by G. Brailey
Patrick was on his feet now but did not react, just allowed Jason to vent his anger, knowing he would tire of it soon enough if he didn’t provoke him. Jason pretended to be a kick boxer, his foot nearly making contact with Patrick’s face, then he went barging off, turning back to shout abuse, telling Patrick to go back to his jungle and to climb up into the trees with all the other monkeys.
This encounter was embarrassing for Patrick, especially as it was witnessed by other folk who looked startled at Jason’s outburst, but he retrieved all his belongings and decided to head over to Gianni’s. Patrick felt in need of a nutritional pick-me-up.
They had mad people in Nigeria like anywhere else, but Patrick had expressed huge surprise in his letters to Genevieve that there were so many mad people at large in the Greater London area, and what’s more, apparently given free rein to cavort around the place with impunity. If he saw the mad boy again he decided he would have to get the authorities involved. He would be doing the other employees of Emerson Buildings a disservice otherwise, he was their protector and guardian after all, and had to be seen as such.
As Patrick set off he wondered how best he could describe all this on his CV, and by so doing, turn the unfortunate incident round to his advantage. It would be challenging, no doubt, so Patrick decided to mention it in his prayers later that day, hoping that God would provide him with the requisite skills.
Tucked away in their cottage in Creed Mill Bridge, Zack continued to talk Veronica round to such an extent that she became unusually giddy at the thought of her engagement and ensuing wedding. Other men had proposed to Veronica over the years but she had never once been tempted. She had no real desire to get married she always said, in fact she thought the whole thing rather quaint and outdated – a celebration of the terminally insecure.
Not that long ago, Veronica had dated a very famous footballer who had offered her the world if she would marry him, but Veronica did not want the world handed to her, gift wrapped, she wanted to earn it, and the more she rejected the footballer’s generosity, the grander the gestures became which Veronica found just soulless and which did for them in the end. But now here she was, organizing catering and choosing wine and about to contact old friends to tell them that at the grand old age of 34 she was in the throes of a sea change. She was planning on becoming someone’s wife.
When Zack phoned Sam to tell him the good news, Sam urged caution.
“Look, mate, think about it…”
“I have thought about it, I’ve thought about nothing else.”
“You do have quite a bit of dosh which you could lose at a stroke if things go bad…”
“Hell, Sam, that’s pretty damn negative even for you.”
Sam went quiet for a bit, then relenting, tried to make the right noises. “Listen, if it’s what you want, if it’s what you both want, then great…”
“I thought you’d be pleased, you’re always telling me to grow up and now I have.”
The following silence told them what they both already knew, that Zack Fortune had not grown up because he was incapable of growing up, and anyone who thought otherwise did not know him very well.
“So you’ve got to come, it’s an order.”
“We’ll be there, of course we will.”
“Stay over, yeah?”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” grumbled Sam, “the countryside makes me nervous, you know it does.”
“You must, there’s room here and at Justin’s, then you can both get legless. What we don’t want is Mr Sensible, jangling his car keys every half hour, stone cold sober.”
“Okay,” said Sam, with a chuckle, “we’ll see what we can do.”
When Tracy received her invitation in the post she sank into her squeaky swivel chair, deflated. She had long since given up all thoughts of Zack in that way, but it was still a shock none the less. She felt she had to go to the engagement party although she would have preferred not to, but she was relieved to see written in small letters at the bottom of the invitation ‘No presents – on pain of death!’ She was hopeless at all that, and couldn’t be bothered with it anyway.
However, possibly deliberately or possibly by accident, she lost the invitation overnight, so sent back a text which said, ‘I’d love to come, congratulations. Hotel details would be appreciated!’ When Susan saw the text she studied it for a good ten minutes before replying: ‘What night will you be staying over… there might be room here but need to check.’ ‘Saturday of course!’ came the reply.
Yes but which Saturday thought Susan. So she sent another text saying that unfortunately Tracy would have to resort to a hotel and recommending The White House in Burford. The following day Susan rang The White House herself, explaining that she was Tracy’s secretary and was checking that an office junior had made the reservation for the right date.
“Saturday August, 30th we’ve got here, is that correct?”
Susan could only presume Zack and Veronica were getting married, why else would Tracy use the word ‘congratulations’? Susan phoned Hannah for advice, but Hannah got on her high horse telling Susan she should just forget the man and move on and live well – all the usual crap. Susan suggested they turn up at the engagement party together and cause a scene, but Hannah told her they would only end up getting arrested and anyway, Aswad were playing Hackney Fields that day and she was keen to go.
When Susan continued coming up with more and more outlandish schemes ‘to get Veronica to listen’, Hannah told her she was hanging up, no good would come of her harping on about it all the time. She had to carve a new life out for herself and forget Zack Fortune. Sounding very smug, Hannah reminded Susan that she had done extremely well for herself following the collapse of her two year relationship with Darren, so there was no reason why Susan couldn’t do the same.
As she signed off, Susan allowed herself a bitter little laugh at this. The truth was that Hannah had ended up as mad as a March hare following the ‘Claire’s Knee’ incident, surviving on Pot Noodles and afternoon trips to the Bingo hall for weeks. Susan had no intention of joining her down that route.
