138.

George had lost the thread somewhat. the thread somewhat.

The dessert wine had not sharpened his mind. He had been a good deal more emotional than he had intended. He had mentioned the cancer, which was not festive. Was it possible that he had made a fool of himself?

It seemed best to round off his speech as quickly and elegantly as he could.

He turned to Katie and took her hand. Jacob was dozing on her lap, so the gesture was a little clumsier than he had planned. It would have to do.

"My lovely daughter. My lovely, lovely daughter." What was he trying to say, precisely? "You and Ray and Jacob. Never. Never take one another for granted."

That was better.

He let go of Katie's hand and glanced round the marquee for one final time before taking his seat and caught sight of David Symmonds sitting in the far corner. The man had been facing the other way during the meal. Consequently George had been spared the sight of him while he was eating.

It occurred to George not only that he might have made a fool of himself but that he might have done this while David Symmonds was watching.

"Dad?" said Katie, touching his arm.

George was frozen halfway between sitting and standing.

The man looked so self-satisfied, so healthy, so b.l.o.o.d.y dapper.

The images started to come back. The ones he had tried not to picture for so long. The man's saggy b.u.t.tocks going up and down in the half-light of the bedroom. The sinews in his legs. That chickeny s.c.r.o.t.u.m.

"Dad?" asked Katie.

George could bear it no longer.

139.

Jean screamed. Partly because George was climbing across the table. Partly because he'd knocked a pot of coffee over and the hot, brown liquid was running toward her. She leapt backward and someone else screamed. George jumped off the table and began walking down the marquee. George was climbing across the table. Partly because he'd knocked a pot of coffee over and the hot, brown liquid was running toward her. She leapt backward and someone else screamed. George jumped off the table and began walking down the marquee.

She turned to Ray. "For G.o.d's sake, do something."

Ray froze for a second, then got out of his seat and headed off after George.

He was too late.

Jean saw where George was going.

140.

George stopped in front of David. of David.

It was very, very quiet in the marquee.

George took aim and swung his fist at David's head. Unfortunately David's head moved at the last minute, George missed his target and he was forced to grab hold of someone's shoulder to prevent himself falling over.

Luckily, when David stood up in order to make his escape, his feet became entangled in his chair and he fell clumsily backward, his arms circling wildly as if he was trying to backstroke out of George's reach across the tablecloth.

This gave George a second opportunity to punch him. But punching someone was considerably harder than it looked in films, and George had had very little practice in this department. Consequently his second punch hit David in the chest, which was not satisfying.

The chair was in the way. That was the problem. George kicked it to one side. He leant down, grabbed the lapels of David's jacket and head-b.u.t.ted him.

After this it was hard to know quite who was. .h.i.tting whom. But there was a lot of blood and George was fairly sure it belonged to David, so that was good.

141.

The image which stuck in Jamie's mind was that of a tiramisu and its accompanying spoon tumbling in slow motion through the air at head height. His father and David Symmonds had fallen backward onto the table. The near side had collapsed and the far side had shot up like a seesaw, firing a variety of objects into the air (one of Katie's friends was very proud of having caught a fork). in Jamie's mind was that of a tiramisu and its accompanying spoon tumbling in slow motion through the air at head height. His father and David Symmonds had fallen backward onto the table. The near side had collapsed and the far side had shot up like a seesaw, firing a variety of objects into the air (one of Katie's friends was very proud of having caught a fork).

From this point on it felt more like a road accident. Everything very clear and detached and slow. No abdominal pain anymore. Just a series of tasks which had to be done to prevent further injury.

Ray bent down and began detaching Jamie's father from David Symmonds. David Symmonds's face was covered in blood. Jamie was rather impressed that a man of his father's age was capable of doing that kind of damage.

Jamie and Tony looked at one another and made one of those instant, unspoken decisions and decided to go and help. They got to their feet and jumped across the table, which would have been rather Starsky and Hutch, except that Jamie got a b.u.t.tered roll stuck to his trouser leg.

They reached the far side of the marquee together. Tony knelt down next to David because he'd done a first-aid course and because David seemed to have come off worst. Jamie went to talk to his father.

Just as he arrived Ray was saying, "What in G.o.d's name did you do that for?" And his father was about to reply when Jamie's brain shifted into warp speed and it dawned on him that no one knew why his father had done it. Only him and Katie, his mother and his father. And David, obviously. And Tony, because Jamie had been filling him in on all the gossip before lunch. And the reason his mother had run out of the marquee was because she thought everyone else was going to find out. Though if Jamie acted quickly they might be able to pa.s.s the incident off as drug-induced craziness. Because after that speech it was pretty clear to everyone that his father was not in his right mind.

So when his father said, "Because-" Jamie slapped a hand across his mouth to stop him saying anything else, and he might have done it a bit too hard because the smack smack sound was quite loud and Ray and his father both looked startled, but it stopped his father talking at least. sound was quite loud and Ray and his father both looked startled, but it stopped his father talking at least.

Jamie leaned in close and whispered, "Don't say anything."

His father said, "Nnnnn."

Jamie turned to Ray and said, "Take him indoors. Upstairs. The bedroom. Just...just keep him there, all right?"

Ray said, "Right you are," as if Jamie had asked him to shift a sack of potatoes. He got Jamie's father to his feet and began walking him out of the marquee.

Jamie went over to Tony.

