51.

Mel Gibson was hanging from a chain in a rudimentary shower and an Oriental man was torturing him with a pair of jump leads. from a chain in a rudimentary shower and an Oriental man was torturing him with a pair of jump leads.

George was so engrossed that when he heard a knock on the door his first thought was that Katie had arranged an immediate visit from Dr. Barghoutian.

When the door opened, however, it was Jacob.

"I want to watch my video," said Jacob.

George fumbled for the remote. "And what's your video?"

Mel Gibson screamed, then vanished.

"Bob the Builder," said Jacob. said Jacob.

"Right." George suddenly remembered the last time Jacob had joined him in this room. "Is your daddy with you?"

"Which daddy?" asked Jacob.

George felt a little dizzy. "Is Graham here?" It seemed to be a day on which anything was possible.

"No. And Daddy Ray isn't here. He went...He went away and he didn't come back."

"Right," said George. He wondered what Jacob meant. It was probably best not to ask. "This video..."

"Can I watch it?"

"Yes. You can watch it," said George.

Jacob ejected Lethal Weapon, Lethal Weapon, inserted inserted Bob the Builder Bob the Builder and rewound it with the casual skill of a technician at mission control. and rewound it with the casual skill of a technician at mission control.

Which was how young people took over the world. All that fiddling with new technology. You woke up one day and realized your own skills were laughable. Woodwork. Mental arithmetic.

Jacob fast-forwarded through the adverts, stopped the tape and climbed onto the bed next to George. He smelt better this time, biscuity and sweet.

It occurred to George that Jacob wasn't going to talk about panic attacks, or suggest counseling. And this was a rea.s.suring thought.

Did they ever go insane, children? Properly insane, not just handicapped like the Henderson girl? He was unsure. Perhaps there was not enough brain to malfunction till they reached university.

Jacob was looking at him. "You have to press PLAY PLAY."

"Sorry." George pressed PLAY PLAY.

Cheery music began and the t.i.tles came up over a starlit model snowscape. Two plastic reindeer trotted off into the pine trees and a toy man roared into the shot on his motorized skidoo.

The motorized skidoo had a face.

Jacob stuck his thumb in his mouth and held on to George's index finger with his free hand.

Tom, the aforesaid toy man, went into his polar field station and picked up the ringing phone. The screen split to show his brother, Bob, at the other end of the line, calling from a builder's yard in England.

A steamroller, a digger and a crane were standing outside the office.

The steamroller, the digger and the crane had faces, too.

George cast his mind back to d.i.c.k Barton and the Goons, to Lord Snooty and Biffo the Bear. Over the intervening years everything seemed to have got louder and brighter and faster and simpler. In another fifty years children would have the attention spans of sparrows and no imagination whatsoever.

Bob was dancing round the builder's yard, singing, "Tom's coming for Christmas! Tom's coming for Christmas...!"

Maybe George was fooling himself. Maybe old people always fooled themselves, pretending that the world was going to h.e.l.l in a handcart because it was easier than admitting they were being left behind, that the future was pulling away from the beach, and they were standing on their little island bidding it good riddance, knowing in their hearts that there was nothing left for them to do but sit around on the shingle waiting for the big diseases to come out of the undergrowth.

George concentrated on the screen.

Lethal Weapon was rather trite, too, when one thought about it. was rather trite, too, when one thought about it.

Bob was helping prepare the town square for the annual Christmas Eve concert by Lenny and the Lasers.

Jacob hotched a little closer and took hold of George's hand.

While Bob worked round the clock to make the concert go smoothly, Tom stopped to rescue a reindeer from a creva.s.se en route to the ferry and missed the boat. The Christmas reunion was off.

Bob was very sad.

Unaccountably, George was rather sad, too. Especially during the childhood flashback in which Tom got a toy elephant for Christmas and broke it and wept, and Bob mended it for him.

A little while later Lenny (of the Lasers) heard about Bob's plight and flew to the North Pole in his private jet to bring Tom back in time for Christmas Eve, and when Tom and Bob were reunited at the concert there were actual tears running down George's face.

"Are you sad, Grandpa?" asked Jacob.

