He was coming nearer and nearer, singing some tuneless song under his breath, dodging and kicking and chasing after his can.
And I was blasting him with thoughtwaves.
Go away, Kieran. I’m not here. No one’s here. There’s nothing to see, Kieran. Go on, little can. Roll away down the hill. Roll far away, little drinks can.
But it didn’t. It rolled just past my hole and stopped, right up against the fence. I opened my eyes a crack and saw the sun glinting off it.
Then I saw Kieran’s foot. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it pumping in my ears, and my eyes were screwed up so tight they hurt. He stood there for about ten years, Kieran did.
What are you doing? I thought, not daring to open my eyes and look in case the movement caught his eye. Go on, Kieran. Please. Go away.
Next I heard the sound of paper tearing and something fluttered to the ground just the other side of the chain link. I did look then. It was a Mars bar wrapper. Kieran was starting on a Mars bar.
My mouth watered so hard I had to swallow, and I thought he’d be sure to hear me, it sounded that loud, but he didn’t. He poked out the can from beside the fence with his toe and gave it a kick and off he went, running after it down the lane, only he wasn’t singing any more because his mouth was all stuck up with Mars bar.
He hadn’t even looked at my decoy hole.
As soon as he’d gone I stood up and bolted for my secret place.
Thank you, God, I said. Thank you.
I sat down on the floor with my back against one of the blocks, and I felt safe.
‘We’ll get through all right,’ I said to the spider. ‘You and me. We’ll do.’
‘We’re going to the zoo today,’ Steve said. ‘A family outing.’
He was in one his loud moods, his I’m-going-to-have-a-good-time-and-you-are-too moods. He’s like that when he’s with people from work, or down at the pub with her.
‘The zoo!’ she said, clapping her hands like a little girl.
I didn’t dare say I didn’t want to go. You don’t, with Steve.
He made her put on her stretchy pink top and her tight jeans.
‘You won’t be able to wear these for much longer,’ he said, patting her tummy.
She looked quite pleased. I bent down to do up my shoes.
‘You can’t go in those things. Not on a family outing,’ he said, and I froze, ready to put my arm up to protect my head.
He didn’t hit me, though. He handed me a shoebox instead.
‘New trainers,’ he said. ‘Thought we’d smarten you up a bit.’
I put the trainers on. They were too small and pinched my toes.
‘They’ll stretch,’ he said. ‘Come on, or the place’ll be closed before we get there.’
You can have a good time with Steve, once in a while, if nothing goes wrong and you’re careful. It was OK at first, our day out at the zoo, in spite of my sore feet.
‘Ice creams all round,’ he said, as soon as we were in through the gate.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Ice cream might start me off feeling sick again.’
‘Just try one, love,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to eat. You’ve got to keep your strength up.’
He went to the van and came back with three big ones. She took hers and smiled, but she was going pale.
We saw the elephant first. He was standing in a walled-in place, in the open air. There was a big ditch between us and him.
His ears were drooping and he stood with his trunk dangling down, touching the ground, quite still.
‘Hey, big fella!’ shouted Steve. ‘Over here! Look over here. You a statue, or what? Wave your trunk at Jake, why don’t you?’
The elephant wasn’t bothered. He moved his ears a bit and whisked something off his rump with the bushy bit on the end of his tail.
‘Boring, isn’t he?’ said Steve. ‘They’re supposed to be clever, elephants are. You’d think they’d train them to do something. I’ve paid enough to get us in here.’
‘I want to see the monkeys,’ she said, clinging on to his arm.
She hadn’t eaten her ice cream and melted bits were dribbling down the side.
‘Here, watch what you’re doing.’ He was laughing at her. ‘You’ll get it all over me. You’re not going to eat it, are you? Do you want it, Jake?’
I shook my head.
‘You don’t want to waste it.’ He took it out of her hand and started slurping it up, making gloopy noises. I was starting to feel happy, almost.
