Part Three Chapter IV

IVVery sad, utter Howard Mollison, rocking a footling on his toes in front of his mantelpiece. Very sad indeed.Maureen had just finished relative them all ab come in Catherine Weedons death she had heard everything from her friend Karen the receptionist that evening, including the complaint from Cath Weedons granddaughter. A look of delighted disapproval was crumpling her face Samantha, who was in a very bad mood, thought she resembled a monkey nut. Miles was making conventional sounds of surprise and pity, but Shirley was staring up at the ceiling with a bland expression on her face she hated it when Maureen held centre stage with sassys that she ought to cook heard first.My mother knew the family of old, Howard told Samantha, who al redey knew it. Neighbours in Hope Street. Cath was decent enough in her way, you know. The contribute was perpetually spotless, and she worked until she was into her six hold fasts. Oh, yes, she was oneness of the worlds grafters, Cath Weedon, whatever the rest of the family became.Howard was enjoying giving credit where credit was due.The husband lost his job when they closed the steelworks. Hard drinker. No, she didnt always have it easy, Cath.Samantha was hardly managing to look interested, but fortunately Maureen interrupted.And the Gazettes on to Dr Jawanda she croaked. Imagine how she must be feeling, now the papers got it Familys kicking up a stink well, you cant blame them, alone in that house for three days. Dyou know her, Howard? Which one is Danielle Fowler?Shirley got up and stalked place of the room in her apron. Samantha slugged a little more wine, smiling.Lets think, lets think, said Howard. He prided himself on knowing almost everyone in Pagford, but the later generations of Weedons belonged more to Yarvil. Cant be a daughter, she had four boys, Cath. Granddaughter, I expect.And she wants an inquiry, said Maureen. Well, it was always going to come to this. Its been on the cards. If anything, Im surprise d its taken this long. Dr Jawanda wouldnt slip by the Hubbards son antibiotics and he ended up hospitalized for his asthma. Do you know, did she train in India, or ?Shirley, who was listening from the kitchen while she stirred the gravy, matte irritated, as she always did, by Maureens monopolization of the conversation that, at least, was how Shirley put it to herself. Determined not to return to the room until Maureen had finished, Shirley turned into the study and checked to stick out whether anyone had sent in apologies for the next Parish Council meeting as secretary, she was already putting together the agenda.Howard Miles come and look at thisShirleys voice had lost its usual soft, flutey caliber it rang out shrilly.Howard waddled out of the sitting room followed by Miles, who was still in the suit he had worn all day at work. Maureens droopy, bloodshot, heavily mascara-ed eyeball were fixed on the empty doorway like a bloodhounds her hunger to know what Shirley had fo und or seen was almost palpable. Maureens fingers, a clutch of bulging knuckle duster covered in translucent leopard-spotted skin, slid the crucifix and wedding ring up and down the chain around her neck. The deep creases running from the corners of Maureens sing to her chin always reminded Samantha of a ventriloquists dummy.Why are you always here? Samantha asked the older woman loudly, inside her own headman. You couldnt make me lonely enough to live in Howard and Shirleys pocket. shame rose in Samantha like vomit. She wanted to seize the over-warm cluttered room and mash it between her hands, until the royal china, and the gas fire, and the gilt-framed pictures of Miles broke into jagged pieces then, with wizened and multi-color Maureen trapped and squalling inside the wreckage, she wanted to heave it, like a celestial shot-putter, away into the sunset. The crushed lounge and the doomed crone inside it, soared in her imagination through and through the heavens, plunging into the limitless ocean, leaving Samantha alone in the endless stillness of the universe.She had had a terrible afternoon. There had been another frightening conversation with her comptroller she could not remember much of her drive home from Yarvil. She would have liked to offload on Miles, but after dumping his briefcase and pulling off his tie in the hall he had said, You havent started dinner yet, have you?He sniffed the air ostentatiously, then answered himself.No, you havent. Well, good, because Mum and Dad have invited us over. And before she could protest, he had added sharply, Its vigour