A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [60]
And if he woke at night and the Orcs with the boiled, skinless faces were waiting in their silent hundreds in the moonlit gardens he found that he could gain some temporary respite by going into the bathroom, wedging himself between the toilet and the bath and singing very quietly to himself the songs he remembered singing when he was a small child.
50
Katie and Jacob staggered in through the door and dumped their bags.
Mum kissed them both and said, “Your father’s in bed. Bit under the weather.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I think it might be all in the mind.” She winced slightly when she said the words “all in the mind,” as if she had just opened a tub of something that had gone off.
“So, he’s not actually ill?” asked Katie.
“He has eczema.”
“Can I watch my Bob the Builder video?” asked Jacob.
“I’m sorry but Grandpa’s got the video player upstairs,” said Mum.
“You don’t have to go to bed because you’ve got eczema,” said Katie. She had that feeling she often got with her parents, that something was being kept from her, a feeling which only got more sinister as they aged.
“Can I watch my video with Grandpa?” asked Jacob, tugging at Katie’s trousers.
“Let me finish talking to Granny,” said Katie.
“He says he’s worried about dying,” said Mum, in a stage whisper.
“But I want to watch it now,” said Jacob.
“Two minutes,” said Katie.
“You know what he’s like,” said Mum. “I have no idea what is going through that head of his.”
“Is Grandpa dying?” asked Jacob.
“Grandpa’s absolutely fine,” said Mum.
“Except he’s not,” replied Katie.
“I want a biscuit,” said Jacob.
“Well, it just so happens that I bought some Jaffa Cakes this morning,” said Mum to Jacob. “Isn’t that a coincidence.”
“Mum, you’re not listening to me,” said Katie.
“Can I have two?” said Jacob.
“You’re very cheeky this morning,” said Mum.
“Please can I have two biscuits?” said Jacob turning to Katie.
“Mum…” Katie caught herself. She didn’t want a row before she’d got her coat off. She wasn’t even sure precisely what she was angry about. “Look. You take Jacob off to the kitchen. Give him a biscuit. One biscuit. I’ll go up and talk to Dad.”
“OK,” said Mum in a cheery sing-song. “Do you want some orange juicy with that biscuit?”
“We went on a train,” said Jacob.
“Did you, now?” said Mum. “What kind of train was it?”
“It was a monster train.”
“Now that sounds like a very interesting kind of train. Do you mean it looked like a monster, or do you mean there were monsters on it?”
The two of them disappeared into the kitchen and Katie began walking upstairs.
It felt wrong, going to Dad’s bedside. Dad didn’t do illness. His own or other people’s. He did soldiering on and taking one’s mind off things. Dad having a breakdown was in the same category as Dad taking up hairdressing.
She knocked and went in.
He was lying in the center of the bed with the duvet pulled to his chin, like a frightened old lady in a fairy tale. He turned the television off almost immediately, but from what she could see he appeared to be watching…Was it really Lethal Weapon?
“Hullo, young lady.” He seemed smaller than she remembered. The pajamas didn’t help.
“Mum said you weren’t feeling very well.” She couldn’t work out where to put herself. Sitting on the bed was too intimate, standing was too medical and using the armchair would mean touching his discarded vest.
“Not very. No.”
They were silent for a few moments, both of them staring into the slatey green oblong of the TV screen with its skewed little bar of reflected window.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She couldn’t believe she was saying these words to Dad.
“Not really.”
She had never heard him sound so straightforward. She got the eerie sense that they were doing actual communication for the first time. It was like finding a new door in the living-room wall. It was not entirely pleasant.
“I’m afraid your mother doesn’t really understand,” said Dad.
Katie had no idea what to say.
“Not really her kind of thing.”
Christ. Parents were meant to sort this stuff out