The Casual Vacancy

‘See?’ both women shouted at each other.

‘You’re fuckin’ doin’ it to him!’ shouted Krystal. ‘An’ anyway, that doctor didn’ do nuthin’ to Nana Cath, that’s all jus’ Cheryl an’ them talking shit!’

‘Fuckin’ little know-it-all, ain’t yeh?’ yelled Terri. ‘You know fuck-all—’

Krystal spat at her.

‘Get the fuck out!’ screamed Terri, and because Krystal was bigger and heavier she seized a shoe lying on the floor and brandished it. ‘Gerrout!’

‘I fuckin’ will!’ yelled Krystal. ‘An’ I’ll take Robbie an’ all, an’ you can stay here an’ fuckin’ screw Obbo an’ make another one!’

She dragged the wailing Robbie out with her before Terri could stop her.

Krystal marched him all the way to her usual refuge, forgetting that at this time in the afternoon, Nikki would still be hanging around outside somewhere, not at home. It was Nikki’s mum who opened the door, in her Asda uniform.

‘He ain’ stayin’ ’ere,’ she told Krystal firmly, while Robbie whined and tried to pull his hand from Krystal’s tight grip. ‘Where’s your mum?’

‘Home,’ said Krystal, and everything else she wanted to say evaporated in the older woman’s stern gaze.

So she returned to Foley Road with Robbie, where Terri, bitterly triumphant, grabbed her son’s arm, pulled him inside and blocked Krystal from entering.

‘’Ad enough of him already, ’ave yeh?’ Terri jeered, over Robbie’s wails. ‘Fuck off.’

And she slammed the door.

Terri had Robbie sleep beside her on her own mattress that night. She lay awake and thought about how little she needed Krystal, and ached for her as badly as she had ever craved smack.

Krystal had been angry for days. The thing that Krystal had said about Obbo…

(‘She said what?’ he had laughed, incredulously, when they had met in the street, and Terri had muttered something about Krystal being upset.)

… he wouldn’t have done it. He couldn’t have.

Obbo was one of the few people who had hung around. Terri had known him since she was fifteen. They had gone to school together, hung out in Yarvil while she was in care, swigged cider together beneath the trees on the footpath that cut its way through the small patch of remaining farmland beside the Fields. They had shared their first joint.

Krystal had never liked him. Jealous, thought Terri, watching Robbie sleep in the street light pouring through the thin curtains. Just jealous. He’s done more for me than anyone, thought Terri defiantly, because when she tallied kindnesses she subtracted abandonment. Thus all of Nana Cath’s care had been annihilated by her rejection.

But Obbo had hidden her, once, from Ritchie, the father of her first two children, when she had fled the house barefoot and bleeding. Sometimes he gave her free bags of smack. She saw them as equivalent kindnesses. His refuges were more reliable than the little house in Hope Street that she had once, for three glorious days, thought was home.

Krystal did not return on Saturday morning, but that was nothing new; Terri knew she must be at Nikki’s. In a rage, because they were low on food, and she was out of cigarettes, and Robbie was whining for his sister, she stormed into her daughter’s room and kicked her clothes around, searching for money or the odd, overlooked fag. Something clattered as she threw aside Krystal’s crumpled old rowing kit, and she saw the little plastic jewellery box, upended, with the rowing medal that Krystal had won, and Tessa Wall’s watch lying beneath it.

Terri picked up the watch and stared at it. She had never seen it before. She wondered where Krystal had got it. Her first assumption was that Krystal had stolen it, but then she wondered whether she might have been given it by Nana Cath, or even left it in Nana Cath’s will. That was a much more troubling thought than the idea of the watch being stolen. The idea of the sneaky little bitch hiding it away, treasuring it, never mentioning it…

Terri put the watch inside the pocket of her tracksuit bottoms and bellowed for Robbie to come with her to the shops. It took ages to get him into his shoes, and Terri lost her temper and slapped him. She wished she could go to the shop alone, but the social workers did not like you leaving kids behind in the house, even though you could get things done much quicker without them.

‘Where’s Krystal?’ wailed Robbie, as she manhandled him out of the door. ‘I wan’ Krystal!’

‘I dunno where the little tart is,’ snapped Terri, dragging him along the road.

Obbo was on the corner beside the supermarket, talking to two men. When he saw her he raised a hand in greeting, and his two companions walked away.

‘’Ow’s Ter?’ he said.

‘N’bad,’ she lied. ‘Robbie, leggo.’

He was digging his fingers so tightly into her thin leg that it hurt.

‘Listen,’ said Obbo, ‘couldja keep a bit more stuff for me fer a bit?’

‘Kinda stuff?’ asked Terri, prising Robbie off her leg and holding his hand instead.

‘Coupla bags o’ stuff,’ said Obbo. ‘Really help me out, Ter.’

‘’Ow long for?’

‘Few days. Bring it round this evenin’. Will yeh?’

Terri thought of Krystal, and what she would say if she knew.

‘Yeah, go on then,’ said Terri.

She remembered something else, and pulled Tessa’s watch out of her pocket. ‘Gonna sell this, whaddaya reckon?’

‘Not bad,’ said Obbo, weighing it in his hand. ‘I’ll give yeh twenty for it. Bring it over tonight?’

Terri had thought the watch might be worth more, but she did not like to challenge him.

‘Yeah, all righ’ then.’

She took a few steps towards the supermarket entrance, hand in hand with Robbie, but then turned abruptly.

‘I ain’ usin’ though,’ she said. ‘So don’ bring…’

‘Still on the mixture?’ he said, grinning at her through his thick glasses. ‘Bellchapel’s done for, mind. All in the paper.’

‘Yeah,’ she said miserably, and she tugged Robbie towards the entrance of the supermarket. ‘I know.’

I ain’t going to Pagford, she thought, as she picked biscuits off the shelf. I ain’t going there.

She was almost inured to constant criticism and assessment, to the sideways glance of passers-by, to abuse from the neighbours, but she was not going to go all the way to that smug little town to get double helpings; to travel back in time, once a week, to the place where Nana Cath had said she would keep her, but let her go. She would have to pass that pretty little school that had sent horrible letters home about Krystal, saying that her clothes were too small and too dirty, that her behaviour was unacceptable. She was afraid of long-forgotten relatives emerging from Hope Street, as they squabbled over Nana Cath’s house, and of what Cheryl would say, if she knew that Terri had entered into voluntary dealings with the Paki bitch who had killed Nana Cath. Another mark against her, in the family that despised her.

‘They ain’t making me go to fuckin’ Pagford,’ Terri muttered aloud, pulling Robbie towards the checkout.

II

‘Brace yourself,’ teased Howard Mollison at midday on Saturday. ‘Mum’s about to post the results on the website. Want to wait and see it made public or shall I tell you now?’

Miles turned away instinctively from Samantha, who was sitting opposite him at the island in the middle of the kitchen. They were having a last coffee before she and Libby set off for the station and the concert in London. With the handset pressed tightly to his ear, he said, ‘Go on.’