Mark Haddon - A Spot Of Bother

Katie was relievedthat Jacob was sitting in her lap when it happened.

Ray, Jamie and Tony seemed to be handling everything and all she had to do was to hug Jacob and hope that he wasn’t too upset by what he was witnessing.

In the event, he seemed strangely unshocked. He’d never seen two adults fighting in real life. Apparently, Grandpa and that man were being like Power Rangers. Though Katie had trouble remembering actual blood in a Power Rangers video and Dad hadn’t done a somersault or a karate kick.

If Jacob had not been sitting in her lap she had no idea what she would have done. Clearly Dad was suffering horribly, and clearly they should have taken a lot more notice of his doing a runner and taking Valium. On the other hand, you’d think you could wait till the end of lunch then take someone out into the street to thump them, instead of fucking up your daughter’s wedding reception, however bad you were feeling.

And clearly Mum was horrified to find out that Dad knew about David Symmonds. But why in God’s name had she invited the guy to the wedding in the first place?

All in all, Katie was grateful she didn’t have to work out what she felt about all these things while she was comforting either of her parents, or she might have gone a bit Power Ranger herself.

It was Jamie who saved the day (Man of the Match, as Ray quite rightly said). She had absolutely no idea what he was going to say when he stood up to give his speech (Jamie later confessed that he had no idea either) and she was nervous, though not as nervous as Mum who managed to actually tear her woven napkin while Jamie was talking, obviously convinced that he was about to explain to everyone precisely why Dad had done what he’d done.

But the workplace-argument story was a stroke of genius. Indeed, people were so keen on the idea that later in the evening Katie was given several entirely different explanations as to why Dad had a grudge against his former colleague. According to Mona, David had spread rumors to prevent him getting the job of managing director. According to Uncle Douglas, David was an alcoholic. Katie decided not to disagree. Doubtless by the end of the evening he would have murdered one of their factory workers and buried the body in nearby woodland.

She did sound off a bit to Ray about her parents’ behavior, which was not helpful. But he just laughed at her and wrapped his arms around her and said, “Can we try and have a fun time in spite of your family?”

As a gesture of goodwill, it being their wedding, she decided to admit that he was right. Not out loud, obviously. But by not answering back.

He suggested that she get drunk instead, which turned out to be a rather good idea, because when Dad reappeared and came over to apologize she was almost past remembering what had happened earlier, let alone caring, and she was able to give him a hug, which was probably the most diplomatic of all outcomes.

Come eleven o’clock they were sitting in a little circle at the edge of the lawn. Her, Ray, Jamie, Tony, Sarah, Mona. They were talking about Ray’s brother being in prison. And Jamie complained that he hadn’t been told this thrilling information earlier. So Ray gave him a slightly parental look on account of this not really being a subject for amusing gossip, and told everyone about the drugs and the stolen cars and the money and the time and the heartbreak his parents had expended trying to get him back onto the straight and narrow.

Sarah said, “Bloody Nora.”

And Ray said, “Eventually you realize that other people’s problems are other people’s problems.”

Katie wrapped her arms around him drunkenly and said, “You’re not just a pretty face, are you.”

“Pretty?” said Tony. “I’m not sure I’d go that far. Rugged, maybe. Butch definitely.”

Ray had downed enough beer by this stage to take it as a compliment.

And Katie was rather sad they weren’t taking Jamie and Tony with them to Barcelona.

Jean paused halfwayup the stairs and held on to the banisters. She felt woozy, like she did at the top of tall buildings sometimes.

Everything was suddenly very clear.

Her relationship with David was over. When George hit him, it was George she was worried about. That he had gone mad. That he was making a fool of himself in front of everyone they knew.

She didn’t even know if David was still in the house.

If only she’d come to the realization yesterday, or last week, or last month. She could have told David. He wouldn’t have come to the wedding and none of this would have happened.

How long had George known? Was it knowing that made him depressed? That dreadful thing he did to himself in the shower. Was it her fault?

Perhaps her marriage was over, too.

She walked along the landing and knocked on the bedroom door. There was a grunt from the far side.

“George?”

There was another grunt.

She opened the door and stepped into the room. He was lying on the bed, half asleep.

He said, “Oh, it’s you,” and levered himself slowly into a sitting position.

She perched on the armchair. “George, look-”

“I’m sorry,” said George. He was slurring his words slightly. “That was unforgivable. What I did in the marquee. To your…to your friend. To David. I really shouldn’t have done it.”

“No,” said Jean, “I’m the one who…” She was finding it hard to talk.

“I was frightened.” George didn’t seem to be listening. “Frightened of…To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what I was frightened of. Getting old. Dying. Dying of cancer. Dying in general. Making the speech. Things became a little hazy. I rather forgot that everyone else was there.”

“How long have you known?” asked Jean.

“About what?”

“About…” She couldn’t say it.

“Oh, I see what you mean,” said George. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“I need to know.”

George thought about this for some time. “The day I was meant to go to Cornwall.” He was swaying a little.

“How?” asked Jean, puzzled.

“I came back here. And saw you. In here. On the bed. Rather burned onto my retina. As they say.”

Jean felt sick.

“I really should have said something at the time. You know, got it off my chest.”

“I’m sorry, George. I’m so sorry.”

He put his hands on his knees to steady himself.

She said, “What’s going to happen now?”

“What do you mean?”

“To us.”

“I’m not entirely sure,” said George. “It’s not a situation I’ve been in very often.”

Jean was not sure whether George meant this to be funny.

They sat silently for a while.

He had seen them naked.

Making love.

Having sex.

It was like a hot coal inside her head, and it burned and scalded and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it because she couldn’t tell anyone. Not Katie. Not Ursula. She was simply going to have to live with it.

Jamie knocked on the door. They had a short conversation with him and he went away again.

She felt bad for not saying thank you. She could see now how good he had been, making that speech. She would have to tell him later.

She looked at George. It was very hard to tell what he was thinking. Or whether he was thinking at all. He was still swaying slightly. He did not seem terribly well.

“Perhaps I should get you a coffee,” said Jean. “Perhaps I should get us both a coffee.”

“Yes, that sounds like a very good idea,” said George.

She went and got two cups of coffee from a mercifully deserted kitchen.

George emptied his cup in one long gulp.