The Casual Vacancy полностью

‘You’re late, Miss Jawanda,’ she called, recovering her composure as a flustered Sukhvinder came hurrying towards her. In Shirley’s opinion, the girl was demonstrating a kind of insolence turning up at all, after what her mother had said to Howard, here, in this very hall. She watched her hurry to join Andrew and Gaia, and thought that she would tell Howard that they ought to let Sukhvinder go. She was tardy, and there was probably a hygiene issue with the eczema she was hiding under the long-sleeved black T-shirt; Shirley made a mental note to check whether it was contagious, on her favourite medical website.

Guests began to arrive promptly at eight o’clock. Howard told Gaia to come and stand beside him and collect coats, because he wanted everyone to see him ordering her around by name, in that little black dress and frilly apron. But there were soon too many coats for her to carry alone, so he summoned Andrew to help.

‘Nick a bottle,’ Gaia ordered Andrew, as they hung coats three and four deep in the tiny cloakroom, ‘and hide it in the kitchen. We can take it in turns to go and have some.’

‘OK,’ said Andrew, elated.

‘Gavin!’ cried Howard, as his son’s partner came through the door alone at half-past eight.

‘Kay not with you, Gavin?’ asked Shirley swiftly (Maureen was changing into sparkly stilettos behind the trestle table, so there was very little time to steal a march on her).

‘No, she couldn’t make it, unfortunately,’ said Gavin; then, to his horror, he came face to face with Gaia, who was waiting to take his coat.

‘Mum could have made it,’ said Gaia, in a clear, carrying voice, as she glared at him. ‘But Gavin’s dumped her, haven’t you, Gav?’

Howard clapped Gavin on the shoulder, pretending he had not heard, and boomed, ‘Great to see you, go get yourself a drink.’

Shirley’s expression remained impassive, but the thrill of the moment did not subside quickly, and she was a little dazed and dreamy, greeting the next few guests. When Maureen tottered over in her awful dress to join the greeting party, Shirley took immense pleasure in telling her quietly: ‘We’ve had a very awkward little scene. Very awkward. Gavin and Gaia’s mother… oh, dear… if we’d known…’

‘What? What’s happened?’

But Shirley shook her head, savouring the exquisite pleasure of Maureen’s frustrated curiosity, and opened her arms wide as Miles, Samantha and Lexie entered the hall.

‘Here he is! Parish Councillor Miles Mollison!’

Samantha watched Shirley hugging Miles as though from a great distance. She had moved so abruptly from happiness and anticipation to shock and disappointment that her thoughts had become white noise, against which she had to fight to take in the exterior world.

(Miles had said: ‘That’s great! You can come to Dad’s party, you were only just saying—’

‘Yes,’ she had replied, ‘I know. It is great, isn’t it?’

But when he had seen her dressed in the jeans and band T-shirt she had been visualizing herself in for over a week, he had been perplexed.

‘It’s formal.’

‘Miles, it’s the church hall in Pagford.’

‘I know, but the invitation—’

‘I’m wearing this.’)

‘Hello, Sammy,’ said Howard. ‘Look at you. You needn’t have dressed up.’

But his embrace was as lascivious as ever, and he patted her tightly jeaned backside.

Samantha gave Shirley a cold tight smile and walked past her towards the drinks. A nasty voice inside her head was asking: but what did you think was going to happen at the concert, anyway? What was the point? What were you after?

Nothing. A bit of fun.

The dream of strong young arms and laughter, which was to have had some kind of catharsis tonight; her own thin waist encircled again, and the sharp taste of the new, the unexplored; her fantasy had lost wings, it was plummeting back to earth…

I only wanted to look.

‘Looking good, Sammy.’

‘Cheers, Pat.’

She had not met her sister-in-law for over a year.

I like you more than anyone else in this family, Pat.

Miles had caught up with her; he kissed his sister.

‘How are you? How’s Mel? Isn’t she here?’

‘No, she didn’t want to come,’ said Patricia. She was drinking champagne, but from her expression, it might have been vinegar. ‘The invitation said Pat and guest are invited… huge bloody row. One up to Mum.’

‘Oh, Pat, come on,’ said Miles, smiling.

‘Oh, Pat, fucking come on what, Miles?’

A furious delight took hold of Samantha: a pretext to attack.

‘That’s a bloody rude way to invite your sister’s partner and you know it, Miles. Your mother could do with some lessons in manners, if you ask me.’