The Casual Vacancy

of hair led from his navel down into his jeans.

V
    Alison Jenkins, the journalist from the
Yarvil and District Gazette
, had at last established which of the many Weedon households in Yarvil housed Krystal. It had been difficult: nobody was registered to vote at the address and no landline number was listed for the property. Alison visited Foley Road in person on Sunday, but Krystal was out, and Terri, suspicious and antagonistic, refused to say when she would be back or confirm that she lived there.
    Krystal arrived home a mere twenty minutes after the journalist had departed in her car, and she and her mother had another row.
    ‘Why din’t ya tell her to wait? She was gonna interview me abou’ the Fields an’ stuff!’
    ‘Interview
you
? Fuck off. Wha’ the fuck for?’
    The argument escalated and Krystal walked out again, off toNikki’s, with Terri’s mobile in her tracksuit bottoms. She frequently made off with this phone; many rows were triggered by her mother demanding it back and Krystal pretending that she didn’t know where it was. Dimly, Krystal hoped that the journalist might know the number somehow and call her directly.
    She was in a crowded, jangling café in the shopping centre, telling Nikki and Leanne all about the journalist, when the mobile rang.
    ‘’Oo? Are you the journalist, like?’
    ‘… o’s ’at … ’erri?’
    ‘It’s Krystal. ’Oo’s this?’
    ‘… ’m your … ’nt … other … ’ister.’
    ‘’Oo?’ shouted Krystal. One finger in the ear not pressed against the phone, she wove her way between the densely packed tables to reach a quieter place.
    ‘Danielle,’ said the woman, loud and clear on the other end of the telephone. ‘I’m yer mum’s sister.’
    ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Krystal, disappointed.
    Fuckin’ snobby bitch
, Terri always said when Danielle’s name came up. Krystal was not sure that she had ever met Danielle.
    ‘It’s abou’ your Great Gran.’
    ‘’Oo?’
    ‘
Nana Cath
,’ said Danielle impatiently. Krystal reached the balcony overlooking the shopping centre forecourt; reception was strong here; she stopped.
    ‘Wha’s wrong with ’er?’ said Krystal. It felt as though her stomach was flipping over, the way it had done as a little girl, turning somersaults on a railing like the one in front of her. Thirty feet below, the crowds surged, carrying plastic bags, pushing buggies and dragging toddlers.
    ‘She’s in South West General. She’s been there a week. She’s had a stroke.’
    ‘She’s bin there a week?’ said Krystal, her stomach still swooping. ‘Nobody told us.’
    ‘Yeah, well, she can’t speak prop’ly, but she’s said your name twice.’
    ‘Mine?’ asked Krystal, clutching the mobile tightly.
    ‘Yeah. I think she’d like to see yeh. It’s serious. They’re sayin’ she migh’ not recover.’
    ‘Wha’ ward is it?’ asked Krystal, her mind buzzing.
    ‘Twelve. High-dependency. Visiting hours are twelve till four, six till eight. All righ’?’
    ‘Is it—?’
    ‘I gotta go. I only wanted to let you know, in case you want to see her. ’Bye.’
    The line went dead. Krystal lowered the mobile from her ear, staring at the screen. She pressed a button repeatedly with her thumb, until she saw the word ‘blocked’. Her aunt had withheld her number.
    Krystal walked back to Nikki and Leanne. They knew at once that something was wrong.
    ‘Go an’ see ’er,’ said Nikki, checking the time on her own mobile. ‘Yeh’ll ge’ there fer two. Ge’ the bus.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Krystal blankly.
    She thought of fetching her mother, of taking her and Robbie to go and see Nana Cath too, but there had been a huge row a year before, and her mother and Nana Cath had had no contact since. Krystal was sure that Terri would take an immense amount of persuading to go to the hospital, and was not sure that Nana Cath would be happy to see her.
    It’s serious. They’re saying she might not recover.
    ‘’Ave yeh gor enough cash?’ said Leanne, rummaging in her pockets as the three of them walked up the road towards the bus stop.
    ‘Yeah,’ said Krystal, checking. ‘It’s on’y a quid up the hospital, innit?’
    They had time to share a cigarette before the number twenty-seven arrived. Nikki and Leanne waved her off as though she were going somewhere nice. At the very last moment, Krystal felt scared and wanted to shout ‘Come with me!’ But then the bus pulled away from the kerb, and Nikki and Leanne were