Maybe he’ll be different now, I thought. Maybe the baby coming has changed him.
‘The monkeys are over there.’ I ran ahead towards the cages up the hill, going carefully with my toes curled in because the trainers hurt, and then I called back to them over my shoulder, and at that moment I forgot everything bad and I felt free and safe.
There were some little brown monkeys in the first cage, chasing each other, just mucking about really, like a bunch of kids. They were so clever and funny, jumping around, making flying leaps, hanging from one arm and then the other, that you had to laugh. We all did.
‘One of them’s got a baby, look,’ she said, leaning forward to see better. ‘Catch me jumping around like that with a baby hanging round my neck.’
‘Good thing you’re not a monkey, then,’ he said, and I saw his hand slide down to her bottom and give it a squeeze.
I moved on round the corner. There was a big monkey here, sitting on a rubber tyre in a corner of a cage. I read the label.
Chimpanzee, it said. Forests of Central Africa.
There was some dead wood in the cage, a couple of logs set up like branches, and another tyre hanging from a rope like a kind of swing. Bits of fruit and veg were scattered all over the concrete floor.
It’s not much like the forests of Central Africa in there, is it? I thought. I bet that’s what you’re thinking about. I bet you wish you were back there, swinging through the treetops with all your brothers and sisters.
I had a good idea then. My island’s been small in my mind, with only room for the tower, and my dad’s place, and the apple trees, and the football pitch. But now I want it to be big, a proper island, in the middle of a lake. Or the sea. Yes, the sea, because then there’d be a beach and waves and rock pools and shells. There can’t be a drawbridge after all. It’s too far away from land. You have to come to it by boat.
And it’s going to be a tropical kind of place, big enough to have a bit of forest for chimpanzees and monkeys, and maybe even an elephant or two. And they wouldn’t all be stuck in lonely, cruel concrete cages. They’d be free and happy, and they’d go around doing the things they like doing, like eating the silver and golden apples, and messing about in the trees, and playing on the beach.
And they wouldn’t be scared of me, because they’d know I’d never, ever hurt them, and they’d look out for me and I’d look out for them and we’d be mates.
Then I heard the two of them coming up behind me.
‘Look at him, the big fat slob,’ Steve said. ‘Let’s get him going.’
He bent down and picked up a handful of gravel and threw it at the cage. Most of it bounced off the mesh but some of it got through. I heard it ping on the concrete floor.
‘Steve,’ she said. ‘Don’t. You’ll hurt him. Someone’ll see.’
There were a couple of old people near the cage too. The man had a straw hat on, one with a brim and a black band round it, and the woman’s hair was all tight little grey curls. I could tell what they were thinking.
Things were starting to go wrong. I could feel it in the air. A knot was tying itself up in my stomach again, and the hairs on the back of my neck were prickling.
Steve saw them looking at him and his mouth went into a straight line. He leaned over the low fence, right on top of the sign that said, Warning. These animals are dangerous, and he began shaking the bars of the cage.
The chimp turned and looked at him. His eyes were big and brown, and they
were so sad you could hardly bear to look at them. He put his black hands down on the floor (just like human hands, they were), and stood up and turned his back on us.
‘Ha ha! Look at that! Look at his big, bare bum!’ shouted Steve. ‘Ugly, or what? Not even I’m that ugly, am I, Jake? Am I, Jake?’
The chimp bent down over his water bowl, then he turned round and came towards us. He stood up at the bars, and stretched to his full height. I could see him properly then. He was a big guy, a strong proud guy, and I loved him.
He looked down on us as if we were a long, long way away, miles beneath him, then suddenly, before any of us could move, he leaned backwards and lifted his thing and peed. A great spout of wee shot out at Steve. Right at him. Masses of it. It dripped down the front of Steve’s shirt and splashed on his shoes.
Steve ducked out the way, then there was a moment of silence that lasted about a week, and Steve roared, and she stepped back with her hand over her mouth, and the man in the hat said, in a posh voice, ‘Serves him right, the lout,’ and the woman with the grey curls said, ‘As you say, dear,’ and then they walked away.
