A Spot of Bother (22 page)

68

Shortly after Jean
sent Jamie off to find something to eat in the hospital canteen a doctor appeared. He was wearing a dark blue V-neck pullover and no tie, the way doctors did these days.

He said, “Mrs. Hall?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Dr. Parris.”

He shook her hand. He was rather good-looking. There was something of the rugby player about him.

He said, “Could we step outside for a moment?” and he said it so politely that it never occurred to her to be worried. They stepped outside.

“So?” she asked.

He paused. “We’d like to keep your husband in overnight.”

“OK.” It sounded like a very sensible idea.

He said, “We’d like to make a psychiatric assessment.”

She said, “Well, yes, he has been feeling rather down recently.” She was impressed by the hospital’s thoroughness, but puzzled as to how they knew. Perhaps Dr. Barghoutian had put something in George’s medical records. Which was a bit alarming.

Dr. Parris said, “If someone’s harmed themselves we like to know why. Whether they’ve done it before. Whether they’re likely to do it again.”

Jean said, “He broke his elbow a couple of years ago. Usually, he’s very careful about that kind of thing.” She really didn’t understand what Dr. Parris was getting at. She smiled.

Dr. Parris smiled back, but it was not a proper smile. “And he broke his elbow…?”

“Falling off a stepladder.”

“They didn’t tell you about the scissors, did they.”

“What scissors?” she asked.

So he told her about the scissors.

She wanted to tell Dr. Parris that he’d mixed George up with someone else. But he knew about the blood and the bathroom and the eczema. She felt stupid for believing his ridiculous story about the chisel. And frightened for George.

He was losing his mind.

She wanted to ask Dr. Parris what exactly was wrong with George, whether it would get worse, whether it was something permanent. But these were selfish questions and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself for a second time. So she thanked him for talking to her, he went away and she returned to the chair beside George’s bed and waited for Dr. Parris to leave the ward and wept a little when no one was watching.

69

Jamie sat drinking coffee
and eating a cheese-and-onion pasty in the Kenco Restaurant (
Chef’s Specials, Midweek Carvery, International Cuisine, and much more…!
).

He was in major shit. Ideally he wanted to sit here until Katie arrived and she and his mother tore a few chunks off each other and came to some kind of truce before he ventured back down to casualty.

He rather liked the Kenco Restaurant. In much the same way that he rather liked motorway service stations and airport lounges. In much the same way that other people rather liked going round cathedrals or walking in the countryside.

The black plastic trays, the fake plants and the little trellises they’d added to give it a garden-center feel…You could think in places like this. No one knew who you were. You weren’t going to be accosted by colleagues or friends. You were on your own but you weren’t alone.

At teenage parties he was always wandering into the garden, sitting on a bench in the dark, smoking Camel cigarettes, the lit windows behind him and the faint strains of “Hi, Ho, Silver Lining” thumping away, staring up at the constellations and pondering all those big questions about the existence of God and the nature of evil and the mystery of death, questions which seemed more important than anything else in the world until a few years passed and some real questions had been dumped into your lap, like how to earn a living, and why people fell in and out of love, and how long you could carry on smoking and then give up without getting lung cancer.

Maybe the answers weren’t important. Maybe it was the asking which mattered. Not taking anything for granted. Maybe that’s what stopped you growing old.

And maybe you could put up with anything so long as you got half an hour a day to come somewhere like this and let your mind wander.

An old man with lizardy skin and a square of gauze stuck over his Adam’s apple sat down with a mug of tea at the table opposite. The fingers on the man’s right hand were so yellow with nicotine they looked varnished.

Jamie glanced at his watch. He’d been away for forty minutes. He felt suddenly rather guilty.

He swigged the last of the gritty coffee, stood up and walked back down the main corridor.

70

Jean watched George sleeping.

She was thinking about the day they’d visited George’s uncle in that dreadful hospital in Nottingham, just before he died. Those sad old men sitting round the television smoking and shuffling down corridors. Was that going to happen to George?

