A Spot of Bother

by Mark Haddon

  “OK,” said Dr. Anderson.

  “He wanted me to drive him into the country,” said Jamie. “So he didn’t have to go to the wedding.” He sat up, felt wobbly, and put his head between his knees again. Glancing sideways, he saw a sliver of pink card under the mattress. He reached over and extracted the Ordnance Survey map. His father had gone without it.

  “What’s that?” asked Dr. Anderson.

  “This is where he wanted to go,” said Jamie, unfolding the map and pointing to Folksworth. “Perhaps he took a taxi. I’m going to look for him.”

  Dr. Anderson removed a small card from his jacket and handed it to Jamie. “I’m not really meant to do this. But if you find him, call me, OK?”

  “Thanks.” Jamie slipped the card into his trouser pocket. “I’d better get going.”

  Halfway down the stairs they bumped into Ray.

  Dr. Anderson smiled and said, “I’m the photographer.”

  “OK,” said Ray, looking a little puzzled, possibly by the fact that Jamie and the photographer had been upstairs together.

  Jamie turned to Dr. Anderson. “It’s OK, he knows.”

  “In which case, I’m a doctor,” said Dr. Anderson.

  “Dad’s gone missing,” said Jamie. “I’m going to look for him. I’ll explain later.” Then he remembered that it was Ray’s wedding day, too. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  “I’ll call you if he turns up,” said Ray.

  116

  Jean was getting dressed and wondering where on earth George had wandered off to when there was a ring at the front door and clearly no one else was going to answer it, so she fished her good shoes out of the bottom of the wardrobe, went downstairs and opened the door.

  “Alan Phillips,” said the man. “Ray’s father. This is my wife, Barbara. You must be Jean.”

  “How do you do,” said Barbara.

  Jean ushered them inside and took their coats.

  “Very good to meet you after all this time,” said Alan. “I’m sorry it’s so last minute.”

  She’d expected a bigger man, someone with more bluster. Then she recalled Katie mentioning a chocolate factory, which seemed comical at the time, but rather appropriate now. He was the kind of man you could imagine playing with trains or growing carnations. “Have a seat.”

  “It’s a lovely house,” said Barbara, and she sounded as if she meant it, which Jean found quite touching.

  There was something formal about the two of them, and this was a relief (in her darker moments she’d imagined, well…some things were best forgotten). On the other hand, they didn’t look like the kind of people you could dump in the living room while you got on with other stuff.

  Where was everyone? George, Jamie, Eileen, Ronnie. They seemed to have vanished into thin air.

  “Could I get you some tea?” asked Jean. She sounded as if she was talking to Mr. Ledger who serviced the boiler. “Or coffee?” She could dig the cafetière out.

  “Oh,” said Barbara, “we don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble,” said Jean, though to be honest it was a little inconvenient at this point.

  “In which case, two teas would be lovely,” said Barbara. “Alan has half a sugar.”

  Jean was rescued, yet again, by Ray who came in from the car carrying a tiny yellow action figure.

  “Barbara. Dad.” He kissed Barbara on the cheek and shook his father’s hand.

  “I was just going to make your parents a cup of tea,” said Jean.

  “I’ll do that,” said Ray.

  “That’s very good of you,” said Jean, brightly.

  Ray was about to turn and head toward the kitchen when she said, quietly, “You don’t know where George is, do you? Just out of interest. Or Jamie, for that matter.”

  Ray paused for rather a long time, which disturbed her slightly. He was about to answer when Ed appeared from the direction of the kitchen eating a bread roll, and Ray said, “Ed.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Phillips,” said Ed, through the bread roll.

  Alan and Barbara stood up.

  “Ed Hobday,” said Alan. “Goodness. I didn’t recognize you.”

  Ed brushed the crumbs from his mouth and shook their hands. “Fatter but wiser.”

  “Oh no,” said Barbara, “you’ve just filled out a bit.”

  Ray touched Jean’s shoulder and said, quietly, “Come into the kitchen.”

  117

  By the time George reached the edge of the village he was feeling a little calmer.

  He was halfway across the field by the railway line, however, when he saw Eileen and Ronnie heading toward him. They were hoisting their dog over the stile and he was fairly sure they had not noticed him. He crept into the depression by the hawthorn so that he was out of their line of sight.

  The dog was barking.

  He could not retrace his steps without being seen, and a bank of brambles prevented him crossing the railway line itself. His chest tightened.

  His arm was still bleeding where he had bitten it.

  The barking got louder.

  He lay down and rolled into the shallow drainage ditch where the grass dipped before going under the fence. His coat was green. If he lay still they might not find him.

  It was snug in the ditch, and surprisingly comfortable. Interesting, too, to find himself looking at nature from so close up, something he had not done since he was a small boy. There must have been forty or fifty species of plants within his reach. And he knew the names of none. Except the nettles. Assuming they were nettles. And the cow parsley. Assuming it was cow parsley.

  Six years ago Katie had given him a book token for Christmas (a lazy present, but an improvement on those ridiculous Swedish wineglasses you hung round your neck on a string). He had used it to buy the Reader’s Digest Book of British Flora and Fauna with the intention of learning the names of trees at the very least. The only fact he could now recall from the book was that a colony of wallabies were living wild in the Cotswolds.

