Mark Haddon - A Spot Of Bother

“What?”

“Us. It’s over.”

“But-”

“You don’t really want to be with me,” said Tony.

“I do,” said Jamie.

“OK. Maybe you want to be with me. But you don’t want to be with me enough. This stupid wedding. It’s made me realize…Jesus, Jamie. Am I just not good enough for your parents? Or am I not good enough for you?”

“I love you.” Why was this happening now? It was so unfair, so idiotic.

Tony looked at him. “You don’t know what love is.”

“I do.” He sounded like Jacob.

Tony’s expression didn’t change. “Loving someone means taking the risk that they might fuck up your nicely ordered little life. And you don’t want to fuck up your nicely ordered little life, do you?”

“Have you met someone else?”

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”

He should have explained. The salmon. The vacuuming. The words were there in his head. He just couldn’t get them out. He hurt too much. And there was something sickly and comforting about the thought of going back to the house alone, smashing the tulips from the table, then retiring to the sofa to drink the bottle of wine on his own.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. I really am. You’re a nice guy.” Tony put his hands into his pockets to show that there would be no final embrace. “I hope you find someone who makes you feel that way.”

He turned and walked off.

Jamie stood in the park for several minutes, then went back to the flat, smashed the tulips from the table, uncorked the wine, took it to the sofa and wept.

Ray turned to Katiein bed and said, “Are you sure you want to marry me?”

“Of course I want to marry you.”

“You’d tell me if you changed your mind, yeh?”

“Jeez, Ray,” said Katie. “What’s all this about?”

“You wouldn’t go through with it just because we’d told everyone?”

“Ray-”

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“Why are you talking like this all of a sudden?”

“Do you love me like you loved Graham?”

“No, actually, I don’t,” said Katie.

For a second she could see real pain on his face. “I was infatuated with Graham. I thought he was God’s gift. I couldn’t see straight. And when I found out what he was really like…” She put her hand on the side of Ray’s face. “I know you. I know all the things that are wonderful about you. I know all your faults. And I still want to marry you.”

“So, what are my faults?”

This wasn’t her job. He was the one who was meant to do the consoling. “Come here.” She pulled his head onto her chest.

“I love you so much.” He sounded tiny.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to ditch you at the altar.”

“I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.”

“It’s wedding nerves.” She ran her hand over the little hairs on his upper arm. “You remember Emily?”

“Yeh?”

“Threw up in the vestry.”

“Shit.”

“They had to send her up the aisle with this massive bouquet to hide the stain. Barry’s dad assumed the smell was Roddy. You know, after their stag night.”

They fell asleep and were woken at four by Jacob crying, “Mummy, Mummy, Mummy…”

Ray started to get out of bed but she insisted on going.

When she got to his room Jacob was still half asleep, trying to curl away from a big orange diarrhea stain in the center of the bed.

“Come here, little squirrel.” She lifted him to his feet and his sleepy head flopped against her shoulder.

“It’s all…all sort of…It’s wet.”

“I know. I know.” She carefully peeled off his pajama trousers, rolling them up so that the mess was on the inside then throwing them into the hallway. “Let’s clean you up, Baby Biscuits.” She grabbed a nappy bag and a fresh nappy and pack of wet wipes from the drawer and gently cleaned his bottom.

She put the fresh nappy on, extracted a fresh pair of pajama trousers from the basket and guided his clumsy feet into the legs. “There. That feels better, doesn’t it.”

She flicked the Winnie the Pooh duvet over to check that it was clean, then bundled it onto the carpet. “You lie down for a second while I sort the bed out.”

Jacob cried as she lowered him to the floor. “Don’t want to…let me…” But when she laid his head on the duvet, his thumb slipped into his mouth and his eyes closed again.

She tied the nappy bag and threw it into the bin. She stripped the bed, threw the dirty sheets into the hallway and turned the mattress over. She grabbed a new set of sheets from the cupboard and pressed them to her face. God, it was lovely, the furriness of thick, worn cotton and the scent of washing powder. She made the bed, tucking the edges in tight so that it was smooth and flat.

She plumped the pillow, bent over and hoisted Jacob up.

“My tummy hurts.”

She held him on her lap. “We’ll get you some Calpol in a minute.”

“Pink medicine,” said Jacob.

She wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t get enough of this. Not when he was conscious. Thirty seconds at most. Then it was helicopters and bouncy-bouncy on the sofa. True, it made her proud, seeing him in a circle listening to Bella read a book at nursery, or watching him talk to other children in the playground. But she missed the way he was once a part of her body, the way she could make everything better just by folding herself around him. Even now she could picture him leaving home, the distance opening up already, her baby becoming his own little person.

“I miss my daddy.”

“He’s asleep upstairs.”

“My real daddy,” said Jacob.

She put her hand around his head and kissed his hair. “I miss him too, sometimes.”

“But he’s not coming back.”

“No. He’s not coming back.”

Jacob was crying quietly.

“But I’ll never leave you. You know that, don’t you.” She wiped the snot from his nose with the arm of her T-shirt and rocked him.

She looked up at the Bob the Builder height chart and the sailing boat mobile turning silently in the half dark. Somewhere under the floor a water pipe clanked.

Jacob stopped crying. “Can I have a polar bear drink tomorrow?”

She pushed the hair out of his eyes. “I’m not sure whether you’ll be fit for nursery tomorrow.” His eyes moistened. “But if you are, we’ll get a polar bear drink on the way home, OK?”

“All right.”

“But if you have a polar bear drink, you won’t be able to have any pudding for supper. Is that a deal?”

“That’s a deal.”

“Now, let’s get you some Calpol.”

She laid him down on the clean sheets and got the bottle and the syringe from the bathroom.

“Open wide.”

He was almost asleep now. She squirted the medicine into his mouth, wiped a dribble from his chin with the tip of her finger and licked it clean.

She kissed his cheek. “I have to go back to bed now, little boy.”

But he didn’t want to let go of her hand. And she didn’t want him to let go. She sat watching him sleep for a few minutes, then lay down beside him.

This made up for everything, the tiredness, the tantrums, the fact that she hadn’t read a novel in six months. This was how Ray made her feel.

This was how Ray was meant to make her feel.

She stroked Jacob’s head. He was a million miles away, dreaming of raspberry ice cream and earth-moving machinery and the Cretaceous period.

The next thing she knew it was morning and Jacob was running in and out of the room in his Spider-Man outfit.

“Come on, love.” Ray pushed the hair away from her face. “There’s a fry-up waiting for you downstairs.”

After nursery she and Jacob got home late on account of having stopped to get the polar bear drink, and Ray was already back from the office.