She heard footsteps, and Katie appeared from between the curtains, flushed and panting. She looked wretched.

“How’s Dad?”

“Your father’s OK. There’s no need to worry.”

“We were so scared.” She was out of breath. “What happened?”

Jean explained. About the accident with the chisel. And now that she knew it wasn’t true, it sounded ridiculous and she wondered why she’d fallen for it herself. But Katie seemed too relieved to ask questions.

“Thank God for that…I thought…” Katie caught herself and lowered her voice in case George could hear what she was saying. “Let’s not even talk about it.” She rubbed her face.

“Talk about what?” said Jean, quietly.

“I thought he might have…Well, you know,” whispered Katie. “He was depressed. He was worried about dying. I couldn’t think of any other explanation for you being in such a state.”

Suicide. That was what the doctor was talking about, wasn’t it. Harming yourself.

Katie touched her shoulder and said, “Are you OK, Mum?”

“I’m fine,” said Jean. “Well, to be honest, I’m not fine. It’s been difficult to say the least. But I’m glad you and Jamie are here.”

“Talking of which…”

“He’s gone to the canteen,” said Jean. “Your father was asleep and he hadn’t eaten. So I sent him off.”

“Ray said the house was a mess.”

“The house,” said Jean. “My God, I’d forgotten about the house.”

“Sorry.”

“You’ll come back with me, won’t you,” said Jean. “They’re keeping your father in overnight.”

“Of course,” said Katie. “We’ll do whatever’s best for you.”

“Thank you,” said Jean.

Katie looked at George. “Well, he doesn’t seem to be in pain.”

“No.”

“Where did he cut himself?”

“On his hip,” said Jean. “I guess he must have fallen over onto the chisel when he was holding it.” She leant forward and flicked the blankets back to show Katie the dressed wound, but his pajama trousers had been pushed a little too far down and you could see his pubic hair so she quickly flicked the blanket back again.

Katie picked up her father’s hand and held it. “Dad?” she said. “It’s Katie.” Dad murmured something incomprehensible. “You’re a bloody idiot. But we love you.”

“So, is Jacob here?” asked Jean.

But Katie wasn’t listening. She sat down on the other chair and started to cry.

“Katie?”

“I’m sorry.”

Jean let her cry for a while, then said, “Jamie told me about the wedding.”

Katie looked up. “What?”

“About you wanting to call the wedding off.”

Katie looked pained.

“It’s OK,” said Jean. “I know you’re probably worried about bringing it up. What with your father’s accident. And everything being arranged. But the very worst thing would be to go ahead just because you didn’t want to cause a fuss.”

“Right,” said Katie, nodding to herself.

“The most important thing is that you’re happy.” She paused. “If it makes you feel any better, we’ve had our doubts all along.”

“We?”

“Your father and I. Ray’s obviously a decent man. And Jacob clearly likes him. But we’ve always felt that he wasn’t quite right for you.”

Katie said nothing for a worryingly long time.

“We love you very much,” said Jean.

Katie interrupted her. “And it was Jamie who told you this.”

“He said you rang him.” Something was clearly going wrong, but Jean wasn’t sure what.

Katie stood up. There was a steely look in her eye. She said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” and disappeared through the curtains.

She seemed very angry indeed.

Jamie was in trouble. Jean could tell that much. She sat back and closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She didn’t have the energy for this. Not now.

Your children never really grew up. Thirty years on and they still behaved like five-year-olds. One minute they were your best friend. Then you said the wrong thing and they went off like firecrackers.

She leant forward and took George’s hand. You could say what you liked about her husband, but at least he was predictable.

Or used to be.

She squeezed his fingers and realized she hadn’t got the faintest idea what was going on in his head.

71

When Jamie entered
the waiting room he saw Ray and Jacob sitting opposite one another at the far end of the green plastic seats. Ray was doing the magic trick with the coin. The one fathers had been doing all over the world since the beginning of time.

Jamie sat down in the seat next to Jacob and said, “Hello, boys.”

Jacob said, “Ray can do magic.”