to do with the council. Its to discuss arrangements for Dads sixty-fifth.Anger was almost a relief it eclipsed her anxiety, her fear. She had followed Miles out to the car, cradling her sense of ill-usage. When he asked, at last, on the corner of Evertree Crescent, How was your day? she answered, Absolutely flaming(a) fantastic.Wonder whats up? said Maureen, breaking the silence in the sittin g room.Samantha shrugged. It was typical of Shirley to have summoned her menfolk and left the women in limbo Samantha was not going to give her mother-in-law the satisfaction of showing interest.Howards elephantine footsteps made the floorboards under(a) the hall carpet creak. Maureens mouth was slack with anticipation.Well, well, well, boomed Howard, lumbering back into the room.I was checking the council website for apologies, said Shirley, a little breathless in his wake. For the next meeting Someones posted accusations about Simon Price, Miles told Samantha, pressing past his parents, seizing the role of announcer.What kind of accusations? asked Samantha.Receiving stolen goods, said Howard, firmly reclaiming the spotlight, and diddling his bosses at the printworks.Samantha was blessed to find herself unmoved. She had only the haziest idea who Simon Price was.Theyve posted under a pseudonym, Howard continued, and its not a particularly tasteful pseudonym, either.Rude, you mean ? Samantha asked. Big-Fat-Cock or something?Howards laughter boomed through the room, Maureen gave an affected shriek of horror, but Miles scowled and Shirley looked furious.Not quite that, Sammy, no, said Howard. No, theyve called themselves The Ghost of Barry Fairbrother.Oh, said Samantha, her grin evaporating. She did not like that. After all, she had been in the ambulance while they had compel needles and tubes into Barrys collapsed body she had watched him dying beneath the plastic mask seen Mary clinging to his hand, heard her groans and sobs.Oh, no, thats not nice, said Maureen, relish in her bullfrogs voice. No, thats nasty. Putting words into the mouths of the dead. Taking names in vain. Thats not right.No, agreed Howard. Almost absent-mindedly, he strolled across the room, picked up the wine bottle and returned to Samantha, topping up her empty glass. But someone out there doesnt care about good taste it seems, if they can put Simon Price out of the running.If youre thin king what I think youre thinking, Dad, said Miles, wouldnt they have gone(p) for me rather than Price?How do you know they havent, Miles?Meaning? asked Miles swiftly.Meaning, said Howard, the happy cynosure of all eyes, that I got sent an anonymous letter about you a bring together of weeks ago. Nothing specific. Just said you were unfit to fill Fairbrothers shoes. Id be very surprised if the letter didnt come from the same source as the online post. The Fairbrother theme in both, you see?Samantha tilted her glass a little too enthusiastically, so that wine trickled down the sides of her chin, exactly where her own ventriloquists doll grooves would no doubt start in time. She mopped her face with her sleeve.Where is this letter? asked Miles, striving not to look rattled.I shredded it. It was anonymous it didnt count.We didnt want to upset you, dear, said Shirley, and she patted Miles arm.Anyway, they cant have anything on you, Howard still his son, or theyd have dished the dirt, the same as they have on Price.Simon Prices wife is a lovely girl, said Shirley with gentle regret. I cant believe pity knows anything about it, if her husbands been on the fiddle. Shes a friend from the hospital, Shirley elaborated to Maureen. An agency nurse.She wouldnt be the first wife who hasnt spotted whats going on under her nose, retorted Maureen, trumping insider association with worldly wisdom.Absolutely brazen, using Barry Fairbrothers name, said Shirley, pretending not to have heard Maureen. Not a thought for his widow, his family. All that matters is their agenda theyll sacrifice anything to it.Shows you what were up against, said Howard. He scratched the overfold of his belly, thinking. Strategically, its smart. I saw from the get-go that Price was going to split the pro-Fields vote. No flies on Bends-Your-Ear shes realized it too and she wants him out.But, said Samantha, it mightnt have anything to do with Parminder and that lot at all. It could be from someone we dont know, someone whos got a grudge against Simon Price.Oh, Sam, said Shirley, with a tinkling laugh, shaking her head. Its easy to see youre new to politics.Oh, fuck off, Shirley.So why have they used Barry Fairbrothers