‘I’m not going to the shops,’ I said.
‘Oh. Where’re you going?’ Sasha asked.
‘To meet someone. Jacob.’
Sasha and Kimberley exchanged glances, and a smile spread across Kimberley’s face. ‘Who’s Jacob?’
‘Is there something you’re not telling us,’ Sasha said, sitting up straight. ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
I don’t know why I said it, what on earth possessed me, but something in me snapped. I didn’t want Sasha thinking I was a threat to her, to the endless parade of unreciprocated crushes she brought home. And maybe there was a part of me that just resented running errands for her. But why tell them that? I could’ve said anything, anything else at all. I could’ve just said no, told her to go to the shop herself. But I didn’t.
Sasha and Kimberley looked at each other before they looked at me. ‘Since when?’ Sasha asked.
‘Since a few weeks ago,’ I said, and wondered why I was still talking.
‘What’s he like? Have you got a picture?’ Sasha asked.
‘No,’ I said. ‘And I have to go. I’m going to be late.’ I walked out and slammed the door behind me. Why didn’t I just say I was meeting a friend? Why was I even lying to them at all? They were my friends.
I ran down to the main road, out of view, in case they were looking out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Jacob. I had no idea what I was going to do now. I couldn’t go straight home after getting some paracetamol, not without looking like an idiot.
I looked up and down the street and headed right, towards the library. I could go and sit there for a few hours, knowing it was the last place the girls would ever come to.
Inside, there was a book group meeting, and a bunch of old ladies were arguing the merits of Olive Kitteridge. I worked my way through to the back of the library where they kept the newspapers. There was an old man sitting at the table, several papers spread out in front of him, but he appeared to be asleep.
I took a seat opposite him and found a copy of the local paper. I wasn’t really interested and couldn’t focus on the words. I turned the page without knowing what I’d just looked at, and the old man woke up with a start. He glared at me and got up and left, leaving behind the property supplement. I reached over and took it and started looking through, staring intently at houses I could never afford, and some I would never want to.
After half an hour, I closed the newspaper and my eyes. I thought about my dad and how after he left, me and Mum had to move to that crappy little flat on the edge of town. I thought about how hard Mum worked and how long it’d taken her to get something better and how, after all of that, there were now strangers talking about long term plans and selling the house to pay for full time care.
I wiped a tear that had escaped and hoped that none of the book group ladies were watching me. I pulled all the papers the old man had been hoarding towards me and flicked through, searching for the jobs pages. I knew there had to be something out there. I checked every last advert, but there was nothing. Anything that looked good, required experience I didn’t have. There were plenty of intern positions, basically slave labour, but even they were out of reach to me. They either wanted kids or someone with a degree in the right subject. Mine was always the wrong subject.
I shoved the papers back across the table, and a few pages fluttered to the floor. One of the librarians passed at that moment and tutted at me, bending down to retrieve the stray pages and tidying the table, glaring at me all the while, as if I was solely responsible for all the mess in the whole place. I got up and moved to a chair in the stacks, sitting amongst the crime novels. I picked one at random and flicked through until the lights dimmed a couple of times, announcing it was almost closing time.
As soon as I got outside and the fresh air hit me, I realised how stuffy it’d been in the library, and the cool air helped me to think clearly. I didn’t need to go home and confess to the girls I’d lied about Jacob. I did have somewhere to go.
I walked quickly to the road, trying to recall what time the buses went. I was in luck, and one was pulling in just as I got to the stop. I sat down at the back of the bus and finally felt like I had purpose. I knew what to do, where to go.
34
I knocked on Jacob’s door and felt butterflies in my stomach. All of a sudden, I doubted my being there and wanted to run away. It was a stupid idea. Sitting on the bus or in a cafe and chatting was one thing. Turning up at his door because I didn’t want to go home was another altogether. I turned to walk away, but the door opened, and Jacob stood there apparently not recognising me.