Ray looked at Jamie and said, “So…?”

For a few seconds Jamie had no idea what Ray might be talking about. Then he remembered. “Oh, yeh. Dad. Sorry. I’ve been in the canteen. He’s fine. Well, actually he’s not fine. I mean, there are other problems, but physically, he’s fine. Mum rang everyone because…” There was no way to explain why Mum rang everyone without giving Jacob nightmares. “I’ll explain later.”

“Is Grandpa dead,” said Jacob.

“He’s very much alive,” said Jamie. “So there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Good,” said Ray. “Good.” He breathed out, like someone acting relieved in a play.

Then Jamie remembered the wedding thing and felt uncomfortable not mentioning it. So he said, “How are you?” with a meaningful tone to indicate that this was genuine concern, not just politeness.

And Ray said, “I’m OK,” with a meaningful tone to indicate that he knew exactly what Jamie was talking about.

“Do the magic,” said Jacob. “Magic it. Magic it into my ear.”

“OK.” Ray turned to Jamie and there was the faintest hint of a smile and Jamie allowed himself to consider the possibility that Ray might be a reasonably pleasant human being.

The coin was a twenty pence piece. There was a twenty pence piece in the back pocket of Jamie’s cords. He quietly fished it out and held it secretly in his right hand. “This time,” said Jamie, “Ray is going to magic the coin into my hand.” He held up his right fist.

Ray looked at Jamie, and clearly thought Jamie was trying to arrange some man-on-man touching if his frown was anything to go by. Then it clicked, and he smiled, a proper smile this time, and said, “Let’s give it ago.”

Ray put the coin theatrically between his thumb and forefinger.

“I have to do the sprinkle,” said Jacob, clearly terrified that someone else might do the sprinkle first.

“Go on, then,” said Ray.

Jacob sprinkled invisible magic dust over the coin.

Ray did a little flourish with his free hand, lowered it over the coin like a handkerchief, squeezed it into a fist and whipped it away. The coin had vanished.

“The hand,” said Jacob. “Show me the magic hand.”

Ray opened his fist slowly.

No coin.

Jacob’s eyes were wide with wonder.

“And now,” said Jamie, holding up his fist,
“bzzang!”

He was just about to open his hand and reveal the coin when Ray said, “Katie…?” and the look on his face was not good. And Jamie turned round and saw Katie marching toward him, and the look on her face was not good, either.

He said, “Katie. Hi,” and she punched him in the side of the head so that he was knocked off his seat onto the floor and found himself looking, in close-up, at Jacob’s shoes.

He heard a slightly deranged person cheering approvingly from the other side of the room, and Ray saying, “Katie…What the bloody hell…?” and Jacob saying, “You hit Uncle Jamie,” in a puzzled voice, and the sound of footsteps running.

By the time he’d levered himself into a sitting position there was a security guard approaching them saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s calm it down a bit here, people.”

Katie said to Jamie, “What the fuck did you tell Mum?”

Jamie said, to the security guard, “It’s OK, she’s my sister.”

Ray said to Jacob, “I think you and I are going to go and see Granny and Grandpa.”

The security guard said, “Any more funny business and I’ll have the lot of you out of here,” but no one was really listening to him.

72

Five minutes later
Jean heard a second set of footsteps, heavier than Katie’s. She thought, at first, that it was another doctor. She braced herself.

But when the curtains opened it was Ray, with Jacob on his shoulders.

She realized, instantly, what had happened. Katie had told Ray. About her and George having doubts. About Ray not being good enough for their daughter.

Ray put Jacob down.

Jacob said, “Hello, Grandma. I had…I got…some…some chocolate buttons. For Grandpa.”

Jean had no idea what a man like Ray might do when he was angry.

She got off her chair and said, “Ray. I’m really sorry. It’s not that we don’t like you. Far from it. We just…I’m so, so sorry.”

She wanted the ground to swallow her up, but it didn’t, so she ducked between the curtains and ran.

