A Spot of Bother

by Mark Haddon

She stuck down a second strip of plaster to hold the little bandage in place. “There you go.”

  “Thank you.” George put his hand in hers.

  She held it. “I’m sorry I’ve been so useless.”

  “Have you?” asked George.

  “I know you’ve not been feeling well,” said Jean. “And I know…sometimes I don’t take enough notice. And that’s not right. I just…I find it hard.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about me anymore,” said George.

  “What do you mean?” asked Jean.

  “I mean you don’t have to worry about me anymore today,” said George. “I’m feeling much happier now.”

  “I’m glad,” said Jean.

  And it was true. He did seem very relaxed, more relaxed than she’d seen him looking for a while. “But if something starts to worry you, you will let me know, won’t you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I mean it,” said Jean. “Just say the word and I’ll put down whatever I’m doing. Honestly.”

  “Thank you,” said George.

  They sat for a few moments, then a phone started ringing.

  “That’s not our phone, is it?” asked George.

  It wasn’t. “Hang on.” Jean got to her feet and stepped into the corridor. The noise was coming from a mobile phone lying on the windowsill.

  She picked it up and pressed the little green button and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Jamie?” said a man’s voice. “Sorry. I think I dialed a wrong number.”

  “Ray?” said Jean.

  “Jean?” said Ray.

  “Yes,” said Jean. “Is that Ray?”

  “Where are you?” asked Ray.

  “On the landing,” said Jean, who was a little puzzled by this.

  “I was trying to ring Jamie,” said Ray.

  “He’s not here,” said Jean, who always found mobile phones slightly disconcerting.

  “Sorry about that,” said Ray and rang off.

  She glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes and they would have to leave. She’d better get George ready then round up the troops.

  She put the phone back down and opened the wardrobe in the corridor to fish out her scarf and very nearly had a heart attack when she saw Sarah looking back at her from between the coats.

  “Hide-and-seek,” said Sarah.

  122

  Katie told Mum that Jamie was still looking for Dad. Mum panicked. Katie reassured her that Jamie knew where the register office was. He could be heading there at this very moment. Mum stopped panicking.

  They were all standing outside the house. The air was full of aftershave and perfume and Uncle Doug’s cigarette smoke and the mothbally scent of best coats. Was it sad or funny, Jamie missing the wedding? She couldn’t really tell.

  Sarah and Jacob were sitting next to each other on the wall. He hadn’t found her hiding place, but she’d given him the twenty pence anyway. If he was any older Katie would have called it a crush.

  “Dog’s bottom scrapings,” said Sarah.

  “Poo from a horse,” said Jacob, laughing like a maniac.

  “Dog’s bottom scrapings and a big jug of old lady’s wee,” said Sarah.

  Katie walked over to Dad. “How’re you doing?” She tried to make the question sound neutral so he didn’t realize how much she knew.

  He turned to her and took her hands and looked into her eyes and seemed almost tearful. He said, “My wonderful, wonderful daughter,” which made her tearful, too, and they hugged briefly, which was something they hadn’t done for quite a while.

  Then Mum looked at her watch and officially gave up waiting for her son to arrive and the tension broke and everyone poured toward the cars.

  123

  Jamie should have been heading back to the house by now. But what was the point? The wedding wasn’t going to happen without Dad. There was nothing to be late for.

  He was standing on a muddy track in Washingley, having run like a headless chicken up and down every footpath just south of Folksworth. His trousers were covered in mud, he’d torn the sleeve of his jacket on barbed wire and he felt like shit.

  He was the person his father had confided in. He was the person who had failed to stop his father doing precisely what his father had said he was going to do. He was the person who had fucked up his sister’s wedding.

  He now realized what a stupid idea it was looking for his father like this. His father could have set off in any direction.

  He had to explain to everyone what had happened. He had to inform the police. He had to apologize. He walked back to the car, put a plastic bag on the driver’s seat, got in and drove home.

  He knew something was wrong as soon as he arrived. There were no cars. He parked and walked to the front door. It was locked. He rang the bell. There was no answer. He looked through the windows. The house was empty.

  Maybe Ray had told them what had happened. Maybe they were all out looking for his father. Maybe they’d found him. Maybe everyone was at the hospital.

  He tried not to think about these things.

  He’d lost his mobile. He had to get into the house. If only to find a phone and some dry trousers. He tried the side gate. Eileen and Ronnie’s dog threw itself against the far side, barking and scraping the wood with its claws. He turned the handle. It was locked.

