leave the campsite and go off to the pub, and there behind the measuring rod is the landlords student daughter, a beautiful blonde, helping out on a Saturday night. Barry spent the whole night propping up the bar, chatting her up, getting her into trouble with her public address system and pretending he didnt know who the rowdy lot in the corner were.A weak laugh. Marys head was drooping both hands were clutching those of the child on either side.He told me that night, back in the tent, that he was going to marry her. I thought, Hang on, Im the one whos supposed to be drunk. some other little titter. Baz made us go back to the same pub the next night. When we got home, the first thing he did was buy her a mailing-card and send it to her, telling her hed be back next weekend. They were married a year to the day after they met, and I think everyone who knew them would agree that Barry knew a good thing when he saw it. They went on to have four beautiful children, Fergus, Niamh, Siobhan and Declan Gavin breathed carefully in and out, in and out, trying not to listen, and wonder what on footing his own b rother would find to say about him under the same circumstances. He had not had Barrys luck his quixotic life did not make a pretty story. He had never walked into a pub and found the perfect wife standing there, blonde, prosperous and ready to serve him a pint. No, he had had Lisa, who had never seemed to think him up to scratch seven years of escalating warfare had culminated in a dosage of the clap and then, with barely a break, there had been Kay, clinging to him like an aggressive and dense barnacle But, all the same, he would ring her later, because he didnt think he would be able to stand going back to his empty bungalow after this. He would be honest, and tell her how horrible and stressful the funeral had been, and that he wished she had come with him. That would surely deflect any lingering umbrage about their row. He did not want to be alone tonight.Two pews back, Colin Wall was sobbing, with small but audible gasps, into a large, wet handkerchief. Tessas hand rested on his thigh, exerting gentle pressure. She was thinking about Barry about how she had relied upon him to help her with Colin of the comfortableness of shared laughter of Barrys boundless generosity of spirit. She could see him clearly, short and ruddy, jiving with Parminder at their last party imitating Howard Mollisons strictures on the Fields advising Colin tactfully, as only he could have done, to accept Fats behaviour as adolescent, rather than sociopathic.Tessa was scared of what the loss of Barry Fairbrother would mean to the man beside her scared of how they would manage to accommodate this huge harass absence scared that Colin had made a vow to the dead that he could not keep, and that he did not realize how little Mary, to whom he unplowed wanting to talk, liked him. And done all Tessas anxiety and sorrow was travel the inveterate worry, like an itchy little worm Fats, and how she was going to invalidate an explosion, how she would make him come with them to the bur ial, or how she might hide from Colin that he had not come which might, after all, be easier.We are going to finish todays service with a song chosen by Barrys daughters, Niamh and Siobhan, which meant a lot to them and their father, said the vicar. He managed, by his tone, to disassociate himself personally from what was about to happen.The beat of the outwit rang so loudly through incomprehensible speakers that the congregation jumped. A loud American voice was saying uh huh, uh huh and Jay-Z rappedGood girl gone full-grown Take three Action.No clouds in my storms Let it rain, I hydroplane into fameComin down with the Dow Jones Some people thought that it was a mistake Howard and Shirley threw outraged glances at each other, but nobody pressed stop, or ran up the aisle apologizing. Then a powerful, sexy female voice started to singYou had my heartAnd well never be worlds apartMaybe in magazinesBut youll still be my star The pall-bearers were carrying the wicker coffin back do wn the aisle, and Mary and the children were following. Now that its raining more than everKnow that well still have each otherYou can stand under my umbuh-rellaYou can stand under my umbuh-rellaThe congregation filed slowly out of the church, trying not to walk in time to the beat of the song.IIAndrew Price took the handlebars of his fathers race bicycle and walked it carefully out of the garage, making sure that he did not scrape the car. Down the stone steps and through the metal gate he carried it then, in the lane, he put his foot on one pedal, scooted a few yards and swung his other leg over the saddle. He soared left onto the vertiginously sloping hillside road and sped, without touching his brakes, down towards Pagford. The hedgerows and sky blurred he imagined himself in a velodrome as the wind whipped his clean hair and his sting face, which he had just scrubbed clean. Level with the Fairbrothers wedge-shaped garden he applied the brakes, because some months previously h e had taken this sharp turn too fast and fallen off, and had had to return home immediately with his jeans ripped open and grazes all down one side of his face He freewheeled, with only one hand on the bars, into Church Row, and enjoyed a second, though lesser, descending(prenominal) burst of velocity, slightly checked when he saw that they were loading a coffin onto a