It was different now. He wasn’t noticeably fat, but he was no longer as fit. He was sixty-four years old, had niggling back problems and a heightened cholesterol level. Because of a cartilage operation on his left knee and subsequent deterioration he could no longer run for long, although walking was okay. Recently he’d been surprised and dismayed to see in Helen’s dressing table mirror, which had wings to show a rear view, that a bald patch was developing on his crown, despite the vigour of hair growth elsewhere, especially now on his shoulders. He was regressing, Helen had said good-humouredly. The sense of integration of flesh and spirit that is natural to the young had passed. He could no longer trust his body to accomplish everything he wished from it. Full synchronisation was over: sometimes he found himself gripping the car door as an aid to getting out, and when stepping over a fence, or other obstacle, his foot would perhaps catch, unable to quite reach the height he required of it. He thought of seeing Rob Prendergast in the refreshment tent that morning and wished he’d gone over to him and asked about his health. Rob and his wife had given many years of service to the library and the museum. Hours and hours of volunteer work and substantial grants of money as well. Pearly decided that he would bring up the matter at council and see if some form of community recognition was possible.

He mentioned the Prendergasts to Esther Hall when he rang later that evening. She hadn’t been able to attend the show and was interested to hear of its success, confirmed the bad news of Rob’s illness, but her reason for wanting Pearly to get in touch was political. ‘About the regional projects, Pat,’ she said. Esther never called him Pearly. One of the very few not to do so. ‘We need to bring each other up to speed. I haven’t got my head around the full port proposal as yet and there’ll be scrutiny of all kinds, regional and national. Look, I’m going to come to the award of citizenship do on Tuesday the 18th. Why don’t we have a chat after that?’

‘Sounds fine,’ said Pearly.

‘Maybe have David Congreve there?’

‘Good idea,’ said Pearly. David was the council’s CEO.

‘Okay then. Great. I’d better go.’

‘Select committee papers to read?’

‘Nope. Three recorded episodes of Antiques Roadshow. Love it, and I never seem to get the chance.’