But I hardly noticed them because I’d started to giggle, and once I started I couldn’t stop, and then I was laughing so hard I was choking on it, gasping and staggering about, and I could feel tears of laughter spurting out of my eyes, and I knew my face had gone scarlet.
I stopped laughing, though, stopped dead, when he caught hold of my arm. His fingers were like steel nails. He jerked me towards him till his face was inches from mine. His eyes were splinters of glass and his mouth was an iron trap.
‘Laughing, are you? Think it’s funny, do you? I’ll show you. I’ll teach you what’s funny, so you won’t ever forget again.’
If I turn my head, even a little bit, I can feel shoots of pain like flames, running through it and down into my shoulders, and my mouth’s numb and swollen up and it hurts all over me, everywhere.
He didn’t start till we got home. He never does it in front of other people. This time he didn’t bother to keep off my face. He went for everything. Every bit of me, punching and kicking and shaking.
‘Don’t, Steve,’ I kept crying. ‘Stop it. Please. Don’t.’
The worse thing was that I wet myself. I couldn’t help it. And then I felt worthless and small, lost and worthless, as if there was nothing left inside me. It was all beaten out.
I’ve got to go. I can’t stay here with them any more. I’ve got to get away before he kills me.
I’ve put a few things in my bag – a sweater, and my raincoat, some socks and my fluffy duck. I’ll be all right in my secret place, as long as this nice weather lasts. I’ve got a bit of money. It’s not much, but it’ll do for a few days, while I think things out. Make a plan. Decide what I’m going to do.
I got out of the house all right without her hearing me. Steve had gone down the pub anyway, and she was banging things round in the kitchen.
I felt bad about leaving her. She needs someone to protect her. I’ve never been able to do that, but I’ve been useful, in a way. When Steve was going to thump someone he’d go for me first, and sometimes he’d stop there.
But maybe it’s all my fault anyway. Maybe it’s me that makes him violent. If I’m not there maybe she’ll be all right.
Anyway, what use is anyone to anyone when all they can do is pee in their pants?
I went down the lane towards my secret place, but I knew even before I got to the hole in the fence that something was wrong. The hole had been wrenched wide open and all my camouflage stuff had been chucked about.
People had been in my secret place. Someone had sprayed Kieran’s an idiot on one of the concrete blocks in white paint, and there were a whole bunch of tags.
I didn’t know the tags. They weren’t anyone’s I knew.
The spider’s web had gone. That was the worst thing. There were just a few silky strands blowing in the breeze. I couldn’t see the spider anywhere, though I looked round as much as I could.
I don’t blame you, I said silently to the spider. What’s the point of sticking around here? What’s the point of waiting for me? There’s nothing left inside me.
In my dream house there’ll be a special place for webs, I started to tell him, but then I stopped. I didn’t want to think about my dream house. I was afraid that if I did the tower would come crashing down with me inside it and everything around it would be destroyed.
There wasn’t any point in staying in my secret place because it wasn’t mine any more. And now I didn’t have anywhere to go. Nowhere. I’d have to go back to them. There was no point in running away.
But then, in the sunshine, I saw the flash of light on a line of shiny metal. Down there in front of me was the railway line.
I went down to the railway line and I thought, The next train that comes along, I’m going to do it. I’m going to jump in front of it.
It was partly because of the baby, see? I thought I could go on if it was just myself, go on ducking and diving and keeping out of his way, pretending I don’t see when he mashes her up just like she doesn’t look when it’s me, but I wouldn’t be able to do that any more when the baby was there. I couldn’t turn a blind eye then. I’d have to stay around and look out for it all the time, only I wouldn’t be brave enough. All I’d do is stand there and cry and pee in my pants.
I looked down at the rails, all light and shiny where the wheels go over them, and it was as if they were calling to me, telling me to lie down on them.
