Instinctively, I try to reach up and wipe it away, but my hands are tied, I can’t do a thing. And then, I’m lurching forward as Phil pulls the chair upright and I get a head rush, my vision blurring. Jacob is standing there, watching, his hands digging in his hair.
‘What did you do that for?’ he asks, and Phil wipes his face, some of my blood smearing across it as he does.
‘I had to shut her up,’ he says, and looks around, finding the dishcloth and stuffing it back in my mouth.
‘But…’ Jacob starts, but Phil spins to face him.
‘But what? You want to do this or not?’
I don’t know what they want to do, what their plan is, but I know it won’t end well for me. All I can hope is that Jacob changes his mind, that he can’t go through with whatever it is.
‘Well?’ Phil says, and Jacob nods. I see Phil’s shoulders drop. He’s relieved. He wants to go through with it.
I close my eyes and cry. I don’t care if I choke on the cloth, it must be better than whatever they’re going to do. I think about the last few months, about how things turned out, about the choices I made, and I wish I hadn’t been so stupid, so naive to think that getting involved with him wouldn’t end badly.
‘Hey,’ Phil says, and slaps my face. ‘Look at me.’
I open my eyes, and they’re both standing there in front of me, and I wish they’d just get on with it. The anticipation is killing me. My imagination driving me mad. But maybe that’s what they want. He took my underwear for a reason. To make me think he would rape me. He’s messing with my head.
My eyes flick from Phil to Jacob, and I try to work it out. Is that all this is? Messing with my head? Are they really going to do anything to me or just make me think they are?
‘You know, you’re the worst kind of person there is,’ Phil says. ‘A bully.’
I try to say, ‘I’m not’, but my voice is muffled, so it almost sounds like I’m agreeing so I shake my head instead. I know I’m not a bully.
‘You disgust me,’ Phil says, and I keep shaking my head. ‘Admit it,’ he says, and hits me again, this time, catching my ear. I cry out in pain. ‘Admit you’re a bully.’
I keep shaking my head, and he hits me again and again. ‘You used him,’ Phil says, pointing to Jacob. ‘You made him think you loved him. You told him you did, right?’ I suck in air through my nose with shuddering breaths, and Phil grabs my hair, pulling my head to the side. ‘Answer me!’
‘Yes,’ I say from behind my gag.
Phil lets go. ‘You used him. You played mind games. Well, now it’s time for you to see what that’s like.’ Phil steps back and nods to Jacob. He just stands there, staring at me, and I wish I’d never run into him that day. Wish I’d never met him at all. I hate him. At that moment, I hate him more than anything in the world.
Phil pushes Jacob forward and says, ‘Go on. She fucking deserves it.’
‘But… this isn’t…’ Jacob says, and Phil pushes him again.
‘Do it,’ he says. ‘It’ll make you feel better.’
Jacob steps back and I think he can’t go through with it, but the next thing his arm is swinging forward, his fist coming towards my face, and I feel my skin split where he hits me, can feel my brain rattling in my head. And it just keeps coming. That’s the thing with Jacob, he’s so easily led.
The chair wobbles again but rights itself in time for another blow. I’m screaming, but the sound isn’t going anywhere. No one is coming for me, no one knows what’s happening. I am all alone and they’re going to kill me.
31
I kept running into Jacob, in the supermarket, at the bus stop. Wherever I went, he always seemed to be there, and I wondered why I was only just noticing him, if he’d been there all along. But it turned out, he’d only moved back to the area fairly recently.
We always talked, and it slowly became less awkward. Maybe I felt sorry for him, but one day, after we’d got on the bus, I realised that there were some nice cafés close to where he lived, so instead of me getting off and changing bus to go home to the girls, I stayed on and asked Jacob if he wanted to go for a drink. He looked confused as if it was the strangest thing in the world, as if I’d asked him if he wanted a quick trip to the moon.
‘I’m buying,’ I said, in case that was the problem. I’d guessed that he didn’t have much money, was probably on benefits.
‘Okay,’ he said, and flashed a smile before the self-consciousness hit him, and he covered his teeth.