hearse outside the church, and that a dark-clothed crowd was spilling out between the heavy wooden doors. Andrew pedalled furiously around the corner and out of sight. He did not want to see Fats emerging from church with a overwrought Cubby, wearing the cheap suit and tie that he had described with comical disgust during yesterdays English lesson. It would have been like interrupting his friend having a crap.As Andrew cycled slowly around the Square, he slicked his hair back off his face with one hand, wondering what the cold air had done to his purple-red acne and whether the anti-bacterial face wash had done anyth ing to soothe the angry look of it. And he told himself the cover story he had come from Fats house (which he might have done, there was no reason why not), which meant that Hope Street was as obvious a route down to the river as cutting through the first side street. Therefore there was no need for atomic number 32 Bawden (if she happened to be looking out of the window of her house, and happened to see him, and happened to recognize him) to think that he had come this way because of her. Andrew did not anticipate having to explain to her his reason for cycling up her street, but he still held the fake story in his mind, because he believed it gave him an air of cool detachment.He simply wanted to know which was her house. Twice already, at weekends, he had cycled along the short terraced street, every nerve in his body tingling, but he had been unable, as yet, to queer which house harboured the Grail. All he knew, from his furtive glimpses through the dirty school-bus windows, was that she lived on the right hand even-numbered side.As he turned the corner, he tried to compose his features, acting the part of a man cycling slowly towards the river by the most direct route, lost in his own heartbreaking thoughts, but ready to acknowledge a classmate, should they show themselves She was there. On the pavement. Andrews legs continued to pump, though he could not feel the pedals, and he was suddenly aware how thin the tyres were on which he balanced. She was rummaging in her leather handbag, her copper-brown hair hanging around her face. Number ten on the door ajar behind her, and a black T-shirt falling short of her waist a band of bare skin, and a heavy belt and tight jeans when he was almost past her, she closed the door and turned her hair fell back from her beautiful face, and she said, quite clearly, in her London voice, Oh, hi.Hi, he said. His legs unplowed pedalling. Six feet away, twelve feet away why hadnt he stopped? jar kept him pitiable, he d ared not look back he was at the end of her street already for fucks sake dont fall off he turned the corner, too stunned to gauge whether he was more relieved or disappointed that he had left her behind.Holy shit.He cycled on towards the wooded area at the base of Pargetter Hill, where the river glinted intermittently through the trees, but he could see nothing except atomic number 32 burned onto his retina like neon. The narrow road turned into an earthy footpath, and the gentle breeze off the water caressed his face, which he did not think had turned red, because it had all happened so quickly.Fucking hell he said aloud to the fresh air and the deserted path.He raked excitedly through this magnificent, unexpected treasure trove her perfect body, revealed in tight denim and stretchy cotton number ten behind her, on a chipped, shabby blue door oh, hi, easily and naturally so his features were definitely logged somewhere in the mind that lived behind the astonishing face.The bike jolted on the newly rough and rough ground. Elated, Andrew dismounted only when he began to overbalance. He wheeled the bicycle on through the trees, emerging onto the narrow riverbank, where he slung the bicycle down on the ground among the wood anemones that had opened like tiny white stars since his last visit.His father had said, when he first started to borrow the bike You chain it up if youre going in a shop. Im warning you, if that gets nicked But the chain was not long enough to go around any of the trees and, in any case, the further he rode from his father the less Andrew feared him. Still thinking about the inches of flat, bare midriff and Gaias exquisite face, Andrew strode to the place where the bank met the eroded side of the hill, which hung like an earthy, rocky cliff in a sheer face above the fast-flowing green water.The narrowest lip of slippery, crumbling bank ran along the bottom of the hillside. The only way of navigating it, if your feet had grown to be twice the length they had been when they had first made the trip, was to edge along sideways, pressed to the sheer face, holding tight to grow and bits of protruding rock.The mulchy green smell of the river and of wet soil was deeply familiar to Andrew, as was the sensation of this narrow ledge of earth and grass under his feet, and the cracks and rocks he sought with his hands on the hillside. He and Fats had found the concealed place when they were eleven years old. They had known that what they were doing was forbidden and dangerous they had been warned about the river. Terrified, but determined not to tell each other so, they had sidled along this tricky ledge, grabbing at anything that protruded from the rocky wall and, at the very narrowest point, clutching fistfuls of each others T-shirts.Years of practice enabled Andrew, though his mind was barely