‘Polly,’ he said. Not a question, a statement. ‘It’s Jacob,’ he said. ‘From school.’
I looked up the street for a sign of the bus, but the street was empty. Not even a taxi I could hail. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘I remember.’
Jacob moved his carrier bag from the bench, making space for me to sit down. He smelled of cigarettes, and it caught the back of my throat. He’d smoked for as long as I could remember. Even when we’d first started secondary school, he was out there with the bigger kids, lighting up, and he was always getting caught, always in detention.
‘I thought I saw you in there,’ Jacob said, nodding back to the store. ‘I wasn’t sure though, and then my machine went mental.’ I frowned at him, not following. ‘The scanner thing. I don’t know why I bother with them things. They never work right. There’s always something won’t go through.’
‘Right,’ I said, and shifted awkwardly, hoping the bus would come.
Jacob didn’t say anything for a while, and I didn’t want to encourage him, just wanting to get home, and finally, we saw a bus turn the corner and we all got up. A young couple got on first, and I dug around my handbag until I found my weekly ticket before turning to Jacob. ‘Are you getting this one?’ I asked, the words, Please don’t, flashing through my mind. I didn’t want to spend the whole journey home sitting next to Jacob with his cigarette smell and awkward conversation.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Mine’s not due for a bit.’
I nodded and smiled. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Bye, then.’
‘Bye, Polly,’ I heard him shout as I got on the bus, and as I walked to the back seat, I saw him watching me. I could feel his eyes on me right to the end of the road.
When I got in, I could hear Sasha talking loudly over blaring music. I pulled my shoes off and left them in the hall. I tried to sneak past without them seeing, but Kimberley saw me and shouted. I stopped and stood in the doorway. Sasha stopped talking, and all their friends turned and looked at me.
‘Do you want to join us?’ Kimberley asked.
‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘I’m really tired, so I’m going to bed. But have a good night.’
I started to walk away, but Kimberley spoke again. ‘Have you eaten?’
I turned back. ‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘I’m just going to…’
‘Oh, come on,’ Danny said, and reached over to pull me into the room. I rolled my eyes at him. He’d once made a pass at me at one of our parties, but I’d turned him down, partly because he was far too young for me and partly because I knew Sasha had a crush on him. But it didn’t stop him from trying again.
‘She should stay, shouldn’t she?’ he said to the rest of them, and they all started egging me on. Danny grabbed my hand, pulling me closer. ‘Come and have a drink, Paula.’
‘Polly,’ I said, wondering just how drunk he was.
‘If she doesn’t want to, leave her be,’ Sasha said, and removed Danny’s hand from mine. ‘You go to bed, Polly. We’ll try to keep it down.’
I thought about it for a moment, wondering if a night of drinking with them was what I needed. But they seemed drunk already, and who likes playing catch up?
‘Have a good night,’ I said, and walked towards my room, hearing Danny say, ‘Spoilsport,’ to Sasha as I left.
28
I saw Jacob again on the way home from the hospital a few days later. I’d been going around to Mum’s every night after work since she’d been released, and each time we ended up bickering about what sort of support she needed. There’d still been no sign of the social worker, and I was insisting on calling them to see what was happening. Mum got upset, and we had a full-on row, and the next thing I knew, she was on the floor, her body twisted, her words stuck inside.
No one could deny it this time. Mum was ill and needed help. There was a flurry of activity as people rushed around, and the following days were full of talk about care plans and long journeys and thinking about the future, while Mum lay there unable to move or speak. I stood and watched her, afraid of what was going to happen, saddened to see her so helpless. I wished they’d listened to me before, that if they’d kept her in hospital where she belonged, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
People started talking about power of attorney and what would happen as Mum had never signed anything and how I’d be kept in the loop and to keep my chin up. It was all too much, and I’d have to hide in the toilets while I cried, and I wished more than anything that things had been different or that they’d go back to how they were before. I needed someone to talk to and what I wouldn’t give to hear Mum’s voice, even though she’d often driven me mad before.
