A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [74]
He was walking down Allison Road when a small dog came out of an alleyway. No, not a dog. A fox. That weightless trot. That bushy tail.
A car engine started up and the fox slid into an alleyway.
He reached Vale Road at half past midnight.
His mood had lifted during the walk. He thought about trying to look sad, then realized it was a stupid idea. He didn’t want Tony back because he’d had a horrible evening. It was the horrible evening which made him realize that he wanted Tony back. Forever. And that was a happy thought.
He rang the bell and waited for thirty seconds.
He rang the bell again.
Another thirty seconds passed before he heard footsteps. Tony opened the door wearing his boxer shorts and nothing else. There was a steely expression in his eyes. “Jamie…?”
“I’m sorry,” said Jamie.
“It’s OK. What’s happened?”
“No. I mean sorry for everything. Everything else.”
“Meaning?”
Jamie gathered himself. He should have planned this a little more carefully. “For making you leave. For…Tony, look, I’ve had a shitty evening and it’s made me realize lots of things—”
“Jamie, it’s the middle of the bloody night. I’ve got work in the morning. What is this about?”
Deep breath. “I miss you,” said Jamie. “And I want you back.”
“You’re pissed, aren’t you.”
“No. Well, I was. But I’m not now…Listen, Tony. I’m serious.”
Tony’s expression didn’t change. “I’m going back to bed. It’s probably a good idea if you went back to bed as well.”
“You’ve got someone in there with you, haven’t you.” Jamie was starting to cry. “That’s why you don’t want me to come in.”
“Grow up, Jamie.”
“Fuck.”
Tony started to close the door.
Jamie had assumed Tony would let him in at the very least. So they could talk. It was the same selfishness all over again. Thinking everyone would fall in with his plan. Jamie could see it now. But it was too difficult to say this in half a second.
“Wait.” He stepped onto the threshold to prevent Tony closing the door.
Tony recoiled slightly. “Christ. You smell of vomit.”
“I know,” said Jamie, “but it’s not my vomit.”
Tony placed the flat of his hand on Jamie’s chest and pushed him back down onto the step. “Good night, Jamie.”
The door closed.
Jamie stood on the step for a few minutes. He wanted to lie down on the little patch of concrete by the dustbins and sleep there till morning so Tony came out and saw him and felt sorry for him. But he could see straightaway that this was as stupid and self-indulgent and childish as the rest of his stupid, self-indulgent, childish plan.
He sat on the curb and wept.
57
Jean was going to have to arrange the wedding herself. She was clearly not going to get much help from the rest of the family.
Honestly. She loved her daughter. But for all Katie’s talk about women being as good as men, she could be heroically disorganized sometimes.
“Laid-back” was the term Katie used.
Coming home from university with all her clothes in black rubbish bags and leaving them in the open garage so the binmen took them away. Spilling that paint over the cat. Losing her passport in Malta.
Poor George. She did give him the runaround. It was like two creatures from different planets.
Twelve years arguing over toothpaste. George assuming she did it deliberately to wind him up. Spitting it into the sink and refusing to rinse it away so it hardened into lumps. Katie unable to believe that anyone in their right mind could get worked up about something so trivial.
She still did it, actually. She’d done it this morning. Jean had cleaned it up. Just like old times.
Actually, Jean was secretly rather proud of the way Katie refused to take orders from anyone. Of course there were times when she worried. That Katie would never get a decent job. Or fall pregnant by accident. Or never find a husband. Or get into some kind of trouble (she’d been cautioned once for being rude to a policewoman).
But Jean liked the fact that she’d brought such a free spirit into the world. She would look at her daughter sometimes and see little gestures