Tony Parsons - Man And Wife

’We really should make a move, Pat,’ I said, knowing that I didn’t have the heart to stop his fun.

The young tepenyaki chef threw a jar of cinnamon into the air and came really, really close to catching it. I half-heartedly joined in the sympathetic applause.

’I’m very hungry,’ Pat said, his eyes sparkling with wonder.

What was it with my family and the theatre?

Pat was green around the gills by the time we reached the school.

’I told you not to have that third helping of squid,’ I said.

The play had already begun. All around the assembly hall, proud parents were filming a multicultural celebration of diversity called The Egg. What did it have to do with Easter? As little as possible.

Children representing the religions of the world were in a stable where a papier-mâche dove of peace had just been born. On the tiny stage, there was a little boy in a white sheet and a black beret, possibly representing a Shinto priest, a little girl in an orange beach towel with a pink swimming cap on her head, denoting baldness, who was definitely meant to be a Buddhist monk, and a child of indeterminate sex with a cotton-wool beard and sandals meant to represent either Islam or Judaism or both.

And then there was Peggy, her arms and legs sticking out of an old Pocabontas duvet, with a Habitat scarf around her head, probably representing the Virgin Mary.

I could see Cyd in the middle of a row, two empty seats beside her. I grabbed Pat’s hand and we began inching our way towards her. Proud parents with digicams cried out in pain and tutted disapprovingly as we trod on their toes and banged against their knees.

’Sorry, sorry,” I whispered, as Pat moaned and groaned and clutched his stomach. On stage the play was reaching its climax.

’What-is-this-strange-creature?’ said the Shinto priest.

’Where-has-it-come-from?’ said the Buddhist monk.

’What-does-it-mean-for-the-people-of-the-world?’ said the child with the cotton-wool beard.

’Where the hell have you two been?’ demanded my wife.

’Sssh!’ One of the parents with a camera.

’Sorry. I couldn’t get him away from Glenn.’

’Glenn? That disgusting old punk?’

’And then we got stuck in a tepenyaki restaurant.’

’SSSH!’

We turned our attention to the stage.

Cyd hissed at me out of the corner of her mouth. ’You knew this was Peggy’s special night. You knew it.’

’WILL YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING, PLEASE?’ Some old granny in the row directly behind us.

Pat opened his mouth, leaned forward and quietly began to retch.

Everyone on stage was looking at Peggy. The Buddhist monk in the orange beach towel and swimming cap. The Shinto priest in the white sheet and black beret. The bearded elder with cotton-wool facial hair and sandals. All waiting for Peggy to say her line.

’ What-does-it-mean-for-the-people-of-the-worldP’ repeated the elder.

’You’re so selfish,’ Cyd told me, hardly bothering to keep her voice down. ’All you care about is your son. Nobody else means a thing to you.’

’WILL YOU PLEASE -’

Cyd swivelled in her seat. ’Oh, change the record, Granny.’

Peggy was staring out into the crowd, as if waiting for a prompt. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Unlike Pat, who chose this moment to vomit elaborately over my lap.

The voice of a kindly teacher came from the wings.

’This bird means that all persons must live as one and…’

’And-love-one-another,’ mumbled the actors on the stage, gathering around their cardboard dove. Apart from Peggy, who was looking imploringly at her mother. As I cleaned up Pat and myself with a lone Kleenex, Peggy moved towards the edge of the stage, the scarf around her head starting to unravel.

I called out to her but it was too late. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the footlights and, to the gasps of the audience, promptly fell off the stage.

’I’ll never forgive you for this,’ said Cyd.

Nobody was seriously hurt.

Peggy’s fall was broken by a group of first years sitting cross-legged in the front row. Pat immediately felt better after throwing up his tepenyaki squid. Proud, happy parents and grandparents enjoyed tea, biscuits and after-show analysis. But Cyd and I decided that we didn’t need to stick around for the social stuff.

As soon as Pat had been cleaned up a bit and Peggy’s tears had dried, we apologised once again to the first years, their parents and the teachers and headed for the car park, my wife and I almost dragging our children out of there.

’You just don’t care, do you?’ said Cyd. ’If it’s nothing to do with you and Pat, you don’t give a damn.’

That’s not true.’

’It was the squid what did it,’ said Pat, like a hopeless drunk blaming it all on a bad pint.

’Let’s just go home,’ I said, although the thought of another night in my blended home filled me with despair.

’It would have been all right if you had been here,’ Cyd said, her eyes all wet. ’If only you had cared enough to be here.’

’Harry?’ A little voice at my side.

’Yes, Peggy?’

I bent down beside her.

She whispered in my ear.

’I fucking hate you, Harry.’

An old lady with a camera around her neck smiled at us.

’What a lovely little family,’ she said.

We lay in the darkness, not touching, waiting for sleep to come, although it was a very long way off.

’You spoil him,’ she said. She didn’t say it in a spiteful way. It was almost gentle, the way she said it. ’If you didn’t spoil him so much, these things wouldn’t happen.’

’Someone’s got to spoil him. Who else is going to do it? You?’

’There was no need to stay so long with his granddad.’ ’They haven’t seen each other for ages. I don’t know when they’ll see each other again. They were having a good time.’ ’I really wanted the pair of you to be there tonight. For Peggy.

And me.’

’You don’t want him around. One lousy week he’s with us. And it’s too much for you.’

’That’s not true. And it’s not fair.’

’Do you know why I got married? Do you have any idea, Cyd? I got married so that my son could have a family. Isn’t that a laugh? Isn’t that the funniest thing in the world? Some family this turned out to be.’

She didn’t say anything. As though she was thinking it over.

’I thought you got married because you wanted a family, Harry. You. A family for yourself. Not a family for Pat.’

’One rotten week, that’s all. And it’s too much for you.’ j

We lay there for a while in silence. We had already said too much. After a bit I thought she was asleep.

But she wasn’t sleeping at all.

’We used to be crazy about each other. It wasn’t long ago. We were going to give each other so much. Remember all that, Harry? I don’t know what’s happening to us. We used to be happy together.’

I thought she was going to reach out and touch me. But she didn’t. And I didn’t reach out for her. We just lay there in the darkness, my wife and I, wondering how it ever had come to this.

’Sometimes I wonder why you married me,’ I said.

It was true. I knew that the sex was good, and we could talk to each other, and that on most days she was a joy to be around. But so what? She could have picked almost anyone. Out of all the guys in the world, why did she choose me?

’I fell in love with you,’ she said.

’But why? That’s the bit I don’t get, Cyd. I mean it. Falling in love doesn’t explain it. If you had looked around a bit, you could have found someone with more money, a bigger dick and a much nicer personality.’