A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [107]
“That is what people generally do at their weddings.”
Jamie was beginning to understand why Tony hadn’t made a bigger effort to introduce his sister. This woman could give Katie a run for her money. “We had an argument.”
“I know.”
“And it was my fault.”
“So I gathered,” said Becky.
“Anyway, I was thinking if I could get him to come to the wedding…”
“I think it was the wedding he was avoiding. By going to Crete.”
“Ah.”
Becky stubbed out her cigarette in the little glass ashtray in the center of the table and Jamie concentrated on the way the smoke floated up and broke into little spirals to take his mind off the uncomfortable silence.
“He loved you,” said Becky. “You do know that, don’t you.”
“Did he?” It was a stupid thing to say. But he was too shocked to care what he sounded like.
Tony loved him. Why the fuck had Tony never said so? Jamie had always assumed Tony felt exactly the same as him, not wanting to leap in and make commitments.
Tony loved him. He loved Tony. How in God’s name had he managed to screw things up quite so spectacularly?
“You didn’t realize, did you,” said Becky.
There was absolutely nothing Jamie could say.
“Jesus,” said Becky. “Men are morons sometimes.”
Jamie was about to say that if Tony had only told him, then none of this would have happened. But it didn’t sound like a very grown-up response. Besides, he knew precisely why Tony had never told him. Because he’d never allowed Tony to tell him, because he didn’t want Tony to tell him, because he was terrified of Tony telling him. “How can I get in touch with him?”
“God knows,” said Becky. “He’s staying with some friend who’s got a time-share thing out there.”
“Gordon.”
“Sounds right. He thought the mobile would work.”
“It doesn’t. I tried.”
“Snap,” said Becky.
“I need a cigarette,” said Jamie.
Becky smiled for the first time. She gave him a cigarette and lit it for him. “You are in a state, aren’t you.”
“Look,” said Jamie. “If he rings—”
“He hasn’t.”
“But if he does—”
“You’re serious, aren’t you,” said Becky.
Jamie steeled himself. “I love him. I just didn’t realize until…Well, God, Tony chucked me. Then my sister canceled the wedding. Then my dad had some kind of nervous breakdown and ended up in hospital. And we all drove to Peterborough and everyone basically scratched each other’s eyes out. And it was horrible. Really horrible. Then the wedding was back on again.”
“This is going to be a really fun event, isn’t it.”
“And I realized Tony was the only person who—”
“Oh Jesus. Just don’t cry. Please. Men crying does my head in. Have another drink.” She poured the remains of the wine into his glass.
“Sorry.” Jamie wiped his slightly moist eyes and swallowed the lump.
“Drop an invite round,” said Becky. “Write something soppy on it. I’ll stick it on top of his post pile. Or on his pillow. Whatever. If he gets back in time I’ll kick his arse and make him come.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She lit another cigarette. “I met his previous boyfriends. Nobheads. In my humble opinion. Obviously you and I haven’t known each other long but, trust me, you seem like a major improvement.”
“Ryan seemed nice.” In his mind, Jamie was introducing Becky to Katie and wondering whether the two of them would become friends for life or spontaneously combust.
“Ryan. God. What an arsehole. Hated women. You know, you can’t work with them because they’re not tough enough and they bugger off to have children. Probably not even gay. Not properly. You know the type. Just can’t stomach the idea of sex with women. Hated children, too. Which always winds me up. I mean, where do you think adults come from, for God’s sake? You want bus drivers and doctors? You need children. I’m glad I’m not the poor bloody woman who spent a chunk of her life wiping his arse. Didn’t like dogs, either. Or cats. Never trust a man who doesn’t like animals. That’s my rule. You don’t fancy sharing a Tesco curry, do you?”
88
Jean rang David.