by Jon Rance
4.00 p.m.
Home. Squirrels are sitting outside the shed. I imagine they’re probably trying to work out what kind of species could have built such a miraculous object.
‘Paintballing?’ I said incredulously.
‘Among other things,’ said Ben.
We were at a pub near his work, which was packed full of loud-talking city types in flash suits.
‘But paintballing, Ben, seriously?’
‘What’s wrong with paintballing? It will be fun.’
‘Because you know who’s coming, don’t you?’
‘Oh, yeah, I forgot about him.’
‘That’s right, Derek. Ex-copper, trained with guns, probably a sharpshooter and also the hater of yours truly. Basically you’re putting me and The Terminator into a paintball ring so he can shoot the crap out of me. Thanks, mate.’
‘Sorry, Harry, but it’s only a very small portion of the day.’
‘And what’s after that? Wrestling? A quick game of Kabaddi?’
‘What’s Kabaddi?’
‘It’s basically Indian British bulldog, but you have to keep saying “Kabaddi” all the time. They used to show it on channel four,’ I said, exasperated. Stags should be fun, alcohol-fuelled lads’ nights out, not fear-riddled paintball sessions with pissed-off and dangerous father-in-laws.
‘I think you’re overreacting. I’m sure it will be fine. He’s hardly likely to try and injure you a week before the wedding, is he?’
‘We’ll see,’ I said. ‘We’ll see.’
Saturday, August 5th, 8.02 a.m.
STAG!
At home. Emily on her way to Kingston-upon-Thames to meet up with her Hen friends. Sunny. One week until the wedding.
Today is the day I might die/have the best day of my life. It all depends on Derek. Steve, Ben, Simon (Bano) Bannister and Richard (Ritchie) Dennis are coming to pick me up at nine for a slap-up breakfast. Then it’s off to meet Derek, my dad and Granddad for paintballing (or the place where I will be murdered) before we start drinking. A bit worried about Granddad participating in the paintballing, but when I called him and tried to talk him out of it, he told me in no uncertain terms he wasn’t going to be left out.
‘I fought in two world wars, Harry. I was face to face with Jerry and survived. I think I can handle a bit of paintballing!’
I was going to argue and inform Granddad he hadn’t fought in either war, but it seemed a bit pointless. So Granddad is coming and Dad’s annoyed because they have to drive there with Derek. They don’t really get on.
‘So, I’m driving with Robocop and Dad’s Army?’ Dad said when I told him. ‘Fan-bloody-tastic!’
Let the good times roll.
Emily left about fifteen minutes ago and her last words to me were,
‘Harry, I don’t care what you do. I don’t care if there are strippers, or if they make you run around naked wearing a pair of antlers, it’s your stag, just remember my dad’s there.’
‘I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that.’
‘And I love you,’ she said giving me a particularly French kiss.
‘Love you too. Now go and get all slutty and drink from penis straws.’
‘How do you know about the penis straws?’
‘Google history, Em.’
‘Oh, that reminds me. What exactly were you trying to find when you typed in, “Amateur College Teens Threesome”?’
‘Bye then, love you,’ I said and Emily smiled, gave me another kiss and then left.
Must delete internet history.
Sunday, August 6th, 2.15 p.m.
On the sofa. Eating a bacon sandwich and drinking my fourth coffee of the day. Everything hurts. Emily still not back. She said they were having a girlie afternoon and watching girlie films. I heard mention of Titanic, Ghost and the first Bridget Jones film (but not the second)
The stag was spectacular. Ben left about thirty minutes ago, scuttling off home on the stag walk of shame. Everybody else left in dribs and drabs after breakfast. Every single part of my body hurts, I have bruises, a drawing of an elephant on my stomach, and my ears are pierced!
Here are the abridged highlights from my stag. At least the bits I can remember.
8.32 a.m. The boys turn up and we head off to the greasy spoon on the high street for breakfast. I eat the ‘Full-Monty’. Double everything, extra chips and a heart-attack.
9.25 a.m. We drive to the paintball place where Derek was going to use me for target practice. Luckily, we had a few sneaky beers on the drive, so I was quite relaxed by the time we arrived.
