“I’ll come with you.” Jacob began following his father down the stairs.
“No, you won’t. Go back to your room. What kind of a father do you think I am?”
“But if there’s two of us –” No, he wouldn’t get drawn into his father’s imaginings; it would only make him more convinced there was something to be afraid of. “How about I make you –” was it too soon to suggest milk or cocoa? “I don’t want you wandering around in the dark on your own. I’m coming with you.”
“You’re such a good lad. I love you, Jacob. You know that, don’t you?”
He was so tired, that was the trouble. “I know, Dad. I love you too.” When he was this tired, he was helpless to stop the tears.
“Hey, don’t cry.” His father’s arm went around his shoulders, and he had to clench his jaw to keep himself from howling. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong at school? Wait. What was that? Did you hear that? There’s someone upstairs.”
They must have woken Ella. If she’d stay in her room, she’d be safe. His father never looked behind that door. But what if he did? “Dad, I know who it is.” How could he have left her out there on the cliff? What was the matter with him? “It’s Ella, she’s staying here, remember?”
“Stay here and keep quiet. I’ll go and see.”
“Dad, please, it’s Ella –”
His father shook him off with the strength that still took him by surprise, and strode ahead up the stairs, down the corridor towards Ella’s room. Jacob scrambled after him, slipping on the stairs and whacking his shin painfully against the bare wood, stumbling to his feet just in time to hear his father’s glad incredulous shout: “Jacob! Why didn’t you tell me – ? You didn’t say you had a girlfriend. Why didn’t you say? I’m sorry, pet, my rude son didn’t bother to let me know you were coming. Nice to meet you. I’m afraid I don’t know your name yet.”
Ella looked pale and confused. She had borrowed one of his hoodies as an improvised dressing gown. “I’m Ella.”
“Nice to meet you, Ella. Are you staying for dinner? Jacob, you should have said she was coming round.”
“Dad, it’s the middle of the night – you’re right, I should have asked first.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can feed one extra. I’ll see what we’ve got in.” He bustled off down the hallway. “Wait here.”
“Ella.” He wanted to hug her tight, settled instead for tidying her, brushing her hair away from her face, straightening the hoodie on her shoulders. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I’ll sort him out.”
“Is it because I’m here? Did I wake him?”
“No, he does this most nights, it’s not you, I promise. I’ll get him settled in a minute. You go back to bed.”
“Jacob?” His father loomed suddenly behind his shoulder. “Just looking for… I can’t seem to… She’s just… I saw her… Jacob, where’s your mum got to?”
He felt dizzy. This was the one thing his father never asked.
“Dad.” What could he say? “She’s – she’s not here.”
“I can see that, thank you. I’m asking where she is?” His father’s sense that there was something amiss with his world was beginning to bloom once more. “Where’s she got to? I don’t want her going out alone, do you hear? I’m not having it! All the trouble I’ve gone to getting us here in the first place, and what’s the first thing she does?”
“She won’t be long. She’s probably gone out for a bit.”
“Well, she shouldn’t have! I don’t want her going off by herself, I’ve told her and told her and told her. My God, all the times we’ve had this conversation – no, don’t you try and stop me, Jacob, I’m going to find her – where are you? I know you’re in here somewhere, come on!”
His father’s voice was like a peal of bells clanging in his head. He could hardly look at Ella. That conversation – that argument, really – they’d had on the cliff-top. I don’t want her going off by herself. But it was his father’s illness speaking, not his memories; it had to be. There was no way Ella, at six, could have seen something he had missed at sixteen. If only his dad would shut up so he could explain this. If only he could get his father to go back to sleep.
“He really does this every night?” Ella looked shaken. “How do you stand it?”
“I’m used to it.” Somewhere downstairs, there was the sound of crashing. “Go back to bed, I’ll sort him out.”
“No, let me help.”
He took the stairs three at a time. His father was in the kitchen, knocking over the kitchen chairs so he could look under the table.
“Not down here,” he said vaguely. “Must have dropped it somewhere.”
“What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know! I – something – I was looking for some-thing –” His father’s bewilderment hurt his heart.
“Never mind.” Ella took his arm gently. “Don’t worry about it now. We’ll find it later.”
“She’s right, Dad, we’ll sort it out later. Shall I make us all a drink?”
“Got no chance with you two on the case, have I?” His father smiled. “Okay. Quick drink before bed. Come on, pet, we’ll go and wait in the living-room. Let Jacob do some work for a change.”
Because I don’t do enough round here already, thought Jacob, looking for the humour and finding only resentment.
He finally made it back to bed at half-past four, and fell into a heavy unrefreshing sleep. When he opened his eyes and reached for his phone, he was appalled to find it was almost nine o’clock. He flung himself into the day in a kind of sleepy panic, but his father’s room was empty, and he could hear voices downstairs. Ella, bless her heart, must have got up with him. He couldn’t believe he’d slept through. When he came downstairs, his father and sister were huddled in the kitchen like conspirators.
“And here he is,” his father said, with a wink. “Finally crawled out from your pit. Behave yourselves, you two. I’m going to get dressed. Back in a few minutes.”