I’ll do it now, I thought. The next one that comes.
It came sooner than I’d expected. I hadn’t had time to settle my mind. I heard the rails hum first and then sing and rattle, the way they do, and I thought, OK. OK. Let’s wait a bit. Let it come nearer.
But it came so suddenly, with a whoosh and a roar and a blast of wind in my face that I was taken by surprise. I stepped back. I had to.
The next one, I thought.
I was looking down at the wheels. They were rushing along in a blur of speed. I thought, If I could just see the shape of one it would be good, to know what I’m in for, but I couldn’t make one out. Not at that speed. The wheels had disappeared and all that was left were screaming, throbbing lines of metal, not real at all.
I didn’t look up at the windows till the train was nearly past. But I did then, and I saw her.
A little child was standing up with her hands pressed against the window. She had a tangle of dark hair round her face. A little, thin face it was. Her mouth was open as if she was calling out to me, and I could see her eyes, wide and frightened. She seemed to be begging me for something. A second later she’d gone.
I swear to God it was the baby. My sister. She was up there, looking down at me, and she was calling out, ‘Stay, Jake. Don’t go. I need you.’
I got away from the railway line and stumbled over this old tyre that someone must have chucked down here. My knees are so weak I couldn’t stand up if I tried, and my heart’s banging away like a demented drum kit. There’s this whistling noise in my ears, and my head’s pounding, and all I can think is, I nearly did it. I nearly topped myself. I must have been crazy.
The sun’s setting now, but it’s still bright, a spring sun, the sort that comes on strong when you’re out of the wind, and it’s warming up my hands and face. I can feel it through my trouser legs and on the sore places on my face.
It feels good. I’m starting to hear things again: the bird on the top of the tree, and the traffic from the main road, and some kids shouting on the far side of the track.
Everything’s suddenly so beautiful that I want to put my head down on my knees and cry.
Kieran made me jump. I didn’t hear him coming. I was still crying a bit, feeling shaky and weird and out of it, when he said, ‘Hello’.
He’d slid down the bit of bank behind me and landed up right next to me.
‘You’re Jake, aren’t you?’ he said.
I think I said, ‘Go away and leave me alone,’ b
ut I’m not sure. Anyway he didn’t hear it, whatever I said, partly because my voice was still funny with crying, but mostly because he was staring at me so hard.
‘Wow,’ he said. ‘What happened to your face?’
I wasn’t ready for this, for making up excuses, and thinking my way out of it, and finding somewhere to sneak off to, like I usually do. There was nowhere to go here, and anyway, Kieran wasn’t going to let me.
‘Fell off my bike,’ I said.
‘Under a bus, or what? Bet they had to tow the bus away. You look amazing. Like something on telly. Does it hurt?’
‘A bit.’
I shifted along the bank away from him. I tried to stand up, but my legs were too weak. They’d begun to stiffen up with all the bruises on them. I didn’t mean to, but I made a sort of groaning noise, and then I stopped trying to move.
‘Did you go to the hospital?’ said Kieran. ‘You ought to. You could have gangrene or something.’
‘It’s OK. The doctor says I’m fine.’
In my head I was saying, Go away. Just get up and go away.
‘I bet the bike was a wreck.’
I nodded, then wished I hadn’t. Shooting pains like needles shot up my neck through my head.
‘Was it a new one? What sort was it?’
‘I dunno. It wasn’t mine. I borrowed it. I don’t want to talk about it any more.’
‘Oh, OK.’ He took that. ‘It’s the shock, isn’t it? Did they give you tea with masses of sugar in it? That’s what you do with shock.’
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My head was spinning like I was going to pass out.
‘You’ve gone a funny colour,’ said Kieran. ‘Yellow. Or green even.’
I put my head down between my knees again. The aching was worse like that but the spinning stopped.
‘I’m going to get my nan,’ said Kieran. ‘She used to work at the hospital. You ought to see someone. She’ll know what to do.’
Jake's Tower Page 2