a catastrophe for the addiction clinic if he gets elected.'
'I doubt it'll make any difference.'
Gavin's apathy, his indifference to other people's pain, always infuriated Kay.
'Isn't there anyone who'll stick up for Bellchapel?'
'Colin Wall, I suppose,' said Gavin.
So, at eight o'clock on Monday evening, Kay walked up the Walls' drive and rang their doorbell. From the front step, she could make out Samantha Mollison's red Ford Fiesta, parked in the drive three houses along. The sight added a little extra zest to her desire for a fight.
The Walls' door was opened by a short plain dumpy woman in a tie-dyed skirt.
'Hello,' said Kay. 'My name's Kay Bawden, and I was wondering whether I could speak to Colin Wall?'
For a split second, Tessa simply stared at the attractive young woman on the doorstep whom she had never seen before. The strangest idea flashed across her mind: that Colin was having an affair and that his lover had come to tell her so.
'Oh - yes - come in. I'm Tessa.'
Kay wiped her feet conscientiously on the doormat and followed Tessa into a sitting room that was smaller, shabbier but cosier than the Mollisons'. A tall, balding man with a high forehead was sitting in an armchair with a notebook in his lap and a pen in his hand.
'Colin, this is Kay Bawden,' said Tessa. 'She'd like to speak to you.'
Tessa saw Colin's startled and wary expression, and knew at once that the woman was a stranger to him. Really, she thought, a little ashamed, what were you thinking?
'I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, unannounced,' said Kay, as Colin stood up to shake her hand. 'I would have telephoned, but you're - '
'We're ex-directory, yes,' said Colin. He towered over Kay, his eyes tiny behind the lenses of his glasses. 'Please, sit down.'
'Thank you. It's about the election,' said Kay. 'This Parish Council election. You're standing, aren't you, against Miles Mollison?'
'That's right,' said Colin nervously. He knew who she must be: the reporter who had wanted to talk to Krystal. They had tracked him down - Tessa ought not to have let her in.
'I was wondering whether I could help in any way,' said Kay. 'I'm a social worker, mostly working in the Fields. There are some facts and figures I could give you about the Bellchapel Addiction Clinic, which Mollison seems quite keen on closing. I've been told that you're for the clinic? That you'd like to keep it open?'
The onrush of relief and pleasure made him almost giddy.
'Oh, yes,' said Colin, 'yes, I would. Yes, that was my predecessor's - that's to say, the previous holder of the seat - Barry Fairbrother - was certainly opposed to closing the clinic. And I am, too.'
'Well, I've had a conversation with Miles Mollison, and he made it quite clear that he doesn't think the clinic's worth keeping open. Frankly, I think he's rather ignorant and naive about the causes and treatment of addiction, and about the very real difference Bellchapel is making. If the Parish refuses to renew the lease on the building, and the District cuts funding, then there's a danger that some very vulnerable people will be left without support.'
'Yes, yes, I see,' said Colin. 'Oh, yes, I agree.'
He was astonished and flattered that this attractive young woman would have walked through the evening to find him and offer herself as an ally.
'Would you like a cup of tea or coffee, Kay?' asked Tessa.
'Oh, thanks very much,' said Kay. 'Tea, please, Tessa. No sugar.'
Fats was in the kitchen, helping himself from the fridge. He ate copiously and continually, but remained scrawny, never putting on an ounce of weight. In spite of his openly declared disgust for them, he seemed unaffected by Tessa's pack of ready-filled syringes, which sat in a clinical white box next to the cheese.
Tessa moved to the kettle, and her thoughts returned to the subject that had consumed her ever since Sukhvinder had suggested it earlier: that Fats and Krystal were 'seeing each other'. She had not questioned Fats, and she had not told Colin.
The more that Tessa thought about it, the more certain she was that it could not be true. She was sure that Fats held himself in such high regard that no girl would be good enough, especially a girl like Krystal. Surely he would not ...
Demean himself? Is that it? Is that what you think?
'Who's here?' Fats asked Tessa, through a mouthful of cold chicken, as she put on the kettle.