Mark Haddon - A Spot Of Bother

“I’m fine, thanks,” said Jamie, though his presence on the top of the gate was driving the dog into a frenzy.

“Is it Jamie?” asked the man with the shears.

“It is,” said Jamie. His crotch was starting to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” said the man, “I didn’t recognize you. Haven’t seen you in a long time. Not since you were a teenager. I’m Derek West, from across the road.”

“Right,” said Jamie. He had to go for it, despite the risk of breaking an ankle, despite the risk of squashing his aunt’s dog or being eaten alive. He shifted his center of gravity a little.

“Aren’t you meant to be at the wedding?” asked the man.

“Yes,” said Jamie. The man was clearly an idiot.

“They left about five minutes ago.”

“What?”

“They left about five minutes ago.”

Jamie took a few seconds to process this information. “And they were going to the register office?”

“Where else would they be going?” asked the man.

The truth began to dawn. “With my father?”

“I presume so.”

“But did you actually see him?”

“I didn’t tick them off a list, as it were. No. Wait. I did see him. Because I remember him stumbling on the pavement a little. And your mother made him get into the passenger seat so she could drive. Which I did notice, because when they head off in the car together it’s nearly always your father who drives. Which made me wonder whether there was something wrong with him. Is there something wrong with him?”

“Fuck,” said Jamie.

Which shut Mr. West up.

He shifted his center of gravity back the other way and jumped down, ripping his jacket for a second time. He ran to the car, dropped his keys, picked up his keys, got into the car and drove away at high speed.

Jean felt awful.

Jamie was the final straw. Everything was out of kilter. George. Eileen and Ronnie. Alan and Barbara. It was Katie’s wedding day. It was meant to feel special. It was meant to run smoothly. It was meant to be romantic.

Then something happened in the car.

There were roadworks on the dual carriageway and they had come to a halt as the traffic funneled into a single lane. George said, “I’m afraid I’ve not been a terribly good husband.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Jean.

George was looking straight ahead, out of the windscreen. There were drops of fine rain on the glass. “I’m a rather cold man. A rather stiff man. And I always have been. I can see that now.”

She had never heard him talk this way. Was it the madness coming back? She had no idea what to think.

She put the windscreen wipers on.

“And I realize that this coldness, this stiffness has been at the root of many of my recent problems.” George brushed some fluff off the door of the glove compartment.

The traffic ahead began to move again. Jean put the car into gear and pulled away.

George laid his hand over hers. This made changing gear a little difficult.

“I love you,” said George.

They had not said that word to one another for a long time. There was a lump in her throat.

She glanced sideways and saw that George was looking at her and smiling.

“I’ve made things terribly difficult for you recently.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” said Jean.

“But I’m going to change,” said George. “I’m tired of feeling frightened. I’m tired of feeling lonely.”

He put his hand on her thigh, leaned back and closed his eyes.

And she realized that her adventure was coming to an end. That she and David might never make love again. But it was all right.

Her life with George was not an exciting life. But wouldn’t life with David go the same way eventually?

Perhaps the secret was to stop looking for greener grass. Perhaps the secret was to make the best of what you had. If she and George talked a little more. If they went on a few more holidays…

The rain had stopped. Jean turned the wipers off and the register office came into sight on the right-hand side of the road.

She indicated and pulled into the car park.

George was havinga very enjoyable time indeed.

They parked the car and walked toward the stone arch at the back of the register office where everyone was gathering for photographs.

“Come on, Dad.” Katie took his arm and guided him down the little path.

He was Katie’s father. It felt good being Katie’s father.

He was giving his daughter away. And that was a good feeling, too. Because he was giving her away to a good man. Giving her away . What a strange phrase it was. Slightly antique. Sharing . That would be a better word. Though that sounded a little strange, too.

But where was Jamie?

He asked Katie.

“He’s looking for you,” said Katie, smiling in a way that was rather difficult to interpret.

Why was Jamie looking for him? He was about to ask when the photographer moved Katie forward and she began talking to Ray. George made a mental note to ask her again at some later point.

The photographer looked very like Ray’s best man. What was his name again? Perhaps it really was Ray’s best man. Perhaps they were not having an official photographer.

“Come on, people,” said the photographer. “Try not to look quite so glum.”

He had a very small camera. He probably wasn’t a real photographer.

Ed. That was his name.

George smiled.

Ed took four photographs then asked Katie and Ray to stand in front of the arch.

As they were moving aside, the man standing next to George introduced himself. George shook his hand. The man apologized for not having introduced himself earlier in the day. George told him not to worry. The man introduced his wife. George shook her hand, too. They seemed like very nice people.

A woman appeared from the register office. George thought, at first, that she was an air stewardess.

“If the party would like to make their way inside…”

George stepped aside for the ladies, then walked into the register office with the men.

It was possible that the nice couple were Ray’s parents. That would explain why they were all standing together having their photographs taken. He would check with Jean when they were sitting down inside.

They were inthe car halfway to the register office when Katie looked out of the window and saw a tramp urinating against a bus stop on Thorpe Road, which was not something you saw very often, and it seemed like a sign from God, who obviously a) had a sense of humor, and b) agreed with Ray. Expect the day to proceed with dignity and efficiency and someone was going to screw it up. Better to be together in twenty years and laugh about it, than have it run like clockwork and split up twelve months down the line.

Poor Jamie. At least he’d have a good story to tell.

Perhaps they could go round to his flat after Barcelona. Do the vows all over again. Get some confetti. Jacob would like that.

A fine drizzle began spattering the windscreen. It didn’t matter. Snow, hail, driving rain. She understood now. You got married in spite of your wedding not because of it. She looked over at Ray and he broke into a smile without taking his eyes off the road.

For the next few minutes they seemed to exist in a little bubble entirely cut off from the wet world around them. Then the register office loomed into view and they pulled in through the gateway and the crowd of guests looked like exotic fish against the brickwork of the building.

They pulled into the car park and got out and the drizzle had stopped and Mum and Dad were getting out of the car next to them. And Dad was staring up into the air so intently that Katie looked up expecting to see a hot-air balloon or a flock of birds, but there was nothing up there whatsoever.