36
Phil starts picking things up, showing them to Jacob, and then smashing them, tearing them, doing whatever he can to destroy my belongings. I lie there, listening to the destruction, wishing for the millionth time I’d never met Jacob, that I’d never been so stupid to feel sorry for him. Not back at school and certainly not now. He was a monster, and I should’ve seen it.
I see Phil is by the window with his back to me. Jacob is staring at his friend. I try to work out how long it would take for me to get to the door, if I could stand up and make a run for it before they got to me. But I’m hurt. I can barely feel my legs, my ribs are sore, maybe even broken, my face is throbbing and my vision blurred. How likely is it I can even get up without them noticing, never mind make it out of the room, down the hall and to the door, which I try to remember if I locked when I came in.
I still try though, thinking it can’t get any worse. I get to my knees and start crawling to the door. I get barely six inches before Phil turns and sees me.
‘No you fucking don’t,’ he says, and strides over, his heel of his boot slamming into my back, forcing me to the floor again. He bends over and picks me up as if I’m a rag doll and throws me onto the settee.
I start laughing. I’m hysterical now. I can’t believe this is happening to me, that I’m trapped in my own home with these men intent in hurting me, and yet I know I’m not dreaming because the pain is too real, the fear is too strong.
‘Shut up,’ Phil shouts at me, but I keep laughing and it seems to freak him out. He turns to Jacob, who comes over and looks at me like I’m some exotic animal in a zoo. He’s unsure what to make of me.
‘Stop it, or I’ll really hurt you,’ Phil says, and I laugh some more.
‘You’ve already really hurt me. Maybe you should just kill me instead,’ I say, and he looks at Jacob again. He’s starting to look worried, and I think maybe this is it. Maybe they’ll stop if I keep going. I laugh louder, forcing it out. Screaming it at the top of my lungs.
‘Shut up!’ Phil shouts again and then storms out of the room, leaving me with Jacob. I wonder if I could overpower him now he’s alone, but I know I can’t. I’ve felt his strength before. I can’t overpower him, but maybe I can force him to leave. I stand up, legs unsteady, and get in his face. He steps back at first, looking out of the room, hoping Phil is coming back to sort his problems for him.
‘What’s the matter?’ I say, forcing him into a corner. ‘Can’t handle me on your own?’
I realise I’m right. Jacob doesn’t know what to do. I don’t need to be physically stronger than him I can beat him with my words, with my brain.
‘You need your little friend to help sort me out because you’re scared of a woman?’ I say, and shove his chest.
And then, he grabs the tops of my arms, squeezing until it hurts. ‘Stop it,’ he says.
‘Make me,’ I say, and he does.
He lets go of my arms and aims his fist towards the centre of my face.
I wake and find myself lying on the floor in the living room. My head aches, my jaw feels funny. My tongue explores my mouth and finds a gap where a tooth used to be.
‘Look who’s awake,’ Phil says, and crouches in front of me. I reach up to my face. It feels swollen, tacky with drying blood. ‘I don’t know what you said to him,’ Phil says with a smile, ‘but he really went to town on your face.’
I turn my head slightly, seeing myself in the reflection of the TV cabinet. The glass distorts my image, but I can see the damage anyway. I can see what Jacob has done to me. I look to my right and see Jacob sitting on the settee, head in his hands, his knee bouncing up and down.
‘You should know better than to get on the wrong side of Jacob,’ Phil says, and looks at his friend with pride.
‘Just let me go,’ I say. ‘You’ve got what you wanted.’
‘Have we?’
‘Just let me go,’ I say. ‘You’ll never see me again.’
Phil sits back and spreads his arms wide, taking in the room. ‘You’re damn right. You’re out of here. This is gonna be my home, ain’t that right, Jacob? It’s gonna be me and you. Just like the old days.’
Jacob looks at his feet, and I wonder if that was the deal – come and help me terrorize my ex and you can have a roof over your head, rent free – or if Phil is just being presumptuous. He looks to Jacob again. ‘So, what do you say, mate? You want to keep her a bit longer, or do you think she’s got the picture?’
