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Authors: Mark Haddon
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restaurant. They decided to go out for a candlelit meal. Just the two of them.
It was getting late and their best man and woman were arriving for supper at eight. So they headed home, scooping up Jacob on the way. He had a cut on his forehead where Max had hit him with a garlic press. But Jacob had ripped Max’s tarantula T-shirt. They were clearly still friends so Katie decided not to probe.
Back at the ranch she arranged the chicken breasts in a baking tray and poured the sauce over them and wondered whether Sarah had been a wise choice. To be scrupulously honest she’d been picked as an act of retaliation. A gobby solicitor who could give rugby players a run for their money.
It was beginning to dawn on Katie that retaliation might not be the best motive for selecting a best woman.
But when Ed arrived he seemed nervous mostly. A large, ruddy-cheeked man, more farmer than dentist. He’d filled out since posing for the team photo in Ray’s office and it was difficult to imagine him getting onto the roof of a stationary Volvo let alone a moving one.
He was ill at ease with Jacob, which made Katie feel rather superior. Then he said his wife had been through four cycles of IVF. So Katie felt crap instead.
When Sarah turned up she just rubbed her hands and said, “Right, then. This is my competition,” and Katie knocked back a glass of wine straight off, just in case.
The wine was a wise move.
Ed was charming and rather old-fashioned. This did not endear him to Sarah. She told him about the dentist who’d stitched her gum to his assistant’s rubber glove. He told her about the solicitor who had poisoned his aunt’s dog. The chicken was not good. Ed and Sarah disagreed about Gypsies. Specifically whether or not to round them up and put them in camps. Sarah wanted Ed put in a camp. Ed, who saw women’s opinions as largely decorative, decided that Sarah was a “foxy lady.”
Ray tried to move the subject onto safer ground by reminiscing about their rugby days, and the two of them began a string of supposedly hilarious stories, all of which involved heavy drinking, minor vandalism and the removal of someone’s trousers.
Katie drank another two glasses of wine.
Ed said he was going to begin his speech by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, this job is rather like being asked to have sex with the Queen. It’s an honor, obviously, but not a task one looks forward to with relish.”
Ray found this very funny indeed. Katie wondered whether she should be marrying someone else, and Sarah, who never liked men hogging the limelight, told them how she got so drunk at Katrina’s wedding that she passed out and wet herself in the foyer of a hotel in Derby.
An hour later, Katie and Ray lay next to each other in bed watching the ceiling spin slowly, listening to Ed wrestle incompetently with the sofa bed on the far side of the wall.
Ray took hold of her hand. “Sorry about that.”
“About what?”
“Downstairs.”
“I thought you were enjoying yourself,” said Katie.
“I was. Sort of.”
Neither of them said anything.
“I think he was a bit nervous,” said Ray. “I think we were all a bit nervous. Well, apart from Sarah. I don’t reckon she gets nervous.”
There was a little yelp from next door as Ed trapped some part of himself in the mechanism.
“I’ll have a word with Ed,” said Ray. “About the speech.”
“I’ll have a word with Sarah,” said Katie.
17
It blew up on Saturday morning.
Tony woke early and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. When Jamie ambled down twenty minutes later Tony was sitting at the table emanating bad vibes.
Jamie had clearly done something wrong. “What’s up?”
Tony chewed his cheek and drummed the table with a teaspoon. “This wedding,” said Tony.
“Look,” said Jamie, “I don’t particularly want to go myself.” He glanced at the clock. Tony had to leave in twenty minutes. Jamie realized that he should have stayed in bed.
“But you’re
It was getting late and their best man and woman were arriving for supper at eight. So they headed home, scooping up Jacob on the way. He had a cut on his forehead where Max had hit him with a garlic press. But Jacob had ripped Max’s tarantula T-shirt. They were clearly still friends so Katie decided not to probe.
Back at the ranch she arranged the chicken breasts in a baking tray and poured the sauce over them and wondered whether Sarah had been a wise choice. To be scrupulously honest she’d been picked as an act of retaliation. A gobby solicitor who could give rugby players a run for their money.
It was beginning to dawn on Katie that retaliation might not be the best motive for selecting a best woman.
But when Ed arrived he seemed nervous mostly. A large, ruddy-cheeked man, more farmer than dentist. He’d filled out since posing for the team photo in Ray’s office and it was difficult to imagine him getting onto the roof of a stationary Volvo let alone a moving one.
He was ill at ease with Jacob, which made Katie feel rather superior. Then he said his wife had been through four cycles of IVF. So Katie felt crap instead.
When Sarah turned up she just rubbed her hands and said, “Right, then. This is my competition,” and Katie knocked back a glass of wine straight off, just in case.
The wine was a wise move.
Ed was charming and rather old-fashioned. This did not endear him to Sarah. She told him about the dentist who’d stitched her gum to his assistant’s rubber glove. He told her about the solicitor who had poisoned his aunt’s dog. The chicken was not good. Ed and Sarah disagreed about Gypsies. Specifically whether or not to round them up and put them in camps. Sarah wanted Ed put in a camp. Ed, who saw women’s opinions as largely decorative, decided that Sarah was a “foxy lady.”
Ray tried to move the subject onto safer ground by reminiscing about their rugby days, and the two of them began a string of supposedly hilarious stories, all of which involved heavy drinking, minor vandalism and the removal of someone’s trousers.
Katie drank another two glasses of wine.
Ed said he was going to begin his speech by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, this job is rather like being asked to have sex with the Queen. It’s an honor, obviously, but not a task one looks forward to with relish.”
Ray found this very funny indeed. Katie wondered whether she should be marrying someone else, and Sarah, who never liked men hogging the limelight, told them how she got so drunk at Katrina’s wedding that she passed out and wet herself in the foyer of a hotel in Derby.
An hour later, Katie and Ray lay next to each other in bed watching the ceiling spin slowly, listening to Ed wrestle incompetently with the sofa bed on the far side of the wall.
Ray took hold of her hand. “Sorry about that.”
“About what?”
“Downstairs.”
“I thought you were enjoying yourself,” said Katie.
“I was. Sort of.”
Neither of them said anything.
“I think he was a bit nervous,” said Ray. “I think we were all a bit nervous. Well, apart from Sarah. I don’t reckon she gets nervous.”
There was a little yelp from next door as Ed trapped some part of himself in the mechanism.
“I’ll have a word with Ed,” said Ray. “About the speech.”
“I’ll have a word with Sarah,” said Katie.
17
It blew up on Saturday morning.
Tony woke early and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. When Jamie ambled down twenty minutes later Tony was sitting at the table emanating bad vibes.
Jamie had clearly done something wrong. “What’s up?”
Tony chewed his cheek and drummed the table with a teaspoon. “This wedding,” said Tony.
“Look,” said Jamie, “I don’t particularly want to go myself.” He glanced at the clock. Tony had to leave in twenty minutes. Jamie realized that he should have stayed in bed.
“But you’re
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