On the morning of the 30th, Veronica insisted Zack got up at 6 am to ‘get things organized’, and like the majority of blokes in similar circumstances, Zack could not for the life of him think why. People were not expected to turn up until 5, so, on that basis, Zack had expected to rise at noon, take a leisurely breakfast, pick up some glasses and crates of beer and start drinking. It was a party he said, not an expedition to Middle-earth, but Veronica was dismissive, giving him a ‘list of things to do’ and telling him he had just four hours in which do them.
Originally, Zack thought that the party would be the coming together of old mates - catching up, getting drunk, with the assistance of a few pork pies to sop up the alcohol so they could drink some more, take some drugs and pass out. However, Veronica had taken the idea rather more seriously than that. She had booked performance artists, tightrope walkers, fire eaters and a firework display to make the day more like an ‘event’. She had gone a little overboard with the food too, ordering lobster and organic salmon and king sized prawns by the bucket load, enough to feed the whole of Creed Mill Bridge, Zack had said, only to be told he knew nothing of catering and numbers and to leave it to her.
At least Veronica had an ally in Justin who was equally enthusiastic and excited by her plans, and between them they made Zack feel hopelessly inadequate as he stumbled round the garden, completely defeated by every task they set him. In the end Veronica ripped the list back from him in sheer frustration and told him just to keep out of the way.
But Veronica’s meticulous planning paid off. Guests were duly impressed when they stepped out into the garden which Veronica had turned into a fairy grotto, at the amount of entertainment on hand, at the fantastic display of food and the never ending supply of drink. Even Sam was enjoying himself, helping assorted children with their treasure hunt, replenishing glasses with champagne and filling in during quiet
times as karaoke king. The party was a huge success.
After brief introductions, Zack had managed to avoid Veronica’s parents, Bill and Sylvie for a good two hours but finally he found himself stuck with Bill in the kitchen. Bill looked put out by the whole thing, although Veronica had warned Zack that her father always looked put out these days, being put out was his stock-in-trade.
“I’m surprised you went in for all this lark with Veronica so soon out of hospital,” he said, airily.
“Veronica wanted to make a statement, I think,” said Zack.
“Yes, well, she’s certainly done that.”
“Can I get you another drink… er… Bill?”
“No, you can’t. I’m not a great drinker, running pubs all my life I’ve seen what it can do. And how about this woman, your ex who pushed Veronica down the stairs…”
“Well that’s a police matter now, I have nothing more to do with her.”
“Is she a lunatic this woman? Is that it?”
“Unstable certainly…”
“You are aware that Veronica is very lucky to be alive,” said Bill, fixing Zack with a very nasty gaze.
“I know, it was a terrible thing.”
“She should get life, attempted murder in my book, but the way things are these days she’ll end up on some outward bound course somewhere I expect, with free access to a kayak. So what’s the idea with this place, anyway?”
“What place?”
“Is this a temporary thing, or what?”
“Yes, just so Veronica can get better at her own pace.”
“I hear you don’t have a job at the moment, is that right?”
“Well no, nothing has come up as yet.”
“Well it won’t just come up in this climate,” said Bill, as though talking to an imbecile.
Just then, luckily for Zack, Veronica turned up with the look of a woman on a rescue mission.
“Mum’s been asking where you are, Dad.”
“Well I’m here, obviously.”
“She’s down by the river, why don’t you join her?”
Disgruntled, Bill went off and left them to it, knowing full well he had been dismissed.
“I think your sister has had a word,” said Zack, quietly, “there was a distinct whiff of disapproval in the air.”
“Oh I’m sure.”
“Padre,” said Sam, coming up, “you have to make a speech, mate, come on…”
“I don’t make speeches.”
“He has to, doesn’t he Veronica?”
“Just a few words… thanking people for turning up, yes you should.”
“Before you’re too pissed and you say the wrong thing… and where’s Clarissa,” said Sam, as though just remembering, “have you seen her anywhere, the lady wife?”
“She was in the garden a few moments ago…”
Hand in hand, Veronica and Zack followed Sam back outside where Tracy stood, looking lost.
“Tracy! You made it,” said Zack.
“I did, I’m here… congratulations you two, and we meet at last!” she said jokily to Veronica forcing a smile, while gloomily acknowledging the fact that Zack had found himself the most beautiful girl on the planet, “well, we’ve spoken, but not face to face…” said Tracy. “Oh and thanks for the recommendation by the way…”
“Sorry?” said Veronica, bewildered.
“The hotel… it’s great and it’s a good excuse for me to take a day off.”
“A day off? You’re slacking, Tracy…” said Zack.
“I know, old age I expect.”
Clarissa was upstairs in their bedroom sitting on the edge of the bed. She was finding the day extremely difficult. She knew she should be happy for Zack and Veronica, but she wasn’t. What if they stayed here in this stupid little place miles from London, doing other things, being part of other people’s lives, how would she cope? For twenty years it was just the three of them, unsuitable girlfriends by the score but they didn’t last, and in the gaps in between Zack would be with them all the time, thankful for their solid, unbroken bond. Although Clarissa would not have wished the fight on Sam, or his awful injuries, their time in the hospital had been cathartic, and re-established their special relationship, but now thanks to Susan, it looked like it was in jeopardy again, propelling Zack off on one of his missions trying to ‘do the right thing’.
