Page 122 of Merrily Ever After
‘What for? Not planning on entering the Olympics, am I?’ Ray picked up the handset of his phone, sat down and pointed it at the TV like a remote control. ‘Sit down, the pair of you, standing around like guests at a funeral.’
Will sat, but Emily grabbed a tie from the wardrobe and crouched in front of him. She tied it in a knot and smoothed down his shirt collar. His jaw, she noticed with a tut, was covered in patches of stubble.
‘Dad! You promised you’d have a shave.’
Ray rubbed a hand over his chin. ‘Had half a shave.’
Emily sighed and led him back to the bathroom. ‘Today is a full-shave day.’
‘Why?’ He folded his arms across his chest.
‘Because Merry is getting married.’ Emily filled the sink with water, blobbed some shaving foam on his face and picked up his razor.
Ray peered at her. ‘Little Merry? Getting married?’
She shook her head fondly. ‘Yes, Dad. Only she’s thirty-six now. And not so little.’
‘I don’t think so, love, I’m only thirty-five.’
‘You’re sixty-five. And very handsome with it.’ Emily chewed her lip in concentration as she shaved the rest of her dad’s face, grateful that he wasn’t arguing.
‘I was a handsome bugger,’ he said absently. ‘Who’s she getting married to?’
‘Cole. A nice man called Cole.’
Ray sniggered. ‘His father a miner, was he, with a name like that?’
From the other room, Emily heard Will laugh.
‘Not sure what he did. He makes candles now with Merry.’
‘Old King Cole was a merry arsehole …’ Ray sang loudly and then broke into a wheezy laugh.
‘Dad, please do not sing that at the wedding!’
Will was guffawing now.
Emily had a lot of reservations about taking her dad to Merry’s wedding. His behaviour was so unpredictable that she wouldn’t be able to relax for a minute. But at the end of the day, Merry wanted him there, and so if Emily could make that happen, she would. Maybe by tomorrow Ray would have forgotten that he’d been to his daughter’s wedding, but Merry wouldn’t, and that was far more important. Mind you, she thought, if he shouted arsehole at any point in the service, nobody else would forget he’d been there either.
‘You’re done.’ She handed her dad a towel to pat his face dry and ushered him out of the bathroom.
Will was ready with Ray’s jacket and held it out to him, helping him with the sleeves.
‘Let’s go,’ said Emily, ‘before he tries to sit down again.’
Will nodded his head to Ray’s feet. ‘You’re still wearing your slippers.’
Ray scratched his head. ‘Now where did I put my shoes after I polished them?’
Emily scanned around the room. ‘There, under the coffee table.’
Will knelt and retrieved a pair of black dress shoes covered in a thick layer of dried-on cream. ‘Oh dear. What colour polish did you use?’
Ray shrugged. ‘That one.’ He pointed to a tube of something poking out from under the sofa.
Will reached down and picked it up and his shoulders started to shake with laughter as he showed Emily.
‘Haemorrhoid cream?’ she groaned. ‘Dad! How are we going to get that off?’
