A Spot Of Bother

114

The ginger twins had banished them from the kitchen so Katie and Sarah were standing in the marquee porch, Sarah turning to blow her cigarette smoke into the garden to avoid poisoning the bridal atmosphere.

A teenage boy was sweeping the dried-out floorboards. Bouquets were being stood in vases in curly cast-iron stands. A man was crouching down to check the alignment of the tables, as if he were preparing for a particularly difficult snooker shot.

“And Ray?” asked Sarah.

“He’s being brilliant, actually,” said Katie.

A woman was taking cutlery from a plastic crate and holding it up to the light before laying it.

“I’m sorry,” said Sarah.

“What for?”

“For thinking you might be making a mistake.”

“So you thought I was making a mistake?” said Katie.

“Fuck off. I feel bad enough already. You’re my friend. I just wanted to make sure. Now I’ve made sure.” Sarah paused. “He’s a nice man.”

“He is.”

“I think even Ed might be a nice man.” She turned to look across the lawn. “Well, maybe not nice nice. But all right. Better than the drunken pillock I met at your house.”

Katie turned, too, and saw Ed playing airplanes with Jacob, swinging him round by his arms.

“Look,” shouted Jacob. “Look.”

“Ed,” shouted Katie, “be careful.”

Ed looked over at her and panicked slightly and loosened his grip and let go of Jacob’s left hand and Jacob slid onto the wet grass in his Rupert Bear wedding trousers.

“Sorry,” shouted Ed, hoisting Jacob off the ground by one wrist like a shot rabbit.

Jacob squealed and Ed attempted to stand him on his feet.

“Bloody hell,” muttered Katie, walking over and wondering whether the ginger twins would allow them to use the washing machine.

At which point she glanced up and saw her father doing jumping jacks in the bathroom, which was odd.