A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [93]
And Jamie could see what Katie meant about Ray being capable. Because he pulled a tent out of the boot and told Jacob the two of them were sleeping in the garden because there was a crocodile in the house and if Jacob was really lucky he wouldn’t have to go inside and wash and he could wee in the flower bed.
But it wasn’t a job. You didn’t marry someone because they were capable. You married someone because you were in love. And there was something unsexy about being too capable. Capable was a dad thing.
Though, obviously, if Ray was their father he would have gone to the doctor. Or used the right tools and not left something semi-attached.
Jamie was still soaping the stairs when Katie materialized in front of him.
“You don’t think he was going to keep it, do you?” She was waving an empty ice-cream tub.
“What’s it, by the way?” asked Jamie.
“Left hip,” said Katie, making a little scissor gesture next to the pocket of her jeans.
“How much?” asked Jamie.
“Large burger,” said Katie. “Apparently. I didn’t see the actual wound. Anyway…that’s the bathroom done. Mum’s finished the kitchen. Give me that stuff and you can go out and see how Ray and Jacob are doing.”
“You’d rather clean blood out of a carpet than go and talk to your fiancé.”
“If you’re going to be horrible you can do it yourself.”
“Sorry,” said Jamie. “Offer accepted.”
“Besides,” said Katie, “much as it pains me to say this, women are just better at cleaning.”
The sky was overcast and the garden was very dark indeed. Jamie had to stand on the patio for thirty seconds before he could see anything at all.
Ray had pitched the tent as far away from Katie’s family as possible. When Jamie reached it a disembodied voice said, “Hello Jamie.”
Ray was sitting with his back to the house. His head was a silhouette, his expression unreadable.
“I brought you a coffee.” Jamie handed it over.
“Cheers.”
Ray was sitting on a camping mat. He hotched backward, offering Jamie the other end.
Jamie sat down. The mat was slightly warm. There were little breathy snores from inside the tent.
“So, what did he do to himself?” asked Ray.
“Shit,” said Jamie. “Nobody’s told you, have they. I’m sorry.”
Jamie told the story and Ray let out a long whistle. “What a nutter.”
He seemed impressed and for a couple of seconds Jamie was oddly proud of his father.
They sat in silence.
It was like the teenage-party thing. Without “Hi, Ho, Silver Lining.” And Jamie wasn’t alone in the garden. But it was all right. Ray had been banished in some obscure way and that made him an outsider, too. Plus Jamie couldn’t see him, so he didn’t take up as much space as usual.
Ray said, “I did a runner.”
“Come again.”
“Katie went out for a coffee with Graham. I followed them.”
“Ooh, that’s not good, is it.”
“Wanted to kill him, to be honest,” said Ray. “I threw this dustbin. Knew I’d blown it. So I bottled. Slept at the house of this bloke from work.” He paused. “Of course, that was worse than following her to the caff.”
Jamie didn’t know what to say. Talking to Ray was hard enough in broad daylight. With no body language it was pretty much impossible.
“Actually,” said Ray, “it’s not really about Graham. Graham was just a…”
“Catalyst?” said Jamie, glad of a chance to make a contribution.
“A symptom,” said Ray, politely. “Katie doesn’t love me. I don’t think she ever has. But she’s trying really hard. Because she’s frightened I’m going to chuck her out of the house.”
“Uh-huh,” said Jamie.
“I’m not going to chuck her out of the house.”
“Thank you.” It sounded weird. But correcting it would have sounded weirder.
“But you don’t marry someone if you don’t love them, do you,” said Ray.
“No,” said Jamie, though people obviously did.
They sat for a while, listening to a distant train (how strange that you only ever heard them at night). It was oddly pleasant. What with Ray being a bit crestfallen. And Jamie not being able to see him. So Jamie said, “God, the famous Graham,” in a sort of speaking-out-loud way as if he was talking to a friend.
He could feel Ray flinch. Even in the dark.