  He realized that he did not have to walk somewhere to escape the wedding. Indeed, walking was more likely to attract attention. Better simply to lie here, or somewhere farther into the undergrowth. He could emerge at night.

  Then Eileen was saying, “George?” and it occurred to him that if he did not move she might simply go away.

  But she did not go away. She said his name again, then screamed when he failed to respond. “Ronnie. Come over here.”

  George rolled over to prove that he was still alive.

  Eileen asked George what had happened. George explained that he had been out for a walk and twisted his ankle.

  Ronnie helped him to his feet and George pretended to limp and it was bearable for a few minutes because although the ditch was comforting the idea of spending the next ten hours alone was not. And, to be honest, he was rather relieved to find himself in the company of other human beings.

  But Eileen and Ronnie were taking him back to the house and that was not good, and as they got progressively closer he felt as if someone were lowering a black bin liner over his head.

  He very nearly ran when they reached the main road. He did not care whether the dog was trained to attack. He did not care about the embarrassment of a hare-and-hounds race with Ronnie through the village (a race he would almost certainly win; there was so much adrenaline coursing through his system he could have outrun a zebra). It was simply the only option left.

  Except that it was not.

  There was another option, and it was so obvious that he could not believe he had forgotten it. He would take the Valium. He would take all the Valium, as soon as he returned to the house.

  But what if someone had thrown the bottle away? What if someone had flushed the pills down the toilet? Or hidden them to prevent them being swallowed accidentally by a child?

  He broke into a run.

  “George,” shouted Ronnie. “Your ankle.”

  He had absolutely no idea what the man was talki
ng about.

  118

  When Jean reached the kitchen Ray turned to her and said, “Got a bit of a problem.”

  “What sort of problem?” asked Jean.

  “George,” said Ray.

  “Oh dear God.” She had to sit down very quickly. What had George done to himself this time?

  “Afraid he’s gone missing,” said Ray.

  She was going to pass out. In front of the caterers. In front of Ray. She took a deep breath and George’s head flashed past the window like some kind of supernatural apparition. She thought she might be losing her mind.

  The kitchen door banged open and George burst in. She yelped but he took no notice whatsoever, just sprinted into the hallway and up the stairs.

  Jean and Ray looked at each other for a few seconds.

  She heard Ed saying, “That, I think, was Katie’s father.”

  Ray said, “I’ll go and see what he’s up to.”

  She sat for a minute or two, gathering her wits. Then the door banged open a second time and it was Eileen and Ronnie and their blessed Labrador and what with thinking George might be dead then being scared out of her wits by George himself she snapped and said, “Get that bloody dog out of my kitchen,” which was not diplomatic.

  119

  Katie did her makeup and let Sarah negotiate with Jacob.

  “I’m afraid you really do have to come.”

  “Want to stay here,” said Jacob.

  “You’ll be on your own,” said Sarah.

  “Want to stay here,” said Jacob.

  It wasn’t a tantrum yet, just a bid for attention. But they had to stop it gaining momentum. And Sarah probably stood a better chance than Katie. Unknown quantity. Less leverage.

  “Want to go home,” said Jacob.

  “There’s going to be a party,” said Sarah. “There’s going to be cake. You just have to hang on for a couple of hours.”

  A couple of hours? Sarah wasn’t very clued up about children and time measurement. Jacob was pretty much incapable of distinguishing between last week and the extinction of the dinosaurs.

  “I want a biscuit.”

  “Jacob…” Sarah took his hand and stroked it. If Katie had done that he might just have bitten it. “I know you haven’t got your toys and your videos and your friends. And I know everyone’s busy and can’t play with you at the moment…”

  “I hate you,” said Jacob.

  “No you don’t,” said Sarah.

  “Do,” said Jacob.

  “No you don’t,” said Sarah.

  “Do,” said Jacob.

  “No you don’t,” said Sarah, who seemed to be reaching the end of her repertoire.

  Luckily, Jacob’s attention was deflected by Ray coming in and flopping onto the bed. “Jesus H. Christ.”

  “What’s up?” asked Katie.

  “I’m not sure you really want to know.”

  “Tell me,” said Katie. “I could do with some entertainment.”

  “Not sure this counts as entertainment,” said Ray, who sounded worryingly somber.

  “Perhaps you should tell me later,” said Katie. “When certain people aren’t around.”

  Sarah got to her feet. “Right, young man. We’re going to play hide-and-seek. If you can find me in ten minutes, you win twenty pence.”

  Jacob was out of the room almost instantly. Clearly Sarah knew more about child management than Katie had given her credit for.

  “So?” asked Katie.

  “I guess you’re going to find out sooner or later,” said Ray, sitting up.

  “Find out what?”

  “Your dad scarpered.”

  “Scarpered?” Katie stopped doing her makeup.

  “Went a bit wobbly. You know, like when we were last here. Bit tense about the wedding I guess. Jamie called a doctor…”

  “A doctor…?” Katie’s mind raced.