‘You need to find a better job,’ Mum would say.
‘Like it’s that easy.’
‘Well, there must be something. You’ve got a degree.’
‘Half the staff in Tesco have a degree. It doesn’t mean anything these days.’
‘Well, what about Sasha. She’s got a good job, doesn’t she? Couldn’t she put a word in for you?’
‘She’s a dental nurse,’ I’d say. ‘I’m not trained for that.’
‘You could train.’
‘I don’t want to be a bloody dental nurse,’ I’d say, and Mum’s face would change, and she’d fold her arms across her chest in a huff.
‘If you don’t want me to be interested in your life, you just have to say.’
I hated those conversations. And now, I’d never have them again.
I was walking to the bus stop when I saw him. He was sitting on a bench, hunched over, his glasses settled halfway down his nose, smoking a roll up. He didn’t seem to see me, and I was relieved, hiding behind an old man to make sure Jacob didn’t notice me.
After a few minutes, Jacob stood up and stubbed out his cigarette on the top of the bin. I could see a bus coming up the road and hoped it was mine, rather than his. It was, and I watched him from behind the old man, pacing up and down, muttering to himself. But as the bus pulled in, Jacob pulled a handful of change from his pocket and walked towards it. He was going to get on my bus. I thought about walking away, waiting for the next one. But I was tired and just wanted to get home.
I got on and noticed it was almost full. A couple of people, young lads, were standing at the front, but there were still a few seats towards the back. I made my way down the aisle as the bus pulled away, trying to locate Jacob at the same time as trying not to meet his eye.
The old man took the seat halfway up, and I spotted the last remaining seat. Jacob was sitting across the aisle from it, and I had no choice but to sit alongside him. He looked at me for a few seconds before the realisation hit him, and he smiled. His teeth were bad, and there was a bit of tobacco on his lip.
‘Hi, Jacob,’ I said as I sat down, and the old woman next to me huffed because she had to move her shopping bags onto her knee.
‘Hiya, Polly,’ he said, and then shifted his eyes towards the front of the bus. Apparently, neither of us knew what to say. I found it strange that I’d run into him again just a few days later. I hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years and now twice in one week.
Twenty years. Christ, that made me feel old. I sneaked another look at Jacob and saw that he looked a lot older than I’d thought. Apart from the rotten teeth, he had lines on his face. A couple were scars, but the lines on his forehead, his worry lines, were deep and constant, and I wondered what had happened to him since we left school that he’d been so worried about. I wondered if I looked as old as he did.
‘Have you been to the hospital?’
I focused and realised Jacob had spoken. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘To see my mum.’
‘Is she all right?’ he asked, and the lines deepened.
I paused a moment, knowing that she’s fine was the appropriate answer, that this was just small talk between people who barely knew each other. ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘She had a stroke.’
‘Shit,’ Jacob said.
‘She’s not been well for a while. Forgetting stuff, you
know?’ I shook my head. ‘I seem to spend all my time at the hospital these days.’ I smiled to let him know I wasn’t fishing for sympathy.
‘My mum died,’ he said, and his eyes swivelled back to the front of the bus.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, but he didn’t reply.
We were silent for a while, listening to the rumble of the bus and the chattering of a toddler behind us. I glanced at Jacob. ‘What about you?’ I asked, and he finally turned back to me. ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘Just went to get this. It’s pretty rare.’ He held up a plastic bag but didn’t elaborate about what was inside.
We sat silently again, polite conversation exhausted. The old woman beside me leaned over and pressed the bell to get off at the next stop. When she’d gone, I shuffled over into her seat which Jacob took as an invitation, and he moved beside me. I could smell alcohol on his breath as he turned to me.
‘Are you going home now?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. Please don’t ask where it is or, worse, ask to come with me.
