The Idiot, the Farmer and Me Ch. 01

Nor to my knowledge did they have a lock-up full of unmarked cardboard boxes from China, the Philippines or South Korea.

They just lived, worked and just got on with life without drama. I was thrilled for Izzy.

On the morning of their wedding I first knew something was amiss when I saw Ed's Mum Gwyn looking rather distracted and badgering her husband Paul about something. Paul looked none the wiser for some reason then with an appeasing calm look that looked just like Ed's got on his phone.

What I now know, the conversation went something like this;

"Where the hell is David," said Gwyn; David was Paul's brother and Ed's much loved, apparently batty uncle that lived down on the coast on a rather scratchy farm and was an architect that now taught at his local college.

"I don't know," said Paul, "calm down, I'll ring him."

Paul was soon on the phone to him.

"Hey Paul!" he said cheerily to his brother.

"Dave, what time are you going to be here?"

"Where?"

"Ed's wedding, the bride is five minutes away."

"Ed's what?" It was obviously a bad line or there was noise in the background.

"His wedding!"

"What?!"

Gwyn snatched the phone from her husband's hand.

"Dave, for heaven's sake, this is serious," she snarled, "None of your bullshit stories about lateness, I'm..." She paused.

"Gwynnie, lateness for what?" he said.

"Ed's bloody wedding," she hissed.

"WHAT?!" shouted Dave, "Ed and Izzy are getting married?"

Paul stepped over and whispered to me.

"My brother Dave, he's always late, but Gwyn's fuming this time." Paul looked at his watch.

Gwyn's face was fluorescent and as a large black Rolls Royce appeared in the church lane the two groomsmen rushed us into the church. The service went splendidly and I will confess to a couple of tears as Izzy and Ed looked into each-other's eyes and swore true and eternal love to each other. I even thought that the Idiot Ex hadn't made too bad a job of the walk down the aisle, even though he was wearing a just-too-small bright blue suit and not the morning suits everyone else in the wedding party had, his son included.

The photographs took forever, but the photographer in question was one of the best in the South East and that was exactly what they happy couple were paying for. Much of the wedding party had tired of the endless messing around and were leaving and heading for the country house hotel and the reception.

Eventually we were all back in the hired vintage bus and back to the hotel, and were picked up and whisked in to the venue to glasses of champagne and a round of applause from the assembled family and friends already there.

I could see Gwyn looking at Paul and then her watch with a snarl. I thought back to their discussion about the missing uncle. I looked around at the empty space the Uncle should have taken up and there wasn't one. I guessed that perhaps the immaculately dressed and ever efficient hotel staff had tidied the chair and the place setting away as soon as the meal started.

The food was wonderful, Ed's speech was really funny as was his best man Rick's; the Idiot Ex was borderline drunk and gave a cringingly embarrassing speech that had Ed's family looking at best confused and at worse shocked by this semi-pissed Idiot trying very hard to be funny and failing miserably.

Even some of his relatives looked down at their serviettes and table decorations and hoped not to be associated with him.

I counted the number of heads and it was exactly 61, the number we had planned for and had rolling around in our minds for the last two months. There were no spare place settings because no one was missing!

It was at this point that I put down my glass of champagne for the toasts, feeling some concern. In my handbag there was a second copy of the guest list and table plan the hotel had drawn up for us.

As soon as the last toast was given, I opened my handbag and sneaked a look at the table layout and guest list that Izzy and I had worked so hard on; I felt a chill run through my body. There was the top table with Izzy and Ed, me and the Idiot Ex, Paul and Gwyn, best man and Izzy's best mate Jayne as chief bridesmaid. Then there were the two ushers including Ray, two bridesmaids and their respective partners.

Ray was minus the girlfriend he'd just broken up with but with my Mum looking well, as she had done since Dad died. Then there was Ed's Uncle Dan, with his wife Ellie and twin boys Mark and Will, they were sharing a table with my brother Mike and his partner Mel and daughter Charlotte. Denise was across at the next table with her now teenage son Rory and Gwyn's sister and family. The Idiot Ex's Mum had refused to come because I was there, and I understand issued a fatwa that no one else from her family could go, which was why only his sister Fay was there with her new husband Dave and her three children James, Ann and Kris.

The next table had some of the happy couple's great aunts and uncles, the next table was some more slightly distant relations but no sign of an 'Uncle David' and any partner or children he might have had.

It came to me suddenly...

Not David, but Dave. There were two Uncle Dave's. The Idiot Ex's sister Fay's London Underground, Tube-train-driving husband Dave and... Oh shiiiiiit, the other Uncle Dave.

Ed had told us that he had two uncles; Shit. Ed had asked two or three times if we wanted him to check the spellings and the names and everything. We both insisted that this was our thing and we had it covered and so long as he'd given us all the names we had it covered. He'd checked his list, twice, kissed his beloved Izzy and left us to write and invite and Izzy had typed into her iPad.

Using the same list, Izzy had created Facebook events, one for the church and reception and another for the evening and had copied in everyone to that also.