‘Hi, Jacob,’ I said, and it dawned on him who I was, but he seemed, probably quite rightly, confused as to why I was there. He frowned at me and came out, pulling the door behind him so there was only a little gap. I couldn’t see inside, but I could hear voices, and at first, I thought he had people round, and I was about to make a complete idiot of myself, but then I realised it was the TV.
‘Hiya, Polly,’ he said, and blinked slowly, pushing his glasses up.
‘Sorry for just turning up,’ I said. ‘I was just…’ I didn’t know what to say, what story to make up. I could hardly tell him the truth.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
I looked at the ground and nudged a piece of glass with my foot. ‘I’m okay,’ I said, and looked back at him.
Jacob looked behind himself at the front door before turning back to me. ‘Did you want to come in?’ he asked, and I nodded. ‘It’s a bit of a mess,’ he said.
‘That’s all right. So is mine,’ I said, which was a lie.
Jacob opened the door and led the way. I followed him through, and he muted the TV. The curtains were closed, and the only light was a dim lamp in the corner. Jacob looked embarrassed, and his eyes darted around the room, possibly looking for things he’d want to hide. I thought about asking to use the bathroom so he could do a quick tidy but guessed it would be just as bad in there.
‘I can go if you’re busy,’ I said, and regretted it because it sounded sarcastic.
‘No, it’s all right,’ he said. ‘Here.’ He moved some empty crisp packets from the settee and indicated I should sit. ‘Do you want a drink?’
‘Tea would be nice,’ I said, and he nodded and left me alone in the room.
I looked around at the place as my eyes adjusted. There were piles of papers and magazines stacked sloppily around the edges of the room, and dozens of small cardboard boxes lined the top of a sideboard. I looked over my shoulder before stepping closer, realising the boxes were model trains. I flicked through the magazines at the top of one of the piles – Model Rail, Collector’s Gazette, Model Railroader. I shook my head. I’d forgotten Jacob was a train enthusiast. I had a sudden memory of him doing a presentation at primary school, talking passionately about his trains as the rest of the class sat there half bored, half stunned. No one had ever heard Jacob talk so much. But after Lee Palmer called him Thomas the Wank Engine and the whole class laughed, he never spoke about trains, or much else, again.
A few minutes later, Jacob returned with a mug of tea, and he put it on the floor beside the settee, and I took a seat. He sat at the other end of the settee, as far away as he could get without sitting on the arm, and he nodded to the TV. ‘Have you seen this?’ he asked, and I looked at the screen and tried to work out what it was. I shook my head anyway, and Jacob turned the sound back on. I wasn’t sure what the film was, but every now and then, Jacob started laughing, even though I couldn’t work out what was funny. I wondered if I was missing something. Finally, I looked over to him, and he looked so happy I couldn’t help but laugh too.
When it was finished, Jacob looked uncomfortable, as if he was unsure what to do now the distraction of the film was over. ‘Do you want to watch the second one?’ he asked. ‘I think I’ve got the DVD.’
I noticed his eyes drift to his trains and wondered if he wanted me to go. But then, he was the one who suggested another
film. I glanced at the clock. It was still only just gone nine, and I wasn’t ready to go home. ‘Sure,’ I said.
Jacob smiled and put another disc in. ‘I could make you something to eat, if you like?’ he said. My first instinct was to say no, but I realised I hadn’t eaten since lunch time and how bad could it be anyway? Jacob fed himself all the time, presumably, and he wasn’t dead yet.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘That’d be nice.’
‘Okay,’ he said, and turned and went to the kitchen. I was going to follow, offer a hand, but decided it might be better not to see the kitchen. Instead, I stayed in the living room and looked around some more while I waited. The room was cluttered, and it appeared it hadn’t been decorated in a decade or more. But it was nicely proportioned and south facing, and if it were painted a lighter colour – like antique white – it would look great. I moved to the window and ran my hand along the heavy curtains, thinking if it was my place, I’d throw them away and get some nice warm oak wood blinds.
