Mark Haddon - A Spot Of Bother

The world was coming back into focus. It was like that night in Glasgow. Being too drunk to talk. Then seeing the flames in the corridor and being instantly sober.

“You seem a little distracted,” said Gail.

He was not going to stand for this. He moved Gail to one side and made his way through the crowd. He would tell Mr. Symmonds to leave.

Hopefully it would not be necessary to strike him.

Jamie tarted himself upand came downstairs, crossing his fingers and hoping that his father would remember his instructions.

He had to speak to Ed.

What should Ed say? That Katie’s father was feeling a little under the weather? Perhaps he needn’t say anything. Katie’s father would now like to propose a toast. Least said soonest mended. Stick as close to the truth as you can.

He made his way through the house looking for Ed, thinking how he really, really wanted Tony to be here so he could sound off without having to think about what he was saying or who he was saying it to. And the picture of Tony inside his head was so vivid that when he stepped outside and saw Tony coming through the gate on the far side of the lawn it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

He stopped in his tracks. Tony stopped in his tracks.

Tony was wearing his Levi’s and that really nice blue floral shirt and a suede jacket Jamie had never seen before. He was half a stone lighter and several shades browner. He looked absolutely fucking gorgeous.

And then it sank in. Tony was here. At the wedding. And the crowd seemed to part like the Red Sea and Jamie and Tony were looking at each other down a long corridor of guests. Or maybe it just felt that way.

Jamie wanted to run. But Tony was no longer his boyfriend. They hadn’t spoken since that horrible nighttime meeting on the steps of Tony’s flat.

Except that he was here. Which must mean…

Jamie was running. Or walking really fast at any rate. And even as he was doing it Jamie could see that it was a tacky soap-opera moment, but he didn’t care and he could feel his heart welling up in his chest.

Then they were in each other’s arms and Tony’s mouth tasted of minty gum and tobacco and Jamie saw the camera spinning round them and felt the muscles of Tony’s back under his hand and smelt the new body wash he’d started using and wanted him naked and it was like coming home after a thousand years and in the silence around them he heard a woman’s voice saying quietly, “Now that I was not expecting.”

Jean was standingin the hallway listening to a young man who worked for Ray. Mostly, though, she was letting her eyes drift across the growing crowd of people. Because, to be honest, he was one of those men who expected you to shut up and nod and make an appreciative noise every now and then.

And it was good letting her eyes drift across the growing crowd. She felt responsible enough to take some credit for the fact that they all seemed to be enjoying themselves (Judy was laughing; Kenneth was sober). But not so responsible that she had to imagine all possible disasters and avert them.

And there was Jamie heading toward the kitchen in a very nice dark blue suit and a white shirt (the cut on his cheek made him seem rather manly).

She could see David talking to Katie’s best woman and looking a little defensive. She felt as if she were watching him from a long way away.

“Five years ago,” said the man who worked with Ray, “your television signal came through the air and your phone signal came through the ground. Five years from now your TV signal’s going to come through the ground and your phone signal’s going to come through the air.”

She made her excuses and slipped into the garden.

As she did so she saw a young man coming through the side gate carrying a dark green holdall. Suede jacket, flowery shirt. He seemed vaguely familiar.

She was wondering whether he might be a friend of Katie and Ray’s when he dropped the bag and someone was hugging him and they were spinning round together and everyone was watching and she realized that it was Jamie, which meant that the man must be Tony, and they were kissing each other, in front of everyone, with their mouths open.

Her first thought was that she had to stop people seeing, by throwing something over them, like a tablecloth for example, or by shouting something loudly. But everyone had seen by now (Brian’s jaw was, quite literally, hanging open) and nothing short of machine-gun fire was going to distract people’s attention.

Time slowed down. The only things moving in the garden were Jamie and Tony and the ash falling off Ed’s cigarette.

She had to do something. And she had to do it now.

She walked up to Jamie and Tony. They pulled apart and Tony looked at her. She felt the day teeter, like a car on the edge of a cliff.

“You must be Tony,” she said.

“I am,” said Tony, very deliberately keeping one arm around Jamie’s waist. “You must be Jamie’s mother.”

“I am.”

He held out his free hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you, too.” She reached out to hug him, to show him that she really meant it, and to show everyone else that he should be made welcome. And Tony finally let go of Jamie and put his arms around her and hugged her.

He was a lot taller than he appeared from a distance so it probably looked rather comical. But she could sense the atmosphere in the garden warming and softening.

She was only planning to do it for a few seconds, but she had to keep her face pressed into Tony’s shirt for quite a long time because she was crying, which caught her completely by surprise, and while she wanted everyone to know that she was welcoming Tony into her family, she didn’t really want them to see her weeping helplessly in the arms of someone she’d met ten seconds ago.

Then she heard Katie shrieking delightedly, “Tony. Fucking hell. You came,” which did distract people’s attention.

George came toa halt in front of David on the far side of the dining room and stood with his legs apart and his fists clenched.

Unfortunately, David was facing in the opposite direction and did not realize that George was standing behind him. George did not want to ask him to turn round because asking for anything would suggest that David was the dominant animal. Like dogs. And George was meant to be the dominant animal.

Nor did he want to grab David by the shoulder and forcibly turn him round because that was what people did in fights in bars and he wanted the encounter to be concluded with as little fuss as possible.

So he stood, tensed, for some seconds until the woman David was talking to said, “George,” and David turned round and said, “George,” and smiled and juggled his little cigar into his drink hand and held the other out for George to shake.

George found himself shaking David’s hand and saying, “David,” which was not part of the plan at all.

“You must be very proud indeed,” said David.

“That’s not the point,” said George.

The woman slipped away.

“No,” said David. “You’re right. Everyone says it. But it is rather a selfish way of looking at it. Whether Katie’s happy. That’s the important thing.”

Christ, he was slippery. George was beginning to see how he had wormed his way into Jean’s affections.

To think that he had worked with this man for fifteen years.

David raised an eyebrow. “Mind you, Sarah was telling me that Katie and Ray are paying for all this themselves.” He swept an arm over the room as if he owned it. “Now that is a canny move, George.”