"Yes," said George. "Yes, I am."

"Is that because you're dying?" asked Jacob.

"Yes," said George. "Yes, it is." He put his arm round Jacob and pulled him close.

After a couple of minutes Jacob squeezed free.

"I need a poo." He got off the bed and left the room.

The tape ended and the screen was filled with white noise.

52.

Katie pulled up a chair. chair.

"We're going to hire the long marquee." Mum put her gla.s.ses on and opened the catalog. "It'll fit. Just. But the pegs will have to go in the flower border. Now..." She extracted an A4 sheet showing the floor plan of the tent. "For the top table we can go round or oblong. It's eight per table and a maximum of twelve tables which makes-"

"Ninety-six," said Katie.

"-including the top table. Did you bring your list of guests?"

Katie hadn't.

"Honestly, Katie, I can't do this all by myself."

"It's been a little hectic recently."

She should have told Mum about Ray. But she couldn't stand the idea of Mum being smug about it. Handling Dad was difficult enough. And by the time they were discussing rich chocolate mousse versus tiramisu it was too late.

She wrote a guest list off the top of her head. If she missed an aunt, Ray could b.l.o.o.d.y well explain himself. a.s.suming the wedding happened. Oh well, she'd deal with that eventuality another time.

"I told you Jamie might be bringing someone, didn't I," said Mum.

"His name's Tony, Mum."

"Sorry. I was just...You know, I didn't want to jump to any conclusions."

"They've been together for longer than me and Ray."

"And you've met him," said Mum.

"You mean, will Dad be able to cope?"

"I mean, is he nice?"

"I've only met him once."

"And...?" asked Mum.

"Well, if the leather shorts and the blond fun wig are anything to goby..."

"You are teasing me, aren't you."

"I am."

Mum looked suddenly serious. "I just want you to be happy. Both of you. You're still my children."

Katie took Mum's hand. "Jamie is sensible. He'll probably choose a better man than either of us."

Mum looked even more serious and Katie wondered whether she'd overstepped the mark a little.

"You are happy with Ray, aren't you?" asked Mum.

"Yes, Mum, I'm happy with Ray."

"Good." Her mother readjusted her gla.s.ses. "Now. Flowers."

After an hour or so, they heard footsteps and Katie turned round to see Jacob grinning in the doorway, his trousers and nappy dragging from one leg.

"I did a poo. I did it...I did it in the toilet. All on my own."

Katie scanned the perfect beige carpet for brown chunks. "Well done you." She got up and walked over. "But you really should have given me a shout first."

"Grandpa said he didn't want to wipe my bottom."

After she'd put Jacob to bed Katie came downstairs to find Mum pouring two gla.s.ses of wine and saying, "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Katie took the wine, hoped it was something trivial and the pair of them went through to the living room.

"I know you've got a lot to think about at the moment and I know I shouldn't be saying this to you." Mum sat down and took an uncharacteristically large gulp of wine. "But you're the only person who really understands."

"OK..." said Katie, gingerly.

"Over the last six months..." Mum put her hands together as if she was about to pray. "Over the last six months I've been seeing someone."

Mum said the phrase "seeing someone" very carefully, as if it were French.

"I know," said Katie, who really, really, really did not want to be talking about this.

"No, I don't think you do," said Mum, "I mean...I've been seeing another man." She paused and said, "A man who is not your father," just to make it absolutely clear.

"I know," Katie said again. "It's David Symmonds, isn't it. The chap who used to work with Dad."

"How on earth did you...?" Mum gripped the arm of the sofa.

It was briefly rather fun, having Mum on the back foot. And then it wasn't, because her mother looked terrified.

"Well..." Katie cast her mind back. "You said you'd met him in the shop. He's separated from his wife. He's an attractive man. For his age. You said you'd met him again. You started buying expensive clothes. And you were...you were holding yourself in a different way. It seemed pretty clear to me that you were..." She let the sentence dangle.

Mum was still gripping the arm of the sofa. "Do you think your father knows?"

"Has he said anything?"

"No."

"Then I think you're safe," said Katie.

"But if you noticed..."

"Girl radar," said Katie.