Half an hour later, Jacob came back in with a pizza. It was obviously one from the freezer, and I wondered why he’d stayed out in the kitchen while it cooked, if he was just nervous, or if he wanted me to think he’d made it himself. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘It looks lovely.’
We sat in silence again, watching the film and eating the pizza, and this time, I found myself laughing as much as he did. By the time it was over, I felt relaxed, happier than I had in a long time, and as I got my bag and made my way to the door, I thought that maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea at all.
35
I was spending more and more time with Jacob, going to his house almost every evening after work. When I did go home, Sasha and Kimberley would ask me more questions about my mystery man, but I refused to answer and played along as if it was all a big game.
But the thing was, I kind of enjoyed Jacob’s company. It was easy just sitting there night after night, watching something mindless with someone who didn’t judge me. The time I spent with him, at his place, was the happiest I’d been for a long time, as surprising as it seemed. Maybe it was just being somewhere new or getting out of the flat that was starting to suffocate me. Me and the girls had been living on top of each other for too long, it was nice to have some space. Or maybe it was the feeling of purpose I had at Jacob’s. I started to think maybe Jacob could offer more than just somewhere to go when I wanted to hide. Besides, Jacob needed the company as much, if not more, than I did.
I’d offered to cook, an actual home cooked meal for a change, instead of something from the freezer, the night I planned to stay at Jacob’s for the first time. I thought it might seem odd to Sasha and Kimberley that I never spent the night with my boyfriend, so I figured a sleepover would get them off my back. I was pretty sure Jacob wanted me to stay, there’d been signals for a while, even if he never said anything outright. And while I’d been there the last few times, I’d tidied up a bit here and there, cleaned the bathroom while Jacob went to the shops for wine because I’d refused to drink his cheap lager, and, while he showed me the elaborate toy railway he had set up in his bedroom, I accidentally dropped orange juice on the bed so I had an excuse to change the sheets.
That night, as we sat at the kitchen table, Jacob told me about the meals his mum used to make for him, that her Sunday dinners were the best thing in the world. ‘I miss her,’ he said, and then shovelled a roast potato into his mouth. I leaned across the table and put my hand on his. ‘This is the first proper dinner I’ve had since she’s gone.’
‘I remember your mum,’ I said. ‘She was really nice to me when I came to your party. Do you remember that?’
Jacob’s face darkened, and I wondered if it’d been a mistake reminding him of that awful day. It couldn’t have been a good memory for him. But he smiled slowly and said, ‘You were the only one who stayed. I never forgot that.’
I didn’t tell him that I only stayed because I was trapped there, waiting for Mum to come and get me, or that I’d hated every minute of it. And I didn’t remind him about what’d happened at school afterwards. Instead, I piled more food onto his plate, and he nodded his thanks.
‘It’s so hard, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘What?’
‘Looking after our parents.’ I sighed and put down my knife and fork. ‘It’s awful seeing my mum like that. Sometimes I can’t even bear to go and see her.’ I looked him in the eye. ‘Is that a terrible thing to say?’
‘No,’ he said but looked down at his plate and forked a carrot.
‘Do you get lonely?’ I asked, and he shrugged. It was like getting blood out of a stone at times. I wanted to know all about him, about his life, his friends, where he went, who he saw. As far as I could tell, or as far as he’d let on, there was nothing in his life.
‘Maybe you need to do something,’ I said, and Jacob looked across the table at me.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, I know you looked after your mum for a while. But she’s not here now, so maybe you need to get out and do something. Find a job. Something to take your mind off things.’
Jacob looked down at his plate and pushed some carrots around in the gravy. ‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘What do you like doing?’
‘My trains.’
‘There must be something else.’
He shrugged. ‘Watching films,’ he said.
‘Okay. What about the cinema, then? You could see if they have any jobs going there.’
