A Spot Of Bother

32

Katie and Graham didn’t talk about Ray. They didn’t even talk about the wedding. They talked about Bridget Jones and the petrol tanker hanging off the Westway on the TV news that morning and the truly bizarre hair of the woman in the far corner of the café.

It was exactly what Katie needed. Like putting on an old jumper. The good fit. The comforting smell.

She’d just asked the waitress for the bill, however, when she looked up and saw Ray coming into the café and walking toward them. For half a second she wondered whether there had been some kind of emergency. Then she saw the look on his face and she was livid.

Ray stopped beside the table and looked down at Graham.

“What’s this about?” Katie asked.

Ray said nothing.

Graham calmly put seven pound coins on the little stainless steel dish and slid his arms into his jacket. “I’d better be going.” He stood up. “Thanks for the chat.”

“I’m really sorry about this.” She turned to Ray. “For God’s sake, Ray. Grow up.”

For one horrible moment she thought Ray was going to hit Graham. But he didn’t. He just watched as Graham walked slowly to the door.

“Well, that was charming, Ray. Just charming. How old are you?”

Ray stared at her.

“Are you going to say anything, or are you just going to stand there with that moronic look on your face?”

Ray turned and walked out of the café.

The waitress returned to pick up the little stainless steel dish and Ray appeared on the pavement outside the window. He lifted a wastebin over his head, roared like a deranged vagrant then hurled it down the pavement.