The invitation didn’t give the names of the other local-body politicians. These were to be released when confirmed. A photographer was named, however, and also a woman journalist, both of whom would come independently to see Pearly if he agreed to be involved. In his reply, Pearly mentioned that he was especially busy, but thought it important that people were given some understanding of the value and workings of local government.

He wondered who had suggested his inclusion in the line-up. Maybe some former teammate who had come to have influence in journalism, maybe someone on the staff of Aotearoa Now who had been brought up in the town and wished to give it exposure for that reason rather than any admiration for Pearly’s achievements. Maybe others before him had been approached and turned down the opportunity. No, no one would do that, Pearly decided. Well, no mayor surely. People in such positions understand the value and opportunities of sympathetic media exposure.

‘The woman coming for the interview’s called Claire Downes,’ Pearly told Helen.

‘Sounds like a manor in Sussex. You know — join us all at Claire Downes for the weekend, why don’t you?’

‘She’ll be in the South Island for four days.’

‘We’ll have to offer her lunch.’

‘Face-to-face interviews mean they’re prepared to make commitment to an in-depth feature,’ said Pearly. ‘So often these days everything is done just with phone calls and exchanges of email.’

‘Make sure you get a haircut. You don’t want to look like the country cousin. I’ll be annoyed if four of them aren’t women.’

‘Half the nation’s mayors aren’t women,’ said Pearly.

‘That’s not the point. It’s all about perceived equality.’

‘You can argue that with Ms Downes from Sussex.’ Pearly didn’t really care who the others were or how they had been chosen as long as he was included.

The sky opened on the morning that Claire Downes came to interview Pearly. Heavy rain from low, rolling, massively bruised clouds from the south. Unusual weather for Pearly’s country. The guttering and downpipes couldn’t cope with the flow during the heaviest squalls, and water fell in sheets outside the living-room window and rippled down the drive to join the gutter torrents of the street. Rain was welcome, but such a downpour was the least helpful form. Pearly thought of the farm: the heavy rain skidding from the hard ground, scouring the gullies and spreading as a yellow flash-flood over the flats.