on the job, to move crab-wise along the solid wall of earth and rock with the water pouring three feet beneath his trainers then wit h a deft duck and swing, he was inside the fissure in the hillside that they had found so long ago. digest then, it had seemed like a divine reward for their daring. He could no time-consuming stand up in it but, slightly larger than a two-man tent, it was big enough for two teenage boys to lie, side by side, with the river rushing past and the trees dappling their view of the sky, framed by the triangular entrance.The first time they had been here, they had poked and cut into at the back wall with sticks, but they had not found a secret passageway leading to the abbey above so they gloried instead in the fact that they alone had discovered the hiding place, and swore that it would be their secret in perpetuity. Andrew had a vague memory of a solemn oath, spit and swearwords. They had called it the snapper out when they had first discovered it, but it was now, and had been for some time past, the Cubby hatful.The little recess smelt earthy, though the sloping ceiling was made of rock. A dark green tidemark showed that it had flooded in the past, not quite to the roof. The floor was covered in their cigarette butts and cardboard roaches. Andrew sat down, with his legs dangling over the sludge-green water, and pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his jacket, bought with the last of his birthday money, now that his allowance had been stopped. He lit up, inhaled deeply, and relived the glorious encounter with Gaia Bawden in as much detail as he could ring out of it narrow waist and curving hips creamy skin between leather and T-shirt full, wide mouth oh, hi. It was the first time he had seen her out of school uniform. Where was she going, alone with her leather handbag? What was there in Pagford for her to do on a Saturday morning? Was she perhaps catching the bus into Yarvil? What did she get up to when she was out of his sight what feminine mysteries absorbed her?And he asked himself for the umpteenth time whether it was credible that flesh and bone w rought like that could contain a threadbare personality. It was only Gaia who had ever made him wonder this the idea of body and soul as separate entities had never once occurred to him until he had clapped eyes on her. Even while trying to imagine what her breasts would look and feel like, judged by the visual evidence he had managed to gather through a slightly translucent school shirt, and what he knew was a white bra, he could not believe that the allure she held for him was exclusively physical. She had a way of moving that moved him as much as music, which was what moved him most of all. for certain the spirit animating that peerless body must be funny too? Why would nature make a vessel like that, if not to contain something still more valuable?Andrew knew what naked women looked like, because there were no parental controls on the computer in Fats conversion bedroom. in concert they had explored as much online porn as they could access for free neaten vulvas pink labia p ulled wide to show darkly gaping slits spread backside revealing the puckered buttons of anuses thickly lipsticked mouths, dripping semen. Andrews excitement was underpinned, always, by the panicky sensation that you could only hear Mrs Wall approaching the room when she reached the creaking center(prenominal) stair. Sometimes they found weirdness that made them roar with laughter, even when Andrew was unsure whether he was more excited or repulsed (whips and saddles, harnesses, ropes, hoses and once, at which even Fats had not managed to laugh, close-ups of metal-bolted contraptions, and needles protruding from soft flesh, and womens faces frozen, screaming).Together he and Fats had become connoisseurs of silicone-enhanced breasts, enormous, taut and round.Plastic, one of them would point out, matter of factly, as they sat in front of the monitor lizard with the door wedged shut against Fats parents. The on-screen blondes arms were raised as she sat astride some hairy man, her big brown-nippled breasts hanging off her narrow rib cage like bowling balls, thin, shiny purple lines under each of them showing where the silicone had been inserted. You could almost tell how they would feel, looking at them firm, as if there were a football underneath the skin. Andrew could imagine nothing more tickling than a natural breast soft and pulpy and perhaps a little springy, and the nipples (he hoped) contrastingly hard.And all of these images blurred in his mind, late at night, with the possibilities offered by real girls, human girls, and the little you managed to feel through clothes if you managed to move in close enough. Niamh was the less pretty of the Fairbrother twins, but she had been the more willing, in the stuffy drama hall, during the Christmas disco. Half hidden by the musty stage curtain in a dark corner, they had pressed against each other, and Andrew had put his tongue into her mouth. His hands had inched as far as her bra strap and no further, becau se she kept pulling away. He had been driven, chiefly, by the knowledge that somewhere outside in the darkness, Fats was going further. And now his brain teemed and throbbed with Gaia. She was both the sexiest girl he had ever seen and the source of another, entirely inexplicable yearning. Certain chord changes, certain beats, made the very core