URE, WILLIAM (1968 - ) Author, Docent - Nearly a year has now passed since Billy's marriage to Karen Balsillie. Shortly before the wedding, having already being relegated from the role of best man to that of an usher, I received an extraordinary letter, ostensibly from Billy, informing me that I was no longer welcome in any capacity. While no reason was given, I could only assume that the letter was a response to one I sent Billy a week earlier listing sixty seven reasons why his marriage represented a catastrophic error of judgement and imploring him to think again. Although signed with Billy's unmistakably hesitant signature, the reply was typed in a lavender coloured font that would only be used by woman (and, without wishing to stoop to abuse, one of limited intelligence.) Naturally, after nearly thirty years of friendship, I felt entitled to an explanation. Despite my misgivings, after all, I had accepted Billy's decision, even reassuring him as to my willingness to serve as best man. My speech, touching upon the rare cases in which Billy conducted himself with anything approaching courage, had already been written before I was informed that Ms Balsillie's cousin Calum Livingstone, the merest of acquaintances to Billy, would fulfil that particular role. Any reasonable person, apprised of the sequence of events, would have concluded that I was the wounded party. It would have been easy, and probably justifiable, to with-hold my services entirely, but, despite everything, I was fully committed to my role as usher. Billy, unfortunately, refused to discuss the matter: a tendency to scurry from confrontation, evident since boyhood, was never so pronounced than in the week immediately preceding his wedding. Frustrated in my earnest attempts to negotiate a reconciliation, I was eventually compelled to attend in disguise.

Watching Billy as he danced self-consciously for Karen's sniggering relatives, I was briefly overwhelmed by an emotion I only later identified as anger. Anyone who know me will confirm that, regardless of provocations, my disposition remains essentially sunny. With hindsight, I can only attribute this momentary aberration to the realisation that everything I'd offered Billy, including a seat on the board of the Hamilton Coe Foundation, had been rejected in favour of a mother substitute. My wrath turned to concern when Cameron, Ms Balsillie's elder son by her first failed marriage, wriggled from the restraints of his grandmother, ran onto the dancefloor and kicked Billy's shin. In my rush to assist Billy, unfortunately, I was recognised and, at his wife's insistence, escorted from the building.

 

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