A Spot of Bother

by Mark Haddon

When Ray’s mother died of cancer, he started going to the church he’d gone to as a boy and met Barbara who’d divorced her husband when he became an alcoholic (“took to drink” was the phrase she used, which made it sound like Morris Dancing or hedge laying).

Perhaps it was the beginning of dementia. Jamie hoped to God his mother hadn’t done a runner. Or he and Katie might be left looking after their father as he began his slow descent toward a horrid little residential home somewhere. It was an uncharitable thought. He was trying very hard to give up uncharitable thoughts. Perhaps that was what he needed. Something to come along and smash his life to pieces. Go back to the village. Look after his father. Learn to be properly human again. A sort of spiritual thing.

A fine drizzle began spattering the windscreen. It didn’t matter. Snow, hail, driving rain. She understood now. You got married in spite of your wedding not because of it. She looked over at Ray and he broke into a smile without taking his eyes off the road.

“Ray,” said the registrar, “will you take Katie to be your wedded wife, to share your life with her, to love, support and comfort her whatever the future may bring?” “I will,” said Ray. “Katie,” said the registrar, “will you take Ray to be your wedded husband, to share your life with him, to love, support and comfort him whatever the future may bring?” “I will,” said Katie.

Jamie and Tony were still holding hands. He had absolutely no idea how he was meant to react to this. Only a few months ago he would have stopped it happening to prevent other people being offended. But he was less sure of his opinions now, and less sure of his ability to stop anything happening.

His grip on the world was loosening. It belonged to the young people now.

He did not mind growing old. It was foolish to mind growing old. It happened to everyone. But that did not make it painless.