Paul had mentioned West Sussex; I had handwritten all of the envelopes while Izzy had hand-written the cards in her perfect script, passing them to me while slipping in a pre-paid RSVP.

I had no memory of any of the forty or so cards going to West Sussex.

Ed and Izzy looked so happy, and there was no way I was going to discuss this with either of them just in case... just in case we'd left out some of Ed's family. I was heading for my room and a check of the file that Izzy had brought and left there seeing as the party was moving out of the hall while the tables were cleared and I took a breath. I'd taken the Idiot Ex to one side and asked him to tone down the 'cheery cheeky cockney' bit just for Izzy and he cackled and said that his 'Bella' wouldn't 'ave 'im any uvver way'. I fucking bet she wouldn't, so I walked away from him and headed to the foyer and the stairs to my room while the furniture was moved around.

"Gentlemen, unless you all stop this right now, I will be calling the police..." said a slightly raised well-spoken voice.

"Call the police," said an angry voice. It was too posh to be one of mine and I hoped to Christ it wasn't one of the Idiot Ex's mates that had turned up and would be making a fool of themselves before the party had even started, "Call them and tell them that one of your security men have just pushed my son down the stairs!"

I stopped and turned at that.

"Look," said the sort of accent I recognised, and I knew who it probably was, "You ain't on the list so you ain't fuckin' comin' in -- geddit?"

Oh fuck; the angry man has said 'security men'. This hotel didn't have them and that cold feeling started to creep up my spine again; this was genteel Surrey and they wouldn't employ a couple of 'diamond geezers' that sounded like they'd just stepped 'off the barrow' at the local market.

I snuck to one of the large bay windows and peaked around the curtain and saw a tall red-faced guy snarling at the bottom of the stairs, while another tall young man was sat on the bottom step rubbing his backside with one hand and wiping his wet face with the other, with white dust all along the back of his ill-fitting blue jacket. I thought I could see faint traces of blood in his fair hair at the back.

I emptied my glass of wine and thought on how I could check on who this man was that was creating such a scene on my lovely Izzy's big day.

"Please," said the angry man, "find the Father of the Groom, his name is Paul Taylor, tell him I'm here. I've been messing around for over four hours now and I've had enough!"

Not one of 'mine' then, thank fuck...

The hotel receptionist apologised but said that until the evening reception began, his absence from the list precluded him from letting him in, the Father of the bride was most specific.

Oh shit, the Idiot Ex was involved, what now?

"Yeah," said one of the barrow boys, "Now why don't you do what the man says an' fuck off."

"Do you know what?" said he angry man, "I've had enough of this crap, I'm taking my son and I'm going home and calling the police; when one of you knobbers finally sees the father of the groom tell him that Dave his brother was here..." I nearly dropped my glass, "and tried for almost half an hour just to get into his nephew's wedding that he was never told about, that my sister-in-law insisted I drive across country to get here for, but then couldn't get past the two fucking in-bred Chavs that he chose to put on the door!"

One of the in-bred chavs stepped down from the raised steps and took a pace towards the angry man. Oh fuck, it was Carl, the driving licence free, robbing, assaulting, one-time prospective suitor of Izzy and Idiot son of the Idiot Ex's best mate Brian, which meant that the other in-bred chav must have been him. The Idiot Ex had spent most of Izzy's mid-teenage years trying to set her up with this fat, charmless oaf with the sensibilities of a water buffalo and a similar intelligence level, makes sense that he'd invite him to her wedding after all...

"Oh please, just push your luck fuckhead," said the angry man raising a fist, "you've hurt my son, just give me a fucking excuse..." Carl stepped down and saw that angry man was head and shoulders taller than him and took a pace back and his Dad Brian came into view next and before I knew it I was out of the door and calling to Brian and Carl to get back inside.

"Les said we woz to stay on the door Sammy," he said.

"What?" I snarled.

"Les said he won't 'avin no fucker messin' up Izzy's wedding so he give me and the boy a pony each to work the door for 'im tonight."

Les the Idiot Ex; this just screamed Les. Trust him to treat one of the nicest country house hotels in the Home Counties like it was some sleazy club that needed to stop drunks and gate crashers getting in. I'd needed Google Maps just to find my way here.

Always the Idiot Ex, always Les, always had to drag things down to his level, down to the nasty, boorish, Idiotic, uneducated fuck-up that he'd never been able to step up from. Les didn't just love his working class... no criminal class roots -- he revelled in them.

Shitty damn. All of Izzy's new family, not one of them had ever seen the inside of a police station other than to report a crime, suddenly having to deal with the family and friends of someone that thought he was stepping in the shoes of Ronnie, Reggie and Mad Frankie and all the other traditional London villains he so aspired to.

A marked, four-wheeled drive police car pulled onto the grey gravelled drive and I thought I'd die.

