A Spot Of Bother

92

Jamie sat down with a mug of tea and his best pen and some writing paper he’d found in the bottom of the desk drawer. Proper paper, like the stuff he was made to use for thank-you letters when he was a kid.

He began writing.

Dear Tony,

I love you and I want you to come to the wedding.

I went up to Peterborough last week. Dad was having a nervous breakdown and ended up in hospital after chopping bits off himself with a pair of scissors (I’ll explain later). When I was at the hospital I bumped into the man Mum is having an affair with (I’ll explain that, too). Katie and Mum had a blazing row about the wedding. It was off. But now it’s on again (I’ll explain…

He tore off the sheet of paper, crumpled it up and began again. Tony had expended a lot of energy getting away from his own family. This wasn’t the moment for Jamie to brag about the shortcomings of his own.

Dear Tony,

I love you and I want you to come to the wedding.

I went up to Peterborough last week and realized that you were my family…

Too mawkish.

Dear Tony,

I love you.

The wedding was off. Now it’s on again.

God knows what’s going to happen on the day, but I want you to be there with me

Christ. Now he was selling it as a spectator event.

Why was this so bloody difficult?

He took his tea outside and sat on the bench and lit a cigarette. There were children playing in a nearby garden. Seven, eight years old. It reminded him of being young again. Paddling pools and Olympic hurdles over bamboo canes. Bike races and jumping out of trees. A couple more years and they’d be smoking cigarettes or looking for a can of petrol. But for now it was a good noise. Like the buzz of a mower, or people playing tennis.

It was so bloody difficult because he couldn’t say it to Tony’s face. You said something to someone’s face, saw how they reacted and adjusted the steering wheel a bit. Like selling a house (“It’s a very cosmopolitan area.” “We noticed that.” “Sorry. Estate-agent speak. Hardwired, I’m afraid”).

And Tony had changed in his absence. After everything Becky had said. When he pictured Tony now he saw someone less sorted, more vulnerable, someone more like himself.

Jamie had changed, too.

Christ, it was like chess.

No. He was being stupid.

He was trying to get Tony back. It would be good if he came to the wedding but if he missed it, so what? Sooner or later he’d come back from Greece.

Come to think of it, if the wedding was a disaster, Tony missing it might be a godsend.

Solved.

He stubbed out his cigarette and went inside.

Dear Tony,

Please come to the wedding. Talk to Becky. She knows everything.

I love you.

Jamie

xxx

He put it into the envelope, added one of the photocopied road maps, sealed it, addressed it care of Becky, stamped it and took it to the postbox before he could change his mind.