The Casual Vacancy

the kitchen.
    ‘Do they know?’ he asked her.
    ‘Fergus does. Somebody at school told him. I’ve asked him not to tell the others. Honestly, Gavin … I’m about at the end of my tether. The spite—’
    ‘It isn’t true,’ he said, and then, his curiosity getting the better of him, ‘is it?’
    ‘No!’ she said, outraged. ‘I mean … I don’t know … I don’t really know her. But to make him
talk
like that … putting the words in his mouth … don’t they
care
what it’s like for me?’
    She dissolved into tears again. He felt that he shouldn’t hug her while she was wearing her dressing gown, and was glad that he had not, when eighteen-year-old Fergus entered the kitchen a moment later.
    ‘Hey, Gav.’
    The boy looked tired, older than his years. Gavin watched him put an arm around Mary and saw her lean her head against his shoulder, mopping her eyes on her baggy sleeve like a child.
    ‘I don’t think it was the same person,’ Fergus told them, without preamble. ‘I’ve been looking at it again. The style of the message is different.’
    He had it on his mobile phone, and began to read aloud:
    ‘“Parish Councillor Dr Parminder Jawanda, who pretends to be so keen on looking after the poor and needy of the area, has always had a secret motive. Until I died—”’
    ‘Fergus, don’t,’ said Mary, slumping down at the kitchen table. ‘I can’t take it. I honestly can’t. And his article in the paper today too.’
    As she covered her face with her hands and sobbed silently, Gavin noticed the
Yarvil and District Gazette
lying there. He never read it. Without asking or offering, he moved across to the cupboard to make her a drink.
    ‘Thanks, Gav,’ she said thickly, when he pushed the glass into her hand.
    ‘It might be Howard Mollison,’ suggested Gavin, sitting down beside her. ‘From what Barry said about him.’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ said Mary, dabbing at her eyes. ‘It’s so crude. He never did anything like that when Barry was –’ she hiccuped ‘– alive.’ And then she snapped at her son, ‘Throw that paper away, Fergus.’
    The boy looked confused and hurt.
    ‘It’s got Dad’s—’
    ‘Throw it away!’ said Mary, with an edge of hysteria in her voice. ‘I can read it off the computer if I want to, the last thing he ever did – on our anniversary!’
    Fergus took the newspaper off the table and stood for a moment watching his mother, who had buried her face in her hands again. Then, with a glance at Gavin, he walked out of the room still holding the
Gazette.
    After a while, when Gavin judged that Fergus was not coming back, he put out a consoling hand and rubbed Mary’s arm. They sat in silence for some time, and Gavin felt much happier with the newspaper gone from the table.

II
    Parminder was not supposed to be working the next morning, but she had a meeting in Yarvil. Once the children had left for school she moved methodically around the house, making sure that she had everything she needed, but when the telephone rang, she jumped so much that she dropped her bag.
    ‘Yes?’ she yelped, sounding almost frightened. Tessa, on the other end of the line, was taken aback.
    ‘Minda, it’s me – are you all right?’
    ‘Yes – yes – the phone made me jump,’ said Parminder, looking at the kitchen floor now littered with keys, papers, loose change and tampons. ‘What is it?’
    ‘Nothing really,’ said Tessa. ‘Just calling for a chat. See how you are.’
    The subject of the anonymous post hung between them like some jeering monster, dangling from the line. Parminder had barely allowed Tessa to talk about it during yesterday’s call. She had shouted, ‘
It’s a lie, a filthy lie, and don’t tell me Howard Mollison didn’t do it!
’
    Tessa had not dared pursue the subject.
    ‘I can’t talk,’ said Parminder. ‘I’ve got a meeting in Yarvil. A case review for a little boy on the at-risk register.’
    ‘Oh, right. Sorry. Maybe later?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Parminder. ‘Great. Goodbye.’
    She scooped up the contents of her bag and hurried from the house, running back from the garden gate to check that she had closed the front door properly.
    Every so often, as she drove, she realized that she had no recollection of travelling the last mile, and told herself fiercely to concentrate. But the malicious words of the anonymous post kept coming back to her. She already knew them by heart.
    Parish Councillor Dr Parminder Jawanda, who pretends