A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [120]
“A very long time,” said Jamie.
“So,” said Mum, looking slightly uncomfortable, “where’s Tony?”
Katie realized Mum was bracing herself for the poorly timed appearance of her son’s boyfriend in front of her unprepared evangelical sister. Which made her feel sorry for both Jamie and Mum. Clearly being queen for the weekend didn’t give her the power to resolve everything.
“I’m afraid he’s not coming,” said Jamie. Katie could see him steeling himself. “We’ve had a few problems. To cut a long story short, he went to Crete. Which is apparently very nice this time of year.”
Katie gave Jamie’s back a discreet pat.
“I am sorry,” said Mum and it seemed like she really did mean it.
Then Eileen said, “Who’s Tony?” in a wide-eyed innocent way that sent a noticeable chill through the room.
“Anyway,” said Mum, ignoring her sister completely and rubbing her hands together. “We’ve got lots to do.”
“Tony’s my boyfriend,” said Jamie.
And Katie thought that if it all went wrong, if the register office burned down or she broke an ankle on the way there, it would be worth it for the expression on Eileen’s face right now.
She looked as if she was receiving instructions from God on how to proceed.
It was quite hard to tell what Mum was thinking.
“We’re homosexuals,” said Jamie.
This, thought Katie, was over-egging the pudding a little. She pulled him toward the hallway. “Come on, you.”
And a man appeared at the kitchen door saying, “I’ve come to mend the toilet.”
103
Jamie and Katie went into the bedroom and collapsed backward onto the bed. They were laughing too much to explain the reason to Ray or Jacob. And it really was like being fourteen again. But in a good way this time.
And then Jamie needed a pee, so he walked along the landing and as he was emerging from the loo his father appeared and said, “Jamie, I need to talk to you.” No greeting. No pleasantries. Just a conspiratorial whisper and a hand on Jamie’s elbow.
He followed his father into his parents’ bedroom and perched on the armchair.
“Jamie, look…”
Jamie was still fizzy from the encounter in the kitchen and there was something reassuring about his father’s quiet, measured voice.
“The cancer,” said his father, wincing in a slightly embarrassed way. “Come back I’m afraid.”
Jamie realized that something rather serious was going on here, and sat up a little straighter. “The cancer’s come back?”
“I’m frightened, Jamie. Very frightened. Of dying. Of cancer. Pretty much constantly. Not pleasant. Not pleasant at all. Can’t sleep. Can’t eat.”
“Have you talked to Mum?”
“I’ve been getting on her nerves a tad,” said his father. “Not able to help out much. Really do need to sit down in a quiet room. On my own.”
Jamie wanted to lean across and stroke his father, the way you might stroke a worried dog. It was a peculiar urge, and probably not a wise move. He said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Well, yes there is,” said his father, brightening noticeably. “You see, the thing is, I really can’t go to the wedding.”
“What?”
“I can’t go to the wedding.”
“But you have to go to the wedding,” said Jamie.
“Do I?” said his father, weakly.
“Of course you do,” said Jamie. “You’re the father of the bride.”
His father thought about this. “You’re absolutely right, of course.”
There was a brief pause, then his father began to cry.
Jamie had never seen his father cry before. He’d never seen an old man of any kind cry. Except on television, during wars. It made him feel seasick and scared and sad and he had to fight back the temptation to tell his father that he didn’t need to come to the wedding. Though if he did that Katie wouldn’t talk to either of them for the rest of their natural lives.
Jamie got off his chair and squatted in front of his father. “Dad. Look.” He rubbed his father’s forearm. “We’re all on your side. And we’ll all be there to hold your hand. When you get inside the marquee you can knock back a few glasses of wine…It’ll be all right. I promise.”
His father nodded.
“Oh, and I’ll have a word with Mum,” said Jamie. “Tell her you need some