73

Katie watched Jamie
get to his feet and three things then occurred to her in rapid succession.

Firstly, she was going to have to do some serious explaining to Jacob. Secondly, she’d lost her final shred of moral superiority over Ray. Thirdly, it was the first time she’d punched someone properly since that argument over the red sandals with Zoë Canter in junior school, and it felt bloody brilliant.

She sat down next to her brother. Neither of them spoke for a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she wasn’t. Not really. “I’ve been having a crap few weeks.”

“Snap,” said Jamie.

“Meaning?”

“Tony chucked me.”

“Shit. I’m sorry,” said Katie, and over Jamie’s shoulder she saw a woman who looked very like Mum running toward the main corridor of the hospital as if she was being chased by an invisible dog.

“And it wasn’t a chisel,” said Jamie, “he was ‘cutting the cancer off,’ apparently. With scissors.”

“Well, that makes a bit more sense,” said Katie.

Jamie looked a little disappointed. “I thought I’d get a better reaction than that.”

So Katie explained, about the visit home and the panic attacks and
Lethal Weapon
.

“Oh, I forgot,” said Jamie. “He was here.”

“Who?”

“Mum’s fancy man.”

“What do you mean, he was here?” she asked.

“He gave her a lift, apparently. He was keeping a pretty low profile. For obvious reasons. I bumped into him when I arrived.”

“So, what’s he like?”

Jamie shrugged.

“Would you shag him?” she asked.

Jamie raised his eyebrows and she realized that recent events were sending her a little bonkers.

“Sharing an aging bisexual lover with my own mother,” said Jamie. “I think life is probably difficult enough already.” He paused. “Dapper. Suntan. Roll-neck sweater. A little too much aftershave.”

She leaned forward and took hold of his hands. “Are you OK?”

He laughed. “Yeh. Surprisingly enough I am.”

She knew precisely what he meant. And at that moment it really was all right. The two of them sitting quietly together. The eye of the storm.

“So, are you getting married?” Jamie asked.

“God knows. Mum’s over the moon. Of course. So, naturally, there’s a part of me that wants to marry Ray just to piss her off.” She went silent for a moment. “It should be simple, shouldn’t it. I mean, you either love someone or you don’t. It’s not exactly quantum theory. But I haven’t got a clue, Jamie. Not a clue.”

A young Asian man in a dark blue suit walked in through the double doors and went up to the desk. He seemed sober but his shirt was covered in blood.

She remembered all those cartoons of boys sitting in hospital waiting rooms with pans on their heads, and wondered if it was actually possible to get a pan stuck on your head.

Cutting the cancer off with scissors. It was utterly logical when you thought about it. Rather strong treatment for eczema, though.

The Asian man fell over. Not in a slumpy way. But rigid. Like a rake, or the big hand of a very fast clock. He made a loud noise when he hit the floor. It was funny and not funny all at the same time.

He was stretchered away.

Then Ray and Jacob appeared.

Jacob said, “He was…There was a…Grandpa was snoring.”

Ray said, “You haven’t seen your mum, have you?”

“Why?” asked Jamie.

“She went a bit weird then legged it.”

Jacob looked at Jamie. “Magic the coin.”

“Later, OK?” He stood up and ruffled Jacob’s hair. “I’ll go and find her.”

Ten minutes later they were heading back to the village.

They took Mum in their car. Katie got into the back with Jacob. Mum was clearly not too chuffed about sitting in the front with Ray but Katie was perversely entertained by the sight of the two of them trying to sustain a polite conversation.

Besides, she liked being in the back with Jacob. The children. No responsibilities. The adults sorting everything out. Like that summer in Italy when the engine of the Alfa Romeo ruptured outside Reggio Emilia and they pulled over at the side of the road and the man with the amazing mustache came and said that it was
completamente morte
or something like that and Dad actually vomited into the grass, though at the time it was just another bit of strange parental behavior and a bad smell, and she and Jamie sat on the verge playing with the binoculars and the little wooden snowflake puzzle, drinking fizzy orange without a care in the world.