I look at Jacob, too, and he finally looks up at us, and I think he looks guilty for what he’s done, that he knows he’s gone too far. ‘Please, Jacob,’ I say, and he stares at me, at the mess he’s made of me. ‘Please. Why are you doing this?’
He jumps off the settee and is in front of me before I know it. I try to move back, but I’m against the wall. ‘Because this is my house, Polly!’ Jacob says. ‘You stole it from me!’
37
Jacob seemed surprised to see me when I showed up at his place the next night. I’d been ignoring his calls, unsure what to do next. I’d been so sure the night before that I should go ahead with it, that moving in with him was the right thing to do, but every time I thought about him, every time I pictured his hands on me, I felt sick, a creeping dread wrapped around me like poison ivy.
But by the time I’d finished work, I knew I had to do it, I had to go and see him and make things right. It wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t the way I’d always dreamed of, but desperate times and all that. I had a choice between going home and staying a renter forever or going to Jacob’s and putting up with him. Jacob might’ve felt like the worse option at that point, but he was also a way out, a stepping stone to something better. The only way to make things better.
I bought a couple of bottles of wine on the way over and then stopped at the pizza shop closest to his place. I couldn’t bear another one of his own inventions, usually something involving tinned spaghetti on top of something else. I had to draw a line somewhere.
I knocked, shifting the pizza box to the same arm as the plastic bag with the wine. The plastic dug into my hand, the heat from the pizza started to burn my wrist. Finally, Jacob answered and picked up the pizza box, leaving the wine for me to bring inside. I followed him to the living room, trying not to step on the trains which were spread out across the floor. He stood there, holding the pizza box against his belly. ‘I didn’t think you’d come,’ he said, and I wondered if he realised he’d done something wrong the night before. ‘Is your mum okay?’
‘She’s fine,’ I said.
‘You didn’t answer your phone today. I thought maybe something had happened to her.’
He put the pizza down and came over, putting his arms around me. His clothes smelt musty, as if they hadn’t been washed in a long time, and my stomach turned, though I doubted it was all down to the smell. I wondered again whether it was all worth it in the end.
I backed out of his embrace and picked up the pizza box. ‘I’ll get some plates,’ I said, and carried it out to the kitchen. Jacob had thought it was odd that I wanted to eat takeaway pizza from plates the first time I suggested it. But he’d come around to my way of thinking soon enough. He was malleable in all sorts of ways.
We sat and watched a film as we ate, even though Jacob had obviously seen it a hundred times and I didn’t care. When we were done, I took the plates and started the washing up.
‘You don’t need to do that,’ Jacob said, but I ignored him and continued. If I did the dishes as soon as we finished every meal, perhaps he’d respond like Pavlov’s dog and start doing it himself.
When I’d finished with the dishes, I took another glass of wine through to the living room, and Jacob searched for another DVD. As he did, I looked around, thinking again of what I would change, the few things I might keep the same if I lived there. ‘What about this one?’ he asked, and I nodded without taking any notice of what it was. They were all the same to me.
He came over and sat closer to me than he normally did. I
made sure I never put down the wine glass, but I could tell he was wanting to move in closer, was wanting to pick up where he’d left off the night before.
About halfway through the film, I realised he’d edged right up to me, his arm had gone around my shoulder, inch by inch, as if we were teenagers on our first date. It almost made me laugh. My wine glass was empty now, so I had no reason to keep hold of it, but I clung on anyway. I could feel the warmth from Jacob’s body, I could hear his breath close to my ear. I didn’t turn to him or respond in any way. My eyes were fixed on the TV.
Jacob leaned in closer, one hand resting on my shoulder. He tried to kiss me, but I refused to turn my face to him, thinking he’d get the hint. But subtlety wasn’t Jacob’s strong point and he kept on trying.
