from the strictly stickleback point of view, if you see what I mean, and your ears will never stick out quite as well as mine do.â¦â He stopped here for Jake to laugh and, in spite of himself, Jake did give a small smile. âBut Iâve been your dad for as long as you can remember, Jake. It doesnât matter whoâs married to whom.â
âIf it doesnât matter,â Jake said, âwhy bother?â
âIt doesnât matter to you and me, I mean,â Dad said. âIt matters in other ways. Your mother and I would like to be married.â
âBecause of Daisy.â
âNot only because of Daisy, Jake.â
âIt didnât matter when it was just me.â
âJake, I know it must seem like that.â
âBecause it is like that.â
âNo!â said Dad. âWe always intended doing it, but, well, we just let it drift ⦠and then Daisy coming along just sort of reminded us.â
Jake stared at him, a long, cold stare. Dad stared back. He looked very uncomfortable, but he kept staring anyway, as if willing Jake to agree.
âOh, do what you like,â said Jake at last. âWhat does it matter anyway? I donât care what you do.â
CHAPTER
29
The weather had improved dramatically, which was lucky because they were having the wedding-cum-christening in the garden. At least, they had the actually getting married and getting christened part in the local church, and then they had the party in the garden, in the sunshine.
It all happened very fast. Jake hardly had time to think about it.
âSo thatâs the proof, Father,â Jakeâs mum was saying to the priest whoâd done the marrying and christening, as she served him his wedding lunch. âSalmon and raspberries just couldnât be in season at the same time by a quirk of evolution, itâs too divine a coincidence.â
âSo that means thereâs a God?â said the priest, looking startled.
âMmm,â said Jakeâs mum, grinning at him.
âWell, itâs not a proof known to theology,â the priest said, âbut itâs pretty convincing, I must say.â
âYou could write a paper on it in a theological journal and send it to the Vatican and they might make you a bishop,â Jakeâs mum suggested, waving her fish slice in the air. âIâd never let on I told you. Itâd be our little secret. Have some more champagne.â
âSo does this mean weâll be seeing more of you at Mass?â the priest asked slyly.
âOh, now!â said Jakeâs mum noncommittally. âYou never know your luck.â
âYouâre drunk,â Jake hissed at her as the priest moved off with his plate of salmon and his glass of champagne, chuckling to himself.
âOnly the teeniest bit, Jakey,â she said.
Her eyes were shining. She looked lovely, in her pearly-colored dress and with her hair all caught into a flowery headdress, though it had begun to work itself a bit loose by now and was drifting around her head in its usual wild way.
âItâs not every day you get married,â Jakeâs mother was saying. âAnd champagne doesnât make you drunk, you know. It only makes you merry. Have a Coke, why donât you, Jake?â
âIâm full of bubbles already, thanks,â Jake said. âAnd I know when Iâve had enough. I hope Daisy doesnât get drunk. Can you imagine, a baby with a hangover? Ugh!â
âJake, Iâve only had two glasses. Stop lecturing me. Itâs my wedding day!â
Jake shrugged. âI hope you donât think Iâm going to change my name,â he said.
âWhat?â asked his mother. âWhy would you change your name?â
âWell, boys usually have the same name as their fathers. Isnât that why people get married?â
âOr their mothers, Jake, as you have had all your life.â
âBut you