We got off the bus, and I led him to a café on the corner of his street. It was a nice place, clean and friendly with good food that wasn’t pretentious. We found a table at the back, and I asked what he’d like before going to the counter to order.
When I brought our pot of tea and cake back to the table, Jacob hadn’t taken his coat off, despite the heat inside the cafe. ‘Are you not staying?’ I asked and nodded to his coat with a smile. His mouth twitched, and his hand went to the toggles on his coat but didn’t move any further. I wondered if his coat was some kind of security blanket, if he felt nervous with me.
I pushed the small plate with chocolate cake towards him, and he nodded his thanks and dug in, finishing before I’d even started mine. He had chocolate in his teeth and was running his tongue across them to try and get rid of it. I tried not to look at him and poured some tea instead.
‘So,’ I said. ‘What have you been up to since school?’ We’d talked several times now, and I still didn’t know much. He only mentioned his mum when I’d talked about mine, but it turned out she’d died just a few weeks before we met. I’d felt a stab of sympathy when he told me, felt awful for thinking bad things about her all those years ago when she’d been nothing but nice to me. I’d tried to find out more, but Jacob clammed up and got off the bus. He wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Jacob shrugged and stirred too much sugar into his tea. ‘Not much,’ he said.
‘You must’ve done something in the last twenty years,’ I said. He shrugged again and took a long gulp of tea. ‘Did you go to college?’ I asked, and he looked at me like I was taking the piss. I wasn’t, but when I thought about it, it seemed unlikely. ‘What about work?’ He looked like he didn’t want to talk about that, either, and I wondered if he was embarrassed by some crappy job he’d had. ‘My job’s not that great either,’ I said, hoping he’d feel less intimidated.
‘I used to work in a factory,’ Jacob said, and I made a face to show I was interested. ‘Chickens,’ he said. ‘Plucking them and that.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘What was that like?’
‘Shit,’ he said, and slurped his tea.
‘But you don’t work there anymore?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I haven’t got a job at the moment.’
I nodded. ‘It’s hard,’ I said. ‘I keep looking for something better, but there’s nothing much out there. Even with a degree.’
‘Right,’ Jacob said, and started looking out the window.
‘So, what else?’ I asked, and he glanced back at me, frowning, before looking out the window again. ‘Have you been married or had any kids?’
‘No. I looked after Mam sometimes,’ he said and looked down at the sticky table top, rubbing his finger in drips of tea. I didn’t say anything for a while, knowing he was sensitive about her, wondering if I’d pushed the small talk too far. ‘I was in prison, Polly,’ he said, and his eyes met mine for a second before going back to the tea.
‘Oh,’ I said, wondering if I should ask what for or if that was rude. I sat and drank some tea, and a hundred things ran through my mind, possibilities of what Jacob could’ve done to land him in prison and whether sitting here with him was such a good idea, or if I should’ve found an excuse to go home and stop seeing him.
‘I hurt someone,’ he said, and I felt my heart thump in my chest. ‘Badly,’ he said.
‘Who?’ I asked, trying not to focus too much on what he meant by badly.
Jacob looked out of the window aga
in and didn’t answer for a while. I thought about changing the subject, but I really wanted to know.
‘I got into a fight outside a pub,’ he said. ‘These blokes were having a go at me all night. I tried to ignore it, honest, but they wouldn’t leave me alone.’ He sniffed and pressed his finger into some loose grains of sugar. ‘I’m not a violent person, Polly. But they started it, and I just lost it.’ His nose twitched, and he rubbed it with the back of his hand. ‘They were bullies, and I was sick of it and stood up for myself. But it got out of hand.’ He sniffed again. ‘It was an accident.’
He looked me in the eye, waiting for a response, waiting to see if he’d made a mistake in confessing to me. ‘You’ve been really nice to me,’ he said. ‘People always keep away from me. It’s always been like that, but since I came out of prison, it’s worse.’ He shrugged. ‘It was just me and Mam for a long time, and now, she’s gone.’ He reached out and put his hand on mine. His nails were filthy. ‘I’m glad I ran into you again. You’re the first person who’s been nice to me since she died,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t even sure you liked me. At school, you know. I remember…’ He shook his head. ‘I just wasn’t sure.’