name, then? asked Miles, rounding on his wife.Well, its on the website, isnt it? Its his vacant seat.And whos going to trawl through the council website for that kind of data? No, he said gravely, this is an insider.An insider Libby had once told Samantha that there could be thousands of microscopic species inside one drop of pond water. They were all perfectly ridiculous, Samantha thought, sitting here in front of Shirleys commemorative plates as if they were in the Cabinet Room in Downing Street, as though one bit of tittle-tattle on a Parish Council website constituted an organized campaign, as though any of it mattered.Consciously and defiantly, Samantha withdrew her attention from the lot of them. She fixed her eyes on the window and the clear evening slant beyond, and she thought about Jake, the muscular boy in Libbys favourite band. At lunchtime today, Samantha had gone out for sandwiches, and brought back a music magazine in which Jake and his bandmates were interviewed. There were lots of pictures.Its for Libby, Samantha had told the girl who helped her in the shop.Wow, look at that. I wouldnt kick him out of bed for eating toast, replied Carly, pointing at Jake, naked from the waist up, his head thrown back to reveal that thick strong neck. Oh, but hes only twenty-one, look. Im not a cradle-snatcher.Carly was twenty-six. Samantha did not care to subtract Jakes age from her own. She had eaten her sandwich and read the interview, and studied all the pictures. Jake with his hands on a bar above his head, biceps swelling under a black T-shirt Jake with his white shirt open, type AB muscles chiselled above the loose waistband of his jeans.Samantha drank Howards wine and stared out at the sky above the black privet hedge, which was a d elicate shade of rose pink the detailed shade her nipples had been before they had been darkened and distended by pregnancy and breast-feeding. She imagined herself nineteen to Jakes twenty-one, slender-waisted again, taut curves in the right places, and a strong flat stomach of her own, accommodate comfortably into her white, size ten shorts. She vividly recalled how it mat up to sit on a young mans lap in those shorts, with the heat and roughness of sun-warmed denim under her bare thighs, and big hands around her lithe waist. She imagined Jakes breath on her neck she imagined turning to look into the blue eyes, close to the high cheekbones and that firm, carved mouth at the church hall, and were getting it catered by Bucknoles, said Howard. Weve invited everyone Aubrey and Julia everyone. With luck it will be a double celebration, you on the council, me, another year young Samantha felt tipsy and randy. When were they going to eat? She realized that Shirley had left the room, hopefully to put food on the table.The telephone rang at Samanthas elbow, and she jumped. Before any of them could move, Shirley had bustled back in. She had one hand in a flowery oven glove, and picked up the receiver with the other.Double-two-five-nine? sang Shirley on a rising inflection. Oh hello, Ruth, dearHoward, Miles and Maureen became rigidly attentive. Shirley turned to look at her husband with intensity, as if she were transmitting Ruths voice through her eyes into her husbands mind.Yes, fluted Shirley. Yes Samantha, sitting closest to the receiver, could hear the other womans voice but not make out the words.Oh, really ?Maureens mouth was hanging open again she was like an ancient baby bird, or perhaps a pterodactyl, hungering for regurgitated news.Yes, dear, I see oh, that shouldnt be a problem no, no, Ill explain to Howard. No, no trouble at all.Shirleys small hazel eyes had not wavered from Howards big, popping blue ones.Ruth, dear, said Shirley, Ruth, I dont want to manage you, but have you been on the council website today? Well its not very nice, but I think you ought to know somebodys posted something nasty about Simon well, I think youd better read it for yourself, I wouldnt want to all right, dear. All right. See you Wednesday, I hope. Yes. Bye bye.Shirley replaced the receiver.She didnt know, Miles stated.Shirley shook her head.Why was she calling?Her son, Shirley told Howard. Your new potboy. Hes got a peanut allergy.Very handy, in a delicatessen, said Howard.She wanted to ask whether you could store a needleful of adrenalin in the fridge for him, just in case, said Shirley.Maureen sniffed.Theyve all got allergies these days, children.Shirleys ungloved hand was still clutching the receiver. She was subconsciously hoping to feel tremors down the line from Hilltop House.