‘Me too,’ he said. I nodded and couldn’t think of anything else to say. Jacob ducked his head and looked out the window. ‘I get off here,’ he said, and pressed the bell. He stood and looked at me for a few seconds before saying, ‘Bye, then,’ and walking away, grabbing each pole and swinging on them as if he was a child.
I watched him walk off down a side street, his hands in his pockets, his chin tucked into his coat, even though it was warm outside. I wondered if I’d see him again. Maybe he’d been there all the time, and I was only just noticing.
A couple more stops and I had to get off and change buses, and for a fleeting moment, I wished Jacob had stayed, that we’d gone somewhere together and talked. I got the feeling he didn’t like to say much, that he preferred to listen. Jacob was weird, that much was obvious, but I could see something in him. He was the first person who wanted to listen to me in a long time and I started hoping I’d run into him again.
29
The next time I saw him was three days later. I’d stopped at the big Tesco on my way home, and his face appeared poking above a self-service checkout machine, again buying cans of lager and a couple of frozen pizzas. He hadn’t noticed me, and I decided not to go over. I knew there was nothing I really had to say to him and that it would just be awkward. I’d been down the last time, especially after seeing Mum, and I just wanted someone to talk to. And if I was being honest, I thought talking to Jacob would make me feel better, assuming he was worse off than me.
Jacob had been in the same year as me at school and I guess I wanted to be able to say, look, here’s someone who’s made even less of their life than I have. Here’s another thirty-five-year-old with nothing to show for themselves. I was certain he didn’t have a good job or a house. But if I’d reduced myself to this, if Jacob was the barometer I was basing things on, then maybe I was worse off than I thought.
I’d been thinking about him a lot since seeing him the second time. Things I hadn’t thought about in donkey’s years suddenly came back to me at all kinds of odd moments; as I was on a call at work, as I cleaned the bath, as I walked through the town and saw a kid with snot running down his face.
Jacob had been the weird kid in our year. He was the one who never seemed to have had a bath on Sunday night like the rest of us. His mum didn’t come to collect him from school and never came to sports days or anything. Kids picked on him, and he always sat by himself at break time. No one wanted to work with him in lessons because he was a bit slow, and everyone complained that he stank if they were forced to sit next to him during assembly. For a long time, I’d assumed his family were poor. But it turned out that wasn’t the case. Turned out his family were just…different.
I suppose I felt sorry for him, but only from a distance. I never spoke to him unless I had to, and I’d laugh like everyone else when someone tripped him up, because if you didn’t, it meant you were his girlfriend and everyone knew it. I didn’t think of myself as a bully, but I guessed I had been as good as one.
But the thing that stuck out the most when I recalled Jacob was the birthday party he had when he was ten. He’d never had a party before, as I far as I knew, anyway. Jacob had never even been invited to anyone else’s party either, unless, of course, he just didn’t show up for fear of being abused outside of school as well as inside. I’d had a few parties in my time, certainly before we had to move house, but Jacob had never been invited. I was lucky because I was a girl, and so I didn’t have to invite any boys at all.
But for his tenth birthday, Jacob’s mum decided to throw a party and invite all the kids from his class. Whether his mum knew what went on at school, I don’t know, but it seemed awfully cruel if she did.
Everyone was invited and the week before the party, all anyone could talk about was whether their parents had told them they had to go and what they were going to get him for a present. There were loads of jokes about bars of soap and things like that, and I knew that Jacob must’ve overheard and probably wished the party could just be cancelled.
In the end, I went because Mum forced me to. She felt sorry for Jacob. There were eight other kids there, presumably all under orders too. Jacob’s mum was friendly and fluttered about, bringing out more and more plates of hot dogs and cheese on sticks. She’d made a cake in the shape of a train but someone threw a football inside the house and it landed on the cake and ruined it. Jacob’s mum cried, but Jacob just stood there, his face revealing nothing. Once his mum had calmed down, she started the party games and we all sat in a circle and played pass the parcel. Not one person looked like they wanted to be there, least of all Jacob.