David was saying, "The man's a maniac."

Jamie said, "I'm really sorry about that." Then he turned to Tony and said, quietly, "Take him into the living room and call an ambulance."

Tony said, "I don't think he needs an ambulance."

"Or a taxi or whatever. Just get him out of the house."

"Oh, right, I see what you mean," said Tony. He put his hand under David's arm. "Come on, mate."

Jamie stood up and turned round and realized that all of this had taken only a matter of seconds and the remaining guests were sitting stock-still and completely speechless, even Uncle Douglas, which was a first. And they were clearly expecting some kind of explanation or announcement, and Jamie was the person they were expecting it from, but he had to talk to his mother first, so he said, "I'll be back in a minute," and ran out of the marquee and found her standing on the far side of the lawn being consoled by a woman he didn't recognize, while Ray and Tony ushered his father and David into the house, both of them keeping a tight hold on their charges to prevent any of the three coming into contact with one another.

His mother was crying. The woman he didn't recognize was hugging her.

Jamie said, "I need to talk to my mother on her own."

The older woman said, "I'm Ursula. I'm a good friend."

"Go back inside the marquee," said Jamie. The woman did not move. "Sorry. That sounded rude. And I didn't mean to be rude. But you really do have to go away quite quickly."

The woman backed off, saying, "OK," in that careful voice you use with psychopaths to keep them calm.

Jamie took hold of his mother's arms and looked her in the face. "It's going to be all right."

"I can explain everything," said his mother. She was still crying.

"You don't need to," said Jamie.

"No," said his mother. "That man, the one your father hit-"

"I know," said Jamie.

His mother paused briefly and then said, "Oh my G.o.d."

Her legs went a little rubbery and Jamie had to hold her upright for a couple of seconds. "Mum...?"

She steadied herself with a hand on his arm. "How did you know?"

"I'll explain later," said Jamie. "Luckily no one else knows." He couldn't remember the last time he felt this manly and competent. He had to move fast before the spell was broken. "We're going back in. I'm going to make a speech."

"A speech?" His mother looked petrified.

Jamie was a little nervous himself.

"A speech about what?" asked his mother.

"About Dad," said Jamie. "Trust me."

Thankfully his mother seemed incapable of disagreeing and when he put his arm around her shoulder and steered her back across the lawn she let herself be led.

They entered the canvas doorway, the conversation died away instantly and they moved slowly through a very pregnant silence back to their seats, their shoes clacking on the boarding beneath their feet.

Katie was holding Jacob on her lap. As Jamie and his mother reached the table, Jacob said, "Grandpa had a fight," and over his shoulder Jamie heard someone suppress a panicky giggle.

Jamie stroked Jacob gently on the head, sat his mother down and turned to face everyone. Their number seemed to have doubled magically in the last few minutes. His mind went blank and he wondered if he was about to make an idiot of himself in much the same way that his father had done.

Then his brain came back online and he realized that after what his father had done, he could pretty much string two words together and everyone was going to be mightily relieved.

He said, "Sorry about all that. It wasn't part of the plan."

No one laughed. Understandably. He had to be a bit more serious.

"My father has not been terribly well recently. As you probably gathered."

Was he going to have to mention the cancer? Yes, he was. There was no way round it.

"You'll be relieved to hear that he doesn't have cancer."

This was trickier than he had expected. The atmosphere in the marquee was tangibly funereal. He glanced down at his mother. She was staring downward and trying to squeeze her napkin into as small a ball as possible in her lap.

"But he has been very depressed. And anxious. Particularly about the wedding. Particularly about making a speech at the wedding."

He was. .h.i.tting his stride now.

"He has a very nice doctor. His doctor gave him some Valium. He took rather a lot of it this morning. To help him relax. I think he probably overdid it."

Again, no one laughed, but this time there was a kind of mumbled hum which felt promising.

"Hopefully he's now upstairs in the house sleeping it off."

And this was when Jamie realized he was going to have to deal not only with his father's ill-judged speech but also with the fact that his father had head-b.u.t.ted his mother's lover in front of everyone. Which was going to be a good deal more difficult. He paused. For rather a long time. And the atmosphere began to cool again.

"I have absolutely no idea why my father hit David Symmonds. To be honest I'm not entirely sure whether my father knew it was David Symmonds he was. .h.i.tting."

He felt like someone skiing downhill at a dangerously high speed through a forest of solid trees planted far too close to one another.

"They worked together at Shepherds some years ago. I don't know if they've seen one another since. I guess the moral is that if you don't get on with someone at work, then it's probably not a good idea to invite them to your daughter's wedding and take vast amounts of prescription drugs beforehand."

At which point, thank G.o.d, the mumbled hum turned into actual laughter. From most of his audience at any rate (Eileen and Ronnie looked as if they had been freeze-dried). And Jamie realized he was finally reaching safer ground.

He turned to Katie and saw Jacob sitting on her lap with her arms round him, burying his head against her chest. Poor guy. He was going to need a pretty heavyweight debriefing when all this was over.

"But this is Katie and Ray's special day," said Jamie, raising his voice and trying to sound upbeat.

"Hear! Hear!" shouted Uncle Douglas, raising his gla.s.s.

And it was obvious from the rather startled reaction that many of the guests had forgotten that they were at a wedding.

"Unfortunately, the groom is looking after the father of the bride at the moment..."