Candlenight

'Bethan has been here since seven,' explained Mrs. Evans, setting down his three kinds of toast. 'Been following the Tory campaign, she has. Well, I never realised this electioneering was so complicated.'

Ten minutes later, as she carried his plates away, he heard her open the sitting room door. 'I'm taking your tea and coffee into the dining room. It's not friendly to leave Mr. Morelli on his own.'

Guto's reply was unintelligible but audibly grumpy. He shambled in a couple of minutes later wearing a torn sweatshirt with something in Welsh printed on the front and a lot of exclamation marks 'Morning, Morelli,' he said without enthusiasm.

'Bad night?'

'Don't even fucking ask.' said Guto, reversing a dining chair and sitting down with his legs astride the seat and his chin on his hands over the backrest.

Bethan followed him in, contrastingly elegant in black, with the big gold earrings, 'Guto has decided his meeting in Y Groes was not a success,' she said carefully.

Mrs. Evans returned with matching tea and coffee pots in some ornate kind of china, put the coffee pot on the table in front of Guto. 'I've told you about sitting like that, you'll ruin that chair.'

'Oh, Mam, not this morning, for Chr — Not this morning, please.'

Mrs. Evans put down the teapot. 'Two black tea drinkers?' She said. 'There's coincidence. Strong or weak?'

'I like mine strongish,' Bethan said. 'I am afraid he likes it so it corrodes the spoon.'

Guto threw her a penetrating look which said. And how the hell do you know that?

'Berry was at the Conservative meeting last night.' Bethan said quickly, pouring tea. 'They served tea afterwards,' she lied. 'He was complaining about the Tory tea. how weak it was. This is lovely. Mrs. Evans.'

Guto's look said, Oh. Berry, now, is it?

'Anything else you want,' Mrs. Evans said, scurrying off, 'I'll be in the kitchen.'

'Yes, yes, thank you, Mam,' Guto said irritably.

'So what went wrong?' Berry lit a cigarette.

'I truly cannot fathom it. Morelli.' Guto said. 'You know Y Groes, you've been there?'

Berry nodded.

'Not a soul in that village does not speak Welsh, am I right, Bethan?'

'You're right,' she said. 'And you are remembering that when Gwynfor won his by-election to become the first Plaid MP, back then, it was said he had one hundred per cent support in the Welsh-speaking communities of Carmarthenshire — in Llanybydder and Rhydeymerau.'

'Right,' Guto said bitterly. 'Of all the places, this was the one I was the least worried about. Didn't even think about what I was going to say in advance. I'd march into the school hall to universal cheers. Hard man of the nationalists, hero of the hour.'

He rocked backwards and forwards on the dining chair. 'You know how many were there? Nineteen. Nineteen fucking people!'

Berry reckoned Simon Gallier must have pulled nearly four hundred. OK. Guto's meeting was in a village, but, shit…

'Another notable chapter in the annals of apathy, it was,' Guto said. 'And worse still — get this — most of the nineteen were from farms and hamlets a few miles away. I should say there were fewer than five actual residents of Y Groes. And they were the people who knew me, come out of politeness — Aled from the pub, Dilwyn Dafis, Dewi Fon. What is it we learn from this, eh? What do we fucking learn here?'

'Maybe the meeting wasn't publicised enough? ' Berry said.

'Bollocks. Nothing happens in these villages that everybody doesn't know about. Apathy, it is. Typical of this area. Makes you sick.'

He looked despondently at the floor. Bethan looked at Berry. The look indicated she could maybe explain this, and apathy was not the word she would use.

'Look, I have to go,' Bethan said.

'And I have to change, for my Press conference,' Guto said. 'Jesus, what if the hacks have heard about it?'

'Any of them there?' Berry asked.

'No. And with only twenty-one people in the bloody room, I can be sure of that, at least. But they'll have heard, see. Word travels fast. I tell you, if it goes on like this, I'm finished, man.'

'It won't, Guto.' Bethan said. 'Believe me. It is not like other places, that village. I know this. And you have over a week, yet' She squeezed his arm.

Berry thought. He's worried about this getting out and he just told the entire story to a reporter

He didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted that neither Guto nor Bethan seemed to consider him a real journalist.

When Guto, reluctantly be-suited, had left for the Drovers', Berry wedged himself into the telephone alcove of Mrs. Evans's china-choked sitting room and called American Newsnet, collect.

'I was beginning to think,' Addison Walls said, 'that the telephone system had not yet been extended to Wales.' He sounded like he had a cold.

'It got here at the weekend,' Berry said. 'Just nobody could figure out how to connect the wires. So, how much you want me to file?'

'I don't want you to file a thing.' Addison Walls said. 'I read every damn word printed about that by-election and, as I predicted, it's full shit and of purely domestic interest. So what I'm lookin' for is you back here by tonight, yeah?'

'Ah, I don't think I can do that.' Berry said. There was a long pause during which Berry could hear Addison trying to breathe.

'I hear you correctly? I said I needed you back here by tonight, and you said—'

'I said I didn't think I could make it. Like, you know, my car broke down.'

'You drive a pile of crap, Morelli, whadda you expect?

So take a train. If there's no trains, take a bus. Fuck it, grab a cab, but get your ass back here by tonight. OK?'

'Addison, listen,' Berry said. 'How about I take a couple days vacation—'

'Nearly December, Morelli. You took all your vacation.'

'OK, I'll take some of next year's.'

'Morelli, Goddamn it—' He heard Addison Walls blow his nose. 'Listen, we're up to the eyes here. Paul went sick, I can't see the top a my desk for fuckin' influenza remedies that don't fuckin' work. You know what, Morelli, you've become a real weird guy. So, listen, you don't show up tomorrow, I am not gonna be all that worried. Give me an opportunity to test out my new shredder on your contract.'

'Addison, hey, come on… Just two days is all I'm asking.'

'You getting the general direction of my thinking. Morelli?'

'Yeah,' Berry felt some perverse kind of euphoria filling up his head. 'Yeah. I think I'm finally piecing things together.'

'Good,' Addison Walls said, and he hung up.

The sun was out, pale but definitely out, and the street sparkled after an overnight frost. Berry could see the broken denture of the castle walls, a sign pointing to the Welsh Pizza House — lousy name, lousy pizzas. Feeling suddenly very strange, very different, he began to walk up the street. Saw Guto's mom coming back from the shop with a teeming basket over her arm and a headscarf over her perm. Felt a crazy kind of affection for Guto's mom.

Guto too. He'd make the right kind of MP. Always be in trouble, always say the wrong things to the wrong people. Berry liked that.

But how much of a chance did Guto really have? Why didn't Y Groes want him? Heart of the Welsh-speaking heartland.

He could get back to London in four, five hours. He could spend most of today here and still get back to London by tonight. Maybe come back next weekend, see how things were going.

Sure. No problem.