10.00 a.m. We get kitted out in our camouflage gear. Derek brings along his own gun! I opt for the extra body armour. Granddad insists on being captain of one team based on military experience. I’m captain of the other because I’m the stag.
10.10 a.m. We’re playing the first scenario and it’s ridiculous. There’s paint flying everywhere. I’m terrified Derek is going to corner me and turn me into a Jackson Pollock. Granddad is doing his best Dad’s Army impression, and Steve is worried he’s going to get hit in the testicles and be rendered infertile. He’s running around holding his gun in one hand and his package in the other. It quickly becomes apparent that I’m an awful military leader.
10.20 a.m. Derek shoots me twice in the head, despite the no headshot rule. I try to retaliate but he vanishes before I can recover. I decide the best course of action is to hide until it’s all over.
10.25 a.m. The first scenario is complete when Derek captures our flag but then their whole team is disqualified because Derek used unnecessary force, i.e. he shot people who were already out of the game and then he took Steve as a hostage and refused to let him go.
12.00 p.m. Lunch. After a morning of paintball we’re all a little tired, bruised and emotions are running high. We were asked to leave because Granddad refused to pretend to be dead and kept shooting people and injured one the staff members. We got some of our money back, but Derek was livid because we missed the afternoon session. I was deliriously happy.
12.45 p.m. At a pub. The drinking begins.
1.50 p.m. Simon ‘Bano’ Bannister, professional shark, was last seen talking to a blonde near the fruit machine. Richard ‘Ritchie’ Dennis, professional accountant, was talking to Derek about his stock options. Ben’s talking to Granddad about the war and Dad’s talking to me about football. Not exactly a riveting stag, but its early.
2.15 p.m. Text from Bano: Just taking care of some business. Will catch up with you later.
4.00 p.m. We’re off into London. Ben has organised dinner at a top restaurant, followed by drinks in Soho and then a club. Things starting to get interesting. Bano back with the group. It turned out the business was actually the blonde girl from the pub.
6.00 p.m. Wonderful dinner at a steak restaurant. Granddad got us the group discount price that Ben forgot to ask for. Derek getting quite pissed and loosening up. He actually had a conversation with my father.
7.00 p.m. At a pub near Leicester Square. I am the victim of the stag drinking game. This is a game, made up by Ben, although he claimed he got it off the internet, where every time someone in our group has a drink, I have to have one too. Needless to say it wasn’t long before they were all in sync and I was drinking constantly.
7.45 p.m. Someone mentions a strip club. It’s Derek! He’s pretty pissed. Granddad is definitely up for it and so is my dad. Ben says it’s too early. Bano says it’s never too early and Steve isn’t sure he wants to go to a strip club. Luckily, we have our trump card, Richard ‘Ritchie’ Dennis, who is the only person in the world more cautious than Steve. Ritchie and Steve make a pact to look after each other. It’s heartwarming and tragically sad at the same time.
9.00 p.m. At strip club! Ritchie and Steve looking very uncomfortable. I’m fairly sure I heard Steve praying under his breath. My father getting a lap dance! Next to me getting a lap dance! Next to Derek getting a lap dance! Next to Granddad getting a lap dance!
‘I didn’t want
this!’ I shouted at Derek. ‘Remember that in the morning. I didn’t want this!’
‘If only your Nan could see me now!’ said Granddad, staring at an enormous pair of breasts and smiling like I’ve never seen him smile before.
10.30 p.m. Going into a club. I ask Granddad if he wants to go home. Granddad says he is home. I don’t know what he means, but he seems happy enough. Derek dancing in just his vest! Dad dancing with Derek in his vest too! Steve keeps telling me how much he loves Fiona and Ben is dancing with a girl who looks a little on the young side. Granddad dancing in his vest!
11.45 p.m. Dad, Derek, Granddad, Ben, Bano, Ritchie, Steve and me all dancing to the Grease mega mix. Someone mentions that they’ve always wanted to get their ears pierced.
12.45 a.m. We leave the club in search of food and a late-night ear-piercing shop.
