Furious Thing

by Jenny Downham

  ‘You can’t tell it’s her.’

  ‘Did you think some primitive editing to obscure our faces was going to get you off the hook?’ He jabbed a finger at me. ‘You’ve unlawfully intruded into my private affairs, you’ve attempted to damage my reputation and you’ve publicized me in an offensive and misleading light. Unless you remove that video immediately and issue a formal apology on Facebook, I’ll get a lawyer to force you to do it.’

  I should’ve known it would turn out this way.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ he said. ‘You need to take it down.’

  ‘I don’t know how.’

  ‘Then get your fucking accomplice to do it.’ He swung back in his chair, his eyes deadly. ‘Come back when you’re done and bring your mother with you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Just do it.’

  I hauled Ben from the dance floor and dragged him out to the garden. It was cold and there was no one outside. The night sky seemed full of pins. Sharp little needles making pricks of white across the dark.

  I said, ‘We have to take it down.’

  Ben sank down on a plastic chair. ‘What happened? Did he see it?’

  I nodded miserably. ‘He says it’s illegal.’

  ‘That’s bullshit.’

  ‘We still have to take it down.’

  I was shaking. Maybe Ben could feel it, because he reached for my hand. ‘We don’t have to do anything.’

  ‘He’s getting a lawyer.’

  ‘Then we’ll get one too.’

  ‘We can’t fight him, Ben. He’s got all the money and power and rightness.’

  ‘He’s not right though, is he? He’s wrong.’

  ‘Why did he have to see it first?’ I peered through the door at Meryam and the other women still dancing under the lights. ‘Why haven’t they seen it?’

  ‘They have.’

  ‘Then, why haven’t they done anything?’

  ‘My mum said she’ll talk to yours in the next few days.’

  ‘That’s it? That’s all that’s going to happen? You heard your mum promise not to abandon us. What good is talking?’

  He frowned. ‘The video gives you a voice, Lex. It’s a permanent record, so you never forget. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? It stirs things up, gets a dialogue going. But it’s not going to change the world overnight.’

  Of course it wasn’t. Loads of parents lose their tempers. Weddings are stressful – right up there with death and redundancy. It wasn’t like John hit Iris. He just swore a bit. He’s usually so charming and everyone’s allowed a less-than-perfect day.

  ‘Take it down, Ben.’

  ‘We don’t have to.’

  A million people could see the video and thousands could comment, but it wouldn’t change a thing. Iris, me and Mum would still have to live with him. And the more comments and likes and shares the video got – the more we’d suffer.

  ‘Please, Ben. It’ll make everything worse.’

  He switched his phone on. ‘I hate what he does to you, Lex.’

  Mum was still dancing when I went back inside – magnificent and dishevelled in her dress. John was still at the table, his face slammed shut. I knew I was leading Mum to her fate as I drew her away from the dance floor towards him.

  She was laughing as she sat down. She poured water from the jug and took several deep gulps. I sat next to her and watched her drink. I watched John watching her.

  ‘Is this how married life is going to be?’ he said. ‘Your mates taking the piss out of me?

  Mum thought he was joking. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Your friends need to leave.’

  ‘What do you mean? What did they do?’

  He leaned forwards, his face a mask of contempt. ‘They’re drunk, overbearing, loud and inconsiderate. They’re taking advantage of the free bar. They’re embarrassing me in front of my guests. You want me to go on?’

  She looked suddenly afraid. ‘I can’t ask them to leave.’

  ‘Given they weren’t invited in the first place – I’d say you can.’

  ‘Of course they were invited,’ Mum whispered. ‘I invited them.’

  ‘Is it just your wedding, then? Do I get no say?’

  ‘We discussed it.’ But already I could hear doubt in her voice. ‘Please, John, don’t make me ask them to go.’

  ‘I’m not making you do anything.’ He leaned back slowly, never taking his eyes from her. I knew it was for my benefit. See what I will do to her? See how I will punish her for what you did? ‘It’s your choice. Either they leave, or I do.’

