A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [126]
112
Jean found Ray in the marquee where he was supervising some last-minute rearrangements to the seating plan (one of their friends had tripped and broken his front teeth on a basin that morning).
“Ray?” she asked.
“What can I do you for?”
“I’m sorry to trouble you,” said Jean, “but I don’t know who else I can ask.”
“Go on,” said Ray.
“It’s George. I’m worried about him. He spoke to me about it this morning. He really didn’t seem himself.”
“I know,” said Ray.
“You know?”
“Jamie said he was off-color yesterday. Asked me to keep an eye on him.”
“He didn’t say anything to me.”
“Probably didn’t want to worry you,” said Ray. “Anyway, Jamie had a word with George this morning. Just to check.”
She could feel the relief spread through her body. “That’s very good of you.”
“Jamie’s the one you should thank.”
“You’re right,” said Jean. “I’ll do that.”
She got her opportunity several minutes later when she bumped into Jamie in the hallway as he emerged from the downstairs loo.
“You’re welcome,” said Jamie.
He seemed rather distracted.
113
George hung on to the rim of the toilet and moaned.
Jamie had been gone for twenty minutes now. Which was more than enough time to do tea and biscuits.
It began to dawn on George that his son was not going to help him.
He was swaying back and forth like the polar bears in that zoo they went to with the children once. Amsterdam. Or Madrid, maybe.
Was he scaring people away? He had tried to talk to Jean that morning but she had run off to iron a pair of trousers, or wipe someone’s bottom.
He bit his forearm hard, just above the wrist. The skin was surprisingly tough. He bit harder. His teeth went through the skin and through something else as well. He wasn’t quite sure what. It made a sound like celery.
He got to his feet.
He was going to have to do this himself.
114
The ginger twins had banished them from the kitchen so Katie and Sarah were standing in the marquee porch, Sarah turning to blow her cigarette smoke into the garden to avoid poisoning the bridal atmosphere.
A teenage boy was sweeping the dried-out floorboards. Bouquets were being stood in vases in curly cast-iron stands. A man was crouching down to check the alignment of the tables, as if he were preparing for a particularly difficult snooker shot.
“And Ray?” asked Sarah.
“He’s being brilliant, actually,” said Katie.
A woman was taking cutlery from a plastic crate and holding it up to the light before laying it.
“I’m sorry,” said Sarah.
“What for?”
“For thinking you might be making a mistake.”
“So you thought I was making a mistake?” said Katie.
“Fuck off. I feel bad enough already. You’re my friend. I just wanted to make sure. Now I’ve made sure.” Sarah paused. “He’s a nice man.”
“He is.”
“I think even Ed might be a nice man.” She turned to look across the lawn. “Well, maybe not nice nice. But all right. Better than the drunken pillock I met at your house.”
Katie turned, too, and saw Ed playing airplanes with Jacob, swinging him round by his arms.
“Look,” shouted Jacob. “Look.”
“Ed,” shouted Katie, “be careful.”
Ed looked over at her and panicked slightly and loosened his grip and let go of Jacob’s left hand and Jacob slid onto the wet grass in his Rupert Bear wedding trousers.
“Sorry,” shouted Ed, hoisting Jacob off the ground by one wrist like a shot rabbit.
Jacob squealed and Ed attempted to stand him on his feet.
“Bloody hell,” muttered Katie, walking over and wondering whether the ginger twins would allow them to use the washing machine.
At which point she glanced up and saw her father doing jumping jacks in the bathroom, which was odd.
115
Ideally, Jamie would have been sitting in the bedroom with his father. But you couldn’t see the road from the bedroom. And Jamie