Finally, I gave in and turned. His lips brushed mine and I thought about getting up and refilling my glass but instead I decided I needed to take charge of the situation before it got out of hand. ‘Jacob,’ I said, and pulled back as far as I could.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘It’s just…’ I wriggled free of his arms and put the glass on the table. ‘It’s just…’ I turned and faced him and looked him up and down. ‘You smell.’
He frowned at me and said, ‘I smell? Of what?’ He lifted his T-shirt to his face and inhaled. ‘Fags?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I think it’s your clothes. When did you last wash them?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, maybe it’s time they went in for a wash,’ I said.
He looked a little hurt but nodded. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow,’ he said, and reached for my hand.
‘Maybe you could do it now. Put a wash on and then have a shower,’ I said, wondering if he’d understand the implication. Although that was all it was. I had no intention of following through.
Jacob looked behind him, as if he could see through the wall to the kitchen, to the washing machine. But he didn’t move. I started wondering if he even knew how to use it.
‘Do you want me to do it?’ I asked, and he looked at his feet, embarrassed. ‘I don’t mind,’ I said.
‘Okay,’ he said and started to strip. ‘My mum used to do my washing.’ I nodded and wondered how long it’d been since he’d had anything cleaned. He was down to his boxers but seemed reluctant to take them off in front of me, suddenly shy. I gathered up the pile of clothes and smiled.
‘Go and get in the shower,’ I said. ‘Leave your pants outside the door, and I’ll put the washer on.’
I waited until I heard the bathroom door close and then went to his bedroom and dug around, finding dirty clothes thrown all over the place. I picked up as much as I could, knowing it’d take a few washes to get it all done.
I could hear the shower running and guessed that Jacob probably didn’t take long showers, a quick rinse would be enough. I knew I should get the washing in quickly so I could go back to the living room. But the temptation was too much. In all the times I’d been to his place, I’d never had the chance to really snoop around.
I opened a door and found the bedroom of an elderly lady, perfectly preserved, not a thing seemed out of place. I wondered if she’d died there. I couldn’t remember Jacob telling me exactly what’d happened, only that she’d been ill for a while. I could smell a hint of perfume, preserved, thanks to closed windows and doors and a lack of cleaning. It was the same perfume she’d worn all those years ago.
The water stopped running, and I took the washing and ran down the stairs, stuffing it into the machine, scrambling around for washing powder. Once it was in, I lay down on the settee and closed my eyes, listening to Jacob move about upstairs. I wondered if he’d actually have anything clean to put back on, but for now I didn’t care. He wasn’t going to touch me again tonight. Instead, I just lay there thinking about the house I was in, the house I’d visited all those years ago and coveted with a vicious envy. I’d thought back then that people like Jacob and his mum didn’t deserve such a place, and maybe it’d been wrong, maybe I’d been too judgemental. But things were different now. His mum was gone, and Jacob couldn’t take care of himself. So, really, it was for his benefit as much as mine.
I heard him come into the room. Could tell he was standing over me. ‘Polly,’ he said softly.
I ignored him, pretended as best I could to be asleep, the same way I used to do when Mum would come in my room when it was time for something I didn’t want to do. Pretend to be asleep and if that didn’t work, pretend to be ill.
‘Polly,’ he said again, this time putting his hand on my shoulder and shaking me. I let out a little moan, a sleepy acknowledgement. He sighed, and I heard him walk away. I opened one eye a crack and saw he was naked. Not shy anymore. I closed my eyes again and lay there, praying he wouldn’t keep trying to wake me. I heard his foot fall on the creaky floorboard by the door and knew he was back. Leave me alone. And then, he draped a blanket over me. It smelled musty too but more like it had been stuffed in the back of a cupboard too long than unclean.
‘Night, night,’ he whispered and turned off the light.
I heard him climb the stairs and felt relief wash over me. I knew I might as well stay there, that lying on the settee, unmolested, would be all right. I wondered if I could do it forever, just never go back to the flat again. I didn’t want to be there anymore, didn’t want to be part of that childish group, couldn’t stand the way Sasha looked at me every time some bloke she fancied flirted with me. It was hardly my fault, was it?