of him shiver, and so did something about Gaia Bawden.He lit a new cigarette from the end of the first and threw the butt into the water below. Then he heard a familiar scuffling, and leaned forward to see Fats, still wearing his funeral suit, spread-eagled on the hill wall, moving from hand-hold to hand-hold as he edged along the narrow lip of bank, towards the opening where Andrew sat.Fats.Arf.Andrew pulled in his legs to give Fats room to burn down into the Cubby Hole.Fucking hell, said Fats, when he had clambered inside. He was spider-like in his awkwardness, with his long limbs, his skinniness emphasized by the black suit.Andrew handed him a cigarette. Fats always lit up as though he were in a high wind, one hand cupped around the flame to shield it, scowling slightly. He inhaled, blew a smoke ring out of the Cubby Hole and loosened the dark grey tie around his neck. He appeared older and not, after all, so very foolish in the suit, which bore traces of earth on the knees and cuffs from the journey to the cave.Youd think they were bum chums, Fats said, after he had taken another powerful drag on his cigarette.Cubby upset, was he? rugged? Hes having fucking hysterics. Hes given himself hiccups. Hes worse than the fucking widow.Andrew laughed. Fats blew another smoke ring and pulled at one of his overlarge ears.I bowed out early. They havent even buried him yet.They smoked in silence for a minute, both looking out at the sludgy river. As he smoked, Andrew contemplated the words bowed out early, and the amount of autonomy Fats seemed to have, compared to himself. Simon and his fury stood between Andrew and too much granting immunity in Hilltop House, you sometimes copped for punishment simply because you were present. Andrews imagination had once been caught by a strange little module in their school of thought and religion class, in which primitive gods had been discussed in all their arbitrary irritation and violence, and the attempts of early civilizations to placate them. He had thought then of the nature of umpire as he had come to know it of his father as a pagan god, and of his mother as the high priestess of the cult, who attempted to interpret and intercede, usually failing, yet still insisting, in the face of all the evidence, that there was an inherent magnanimity and reasonableness to her deity.Fats rested his head against the stone side of the Cubby Hole and blew smoke rings at the ceiling. He was thinking about what he wanted to tell Andrew. He had been mentally rehearsing the way he would start, all through the funeral service, while his father gulped and sobbed into his han dkerchief. Fats was so excited by the prospect of telling, that he was having difficulty containing himself but he was determined not to blurt it out. The telling of it was, to Fats, of almost equal importance to the doing of it. He did not want Andrew to think that he had hurried here to say it.You know how Fairbrother was on the Parish Council? said Andrew.Yeah, said Fats, glad that Andrew had initiated a space-filler conversation.Si-Pies saying hes going to stand for his seat.Si-Pie is?Fats frowned at Andrew.What the fucks got into him?He reckons Fairbrother was getting backhanders from some contractor. Andrew had heard Simon discussing it with condolence in the kitchen that morning. It had explained everything. He wants a bit of the action.That wasnt Barry Fairbrother, said Fats, laughing as he flicked ash onto the cave floor. And that wasnt the Parish Council. That was Whats-his-name Frierly, up in Yarvil. He was on the school board at Winterdown. Cubby had a fucking fit. top ical anesthetic press calling him for a comment and all that. Frierly got done for it. Doesnt Si-Pie read the Yarvil and District Gazette?Andrew stared at Fats.Fucking typical.He ground out his cigarette on the earthy floor, embarrassed by his fathers idiocy. Simon had got the wrong end of the stick yet again. He spurned the local community, sneered at their concerns, was proud of his isolation in his poxy little house on the hill then he got a bit of misinformation and decided to expose his family to humiliation on the basis of it.Crooked as fuck, Si-Pie, isnt he? said Fats.They called him Si-Pie because that was Ruths nickname for her husband. Fats had heard her use it once, when he had been over for his tea, and had never called Simon anything else since.Yeah, he is, said Andrew, wondering whether he would be able to dissuade his father from standing by telling him he had the wrong man and the wrong council.Bit of a coincidence, said Fats, because Cubbys standing as well.Fats exh aled through his nostrils, staring at the bloke wall over Andrews head.So will voters go for the cunt, he said, or the twat?Andrew laughed. There was little he enjoyed more than hearing his father called a cunt by Fats.Now have a shifty at this, said Fats, jamming his cigarette between his lips and patting his hips, even though he knew that the envelope was in the inside breast pocket. Here you go, he said, pulling it out and opening it to show Andrew the contents brown peppercorn-sized pods in a powdery mix of shrivelled stalks and leaves.Sensimilla, that is.What is it?Tips and shoots of your basic unfertilized ganja plant, said Fats, specially prepared for your smoking pleasure.Whats the difference between that and the normal stuff? asked Andrew, with whom Fats had split some(prenominal) lumps of waxy black cannabis