After we’d eaten, people started to drift away, making excuses that were weak even for ten-year-olds. I’d gone to the toilet and been appalled at the state of the bathroom. There was mould all around the bath, and the toilet was stained. I didn’t dare sit down and left without having a wee. But when I came back down, everyone was gone. It was just me and Jacob and Jacob’s mum. I was desperate to go, too, but Mum said she’d be back for me at four so I had to wait it out.
Jacob’s mum put the TV on and cleared the plates. Every time she came back in, she’d look at Jacob, sitting there staring through the TV, and she looked like she was going to cry again. Jacob never looked at me once, and finally, I decided to help his mum carrying paper plates into the kitchen. She looked embarrassed when I went in and I knew why. The place was filthy. I knew Mum would die if she saw it. But Jacob’s mum tried to smile and told me I was a good girl for helping. The rest of the time was spent awkwardly waiting and pretending to like some ugly paintings that it turned out she’d done herself.
At four, Mum honked the horn outside, and I was relieved I could escape. I wondered if the other kids knew I’d been left behind, and if on Monday, they’d start making up lies about me and Jacob. I felt sick at the thought.
‘Thanks for having me,’ I said to Jacob’s mum as I grabbed my coat and headed for the front door. I looked at Jacob, but he still hadn’t moved.
‘Wait.’
I stopped, and Jacob’s mum handed me another piece of cake in a paper towel. It was mushed up and pieced back together after the football incident. ‘For later. Or give it to your mum, if you like.’ She smiled down at me, and I took the cake.
When I got in the car, Mum asked if I had a good time. I shrugged and squidged the cake with my fingers, saying nothing until we got home, angry at Mum for making me go. I let her go inside first and then threw the cake over the balcony onto the ground, thinking the birds might as well have it. I went inside and flopped onto the settee, looking around at the cramped flat that’d been our home for the past year.
‘It’s not fair,’ I said.
‘What’s not,’ Mum asked.
‘That we have to live here.’
‘Don’t start, Polly. You think I like it any more than you do?’
‘But even Jacob lives in a nice house, and he’s weird,’ I said. ‘Why c
an’t we have a house like that?’
Mum just sighed. ‘Well, some people have more luck than others. That’s life.’
‘But it’s not fair,’ I said. ‘I wish you didn’t make me go.’
‘Tough.’
‘But it was all dirty as well.’ Mum looked up and sighed again, and I could tell she’d had enough of me, so I got up and stomped off to my pokey little bedroom. ‘It’s not fair,’ I said again, and slammed the door.
30
Phil looks down at me, his face twisted into something like disgust. I don’t know why he hates me so much, but it’s clear that he does. Maybe he hates everyone. Maybe he’s just that kind of person.
I can see Jacob out of the corner of my eye, my knickers in his hand, and my stomach turns. ‘Please don’t do this,’ I say. ‘I’ll do anything. Just please, not that.’
‘Not what?’ Phil says.
My eyes go to my underwear that Jacob is mauling and Phil starts to laugh. ‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t touch you with his.’ He nods to Jacob who suddenly seems aware of what he’s doing and throws my knickers onto the floor. ‘Can’t speak for him, though.’
I look at Jacob, and he just stands gawping. He grabs Phil’s jacket and tugs, pulling him out of the room. As they leave I start screaming, trying to take advantage of the opportunity. Even Ethel should be able to hear me.
Phil strides back into the kitchen and punches me in the face so hard that I fall back, the chair slamming into the floor. I hear something crack, and I don’t know if it’s the chair or me. But either way, pain reverberates up my arms. I think I’m in shock. The pain shoots across my face, and I can feel blood. I guess it’s from my nose, but it’s hard to tell while I’m lying here as it runs sideways, settling in my ears.
No Place Like Home_a gripping psychological thriller Page 11