His father was already dressed, but that wouldn’t matter. He would soon forget what he’d left the room for.
“You didn’t have to get up with him,” he said guiltily, as he waited for his toast to brown.
“I don’t mind. I was awake anyway.”
“Sorry Dad woke you as well. If you ignore him another time, I’ll sort him out.”
“It wasn’t that. I could hear the sea.”
Would she ever get over that old fear? He had still not apologised to her for leaving her on the cliff-top. Or would it make everything worse to drag it up again? He needed coffee, and to clear his head. Ella sat silently with him as he ate his toast.
“Do you think,” Ella said suddenly, as he stood up to put his plate in the sink, “he might sleep better if he got some fresh air?”
“I don’t know. I suppose he might do. But he’s not very keen on going outside.”
“Who’s not keen on going outside?” His father was back again. It was years since Jacob had seen him looking so purposeful. “Jacob, we both thought we should go for a walk.”
“It’s a lovely day,” Ella agreed, “the sun’s gorgeous.”
“But – um – I mean, I suppose –”
“Come on,” said their father, and patted Jacob on the back. “Get some clothes on, and let’s get this show on the road.”
Let’s get this show on the road. A phrase from their child-hoods, on the rare occasions when they went out for the day. The days themselves were usually disappointing, but the setting-off was always hopeful. Let’s get this show on the road. It must be Ella’s presence stirring the pot of his father’s memories, even if he couldn’t recognise her as his daughter. His father was struggling with his shoes, and Jacob wondered wildly if he’d outgrown them. Then he realised it was only that his father had worn nothing but slippers for months, and had forgotten the feel of rigid leather against his feet.
“These are a bit stiff,” he said. “Be all right once I’ve worn the
m in.”
“That’s right, Dad.” The shoes were scuffed and worn, the brown of the leather showing white and then grey at the toes. “Have a bit of a walk in them.”
Outside, his father set off with the purposeful air of an eager explorer. Something else new: his father taking the lead. The few times Jacob had taken him out by himself, they’d simply meandered up and down the lane for five minutes, until his father suggested it was time to head back.
“Do you remember when we’d go on days out sometimes?” he asked Ella. “About three times a year we’d go. And it took so long to actually get it organised, it felt like we were going trekking in the Andes.”
“Yes! And it was always to a ruined castle or an abbey or something. You used to read the boards out for me. There was always loads of stuff about the kitchens for some reason.”
“And when we ran out of boards I used to make it up.” Their father was striding off into the distance, head high and arms swinging. “Did I tell you once they picked the King and Queen by the colour of their hair?”
“Yes. And we couldn’t have kings and queens in charge any more because somebody discovered hair dye.”
“Shit, I did as well. You didn’t believe me, did you?”
“I loved it, it was great. Anyway, you were trying to look after me. Keep me distracted.”
“From all the boring ruins, you mean?”
“No, of course not. From Mum and Dad.”
So they were going to have to talk about yesterday after all. “Ella, listen.” He remembered how his father had looked last night, the despair and rage in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you yesterday, that was unforgiveable. But I promise you, what he said about her being missing – he says stuff like that to me too. He gets upset when I go out of the room. He can’t help it.” She was looking at him with an expression he remembered from their childhood: there was something she wanted to say to him, but she wasn’t sure if he’d let her say it. “What? Tell me.”
“Do you remember that time we went out once, and we couldn’t find Mum? He got us to look for her too. And he was trying to make it into a joke, but it wasn’t really. He was really angry. And then she came back, she’d been to buy ice-creams, but he was furious and yelled at her. And then he looked around in case anyone could hear him and he got all quiet instead. And that was the last time we went anywhere.”
“But that was once! Not all the time. He used to get angry with us sometimes too, and he wasn’t cruel to us, was he?” What could he share to remind her of how good their lives had been before? “Remember how mad he used to get with us walking slowly?”
“With me walking slowly. You used to hang back and keep me company.”
Jacob could still feel the boredom of those walks, the continual irritation of nobody’s natural pace quite matching up with anyone else’s. If he didn’t walk with Ella he’d be shouted at for leaving her behind; if he slowed to her pace they were both told off for not keeping up. Trying to explain counted as “answering back”. The bliss of being an ordinary family whose parents were ordinarily unreasonable… some-times he used to take Ella’s hand to help her catch up. His phone was buzzing in his pocket.
Why is 6 afraid of 7?
Because….7 8 9 :-D :-D :-D
- D
Hey it’s nearly lunchtime and you
haven’t read my Daily Joke yet.
You’re not dead are you? – D
“Just a mate from work,” he said, embarrassed. “Hang on.”
Sorry but yes I am dead. That joke
killed me. – J
Seriously, sorry – I slept in.
Please don’t stop sending them! – Jx
His phone buzzed again.
Only if you promise to keep
validating me by telling me how
funny I am – Dx
“Come on!” His dad turned back towards them, and with the light behind him he could have walked straight out of their childhoods. “You need to keep up!”
