Paul Wrinskley’s report of the meeting was no comfort. It gave most space to Utterspan’s criticisms of the port plan and the apparent lack of support from central government, even though Pearly had given the paper a copy of the minister’s letter in which he wished the project well, despite not being able to visit. None of the letter was quoted in the newspaper. Pearly realised that he could expect no favours from the press in his quest for re-election. There were other indications, too, that his deputy’s campaign was gathering momentum. Utterspan was the opening speaker at the plenary session of a well-attended conference on natural waterways entitled ‘Running Pure’, and Pearly noticed a falling off in the invitations to perform those routine, individually insignificant functions of mayoral office — the opening of a kindergarten playground or new car showroom, the presentation of lifesaving certificates, the welcome for the latest batch of overseas students or the farewell for the hospital’s medical superintendent. Not a dramatic decrease, but enough for Pearly, experienced in the psychology of politics, to sense a turning of the tide.

Defeat in any field of endeavour was rare for Pearly, and rather than showing any grievance for the presumed ingratitude of those for whose benefit he worked, he smiled more, shook more hands, worked harder, discreetly called in those favours owed. He could win, he told himself. You were never beaten until the final whistle. He would give them the good old Pearly Gates magic show and point to his record as councillor and mayor.

At the regional sports awards he did just that as a speaker and the presenter of trophies. An occasion and audience ideal for Pearly and that Utterspan chose not to attend. Pearly’s own sporting history gave him the mana to talk as an equal with all those who shook his hand, and he knew exactly the level of slightly sexist informality and camaraderie that put everyone at ease. He was over his cold. He felt confident. Hundreds of voters were looking up to him, smiling, drinking, hearing indulgently the familiar Pearly anecdotes.

A phone conversation with Esther Hall was less affirming. Pearly had rung to ask her to the unveiling of the model of the proposed port development. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘I said so, and I will, but you realise I have to be careful what I say this close to the elections. I can’t take sides. It’s may the best man win, and I’ll work with him.’

‘I’m the best man,’ said Pearly.

‘And I’ve always been able to work with you. Well, almost always,’ and she gave a laugh that Pearly joined. But she didn’t actually say that she wished him success, and Pearly pondered that. Before the last local body elections she’d done so, hadn’t she?