ts remain baffled by the contradictions of the hairy man…woman。’
Andrew sniggered； yet he was not entirely at his ease。 He would have enjoyed himself more if he knew that Sukhvinder could not hear what Fats was saying。 The last time that he had been over at Fats’ house； Fats had shown him the messages he was sending regularly to Sukhvinder’s Facebook page。 He had been scouring the inter for information and pictures about hirsutism； and was sending a quotation or an image a day。
It was sort of funny； but it made Andrew unfortable。 Strictly speaking； Sukhvinder was not asking for it： she seemed a very easy target。 Andrew liked it best when Fats directed his savage tongue towards figures of authority； the pretentious or the self…satisfied。
‘Separated from its bearded； bra…wearing herd；’ said Fats； ‘it sits； lost in thought； wondering whether it would suit a goatee。’
Andrew laughed； then felt guilty； but Fats lost interest； and turned his attention to transforming every zero on his worksheet into a puckered anus。 Andrew reverted to trying to guess where the decimal point should go； and contemplating the prospect of the school bus home； and Gaia。 It was always much more difficult to find a seat where he might keep her in his eye…line on the school…to…home trip； because she was frequently boxed in before he got there； or too far away。 Their shared amusement in Monday morning’s assembly had led nowhere。 She had not made eye contact with him on the bus either morning since； nor in any other way demonstrated that she knew he existed。 In the four weeks of his infatuation； Andrew had never actually spoken to Gaia。 He attempted to formulate opening lines while the din of spazmatics crashed around him。 ‘That was funny； Monday； in assembly …’
‘Sukhvinder； are you all right？’
Miss Harvey； who had bent down over Sukhvinder’s work to mark it； was gawping into the girl’s face。 Andrew watched Sukhvinder nod and draw in her hands； obscuring her face； still hunched up over her work。
‘Wallah！’ stage…whispered Kevin Cooper； from two rows in front。 ‘Wallah！ Peanut！’
He was trying to draw their attention to what they already knew： that Sukhvinder； judging by the gentle quivering of her shoulders； was crying； and that Miss Harvey was making hopeless； harried attempts to find out what was wrong。 The class； detecting a further lapse in their teacher’s vigilance； raged louder than ever。
‘Peanut！ Wallah！’
Andrew could never decide whether Kevin Cooper irritated intentionally or accidentally； but he had an infallible knack for grating on people。 The nickname ‘Peanut’ was a very old one； which had clung to Andrew in primary school； he had always hated it。 Fats had forced the name out of fashion by never using it； Fats had always been the final arbiter in such matters。 Cooper was even getting Fats’ name wrong： ‘Wallah’ had enjoyed only a brief popularity； last year。
‘Peanut！ Wallah！’
‘Fuck off； Cooper； you glans…headed moron；’ said Fats under his breath。 Cooper was hanging over the back of his seat； staring at Sukhvinder； who had curled over； her face almost touching the desk； while Miss Harvey crouched beside her； her hands fluttering ically； forbidden to touch her； and unable to elicit any explanation for her distress。 A few more people had noticed this unusual disturbance and were staring； but at the front of the room； several boys continued to rampage； oblivious to everything but their own amusement。 One of them seized the wood…backed board rubber from Miss Harvey’s vacated desk。 He threw it。
The rubber soared right across the room and crashed into the clock on the back wall； which plummeted to the ground and shattered： shards of plastic and metal innards flew everywhere； and several girls； including Miss Harvey； shrieked in shock。
The door of the classroom flew open and bounced； with a bang； off the wall。 The class fell quiet。 Cubby was standing there； flushed and furious。
‘What is going on in this room？ What is all this noise？’
Miss Harvey shot up like a jack…in…a…box beside Sukhvinder’s desk； looking guilty and frightened。
‘Miss Harvey！ Your class is making an almighty racket。 What’s going on？’
Miss Harvey seemed struck dumb。 Kevin Cooper hung over the back of his chair； grinning； looking from Miss Harvey to Cubby to Fats and back again。
Fats spoke。
‘Well； to be perfectly frank； Father； we’ve been running rings around this poor woman。’
Laughter exploded。 Miss Harvey’s neck was disfigured by a rising maroon rash。 Fats balanced himself nonchalantly on the rear legs of his chair； his face perfectly straight； looking at Cubby with challenging detachment。
‘That’s enough；’ said Cubby。 ‘If I hear any more noise like that from this class； I’ll put the whole lot of you in detention。 Do you understand？ All of you。’
He shut the door on their laughter。
‘You heard the deputy headmaster！’ cried Miss Harvey； scurrying to the front of the room。 ‘Be quiet！ I want quiet！ You – Andrew – and you； Stuart – you can clear up that mess！ Pick up all those bits of clock！’