I lay there in the dark, thinking of good excuses for not letting him touch me again and how I could reconcile that with getting what I wanted. Because one way or another, I was going to be living in the house.
38
The next morning, I left before Jacob got up, leaving him a note apologising for the night before, saying how tired I was what with work and Mum and all that. I said I’d come over again that night if he wanted me to.
When I turned on my phone, I had a couple of messages from Sasha telling me that the rent was due and could I transfer the money as soon as possible as the landlord was giving her grief because he couldn’t get hold of me. I put my phone back in my bag and headed out. I’d cancelled my rent payment as soon as I knew I’d be moving in with Jacob. It just seemed easier than trying to get it back later.
I walked to the bus stop thinking I’d have to stop by the flat on the way home from work to get some clean clothes. But going after work would mean seeing the girls, and I didn’t want to get into an argument about rent, so I crossed the road to get a bus in the other direction.
As I stood at the bus stop, I called work, telling my boss I had an emergency dentist appointment and would be a little late. I said I could always make up the time later, but I knew I never would. Janet was soft. Too soft to be a manager. People were always taking advantage of her.
I crept in to the flat just in case one of the girls was skiving off work, but it was all quiet, the only thing I could hear was the buzzing from the fridge and the annoying drip from the kitchen tap that no one had bothered to fix. I went to my room and found a bag, stuffing in enough clothes, underwear and toiletries for a few days away. I made sure I took some tampons too, just in case. Before I left, I looked around, making sure there was nothing I’d forgotten. I checked the mail from the day before but there was nothing interesting, just a letter to apply for a credit card that I couldn’t afford to get.
I checked the fridge and found a bottle of wine chilling. I took it out and put it into my holdall and then rummaged in the cupboards and found a new bottle of ketchup. I hated the stuff but knew Jacob had run out so I slid that in, too, to save me going to the shops later.
After work, I got the bus straight to Jacob’s. I was starving as I hadn’t eaten much all day after someone asked me about the dentist, and I’d had to keep up the charade by remembering to stick to yogurt and cups of tea and rubbing my jaw constantly.
I considered stopping at the pizza shop again, but I wa
s tired of pizza and wanted something different. Instead, I got off and walked to the corner shop, buying everything I’d need to make coq au vin. It cost a fortune, but I knew Jacob was unlikely to have any of the ingredients already. I knocked on the door and he took a while to answer. When he finally let me in, I handed him the bags of shopping and my holdall to keep his hands busy.
We walked through to the kitchen, and I started unpacking the food. Jacob stood watching, fascinated. ‘I’m going to make coq au vin,’ I said. ‘Go and sit down.’
‘I can help,’ he said.
‘No. That’s okay.’ I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He stood a moment longer and then left the kitchen. When I’d finished and there was nothing to do but wait, I poured two glasses of wine and went through to the living room. He was playing with one of his toys and looked engrossed.
‘Here,’ I said, and he took the glass but looked at it suspiciously. I went back to the kitchen and got my holdall and brought it through.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, the glass of wine abandoned on the table, untouched.
‘I just thought I’d bring a few things, some fresh clothes, toiletries. You don’t mind, do you? I just thought if I’m going to stay over…’
‘I don’t mind,’ he said.
I gulped half of my wine and nodded to his. ‘Don’t you like it?’
He picked up his glass and sipped some, his face creasing. ‘No, it’s nice,’ he said, and put it down again. He was a terrible liar.
After we’d eaten, Jacob made another move, draping his arms over my shoulders. I smiled at him and then asked an inane question about the film he’d put on, distracting him for a few minutes. Then, I went and refilled my glass. After that, I excused myself to go to the toilet. I stayed up there a little while, cleaning the toilet and sink as best I could while I waited. He came up and knocked on the door after ten minutes and asked if I was all right.
No Place Like Home_a gripping psychological thriller Page 14