  “But when he arrived your dad had vanished. So Jamie’s gone to look for him.”

  “So where’s Dad now?” Katie went a bit wobbly herself at this point.

  “Oh, he’s back. Says he just went for a walk and bumped into Eileen and Ronnie. Which might be true. But I was in the kitchen when he came back and he was doing about Mach 3.”

  “Is he OK?” asked Katie.

  “Seems fine. He’d got some Valium from his GP.”

  “He’s not about to overdose or anything…”

  “Don’t think so,” said Ray. “He took a couple. Seemed happy just holding the bottle.”

  “God,” said Katie and took a few deep breaths, waiting for her heart to slow down. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Jamie didn’t want to worry you.”

  “I should go and talk to Dad.”

  “You stay here.” Ray got to his feet and came over and knelt down in front of her. “Probably best to pretend you don’t know anything.”

  Katie held Ray’s hand. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “God. This is meant to be our wedding day.”

  Then Ray said something wise. Which took her by surprise. “We’re just the little people on top of the cake. Weddings are about families. You and me, we’ve got the rest of our lives together.”

  And then Katie did cry a little bit.

  And Ray said, “Oh shit. Jamie. He’s still looking for your dad. Have you got his mobile number?”

  120

  When George reached the bedroom he experienced a surge of relief so deep he felt his bowels loosen a little.

  Then, quite suddenly, he forgot where he had hidden the Valium and the panic rose like floodwater, thick and cold and fast, and he had to fight to keep breathing.

  He knew that he knew where the bottle was. Or rather, he knew that he had known where it was ten minutes ago, because why would he forget something like that? And he knew that it was somewhere entirely logical. It was a simple matter of finding the pigeonhole in his head where he had stored the information. But the inside of his head was upside down and shaking violently and the contents of the other pigeonholes were coming out and getting in the way.

  He stood facing the window, crouching a little to help himself breathe.

  Under the bed…? No. In the chest of drawers…? No. Behind the mirror…?

  It was in the bathroom. He had not hidden the bottle at all. Why would he have hidden it? There was no need to hide it.

  He ran into the bathroom, his bowels loosening slightly all over again. He opened the cabinet. It was on the top shelf, behind the plasters and the interdental sticks.

  He twisted the top, and kept on twisting and felt the panic coming back until he realized that it was childproof and had to be pressed down. He pressed it down and twisted and very nearly dropped it when he saw Ray in the mirror, standing behind him, only feet away, actually in the bathroom, saying, “George? Are you OK? I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.”

  George came very close to swigging the entire contents of the bottle and swallowing hard in case Ray tried to stop him.

  “George?” said Ray.

  “What?”

  “You all right?”

  “Fine. Absolutely fine,” said George.

  “You seemed a little worked up when you ran into the kitchen.”

  “Did I?” George wanted to take the pills very badly.

  “And Jamie was worried about you.”

  George gently shook two tablets into the palm of his hand and swallowed them casually. Like people did with peanuts at parties.

  “Said you’d not been feeling yourself.”

  “They’re Valium,” said George. “I got them from the doctor. They help me feel a little calmer.”

  “Good,” said Ray. “So, you’re not planning on going for another walk? Today, I mean. Before the wedding.”

  “No,” said George, and forced a little laugh. Was this exchange meant to be amusing? He was unsure. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble.”

  “No problem,” said Ray.

  “I’m definitely coming to the w
edding,” said George. He needed to go to the lavatory quite badly.

  “Good,” said Ray. “That’s good. Well, I’d better get suited and booted.”

  “Thank you,” said George.

  Ray left and George bolted the door and dropped his trousers and sat on the toilet and emptied his bowels and swallowed the remaining six tablets, washing them down with some slightly unpleasant water from the toothbrush mug without stopping to think about the deposit in the bottom.

  121

  Jean apologized to Eileen for her outburst and Eileen said, “I forgive you,” in a way that made Jean want to be rude all over again.

  Ronnie said, “I do hope George is all right.”

  And Jean realized it was her fault. He’d sat on the bed looking dreadful, wanting to talk, and Katie had stuck her head round the door and she’d been swept up in all the arrangements and hadn’t gone back to ask what was troubling him.

  “I’ll be down again in a few minutes,” she said, and headed upstairs, smiling politely at Ed and Alan and Barbara as she went past the living-room door.

  They hadn’t got their tea, had they.

  Oh well, she had more important things to do.

  When she reached the bedroom George was putting his socks on. She sat down beside him. “I’m sorry, George.”

  “What for?”

  “For rushing off this morning.”

  “You had things to do,” said George.

  “How are you feeling now?”

  “A lot better,” said George.

  He certainly seemed all right. Perhaps Ray had got things out of proportion. “Your arm.”

  “Oh yes.” George lifted his arm. There was a large gash on his wrist. “I must have caught it on that barbed-wire fence.”

  At first glance it looked like a bite. Surely the dog hadn’t attacked him? “Let me sort that out before you get blood on your clothes.”

  She went into the bathroom and fetched the little green first-aid box and patched him up while he sat patiently on the bed. She wished she could do more of this kind of thing. Helping in a practical way.