1.00 a.m. Me and someone else get their ears pierced. They really shouldn’t let you do it if you’re that drunk. I wonder who else got it done. Can’t remember.
1.30 a.m. In a kebab shop. Granddad says it’s the first kebab he’s ever eaten. Ben tells me he loves me. I tell Ben I love him. Dad tells Granddad he loves him. Steve tells everyone he really loves Fiona. Someone dares Derek to draw an elephant on my stomach.
3.00 a.m. At home playing drunken Xbox with Ben. Granddad asleep in my bed. Derek got a cab back to Bucks after the kebab, which must have cost a fortune, but he insisted. Dad in the spare room. Bano and Ritchie crashed out on the sofa.
4.00 a.m. Ben asleep on the lounge floor in a sleeping bag. I decide to sleep in the bathtub. Stag complete.
5.00 p.m.
‘Why did you get your ears pierced?’ said Emily.
‘I have no idea.’
‘And it’s bleeding.’
‘Is it?’ I said, feeling my ear and she was right.
‘I’d better give it a good clean. The last thing we need on our wedding day is you with an infected ear.’
‘Thanks, Em. Did you have fun?’
‘We did, and no-one got their ears pierced.’
‘Anything else pierced?’
‘It wasn’t that sort of night.’
‘So you didn’t get a stripper then?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ she said with a smirk.
‘Oh dear, and did he have an enormous penis?’
‘It was sizeable.’
‘Bigger than mine?’
Emily laughed.
‘What?’
‘No offence, Harry, and trust me, I’d never actually want to have sex with that thing from last night, but when it comes to penis size, you’re perfectly average. Now, let’s clear up that blood shall we.’
Emily cleaned up my ear and took out the gold studs, along with a small chunk of my masculinity.
‘You know we all had lap dances last night. Well, everyone except Steve. He said he couldn’t cheat on Fiona and their unborn child.’
‘By everyone you mean?’
‘Everyone.’
‘Including my father?!’
‘He paid for them.’
‘Oh, that’s yucky. No more details please.’
‘Someone else got earrings too. I just can’t remember who. I can’t remember much to be honest.’
‘It was probably Ben or Bano. I can’t imagine...oh, no,’ said Emily suddenly. ‘Just a minute.’ Emily grabbed her phone from her bag and dialled.
‘What is it?’
‘Mum, did Dad...? Seriously, a diamond! In both ears!’
It turned out it was Derek who got the other piercing. Apparently, he’d mentioned it before. Emily’s mum had always forbidden it.
‘Dad’s in serious shit with Mum,’ said Emily when she got off the phone. ‘He’s on the sofa tonight!’
All’s well that ends well. I just hope my ear doesn’t get infected. It really hurts.
Tuesday, August 8th, 11.15 a.m.
In the shed. Eating a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, a mini pork pie, a block of mature cheddar cheese, some French baguette, a can of diet coke and a Lion bar for dessert. Listening to The Stone Roses. Sunny.
I spent the morning sorting out the shed. All the tools are hung up and I’ve also added a small office space where I can sit, smoke and contemplate life. There is also a dartboard on the back of the door and a small radio. I was sat happily contemplating the week ahead when Mum rang. I should have let it go to voicemail, but I knew she’d keep calling until I answered. Thirty minutes later and she was still going strong.
‘I’m worried about the buffet, Harry. Are you worried about the buffet?’ Mum does this thing where she will ask a question and not wait for a reply before carrying on. It’s because she isn’t really asking the question, but just putting it out there. ‘I spoke to Emily’s mum, Pam, about the buffet but she didn’t seem concerned. And then there’s your father. He’s still going with his old suit. I told him you’d bought him one, a special one for the wedding, a nice one from Next, but typical of your father, Harry. “Nothing wrong with the suit I’ve got,” he said. Can you believe it? He bought it in nineteen seventy-three. Then there’s his parents, your grandparents. Has Granddad sorted out the car yet, Harry, because we’re very worried about the car? And how are you? Are you all right? I can’t sleep just thinking about it. You know how you get. Remember that time when you were fifteen, when you, you know, wet yourself and there was that time when we were on holiday in Wales, do you remember that? Just breathe, Harry. Remember to breathe. I got my hat, finally, ordered it months ago from John Lewis. You expect better from John Lewis, you really do. Have you spoken to Emily about the first dance yet? I know you’re going with Take That and I love them, I really do, but ‘How Deep Is Your Love’ isn’t their best one. Have you thought about ‘Back For Good’? It’s a lovely song.’ And so it went on. For forty minutes.
