Pearly kept his nerve and suggested a public meeting at which the two of them would debate the issue. Having been closely involved in all aspects of the project, he thought he would have an advantage over Utterspan, who had seen only what passed through the council agenda, but the events of the evening didn’t entirely bear this view out. It was a cold, overcast night with a searching breeze, the attendance was only fifty or sixty people, and Pearly had a runny nose and didn’t feel well. The venue was the Presbyterian church hall in the western suburb, and true to Scottish frugality, the heating was minimal — four small bar-heaters that provided rosy illumination in their immediate vicinity, but little warmth. The meeting was chaired by the local head of the hospice committee, whose sole qualification for the role was impartiality.

Pearly spoke first, to a question regarding costs. There were initial problems with the speaker system, and after a couple of false starts, he stepped away from the microphone and relied on the natural strength of his voice. When he was partway through explaining the necessity for large-scale dredging of the harbour and an extension of the southern breakwater, the sound of sudden heavy rain almost drowned him out. Nobody heckled him, but Pearly knew that his presentation had been underwhelming. He’d had a handkerchief to his face too often, his explanation had lacked enthusiasm and conviction, his gestures were subdued.

The mike performed without any problem for Utterspan, and he was quite at home on the stage, clear voiced and decisive as he emphasised the likelihood of cost overruns — as always happened in big infrastructure projects — and the consequent burden on the ratepayers. Pearly noticed several faces turned towards Philip in attention that had been lowered during his own speech.

Responding to the chairman’s prepared question on regional development in general, Pearly did better. He didn’t blow his nose as often, and raised a laugh or two by exaggerating the greenie fringe element of his opponent’s conservation objectives: the doubtful financial benefit of a native snail reserve, the questionable tourism value of an estuary wetland. ‘I don’t think we can rely on cockabullies and pukeko for the region’s economic growth,’ he said. Pushing an aspect of an opponent’s policy to the point of absurdity is a common ploy in debate, and Utterspan replied in kind, saying that Pearly had delusions of grandeur: that excessive port spending without guarantees of increased trade was reckless.

‘Build it and they will come?’ said Utterspan. ‘I don’t think so.’ His wife’s explosive laughter capped the audience’s amusement.