All these elaborate shenanigans were Veronica’s doing, she knew that. Zack’s idea of a party was a few crates of beer and a decent supply of drugs, he looked as mystified by all these excesses as everyone else. Clarissa hated the way Veronica had started bossing Zack about, floating round the garden like Lady of the Manor when it was Zack who was forking out a fortune for the cottage and her grungy little gallery that no one ever went to, full of paintings that no one ever bought.
“There you are!” said Sam, barging into the room and flopping down beside her, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing in here?”
“Hiding.”
”From what?”
“The circus downstairs of course…”
“It’s fun, I thought you’d like all this stuff.”
“Tasteless if you ask me anything, and God knows what it all cost.”
Clarissa’s indignation had nothing to do with the celebrations and everything to do with Veronica and Sam knew this.
“It had to happen one day, love.”
“What?”
“Zack Fortune on the straight and narrow…”
“Zack Fortune on the straight and narrow is a contradiction in terms.”
“Someone’s eating fire outside,” said Sam, with a little smile.
“Yes, out of sheer boredom I expect,” said Clarissa.
“And Zack’s going to make a speech, you don’t want to miss that.”
“He hates making speeches.”
“I told him he had to.”
“Well count me out.”
Sam gave her one of his looks. “He’ll expect us to be there you know he will,” he said, flinging an arm round her and giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, begrudgingly relenting.
“We’ve got to let him go, Clarissa,” said Sam, quietly, looking straight at her, then he stood up and left the room.
Zack was standing precariously on a chair at the river bank, waiting as Justin herded up the guests and called for a bit of hush. He saw Sam striding over from the cottage, noticeably without Clarissa, and delayed the start of his speech until he had bowled up.
“Okay, well thanks everyone for turning up. Good to see you all…” said Zack, looking stumped, then after a little nod and a smile from Sam, he struggled on. “We’re here because… well not that long ago I met someone called Veronica French who has unwisely agreed to take me on…”
“She doesn’t know what she’s let herself in for!” shouted Justin, which got a lot of knowing laughs, although Bill remained stony faced.
“I think she does actually, which makes her decision even more bewildering,” said Zack, eliciting a predictable response, “but I can’t tell you how happy she makes me…”
As Zack continued to ramble on, Clarissa, still ensconced upstairs was just about to head off and join the others when she was drawn to the window by the noise of a revving engine. Light was fading, and looking out over the front garden she saw a transit van skidding up and down outside. The van did a few turns, then it headed straight for the picket fence and ploughed over it, careering over the herbaceous borders and heading straight up the path.
“Oh my God,” said Clarissa, out loud, automatically.
There was a horrendous smash as the surreal piece of massive clanking machinery rammed itself against the porch, then backed up, then rammed itself again causing the front window to shatter and fall out of its frame before the van was thrown into reverse and went off ploughing over the lawn and the fence the way it came. Clarissa watched the devastation in a daze, aware of a sudden curious silence from
outside, then the hushed voices getting louder as they spread out over the back garden in an invisible wave and swarmed inside. She heard Sam’s footsteps on the stairs, and turned to face him as he burst in.
“What happened? What’s going on?”
“It was Susan,” said Clarissa, “in a transit van of all things.”
Now Zack was there, looking anxious, closing the bedroom door behind him.
“It was Susan, Zack,” Clarissa said once more, “I’m sorry.”
Although Zack, Veronica, Sam and Tracy tried to put a brave face on things, encouraging people to stay, Susan’s party trick was so unsettling, despite everyone’s best efforts, things ground to an uncertain halt and before long most people had left.
Veronica’s family were still there looking grave, Bill noticeably on the verge of losing his temper, speaking with Sam who was trying to play the whole thing down. Upstairs, Zack and Veronica were sitting on their bed together, but noticeably three feet apart.
“She’s never going to stop, is she? This is it now, this is our life.”
“She is going to stop because I’m going to make her bloody stop.”
“No, Zack, what are you going to do?” she said, grabbing his arm. “You can’t drive like this, you’ll have an accident.”
Zack pulled himself free, bolted from the room, and raced down stairs. Bill stepped into the hall as the front door slammed, accosting Veronica as she made her way down towards him.
“Where the hell’s he gone now?”
“For the police, I think,” said Veronica, vaguely.
“We’ve rung for the police, they’re on their way. He’s scarpered, that’s what he’s done, a rat deserting a sinking ship!”
“Stop it, Bill,” said Sylvie, in a loud stage whisper as she joined them in the hall, “just stop all this.”
“You can’t stay here now with this malarkey going on, pack your bags, you’re coming to the hotel with us,” said Bill leading the trio back into the living room. Veronica shot a glance over at Miriam, picking food from the table like a fastidious vulture, looking more cheerful than she had all day.
“Good idea,” said Sam, “we’ll sort everything out here.”