I knew what he was talking about. After the party, the next week at school, he’d come up to me at break time and thanked me for coming. I could hear his mum’s voice behind the words, could tell he was embarrassed to be saying them. But then, he leaned closer and kissed my cheek. You’d have thought he’d hit me the way I ran away from him. I could hear the other kids laughing as I ran inside, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t remember talking to him after that. But then, he probably didn’t want to talk to me, either.
I looked down at his hand on mine and wondered what to do. I weighed up the things I knew about him, whether I should continue seeing him. But he seemed genuine about being alone, and I didn’t think there was a nasty bone in his body. At least not unless you were a bully.
I squeezed his hand. ‘Of course I liked you. And I’m glad we ran into each other too,’ I said, and smiled.
32
Phil pulls Jacob back, stopping him from hitting me again, maybe aware he’s going too far, but he’s still laughing. He’s enjoying watching Jacob go crazy. My vision blurs, and I can’t tell if it’s from the tears or the blood or if something in my brain has been shaken loose. For all I know, I could be dying.
Phil comes over and sweeps the hair out of my face. He wants me to look at him, but I can’t focus, I can’t even keep my head up without his hand on my face. ‘Get some water,’ Phil says, and clicks his fingers at Jacob before pointing to the sink.
‘Thank you,’ I say, but I don’t know if I say it out loud or just in my head. I can hear the tap running, and then, Phil lets go of me and my chin drops to my chest.
‘No,’ I hear Phil say. ‘Here, use this.’
I can see their feet moving about. I see a cupboard door closing. What’s in that cupboard? I can’t remember. I can’t think straight. His feet are in front of me, and then, I’m shaken into real consciousness by the cold water thrown over me. Phil stands there with the bucket in his hand.
‘That’s better,’ he says.
The dishcloth soaks up some water, and it goes down the wrong way, sucked in by my gasping. I’m choking, and I can’t do anything about it. They don’t do anything, either, just watch me. Jacob comes around and pulls the cloth out, and some air gets in, but nothing is helping. I can’t breathe properly.
‘Do something,’ Jacob says, and Phil comes over, knife in hand, and I wish he would just end it. He slices the tape from my wrists and chest and slaps me hard on the back. I fall forward, but my legs are still bound to the chair so I just hit the ground, coughing and spluttering. After a few seconds, I seem to be getting some air to my lungs, and I calm down a little. I can get through this. I can if I’m smart about it. Phil crouches and cuts the tights with the knife, and suddenly, I’m free. I want to run, but I can’t move at all. My legs feel numb. My body aches. I’m free, but I can’t do a thing about it.
Someone lifts me up. I turn my head, causing a pain to shoot through my skull. I see Phil behind me, holding me under my arms. He drags me to the living room, and I let him. I can’t bring myself to fight anymore. He throws me to the floor, and I lie there on my side, waiting to see what he’ll do next.
‘Please, let me go,’ I say, my voice as feeble as my body.
‘We’re not going to do that,’ Phil says and looks at Jacob. ‘Not yet.’ He crouches down in front of me and looks me up and down. ‘So, what are we going to do now? What would be a suitable punishment?’
‘Please,’ I beg. ‘Please, let me go.’
‘I can’t do that, Polly. Because I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. I don’t think you’re sorry.’
‘I am,’ I say.
‘You are? What are you sorry for?’
I look at Jacob. I’m sorry I ever met you. I’m sorry I ever thought you were harmless.
‘I’m sorry I hurt Jacob,’ I say, and Phil laughs.
