As they left the building, Helen met an acquaintance and stopped to talk. Pearly carried on slowly to the carpark. He’d left the front windows of his car down just a little so that it wouldn’t become stifling inside. Someone had taken advantage of that to push an envelope through, and it lay on the driver’s seat. One of those cheap brown envelopes that you don’t see often now. There was nothing inside, but on the back was written, ‘Four out of ten, Pearly. No cigar.’ It wasn’t threatening, and Pearly didn’t think it a message from the phone stalker, whose verbal signature was obscenity. Yet another person watching, however, making anonymous assessment. Pearly looked carefully at the rather scrawly handwriting. It wasn’t familiar. He folded the envelope and put it in the glove compartment. He wasn’t intimidated. It was just part of being in the public eye. People made assumptions about you and acted on them as if they were certainties.

He remembered going with the varsity team to a tournament in Invercargill, and after they’d won handsomely he and the captain were assaulted without warning as they walked off the field. A small guy in a parka wearing a black beanie suddenly punching and kicking and calling them fucking varsity wankers. Other spectators dragged the guy away before any serious harm, or retaliation, and when Pearly and others of the team went to a local pub that night there was no trouble at all. Pearly was often surprised by the malevolent vehemence exhibited by individuals who weren’t even part of the game. People who saw all of experience in terms of a malicious contest with the rest of the world. People who were naturally malcontent. Maybe their mothers never loved them, thought Pearly, maybe it was in the genes. When Helen joined him he said nothing about the note.

On weekdays Pearly usually had his lunch at Rawleigh and Gates or at the council chambers, but after the funeral he drove home with Helen and they ate together. They talked about death and funerals, but not in a melancholy way: discussed the increasing diversity of the commemorations, the growth of non-religious ceremonies and cremations, the emphasis on celebration, the informality, the obvious mismatch in many cases between the eulogy and the known character of the deceased. There is often wry humour in a funeral for those not intimately involved.

‘We really must say something to Kevin and Leanne about our funerals,’ said Helen.

‘I’ve decided not to die,’ said Pearly.

‘Be serious. They wouldn’t have a clue what either of us wants. It’s not fair on them. It makes sense to have your wishes known.’