Fortunately the wedding party was going on to the rear of the hotel and the extensive and beautifully kept grounds. The guests for the evening celebration would start to arrive in an hour, so I had that long to sort this shit out and try and calm down angry Uncle Dave and not upset Izzy and Ed, or Paul and Gwyn.

"Brian, Carl, inside," I said using my angry parent voice.

"Oh no," said Angry Uncle Dave, "Those savages aren't going anywhere until the police have taken some names and addresses."

True to form, Brian and Carl had taken a step back into the hotel reception as soon as the police car arrived.

The hotel assistant manager stepped out onto the drive to talk to the police officer, it was obvious that they were acquainted. He pointed up into the foyer and I heard him whisper 'Dumb and Dumber over there' then across to angry uncle Dave and his red-eyed son now rubbing the back of his head that closer up was definitely wounded.

Brian and Carl folded their arms over top of their fat bellies, adopted a jutting bottom lip and looked more like the bull terriers they both owned.

Angry Dave calmed slightly and pointed at the Idiot Ex's mates and indicated the dust on his son's clothes and the damage to the back of his head and snarled at Carl -- who grinned.

The police officer called on his radio and sent the assistant manager on his way and began some furious note taking in his pocket book. He stuffed the book in a pocket on his body armour and stepped up.

"You," he pointed at Carl, "don't be a smart arse, you are in enough trouble as it is."

"I ain't done nuffink," said Carl with folded arms and a look of jolly, self-contented, self-righteous 'you can't get me' ambivalence he'd probably used with the police a hundred times before.

"Yeah!" said best mate Brian taking some confidence from his bull terrier of a son, "It's 'is word 'ginst ours, there's two of us!" He raised his shaved eyebrows and wagged a warning finger at the policeman as if he had the Independent Police Complaints Commissioner on speed dial.

"We'll see what the CCTV shows," said the police officer, really not bothered about the IPCC quite yet and not even looking up from his notes.

"What... CCTV... no one said there was CCTV?" said Carl, and he looked around for it.

"Up there dickhead," said Angry Dave.

"Now then Mr Taylor, that isn't going to help."

Carl and Brian both lost the bull terrier look and actually started to look slightly concerned.

"We ain't hanging around to be set up by this fucker..." said Brian picking up the grubby green bomber jacket he habitually wore, hanging from and completely ruining the look of the white painted railings around the porch and foyer area.

"Stay where you are Mr Lind," said the police officer with a sigh just as a second police car and a paramedic car arrived.

Oh fuck, what now. The time was passing slowly and I had visions of any number of Izzy's mates from her nice job and her nice new family seeing her 'old family' being carted off by the law.

"So Mr Lind, I assume that you are both registered with the Security Industry Agency, only I don't see your badges." The policeman put a hand on the still sat young man's shoulder and smiled at him.

"Oh... well," said Brian, "Well we ain't SIA registered see; we don't do much door work, well not enough to warrant all that buggering around wiv' cards an' that," he had one of those embarrassed and forced 'machine gun' laughs - 'Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!'

"The assistant manager there said the Father of the bride brought you in because you are qualified door stewards."

"Well yeah, we both does some door work like, but we don't do it for a livin'. We just does a bit of security like, for mates and that, and they gives us money for it."

"Yes, like a door steward does, you do door work and someone pays you for it. That's what I call 'being a door steward'," said the policeman like he was talking to an Idiot; which in this case he was.

The assistant manager returned with a disc and handed it to the first police officer,

"It's all on there Mac," he said, "sound isn't brilliant but you can make out all of the words."

"But..." said Brian and Carl as one.

"In the car please," said the officer, "you too Mr Taylor, that car over there. We'll need your son to come along as well."

"He needs to be checked out by the medic first officer," said Angry Dave, "and he's only just twelve."

"Really?!" said the policeman in shock at the giant boy with tearstained cheeks. I suddenly remembered the names on Ed's original handwritten list, Dave, Amy and Christopher; Wife Paula had died some years before after a long battle with Leukaemia.

"What's your name mate?" said the policeman gently. The very scared boy's bottom lip just wobbled.

"Christopher Andrew," said Angry Dave, not being angry for a moment.

The Policeman dropped his head,

"Hello Christopher," he said with a smile.

The boy managed to smile back,

"'Hello," he said trying hard to smile.

"My name is Mac," said the policeman.

"Hi Mac," said the boy with the same grin but it wobbled a bit with his bottom lip again.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"He hit me," said the boy, working so hard not to cry, still with a hand on the back of his head and just stopping his bottom lip from trembling, and now looking a little nervous and up to his Dad for reassurance.

"It's alright mate," he said, "Auntie Gwyn will look after you." He turned to me, "Look, do you know Paul and Gwyn, they're the Ed's M..."

"Yes," I said butting in from my place on the steps, "I'm Izzy's mum... I'm Ed's new mother in law in fact."

"You're..." he stopped himself from getting angry, "you mean you've been watching me all this f.. all this bloody time and..."

"Mr Taylor!?" said the policeman with a warning inflection.

"Oh fuck!" I almost said, this was not going to end well.