  Oh well, his trousers were already knackered…

  He grabbed hold of the post and put his foot into one of the grooves in the stone wall and hoisted himself up. He hadn’t done this kind of thing for many years and it took three attempts, but he finally got himself straddled uncomfortably over the top of the gate.

  He was looking down on the other side, wondering best how to negotiate the long drop and the crazy dog when someone said, “Can I help you?”

  He turned his head and found himself looking at an elderly man he vaguely recognized. The man was wearing a Shetland jumper and carrying a pair of garden shears.

  “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.

  124

  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.

  125

  George was having a 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.

  126

  They were in the 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.

  Mum cupped her hand round Dad’s elbow and steered him toward the stone arch at the back of the building.

  Sarah was singing “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg” and swinging Jacob over a puddle. “The Batmobile lost a wheel and the Joker broke his leg.”

  Ray took her arm and they followed Mum and Dad and they were spotted by Uncle Douglas who was smoking downwind, and everyone broke into a loud cheer.

  They reached the arch and Sandra ran up and hugged her, then Mona hugged her, and Uncle Doug held his lit cigarette out of the way and said, “You sure about this, lass?” and she was about to deliver some witty put-down (Uncle Doug was a bit of a bum-squeezer) but she could see that he meant it so she didn’t.

  Mona was already monopolizing Ray for a rapid grilling, having not met him yet, and the crowd parted and she saw Jenny in a wheelchair, which was a shock, and Katie bent down and hugged her and Jenny said, “Bit of relapse. Sorry,” and Katie suddenly realized why she needed that second ticket and Jenny said, “This is Craig,” and Katie shook hands with the young man standing behind the chair and hoped that this was an actual relationship, because that would be brilliant, although now wasn’t the time for questions.

  Then Ed was marshaling them for photographs, and Katie stood with Ray looking out at everyone and it was like being in front of a bar fire, all this warmth being directed their way, though Eileen and Ronnie looked a little sour, which was probably due to it not being a church and other people enjoying themselves.

  Then the registrar appeared wearing a slightly frumpy navy blue suit and one of those chiffony neckties that everyone else stopped wearing at the end of the Second World War, and they were allowed inside the building which was a bit like her doctor’s surgery in London. All cream paint and helpful leaflets and heavy-duty carpeting. But there was a big vase of flowers and the registrar was actually quite cheery and said, “If the bride and bridegroom would like to come with me, and the guests would like to follow my colleague…”

  The registrar ran them quickly th
rough the timetable for the ceremony. Then they heard the Bach double-violin piece start up and it sounded like something from a film soundtrack. Horse-drawn carriage, big house, frocks. And Katie thought, bugger segues, they should have gone for James Brown throughout. But it was too late now.

  They walked round the corner to the big room at the end and waited outside while the registrar went in and said, “Could I ask you all to stand for the entrance of the bride and groom,” and they went into the room where it all happened and it was very neat and very pink with velvet curtains. And Mum smiled at her. And Katie smiled back. And Dad appeared to be studying an old ticket of some kind that he’d found in his pocket.

  And as they reached the front Katie saw, lying on the table, a silk cushion hemmed with fake diamonds on little tassels. For the ring, presumably.

  “Please be seated,” said the registrar.

  Everyone sat down.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” said the registrar. “May I begin by welcoming you all here today to the Peterborough register office, for the marriage of Katie and Ray. Today marks a new beginning in their lives together…”

  Katie closed her eyes for Sarah’s reading and sort of hummed inside her head so she didn’t really have to listen (“Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving…”). She wondered if they could make a little wedding cake for the second ceremony in Jamie’s kitchen. Date and walnut on the inside. A little sugar Batman on the top for Jacob.

  “For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.”

  Sarah sat down and the registrar stood up and said, “It is one of my duties to inform you that this room in which we are now met has been duly sanctioned according to law for the celebration of marriages. You are here to witness the joining in marriage of Ray Peter Jonathon Phillips and Katie Margaret Hall. If any person present knows of any lawful impediment why these two people may not be joined in marriage he or she should declare it now.”

  And something happened in Katie’s heart, and she realized it wasn’t just two people being joined together, not even two families. She felt as if she were joining hands with everyone who’d done this before her, just as she’d done after giving birth to Jacob, a feeling that she finally belonged, that she was a part of the whole enterprise, a brick in that great arch which rose out of the dark behind you and swung over your head and curved into the future, and she was helping to keep it strong and solid, and helping to protect everyone beneath it.