rosin in the Cubby Hole.Just a different smoke, isnt it? said Fats, stubbing out his own cigarette. He took a packet of Rizlas from his pocket, drew out three of the fragile papers and gummed them together.Did you get it off Kirby? asked Andrew, poking at and sniffing the contents of the envelope.Everyone knew Skye Kirby was the go-to man for drugs. He was a year above them, in the lower sixth. His grandfather was an old hippy, who had been up in court several times for growing his own.Yeah. Mind, theres a bloke called Obbo, said Fats, slitting cigarettes and emptying the baccy onto the papers, in the Fields, wholl get you anything. Fucking smack, if you want it.You dont want smack, though, said Andrew, ceremonial Fats face.Nah, said Fats, taking the envelope back, and sprinkling the sensimilla onto the tobacco. He rolled the articulation together, licking the end of the papers to seal it, poking the roach in more neatly, twisting the end into a point.Nice, he said happily.He had planned to tell Andrew his news after introducing the sensimilla as a multifariousness of warm-up act. He held out his hand for Andrews lighter, inserted the ca rdboarded end between his own lips and lit up, taking a deep, contemplative drag, blowing out the smoke in a long blue jet, then repeating the process.Mmm, he said, holding the smoke in his lungs, and imitating Cubby, whom Tessa had given a wine course one Christmas. Herby. A strong aftertaste. Overtones of fuck He experienced a massive headrush, even though he was sitting, and exhaled, laughing. try that.Andrew leaned across and took the critical point, giggling in anticipation, and at the beatific smile on Fats face, which was quite at odds with his usual constipated scowl.Andrew inhaled and felt the power of the drug radiate out from his lungs, unwinding and relaxation method him. Another drag, and he thought that it was like having your mind shaken out like a duvet, so that it resettled without creases, so that everything became smooth and saucer-eyed and easy and good.Nice, he echoed Fats, smiling at the sound of his own voice. He passed the joint back into Fats waiting fin gers and savoured this sense of well-being.So, you wanna hear something interesting? said Fats, grinning uncontrollably.Go on.I fucked her last night.Andrew nearly said who?, before his befuddled brain remembered Krystal Weedon, of course Krystal Weedon, who else?Where? he asked, stupidly. It was not what he wanted to know.Fats stretched out on his back in his funeral suit, his feet towards the river. Wordlessly, Andrew stretched out beside him, in the opposite direction. They had slept like this, top and tail, when they had stayed overnight at each others houses as children. Andrew gazed up at the rocky ceiling, where the blue smoke hung, slowly furling, and waited to hear everything.I told Cubby and Tess I was at yours, so you know, said Fats. He passed the joint into Andrews reaching fingers, then linked his long hands on his chest, and listened to himself telling. Then I got the bus to the Fields. Met her outside Oddbins.By Tescos? asked Andrew. He did not know why he kept askin g dumb questions.Yeah, said Fats. We went to the rec. Theres trees in the corner behind the public bogs. Nice and private. It was getting dark.Fats shifted position and Andrew handed back the joint.Getting ins harder than I thought it would be, said Fats, and Andrew was mesmerized, half be to laugh, afraid of missing every unvarnished detail Fats could give him. She was tacky when I was fingering her.A giggle rose like confine gas in Andrews chest, but was stifled there.Lot of pushing to get in properly. Its tighter than I thought.Andrew saw a jet of smoke rise from the place where Fats head must be.I came in about ten seconds. It feels fucking great once youre in.Andrew fought back laughter, in case there was more.I wore a johnny. Itd be better without.He pushed the joint back into Andrews hand. Andrew pulled on it, thinking. Harder to get in than you thought over in ten seconds. It didnt sound much yet what wouldnt he give? He imagined Gaia Bawden flat on her back for him and, without meaning to, let out a small groan, which Fats did not seem to hear. Lost in a fug of erotic images, pulling on the joint, Andrew lay with his erection on the patch of earth his body was warming and listened to the soft rush of the water a few feet from his head.What matters, Arf? asked Fats, after a long, dreamy pause.His head swimming pleasantly, Andrew answered, Sex.Yeah, said Fats, delighted. Fucking. Thats what matters. Propogun propogating the species. harbour away the johnnies. Multiply.Yeah, said Andrew, laughing.And death, said Fats. He had been taken aback by the reality of that coffin, and how little material lay between all the watching vultures and an actual corpse. He was not sorry that he had left before it disappeared into the ground. Gotta be, hasnt it? Death.Yeah, said Andrew, thinking of war and car crashes, and dying in blazes of speed and glory.Yeah, said Fats. Fucking and dying. Thats it, innit? Fucking and dying. Thats life.Trying to get a fuck and tr ying not to die.Or trying to die, said Fats. Some people. Risking it.Yeah. Risking it.There was more silence, and their hiding place was cool and hazy.And music, said Andrew quietly, watching the blue smoke hanging beneath the dark rock.Yeah, said Fats, in the distance. And music.The river step on it on past the Cubby Hole.