A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [128]
“OK,” said Ray, looking a little puzzled, possibly by the fact that Jamie and the photographer had been upstairs together.
Jamie turned to Dr. Anderson. “It’s OK, he knows.”
“In which case, I’m a doctor,” said Dr. Anderson.
“Dad’s gone missing,” said Jamie. “I’m going to look for him. I’ll explain later.” Then he remembered that it was Ray’s wedding day, too. “I’m so sorry about this.”
“I’ll call you if he turns up,” said Ray.
116
Jean was getting dressed and wondering where on earth George had wandered off to when there was a ring at the front door and clearly no one else was going to answer it, so she fished her good shoes out of the bottom of the wardrobe, went downstairs and opened the door.
“Alan Phillips,” said the man. “Ray’s father. This is my wife, Barbara. You must be Jean.”
“How do you do,” said Barbara.
Jean ushered them inside and took their coats.
“Very good to meet you after all this time,” said Alan. “I’m sorry it’s so last minute.”
She’d expected a bigger man, someone with more bluster. Then she recalled Katie mentioning a chocolate factory, which seemed comical at the time, but rather appropriate now. He was the kind of man you could imagine playing with trains or growing carnations. “Have a seat.”
“It’s a lovely house,” said Barbara, and she sounded as if she meant it, which Jean found quite touching.
There was something formal about the two of them, and this was a relief (in her darker moments she’d imagined, well…some things were best forgotten). On the other hand, they didn’t look like the kind of people you could dump in the living room while you got on with other stuff.
Where was everyone? George, Jamie, Eileen, Ronnie. They seemed to have vanished into thin air.
“Could I get you some tea?” asked Jean. She sounded as if she was talking to Mr. Ledger who serviced the boiler. “Or coffee?” She could dig the cafetière out.
“Oh,” said Barbara, “we don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble,” said Jean, though to be honest it was a little inconvenient at this point.
“In which case, two teas would be lovely,” said Barbara. “Alan has half a sugar.”
Jean was rescued, yet again, by Ray who came in from the car carrying a tiny yellow action figure.
“Barbara. Dad.” He kissed Barbara on the cheek and shook his father’s hand.
“I was just going to make your parents a cup of tea,” said Jean.
“I’ll do that,” said Ray.
“That’s very good of you,” said Jean, brightly.
Ray was about to turn and head toward the kitchen when she said, quietly, “You don’t know where George is, do you? Just out of interest. Or Jamie, for that matter.”
Ray paused for rather a long time, which disturbed her slightly. He was about to answer when Ed appeared from the direction of the kitchen eating a bread roll, and Ray said, “Ed.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Phillips,” said Ed, through the bread roll.
Alan and Barbara stood up.
“Ed Hobday,” said Alan. “Goodness. I didn’t recognize you.”
Ed brushed the crumbs from his mouth and shook their hands. “Fatter but wiser.”
“Oh no,” said Barbara, “you’ve just filled out a bit.”
Ray touched Jean’s shoulder and said, quietly, “Come into the kitchen.”
117
By the time George reached the edge of the village he was feeling a little calmer.
He was halfway across the field by the railway line, however, when he saw Eileen and Ronnie heading toward him. They were hoisting their dog over the stile and he was fairly sure they had not noticed him. He crept into the depression by the hawthorn so that he was out of their line of sight.
The dog was barking.
He could not retrace his steps without being seen, and a bank of brambles prevented him crossing the railway line itself. His chest tightened.
His arm was still bleeding where he had bitten it.
The barking got louder.
He lay down and rolled into the shallow drainage ditch where the grass dipped before going under the fence. His coat was green. If he lay still they might not find him.
It was snug in the ditch, and surprisingly comfortable. Interesting, too, to find himself looking at nature from so close up, something