‘Maybe,’ he mumbled and stuffed some more meat into his mouth.
‘What about friends?’
‘What about them?’
‘You must have some. Do you go out with them at all?’
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I used to go down the pub a lot, but I don’t really see anyone these days. You’re the first person I’ve talked to for ages.’
‘You must talk to other people.’
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Everything’s online these days. All my bills and that. Even at the shops, you don’t have to see anyone, just go on them machines and you’re done. I don’t even go to the post office anymore for my giro, it goes straight into my bank.’
‘But you must go to the job centre, right. To sign on.’
‘Yeah, but they don’t talk to you. They just talk at you.’
I couldn’t tell whether Jacob was sad about all this, or if he was glad of the lack of human contact, that he could just disappear into his own world which revolved around watching film after film or staring at model trains.
‘What about your neighbours? Do you see them?’
‘Not really. I never talk to them, anyway,’ he said.
‘Have you thought about moving?’ I asked.
‘Moving?’ he said as if it was the strangest thing on earth. ‘Why would I move?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘For a change of scenery.’ I put my knife and fork down and took his hand again. ‘Maybe we could…’
‘We could what?’
I watched him carefully, trying to work out what he was thinking. ‘No, it doesn’t matter,’ I said, and he frowned. I started eating again.
‘What were you going to say?’ Jacob asked, and I shook my head.
‘Nothing. Eat your tea.’ We sat in silence until we’d finished eating, and then, I moved the plates, rinsing them, hoping that Jacob would see that was a better idea than leaving them to fester. When I was done, we went through to the living room, and Jacob dug through his DVD collection finding something to watch that night.
‘How would you feel about me staying tonight?’ I asked while his back was turned. He stopped rummaging and looked at me.
‘Here?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘You want to stay here. With me?’
Yes,’ I said, and wondered what he meant by with me.
Jacob put down the DVDs and came over to me. ‘I’d really like that,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ I said, and
we stood there in front of each other, neither of us knowing what to do next. I wondered if it was a good idea suggesting I stay over, if he was going to get the wrong idea. I needed to set boundaries. But Jacob was already on the wrong track. He pressed his body into mine, his hand went to the back of my head and pushed my face back into his, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
The taste of cigarettes was so overpowering, I almost gagged, but he let me go, and I took a breath of clean air. ‘Jacob, I have to go to the bathroom,’ I said, and left the room as quickly as I could, slamming the door behind me.
I stared in the mirror and saw how red my face was. How had I let this happen? How had I not considered he might react like that to me saying I wanted to spend the night? Just because Jacob never had a girlfriend at school, it didn’t mean he was asexual. He was a grown man. Why wouldn’t he think I was coming on to him? I needed to leave.
There was a knock at the door. ‘Are you all right, Polly?’ he asked.
‘I’ll be out in a minute.’
I waited until I heard him walk away, and then, I tried to remember where I’d left my bag, if I could get to it easily. I left the bathroom and snuck to the kitchen without him seeing me. I found my phone and took it out, walking back to the living room with it in my hand. I stopped in the doorway.
‘I have to go,’ I said and he looked confused. ‘The hospital rang. It’s my mum.’
He stood up and came over to me. ‘I can come with you.’
‘No,’ I said, and started walking to the door, pulling my coat on. ‘It’s okay. I’ll speak to you later.’ I pulled the front door open and felt Jacob’s hand on my shoulder. ‘I’ll see you later,’ I said again, and he leaned down and kissed me, this time more gently.
I rushed away down the street, and as I got around the corner, out of his sight, I stopped and sat on a wall, gagging at the lingering taste of cigarettes in my mouth. I suddenly hated myself for getting into this, hated Jacob for what he’d done. I hated everyone at that moment and knew that Mum was right, and I had to start looking out for myself. Whatever it took.
No Place Like Home_a gripping psychological thriller Page 13