concrete example of what Bellchapel’s doing: one family I’m working with — mother, teenage daughter and small son — if the mother wasn’t on methadone, she’d be on the streets trying to pay for her habit; the kids are immeasurably better off—’
‘They’d be better off away from their mother, by the sound of it,’ said Miles.
‘And where exactly would you propose they go?’
‘A decent foster home would be a good start,’ said Miles.
‘Do you know how many foster homes there are, against how many kids needing them?’ asked Kay.
‘The best solution would have been to have them adopted at birth—’
‘Fabulous. I’ll hop in my time machine,’ retorted Kay.
‘Well, we know a couple who were desperate to adopt,’ said Samantha, unexpectedly throwing her weight behind Miles. She would not forgive Kay for the rude outstretched plate; the woman was bolshy and patronizing, exactly like Lisa, who had monopolized every get-together with her political views and her job in family law, despising Samantha for owning a bra shop. ‘Adam and Janice,’ she reminded Miles in parenthesis, who nodded; ‘and they couldn’t get a baby for love nor money, could they?’
‘Yes, a baby,’ said Kay, rolling her eyes, ‘everybody wants a baby. Robbie’s nearly four. He’s not potty-trained, he’s developmentally behind for his age and he’s almost certainly had inappropriate exposure to sexual behaviour. Would your friends like to adopt him?’
‘But the point is, if he’d been taken from his mother at birth—’
‘She was off the drugs when he was born, and making good progress,’ said Kay. ‘She loved him and wanted to keep him, and she was meeting his needs at the time. She’d already raised Krystal, with some family support—’
‘Krystal!’ shrieked Samantha. ‘Oh my God, are we talking about the Weedons?’
Kay was horrified that she had used names; it had never mattered in London, but everyone truly did know everyone in Pagford, it seemed.
‘I shouldn’t have—’
But Miles and Samantha were laughing, and Mary looked tense. Kay, who had not touched her pie, and had managed very little of the first course, realized that she had drunk too much; she had been sipping wine steadily out of nerves, and now she had committed a prime indiscretion. Still, it was too late to undo that; anger overrode every other consideration.
‘Krystal Weedon is no advert for that woman’s mothering skills,’ said Miles.
‘Krystal’s trying her damnedest to hold her family together,’ said Kay. ‘She loves her little brother very much; she’s terrified he’ll be taken away—’
‘I wouldn’t trust Krystal Weedon to look after a boiling egg,’ said Miles, and Samantha laughed again. ‘Oh, look, it’s to her credit she loves her brother, but he isn’t a cuddly toy—’
‘Yes, I know that,’ snapped Kay, remembering Robbie’s shitty, crusted bottom, ‘but he’s still loved.’
‘Krystal bullied our daughter Lexie,’ said Samantha, ‘so we’ve seen a different side of her to the one I’m sure she shows you.’
‘Look, we all know Krystal’s had a rough deal,’ said Miles, ‘nobody’s denying that. It’s the drug-addled mother I’ve got an issue with.’
‘As a matter of fact, she’s doing very well on the Bellchapel programme at the moment.’
‘But with her history,’ said Miles, ‘it isn’t rocket science, is it, to guess that she’ll relapse?’
‘If you apply that rule across the board, you ought not to have a driving licence, because with your history you’re bound to drink and drive again.’
Miles was temporarily baffled, but Samantha said coldly, ‘I think that’s a rather different thing.’
‘Do you?’ said Kay. ‘It’s the same principle.’
‘Yes, well, principles are sometimes the problem, if you ask me,’ said Miles. ‘Often what’s needed is a bit of common sense.’
‘Which is the name people usually give to their prejudices,’ rejoined Kay.
‘According to Nietzsche,’ said a sharp new voice, making them all jump, ‘philosophy is the biography of the philosopher.’
A miniature Samantha stood at the door into the hall, a busty girl of around sixteen in tight jeans and a T-shirt; she was eating a handful of grapes and looking rather pleased with herself.
‘Everyone meet Lexie,’ said Miles proudly. ‘Thank you for that, genius.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Lexie pertly, and she swept off upstairs.
A heavy silence sank over the table. Without really knowing why, Samantha, Miles and Kay all glanced towards Mary, who looked as though she might be on the verge of tears.
‘Coffee,’ said Samantha, lurching to her feet. Mary disappeared into the bathroom.
‘Let’s go and sit through,’ said Miles, conscious that the atmosphere was somewhat charged, but confident that he could, with a few jokes and his habitual bonhomie, steer