They set up a routine cry of injustice at this； supported shrilly by a couple of the girls。 The actual perpetrators of the destruction； of whom everybody knew Miss Harvey was afraid； sat smirking at their desks。 As there were only five minutes remaining until the end of the school day； Andrew and Fats set about stringing out the clearing up until they would be able to abandon it unfinished。 While Fats garnered further laughs by bouncing hither and thither； stiff…armed； doing the Cubby walk； Sukhvinder wiped her eyes surreptitiously with her wool…covered hand and sank back into obscurity。
When the bell rang； Miss Harvey made no attempt to control or contain the thunderous clamour or rush for the door。 Andrew and Fats kicked various bits of clock under the cupboards at the back of the room； and swung their school bags over their shoulders again。
‘Wallah！ Wallah！’ called Kevin Cooper； hurrying to catch up with Andrew and Fats as they headed down the corridor。 ‘Do you call Cubby “Father” at home？ Seriously？ Do you？’
He thought he had something on Fats； he thought he had got him。
‘You’re a dickhead； Cooper；’ said Fats wearily； and Andrew laughed。
IV
‘Dr Jawanda’s running about fifteen minutes late；’ the receptionist told Tessa。
‘Oh； that’s fine；’ said Tessa。 ‘I’m in no hurry。’
It was early evening； and the waiting…room windows made patches of clear royal blue against the walls。 There were only two other people there： a misshapen； wheezing old woman wearing carpet slippers； and a young mother who was reading a magazine while her toddler rummaged in the toy box in the corner。 Tessa took a battered old Heat magazine from the table in the middle； sat down and flicked through the pages； looking at the pictures。 The delay gave her more time to think about what she was going to say to Parminder。
They had spoken； briefly； on the telephone this morning。 Tessa had been full of contrition that she had not called at once to let Parminder know about Barry。 Parminder had said it was fine； for Tessa not to be silly； that she was not upset at all； but Tessa； with her lengthy experience of the thin…skinned and fragile； could tell that Parminder； beneath her prickly carapace； was wounded。 She had tried to explain that she had been utterly exhausted the last couple of days； and that she had had to deal with Mary； Colin； Fats； Krystal Weedon； that she had felt overwhelmed； lost and incapable of thinking of more than the immediate problems that had been thrown at her。 But Parminder had cut her off in the middle of her rambling excuses and said calmly that she would see her later at the surgery。
Dr Crawford emerged； white…haired and bearlike； from his room； gave Tessa a cheery wave； and said； ‘Maisie Lawford？’ The young mother had some difficulty in persuading her daughter to abandon the old toy telephone on wheels that the latter had found in the toy box。 While being pulled gently by the hand after Dr Crawford； the little girl gazed longingly over her shoulder at the telephone； whose secrets she would never now discover。
When the door closed on them； Tessa realized that she was smiling fatuously； and hastily rearranged her own features。 She was going to bee one of those awful old ladies who cooed indiscriminately over small children and frightened them。 She would have loved a chubby little blonde daughter to go with her skinny； dark boy。 How awful it was； thought Tessa； remembering Fats the toddler； the way tiny ghosts of your living children haunted your heart； they could never know； and would hate it if they did； how their growing was a constant bereavement。
Parminder’s door opened； Tessa looked up。
‘Mrs Weedon；’ said Parminder。 Her eyes met Tessa’s； and she gave a smile that was no smile at all； but a mere tightening of the mouth。 The little old lady in carpet slippers got up with difficulty and hobbled away around the partition wall after Parminder。 Tessa heard Parminder’s surgery door snap shut。
She read the captions to a series of photographs showing a footballer’s wife in all the different outfits she had worn over the previous five days。 Studying the young woman’s long thin legs； Tessa wondered how different her life would have been if she had had legs like that。 She could not help but suspect that it would have been almost entirely different。 Tessa’s legs were thick； shapeless and short； she would have hidden them perpetually in boots； only it was difficult to find many that would zip up over her calves。 She remembered telling a sturdy little girl in guidance that looks did not matter； that personality was much more important。 What rubbish we tell children； thought Tessa； turning the page of her magazine。。
An out…of…sight door opened with a bang。 Somebody was shouting in a cracked voice。
‘You’re makin’ me bloody worse。 This in’t right。 I’ve e to you for help。 It’s your job – it’s your—’
Tessa and the receptionist locked eyes； then turned towards the sound of the shouting。 Tessa heard Parminder’s voice； its Brummie accent still discernible after all these years in Pagford。
‘Mrs Weedon； you’re still smoking； which affects th