‘Bye Mum,’ I eventually said. ‘See you on Friday for the rehearsal.’
‘Oh my Lord, the rehearsal. I’d almost forgotten about that. What time are we meeting? Is it six? Your father won’t be home before five. He always goes to the driving range on Fridays, Harry. He’ll be cleaning his clubs until five-thirty...’
I eventually managed to get her off the phone but only because she had a call waiting.
Thursday, August 10th, 12.15 p.m.
Emily’s last day of work for three weeks. At home. Having lunch of Heinz cream of tomato soup and a crusty roll from the good bakery on the high street. Two days until the wedding. Cloudy. The new BBC weatherman looked very smug this morning because he’d predicted clouds. He didn’t say what type of clouds. Just clouds.
Off to see Granddad and Nan soon. I’m too nervous to really eat, hence the soup. Today we find out how bad her cancer is. I’m trying to gear myself up for the worst. I’ve already cried once this morning. Fingers crossed for good news.
5.15 p.m.
It isn’t good.
‘They reckon she’s got about five months,’ said Granddad.
He was sitting on the sofa with Nan again. He was holding her hand and she looked so tired. It was the first time I’d ever seen Granddad look beaten. He is always the life and soul of every party, but his face had no colour and he looked scared.
‘I’m so sorry, Nan,’ I said sitting down next to her on the sofa and giving her a hug.
‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘And don’t let this ruin the wedding. I’m going to be fine. I’ve had a good run.’
‘Now come on,’ said Granddad squeezing her hand. ‘None of that talk, eh. The doctor said the best thing for you was positive thinking.’
‘Granddad’s right,’ I said, but it seemed impossible to think anything vaguely positive. She was seventy-five years old and whether it was five months, seven months or a year, the rest of her life wasn’t going to be much of a life. I smiled, but I could see on her face that she had already given up. ‘Love you, Nan.’
‘Love you too, Harry,’ she said. I gave her another hug and then looked up at Gra
nddad and I saw tears glistening in his eyes. ‘I think I’m going to have a little lie down,’ she said, and so Granddad helped her up and into their bedroom.
After they were gone, I walked over to their sideboard and had a look at the photo of them on their wedding day. Both of them looked so young, so happy and so in love. Granddad smiling with his brylcreamed hair and best suit, while Nan looked beautiful in her white dress standing outside the church. I couldn’t help but think of Emily.
‘She’s off,’ said Granddad walking back into the room a short while later. ‘Fancy a beer?’
‘I’d love one,’ I replied.
‘Me too,’ said Granddad.
We both got a beer and sat outside in the garden. The clouds were mainly gone and there was a lovely late afternoon sun. I took out a cigarette and lit it.
‘Can I have one?’ said Granddad.
‘But you don’t smoke?’
‘I just feel like one.’
‘Sure,’ I said and handed him one. He lit it and took a deep inhale, before almost coughing his lungs up.
‘You all right?’
‘It’s been a while,’ he said with a wry smile.
‘I meant with Nan.’
‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘What’s to say, Harry? She has cancer.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘We’re old, it happens. I just hope it isn’t painful. I couldn’t stand to see her in pain. I’d rather she just go to bed and not wake up.’
‘I’m here for you, if you need me.’
‘I know, Harry, and let’s not get too downhearted, your wedding’s in a couple of days. Nervous?’
‘A bit.’
‘That’s normal. You’re a man, Harry, we’re not made to get married without that feeling of “what if”? Women, you see, for them getting married is the end of the uncertainty, but for men it’s just the beginning.’
‘What do you mean?’