Pearly knew his man; there was no point in abasing himself or getting angry. No point in saying he felt let down. The lawyer would have considered all issues carefully before making a decision, and it wouldn’t have been on personal grounds. They talked a little more about the economic prospects of the region, Pearly’s priorities, and then disengaged without animosity. ‘I do realise and appreciate what’s been achieved in the past few years,’ Barry said, ‘and I’m not saying I’m against you being returned. I suppose I’m undecided this time, that’s all. And I must say I’m not happy about the way some of the finance stuff has been presented — or rather not presented.’

‘Well, we’ll just see what happens,’ said Pearly. ‘A good contest for office is probably a healthy thing, but I hope to convince you I’m still the man for the job.’

And he believed it was a healthy thing and the proper operation of democracy, but he was still going to win. Barry Harte’s defection meant he would have to fight all the harder, use whatever weapons were to hand. Some daring was required, and Pearly was up to it.

He wouldn’t ring Deidre Utterspan or go to see her, not because he lacked the courage to do so, but because that would cause her more embarrassment than an anonymous approach. Anonymity would make it easier for Pearly too. He took care with the letter and revised it many times.

To Deidre Utterspan,

I know that you are having an affair, and I know who with. In normal circumstances that would be purely a personal matter and no concern of mine. However it is totally inappropriate for the wife of the mayor, and the public are entitled to the information if your husband continues to be a candidate for that office. If he does, I will feel obliged to make your affair known. If he withdraws, I will reveal nothing.

There was no indication of the sender, no Concerned Citizen or Holy Joe. Neither righteous accusation nor sleazy innuendo. There was nothing funny about what he was doing, and Pearly fully understood that. The letter sat for some days in the locked drawer of his desk at Rawleigh and Gates, and then, on a cool morning with a sea mist gradually lifting from the town, Pearly took it and walked to the post box in front of the Countdown supermarket. He checked the address for the last time, slid the letter in and returned to the office to work on GST returns.