‘I’m not interested in talking on the phone to someone who won’t give his name. If you contact the council office I’m willing to see you and discuss the port development or any other policy.’

‘You think you’re shit-hot, don’t you. Just because you’re mayor doesn’t make you God. What you need—’

‘Make an appointment. Don’t ring me at home again,’ broke in Pearly.

‘Don’t tell me what to do, you useless fucker. If you don’t—’ but Pearly had rung off.

‘Who was it?’ asked Helen.

‘Some guy who doesn’t like me one little bit but won’t give his name.’

‘Take no notice,’ said Helen. ‘Everyone’s a critic.’

‘Tell me about it,’ said Pearly.

‘You’re not worried, are you?’

‘Not really, but you can’t help wondering who it is, what sort of a person would keep on with it. He’s rung before. I’d recognise the voice if I ever met him. It’s distinctive — a man’s voice, but oddly squeaky.’

‘They could be putting it on,’ said Helen.

‘That’s true.’ Pearly wasn’t all that bothered. If it kept up maybe he’d talk to the police. He knew the inspector well. There would be ways of tracking calls. Maybe.

In his second year at varsity, after spending the first in a hostel, Pearly flatted with two guys who weren’t friends but fellow rugby players. Their coach had this fixation that it was ideal for his boys to live together, that it was easier for them to maintain a training regime and motivation. Eat together, train together, compete together. The coach talked a lot about building team spirit and what he called sporting kinship. Rugby’s a way of life, he said, not just a game. He seemed to be always chewing, which gave his speech a slurred indistinctness.

They had the upstairs flat in an old wooden house on Forth Street with a view of the rear of a Chinese restaurant and a hair salon. It was better than most student flats despite being old. It had insulation, proper curtains, fixed wall-heaters and a bedroom each. The coach jacked it up for them. It was the best place Pearly lived in during his time at varsity, but he missed his friends. He was accustomed to sharing a history with those close about him.