A Spot Of Bother

90

Jamie got back late from Tony’s flat. Too late to ring people with children at any rate. So he decided to drive over to Katie and Ray’s the following day, pick up an invitation and offer his congratulations in person.

He liked Becky. She had softened over the microwave curry, even if her opinions of estate agents hadn’t. He liked most stroppy women. Growing up with Katie, no doubt. What he really couldn’t stand were winsome head tilts and hair flicking and pink mohair (why they appealed to rugby players and scaffolders was a mystery he was never going to solve). He wondered briefly whether she was a lesbian. Then he remembered a story of Tony’s about her and some boy breaking their parents’ toilet seat during a party. Though people changed, of course.

He talked about Katie and Ray’s roller-coaster relationship and managed to convince Becky that Ray was a suitable candidate for castration, then had to steer her carefully round to thinking he was an honorable kind of guy, which was considerably harder because, when he thought about it, it was very hard to put his finger on precisely what had changed.

She talked about growing up in Norwich. The five dogs. Their mum’s allergy to housework. Their father’s pathological devotion to steam railways. The car crash in Scotland (“We crawled out and walked away without a scratch and we turned round and the back of the car was torn off and there was, literally, half a dog on the road. Had a few nightmares about that. Still do”). The boy they fostered who had an obsession with knives. The time Tony and a friend set light to a powered model plane, launched it from the bedroom window and watched it bank slowly at the end of the garden, flaming dramatically, then turn and fly into the half-built house next door…

Jamie had heard most of the stories before, in one form or another. But he was listening properly this time.

“Sounds grim.”

“It wasn’t actually,” said Becky. “It’s just the way Tony tells it.”

“I thought your parents chucked him out. After that thing with him and…”

“Carl. Carl Waller. Yeh. But Tony wanted to get chucked out.”

“Really?”

“Being gay was a godsend.” Becky lit a cigarette. “Meant he could be an outlaw without having to mainline heroin or steal cars.”

Jamie digested this slowly. A thousand miles between them and he felt closer to Tony than he’d ever done. “But you and Tony. You were sort of estranged, too, weren’t you. And now you’re flat-sitting.”

“We met up when I moved down to London. A few weeks back. Suddenly realized we liked each other.”

Jamie found himself laughing. Out of relief, really. That Tony could make the same kind of mistakes he’d made himself.

“What’s so funny?” asked Becky.

“Nothing,” said Jamie. “It’s just…It’s good. It’s really good.”

Everyone’s luck really did seem to be turning. Maybe there was something in the air.

When he reached Katie’s place the following evening the door was opened by her and Ray together, which seemed symbolic, and he found himself saying, “Congratulations” with the sincerity he wasn’t able to muster the first time round.

He was ushered into the kitchen, getting the tiniest grunt of greeting from Jacob who was deeply involved in a Fireman Sam video in the living room.

Katie seemed a little giddy. Like those people you saw interviewed on the news who’d been winched out of something ghastly by a helicopter.

Ray seemed different, too, though it was hard to tell whether this was just because Jamie felt differently about him now. Certainly he and Katie were getting on better. They were touching each other, for starters, which Jamie hadn’t seen before. In fact when Fireman Sam finished and Jacob pottered through in search of a carton of apple juice, there was definite Oedipal tension (“Stop hugging Mummy,” “I want to hug Mummy”). And the thought occurred to Jamie that Katie and Ray had fallen in love only after going through all the crap that most people saved for the end of their relationship. Which was one way of doing things.

Jamie asked about an invitation for Tony, and Ray seemed unnaturally excited by the possibility that he might be coming.

“It’s a bit of a long shot,” said Jamie. “He’s incommunicado in Greece. I’m just hoping he gets back in time.”

“We could track him down,” said Ray with a can-do gleefulness that felt not quite appropriate.

“I think we have to leave it in the lap of the gods,” said Jamie.

“Your call,” said Ray.

At which point Katie yelled, “Jacob,” and they all turned round to see him deliberately emptying his apple juice carton onto the kitchen floor.

Ray made him apologize, then dragged him out to play in the garden, to show him that stepfathers had other uses besides monopolizing mothers.

Jamie and Katie had been chatting about the wedding for ten minutes when Katie got a phone call from home. She reappeared a few moments later looking slightly troubled.

“That was Dad.”

“How is he?”

“He seemed fine. But he wanted to talk to Ray. Wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”

“Maybe he wants to be manly and pay for everything.”

“You’re probably right. Well, we’ll find out when Ray rings him back.”

“Not that I rate Dad’s chances,” said Jamie.

“So, now,” said Katie, “what are you going to write to Tony?”