  It was strange and dreadful watching the switch in her. She’d been so happy. And now she sank like a boat with a sudden hole. ‘What do you mean – you’ll leave? We only just got married.’

  ‘I mean, I will walk out the door right now and you’ll spend your wedding night alone.’ He shrugged. ‘Up to you.’

  ‘What will I tell them?’

  ‘I don’t give a shit what you tell them.’ He pushed his arms against the table and stood up. ‘Just make them go away.’

  Mum looked at me, pale with shock as he walked off. ‘They’ll think I’ve lost my mind.’

  It felt like knives. Like glass in my blood. Like the sound windows make as they shatter.

  Mum wilted beside me. ‘What will I say? What excuse should I make?’

  Like shards of metal rasping in my head. Like bones being ripped apart and all my insides exposed.

  ‘Oh God,’ Mum said. ‘I can’t bear it.’ She pushed her chair back.

  My breath was ragged. My fists were tough by my side.

  And inside me, the furious thing came roaring.

  37

  I was the shriek of a scraping chair. I was the clatter of a table being swept clean with the swing of my arm. Smash – the water jug hit the floor and broke into jagged slices. Crash, tinkle, went the tumblers.

  I was the clamour of my own feet running. I was the explosion of the buffet table slamming to the ground. Boom! I was the smash of china plates and the jangle of falling cutlery.

  Listen to my racket.

  People recoiled. They pushed their chairs back and shrank away from me, clutching themselves.

  I was frenzied. Fury spattered out of me like liquid rock.

  Bang – over went another drinks table, smashing forwards onto wet shards of glass.

  ‘Christ,’ someone said. ‘What the hell’s wrong with her?’

  I was the outcry. The commotion.

  ‘Somebody stop her.’

  Don’t let them near you. Keep moving. You are the storm.

  I bumped into tables, lurched into chairs, pitched half-eaten plates of food to the floor, tossed knives and sharp little forks behind me to stop anyone getting close.

  The lights snapped on. The music stopped.

  ‘Grab her.’

  I rushed at the cake, standing proudly on its special plate. I hauled it up, grappled it close and turned around to face the room, breathing hard.

  People stared, their mouths open like gaping fish. The women on the dance floor looked horrified. Ben’s face was a mask of shock. Mum stood with Meryam, her hand on her mouth, her eyes luminous with tears.

  The room throbbed with silence.

  Spikes of broken glass glittered across the floor like ice.

  The silence made everything strange. The way people stared made me feel raw. The cake was a dragging weight in my arms.

  The fever was leaving me. I was going to be left with horror and mess and I stood there clutching the cake – the icing smooth as a tombstone – and I knew what John would do if I threw it. But he was going to do it anyway.

  Whoosh! I lobbed the cake as far as I could. It plummeted more then it flew, spinning once before landing upside down in a soft collapse of cream and sponge at the edge of the dance floor. The plate didn’t break, protected by the layers of frosting, but slid slowly to the carpet.

  There was absolute silence. Every person in the room was starin
g at me. It was like the Tempest audition all over again and Caliban’s words came into my head. Cursed be I.

  John stepped over spattered cream and broken crockery towards me. He held one hand, palm out, as if approaching a fearsome animal.

  ‘Don’t touch me,’ I hissed.

  He stalled. He looked incredulous. ‘Alexandra, please …’

  ‘Stay away.’

  He came closer, one hand still held out. ‘Let me help you.’

  I shook my head, couldn’t bear him near me. I had no words, only a hot jumble of feelings in my head as I stood there pathetic and snivelling, wiping my eyes on my sleeve.

  John said, ‘I won’t come any closer if you don’t want me to. I can see you’re agitated.’

  People exchanged quick glances. They were thinking – she’s crazy, she’s completely off her rocker. How dreadful for John, to be saddled with a girl like her.

  He turned to the room and raised his arms like a conductor. ‘Ladies and gentlemen – I’m so sorry for this shocking disturbance.’ He smiled sadly at their troubled faces, at the ruined mess of the room and all the broken things at their feet. ‘My stepdaughter, Alexandra, is struggling with a psychiatric condition. She’s under the care of a doctor and we were assured she’d be able to cope with the pressures of the day.’ His voice was low and tender. ‘Clearly that wasn’t the case and I can only apologize that we weren’t able to manage the situation and support her more effectively.’

