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both stoned； he was curious to know what that was like。
‘I bin ter see my Nana in hospital this mornin’； she’s ’ad a stroke；’ said Krystal。
Nana Cath had not tried to speak this time； but Krystal thought she had known that she was there。 As Krystal had expected； Terri was refusing to visit； so Krystal had sat beside the bed on her own for an hour until it was time to leave for the precinct。
Fats was curious about the minutiae of Krystal’s life； but only in so far as she was an entry point to the real life of the Fields。 Particulars such as hospital visits were of no interest to him。
‘An’；’ Krystal added； with an irrepressible spurt of pride； ‘I’ve gave an interview to the paper。’
‘What？’ said Fats； startled。 ‘Why？’
‘Jus’ about the Fields；’ said Krystal。 ‘What it’s like growin’ up there。’
（The journalist had found her at home at last； and when Terri had given her grudging permission； taken her to a café to talk。 She had kept asking her whether being at St Thomas’s had helped Krystal； whether it had changed her life in any way。 She had seemed a little impatient and frustrated by Krystal’s answers。
‘How are your marks at school？’ she had said； and Krystal had been evasive and defensive。
‘Mr Fairbrother said that he thought it broadened your horizons。’
Krystal did not know what to say about horizons。 When she thought of St Thomas’s； it was of her delight in the playing field with the big chestnut tree； which rained enormous glossy conkers on them every year； she had never seen conkers before she went to St Thomas’s。 She had liked the uniform at first； liked looking the same as everybody else。 She had been excited to see her great…grandfather’s name on the war memorial in the middle of the Square： Pte Samuel Weedon。 Only one other boy had his surname on the war memorial； and that was a farmer’s son； who had been able to drive a tractor at nine； and who had once brought a lamb into class for Show and Tell。 Krystal had never forgotten the sensation of the lamb’s fleece under her hand。 When she told Nana Cath about it； Nana Cath had said that their family had been farm labourers once。
Krystal had loved the river； green and lush； where they had gone for nature walks。 Best of all had been rounders and athletics。 She was always first to be picked for any kind of sporting team； and she had delighted in the groan that went up from the other team whenever she was chosen。 And she thought sometimes of the special teachers she had been given； especially Miss Jameson； who had been young and trendy； with long blonde hair。 Krystal had always imagined Anne…Marie to be a little bit like Miss Jameson。
Then there were snippets of information that Krystal had retained in vivid； accurate detail。 Volcanoes： they were made by plates shifting in the ground； they had made model ones and filled them with bicarbonate of soda and washing…up liquid； and they had erupted onto plastic trays。 Krystal had loved that。 She knew about Vikings too： they had longships and horned helmets； though she had forgotten when they arrived in Britain； or why。
But other memories of St Thomas’s included the muttered ments made about her by little girls in her class； one or two of whom she had slapped。 When Social Services had allowed her to go back to her mother； her uniform became so tight； short and grubby that letters were sent from school； and Nana Cath and Terri had a big row。 The other girls at school had not wanted her in their groups； except for their rounders teams。 She could still remember Lexie Mollison handing everyone in the class a little pink envelope containing a party invitation； and walking past Krystal with – as Krystal remembered it – her nose in the air。
Only a couple of people had asked her to parties。 She wondered whether Fats or his mother remembered that she had once attended a birthday party at their house。 The whole class had been invited； and Nana Cath had bought Krystal a party dress。 So she knew that Fats’ huge back garden had a pond and a swing and an apple tree。 They had eaten jelly and had sack races。 Tessa had told Krystal off because； trying desperately hard to win a plastic medal； she had pushed other children out of the way。 One of them had had a nosebleed。
‘You enjoyed St Thomas’s； though； did you？’ the journalist had asked。
‘Yeah；’ said Krystal； but she knew that she had not conveyed what Mr Fairbrother had wanted her to convey； and wished he could have been there with her to help。 ‘Yeah； I enjoyed it。’）
‘How e they wanted to talk to you about the Fields？’ asked Fats。
‘It were Mr Fairbrother’s idea；’ said Krystal。
After another few minutes； Fats asked； ‘D’you smoke？’
‘Wha’； like spliffs？ Yeah； I dunnit with Dane。’
‘I’ve got some on me；’ said Fats。
‘Get it off Skye Kirby； didja？’ asked Krystal。 He wondered whether he imagined a trace of amusement in her voice； because Skye was the soft； safe option； the place the middle…class kids went。 If so； Fats liked her authentic derision。
‘Where d’you get yours； then？’ he asked； interested now。
‘I dunno； it were Dane’s；’ she said。
‘From Obbo？’ suggested Fats。
‘Tha’ fuckin’ tosser。’
‘What’s wrong with him？’
But Krystal had no words for what was wrong with Obbo； and even if she had； she would not have wanted to talk about him。 Obbo made her flesh crawl； sometimes he came round and shot up with Terri； at other times he fucked her； and Krystal would meet him on the stairs； tugging up his filthy fly； smiling at her through his bottle…bottom glasses。 Often Obbo had little jobs to offer Terri； like hiding the puters； or giving strangers a place to stay for a night； or agreeing to perform services of which Krystal did not know the nature； but which took her mother out of the house for hours。
Krystal had had a nightmare； not long ago； in which her mother had bee stretched； spread and tied on a kind of frame； she was mostly a vast； gaping hole； like a giant； raw； plucked chicken； and in the dream； Obbo was walking in and out of this cavernous interior； and fiddling with things in there； while Terri’s tiny head was frightened and grim。 Krystal had woke