‘Nor can I,’ said Pearly. ‘I just wanted to make sure I won, I suppose. I probably would’ve anyway, but I wanted to make certain. I’ve got used to winning. It wasn’t just about that, either. I’ve put a hell of a lot into the harbour project in particular, and I needed to see it through.’

‘How could you do it, though? It’s not like you, Pearly. It’s not something I thought you capable of.’

‘I know. I know. I crossed over some line that I didn’t even know I’d ever drawn. I realised it too late. At least I’ve come clean about it.’

‘There is that,’ said Helen, but she didn’t pursue it as something in his favour. ‘What reason would you give for tossing it in?’

‘Health and family, I suppose. The usual smokescreen. But I’d front up to Deidre and tell her the truth.’

‘What about Philip?’

‘That’s up to her, but there’s no reason he gets told any more than he knows now, which is pretty much nothing according to her. Anyway, what you think is more important. I’ll do what you reckon I should. It won’t make it right, I know, but it’s the best I can come up with. It’s all a major cock-up, and I brought it on myself, and I’m pissed off with myself.’

‘Not being mayor wouldn’t be the end of the world,’ said Helen. Pearly had hoped for a more affirming response to his intended sacrifice, but her tone had regained a little of its customary warmth, and he was grateful for that.

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I’d better pick up Andrew at his mother’s. Do you want to come?’

‘Drop me home. I’ve got stuff to do. Don’t forget about the cheese in the car for Andrew. The good thing is Gumbo’s looking so much better. I think he’ll be fine, and Chrissie seems nice.’ That was something. At least Gumbo was going to be all right, and Pearly had prayed for that: a prayer addressed not to a conventional god but that amorphous entity that throws the dice in life, is appealed to in crisis and forgotten in all other situations.