  They believed him. I could feel it happening. People flicked me little secret looks. How true it sounded, how right and sorry he was.

  ‘I am subject to a tyrant,’ I muttered. But it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. Caliban’s words were nothing more than whispers from a play written hundreds of years ago.

  ‘We’re looking at all possible treatment strategies,’ John said. ‘We’re determined that Alexandra will get the help she needs to reach her full potential.’ He rubbed a hand across his eyes as if he was exhausted. ‘In the meantime, please could I ask you to find it in your hearts to forgive her for what’s happened here today?’

  I felt a chill in my bones as people murmured softly that, of course, I was forgiven. I was young, troubled, only a girl. Poor John, having to cope with me. Poor me, having to cope with an appalling illness. The cold burned deep in my ribs and chest and spread along the length of my spine.

  Caliban wanted to kill Prospero. He got Stephano to help and they crept towards the tyrant as he slept, and Caliban told Stephano to tread softly, to speak softly too, because if Prospero woke up, he’d fill their skin with pinches and make them into ‘strange stuff’.

  That’s what John did. Made me into strange stuff. I was trembling violently. I felt like something peeled, standing there.

  He surveyed the damaged room, his face troubled. He caught the manager’s eye and promised to reimburse him for all breakages and to pay for a professional cleaning service. He pledged to foot the bill for any individual’s dry-cleaning. He made a joke about needing to be made partner to pay for it all and a few people politely chuckled. He raised his hand. ‘Please could I ask you all to move to the garden temporarily while this mess gets sorted and I take Alexandra home?’ He flashed a golden smile at the manager. ‘Any chance of getting the heaters on outside? And more champagne for everyone?’

  Oh, their sympathetic faces as they began to gather their belongings. They spoke softly among themselves, pretending it was all fine, nothing to look at, everything perfectly normal for a Saturday night.

  I felt desperate, heavy and hurting. I looked for my tribe – but the women were pulling on their coats, collecting their bags, looking resigned and sorry. Mum was sitting at a table with Meryam, dabbing at her face with a tissue. Cerys and Iris were nowhere to be seen. Only Ben dared to look at me, his gaze steady as he mouthed, ‘I believe you.’

  Weeks ago, he’d stood in his kitchen and told me he’d believe every word if I ever dared speak. Now, seeing him there – the one still point in the room, gave me hope.

  One person was better than no people. And what did I have to lose?

  ‘You’re a liar, John.’ My voice rang out across the room.

  Alarm flashed briefly in his eyes, but he covered it quickly. ‘Don’t start up again.’

  ‘I don’t have a condition.’

  ‘Hush, Alexandra.’

  ‘You took me to a doctor to keep me quiet. You drugged me to shut me up.’

  ‘I said, hush. No one wants to listen to this.’

  Everything was so private behind closed doors. Even if it was only Ben who believed me, I wanted to drag it into the open – like turning a stone and watching all the furtive creatures hidden underneath being dazzled by light.

  I filled my lungs with air. ‘You’re a bully.’

  John held his hands up in horror as if that was the most ridiculous statement he’d ever heard.

  ‘You are,’ I said. ‘You’re a bully. Who bullies people.’

  It really was very simple. That’s what he was. It sounded so right that I said it again.

  ‘Stop this nonsense.’ John’s eyes flared with anger as he walked towards me – his whole face going from handsome to ugly to mean in a second.

  I glanced over at Mum, but she was sitting very still, hunched into Meryam, not looking at anyone. She couldn’t take sides, she never could. Ben was still looking right at me. I believe you.

  I stood my ground, raised my voice a notch. ‘You bully my mum and you bully me and now you’ve started to bully Iris. What did you say to her earlier? Oh, I know …’ I adopted his posture from the car park – the arrogant chin, the fury in his eyes. ‘“Put your fucking dress on and stop being a little bitch.”’