‘That’s pathetic,’ he says. ‘You did more than hurt him. This isn’t about some fucking break up, is it?’ He grabs my chin and makes me look at him. ‘Is it? You chose Jacob because you thought he was vulnerable. That he was some sort of spaz. But what would make you vulnerable, eh?’ He pulls at my shirt. ‘Maybe I could strip you, throw you outside. Let the neighbours have a good look at you. Would that do it? Or I could empty your bank account. What about that? Or maybe I could do something to your mum.’ He stands up, looming over me, looking for a reaction. ‘No. ‘Cause you don’t care about other people do you? I bet if I did something to your mum, you wouldn’t give two fucks.’
‘That’s not true,’ I say.
‘How often do you visit your mum, Polly?’ Phil asks.
‘What?’ I ask, wondering what that has to do with this.
‘You’re a selfish cunt, aren’t you?’ he says. ‘That’s why you need to be shown. That’s why we need to hurt you, just like you hurt other people.’
‘I don’t,’ I say.
‘Liar!’ Phil says, and boots me in the guts. I double up and feel like I’m howling inside, but nothing is coming out. When I open my eyes, Phil’s boots are right in front of me. ‘You pick on vulnerable people, because you think no one cares about them, and no one will stop you. But you were wrong about Jacob. You tried to fuck him over, because you thought no one would care. But I care,’ he says. ‘I care about Jacob, and that’s why you’re here.’ He pulls me up by my hair again and pushes his face into mine. ‘Who cares about you, Polly? Who’s going to come and help you?’
He drops me back to the floor, and my face presses into the carpet. No one. No one is going to help me.
33
When I got home, the flat was empty, and I felt my shoulders drop in relief. I dropped my bag by the front door and went and flopped on the settee in the living room, relishing the peace and quiet.
Something had changed lately. I’d always liked living with the girls, but I was starting to feel like I’d outgrown them, that it was time for me to move on. I’d been thinking about it more and more, and what had previously been a fantasy, nothing but wishful thinking, was now becoming something else. I’d always enjoyed looking in the windows of estate agents, sometimes even going in and taking some information and spending the night working out what I’d do with the space, dreaming of how much better my life would be in one of those houses. But it had been a fantasy and that was it. I couldn’t afford the kind of places I was looking at, and even if I did think more realistically, two bedrooms instead of three or four, a small garden instead of large, even if I did choose something modest and in need of work, I knew it was unlikely anyone would give me a mortgage because I was on my own. Deposits were so much these days that hardly anyone I knew stood a chance of buying whether they were a couple or not. It wasn’t fair, but that was how life was.
But recently, something had shifted in my thinking. I was tired of livi
ng in one room, tired of being a loser. It was all right for Sasha and Kimberley, they were younger than me, it wasn’t so weird for them to still be sharing. But I was in my thirties. I needed to do something – be pro-active. And a few months back, I thought I’d found a way to get my own place, but it had fallen through, as these things inevitably do, so I was back to square one, thinking it was never going to happen.
Maybe it had something to do with Jacob, maybe seeing him and remembering how people used to treat him made me realise that I had to stand up for myself and make something happen. I always remembered listening in to Mum and Joan talking after Dad had left, and Mum always said the same thing – you’ve got to look out for yourself because no one else will. It always stuck with me, so once I’d made the decision, I knew I was going to get my own place, whatever it took.
I heard the key in the door and Sasha’s voice bellowing down the hall. I sat up to say hi and realised she was on the phone. She waved but continued her conversation.
I sat for a few minutes, listening to Sasha’s side of the conversation, but she was giving me a headache, so I got up and went to my room. After a while, I heard the front door as Kimberley came in, and thirty seconds later, the TV was on. After listening to a game show compete with Sasha’s giggles for a while, I stood up and grabbed my bag. I wanted to come home to quiet or at least to civilised conversation, not this. But if I had to stay, I was going to need some paracetamol.
‘I’m going out,’ I said as I passed the living room.
‘If you’re going to the shops, can you get some more milk. Ta,’ Sasha shouted.
I was going to say okay, but something stopped me, and I turned back to the living room, wondering if that was the only reason they liked having me there, that I was the responsible one, the one who worked hard, who’d mother them. Sasha looked over her shoulder at me. ‘I’ll pay you later,’ she said.
No Place Like Home_a gripping psychological thriller Page 12