He was used to having to stand by his father’s side and direct every step of their few and brief forays into the outside world, but today their dad led them unhesitatingly into the village, pointing out apparent landmarks as if he was trying to convince them both to move there. (“Watch this corner, people tear round it.” “Postbox. Last pick-up five-thirty, except Saturdays when they collect at one.” “See that field there? Normally has sheep in it this time of year. Must have gone to market early.”) Was any of this true? Was his father remembering, or just making it up as he went along? Jacob had no way of knowing.
“Shop,” said his father. “Has the basics.” He yawned. “Bit of a trek though.”
They’d walked for less than ten minutes. Jacob wasn’t sure if the spasm in his throat was tears, or laughter.
“And there’s the bus stop,” his father added. “For all the good it does. Only two buses a week. You need your car round here. Did I – where did I –” he began patting his pockets. “Can’t quite remember – my memory’s like a sieve these days…”
“You were telling me about when you moved here,” said Ella. “You said it was like going to the end of the world…”
“… and turning right. And it is as well. You need a car if you’re going to live here. Couple of buses a week, but they’re for the old biddies really. The ones who don’t drive. Enough time to do their shopping and get back for tea. Not much good for people our age.”
This time, Jacob had to smile.
“Was it quiet when you moved here too?”
“Oh yes, that’s why we chose it. We were looking for somewhere a bit off the beaten track. We wanted to be quiet.” He looked around anxiously. “Jacob, have you seen –”
“Hey, Dad,” said Jacob. “Is that a buzzard over that field?”
“What? No, that’s a seagull, you fool. What was I saying?”
“You were telling me about living here,” said Ella. “You said you wanted somewhere quiet?”
“Yes, that’s right actually. You need a car to get anywhere, though. Otherwise, once you’re here, you’re here. Jacob gets the bus to school, special service that is, goes through all the villages and rounds them all up, but you need a car if you’re working.” His eyes were still pointing towards Ella, but his concentration had turned inwards, that familiar searching look that came when he began to suspect there was something dreadfully wrong with his universe. His hands fumbled at his pockets. “We didn’t drive here, did we?”
“No, Dad,” said Jacob. “We walked. Remember?”
“Where are my car keys, though? I always have the keys in my pocket. I don’t like leaving them around. I don’t want her going off in the car, you see. She’s not supposed to be – where the hell are my bloody car keys? Jacob, my car keys were here a minute ago. Have you been playing around with them?”
“We didn’t drive here, Dad, we walked. Look at that crow, I think it’s found a dead rabbit –”
“I always have the keys, though. I never leave my keys lying around. Jacob, you’ve taken my bloody keys.”
“No, I haven’t, Dad, I promise. We didn’t drive here. We walked. You didn’t need your keys because we walked.”
“But I always have my keys with me! Always! Because if I leave them around, she’s liable to – and I’m not having – oh shit, where are they, fuck fuck fuck, where are they…” His eyes were wild. “She’s going to leave me. She’s going to find the keys and leave me.”
“Dad, let’s go home. Maybe you left them at home.”
“Not without my keys!”
“What sort of car is it?” Ella asked. “Can you remember what it looks like?”
“What?” His father turned his face towards Ella. “I’m sorry, pet, do we know you?”
“I’m Ella.”
“Of course you are. You’re Jacob’s young lady friend, I remember, it’s your name I wasn’t sure of. It’s lovely to meet you. We’re having a bit of a crisis here though, my stupid son has lost my c
ar keys and –”
“They’ll be at home, Dad. Shall we head off? Hey, and there’s a buzzard round here apparently, we might see it on the way back.”
His father glared at Jacob. “You shouldn’t have touched my keys.”
“Shall we walk back?” Ella asked. “You were telling me about what it’s like to live here. When did you move here?”
“Maybe I left them on the kitchen table,” he said. “Better get back and find them. Can’t leave them lying around.” He glared again at Jacob. “You need to start looking after things properly, do you hear me? So help me God, if those keys are lost…”
“We’ll find them, Dad,” said Jacob wearily.
“We’d better.” He was already turning towards home. “Come on.”
How could the day turn so bleak so quickly? The way back was a dark rewinding of the walk out; their father still in front, still urging them on, but with all the light gone from his expression. Within a few minutes, the idea of the lost keys slipped from his faulty grasp, leaving only the shattering sense of something precious that was gone now, and would never be recovered. Jacob had to kneel in the long grass and pat his father’s back as he sobbed hopelessly into his hands.
“He can’t help it,” he said to Ella, over the top of their father’s head.
“I know.”
His father’s whole body shuddered with grief. Jacob wrestled with his own self-pity. Why was he stuck in this life with this man who was long past being any sort of real parent? Why was he the one giving all the comfort?
“Come on, Dad,” he said, his voice sharp despite his best intentions. “Stop it now. We need to get home.” His father mumbled something and hunched further over into himself. “Never mind that now. Please get up. Oh, come on, please, this isn’t fair. We don’t want to sit here all day. Stop talking rubbish and get up!” He pulled at his father’s arm, knowing it was useless. His dad’s mind had gone but his body was still strong. He had more chance of pulling his arm out of its socket than he had of getting him to his feet when he didn’t want to.
Underwater Breathing Page 17