  ‘That’s enough.’

  ‘That’s the kind of thing bullies say. And things like, “You’re pathetic and a terrible mum and I don’t know why I ever left my wife for you.”’

  ‘I’m taking you home,’ John spat. ‘Get your things.’

  I ducked away and waved at the women, standing with their coats by the door, and did another of John’s poses – the one where he folds his arms and looks at you as if you’re nothing. ‘And apparently you lot are overbearing and pissed,’ I said. ‘Did you know? You’re embarrassing the other guests and you weren’t even invited in the first place.’

  John’s colour changed – he looked suddenly pale with a slick of sweat on him. ‘That’s it. That’s enough of this madness. You need to stop right now.’

  But I couldn’t. ‘You’re a bully,’ I said again. ‘A bully who bullies people.’ Declaim it. Name him. Bully, bully, bully. I said it over and over. It was the deepest truth. And maybe it was like white noise in his head – that one word repeating. Bully, bully, bully. It enraged him. Like when the princess guesses Rumpelstiltskin’s true name, and hearing it makes the little man so angry he rips his own body in half.

  ‘Would you just shut the fuck up, Alexandra?’

  There was a shift in the room. Like a shoal of fish suddenly altering course in a river, the crowd turned their attention to him.

  He dismissed them with a wave. ‘She’s going home,’ he declared.

  And a voice cut across the room. ‘You really are a shit, John.’ Monika, in her lovely clothes with her pretty young face, stepped forward. ‘Pick on someone your own size, eh?’

  ‘Stay out of this,’ he snapped. ‘It’s nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Oh, I’d say it is.’ She raised her glass at him. ‘I’d say you being a shit is a lot to do with me.’

  ‘I suggest you mind your own damn business.’ His voice was low and deadly.

  Monika raised her glass to me now. ‘What were those rules you were on about earlier? The first rule is to be kind, right?’

  I nodded. ‘And the second and third.’

  Monika smiled. ‘Probably the fourth rule too, eh?’

  I smiled tentatively back at her. ‘And the fifth.’

  John rubbed his head furiously. ‘Will you two girls
shut up with your stupid rules.’

  Monika laughed. She tinkled with it. She looked at John as if seeing him clearly for the first time and what she saw was a clown with his trousers down. She laughed and laughed.

  And for some reason I started laughing too. It seemed so ridiculous that John was raging, and Monika was shining with mirth and a silent crowd stood around staring. It was beautiful, the sound of us laughing. Not to be afraid! How good it felt! Just for once. Just to taste it.

  John loosened his tie. ‘Pathetic,’ he said.

  Some of the waitresses, standing around the edge of the room, began to giggle.

  ‘Stop it,’ John said. ‘Will you just all—’

  But we couldn’t. His protesting made it worse. ‘Who’s actually in charge here?’ he spluttered.

  We cackled with laughter.

  John’s eyes were wild as if he was a trapped creature in a room. I saw a bird like that once, flapping and mad from containment. ‘Ridiculous,’ he blustered. ‘Absurd.’

  Which made it even funnier.

  John slumped in a chair. ‘Christ, will everyone just give me a fucking break?’

  Maybe he gave up because we were laughing. Or because the atmosphere in the room changed – people breaking into excited chatter as if released from an enchantment. Or because the women by the door moved en masse to be at Mum’s side. They helped her to her feet and hugged her. They straightened her dress, tidied her hair and wiped her mascara tears away.

  Flanked by her friends, Mum walked towards me, her arms stretched out for a hug. ‘Come here,’ she said. ‘Come to me, baby.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, collapsing into her. ‘I wrecked your wedding.’

  ‘It’s me that’s sorry.’ She kissed me fiercely before pulling me closer. ‘You have no idea how sorry I am.’

  Maybe John gave up because I had Mum and Monika and a whole squad of women on my team.

  Or because his son left him.

  Or because Iris had become badass.

  Or because Ben walked over to me and said, ‘You’re a hero,’ in a particularly loud voice.