by Cathy Glass
‘No worries, mate. I have to fill up with petrol, there’s a cash machine at the filling station.’
He sat back and enjoyed the journey; he was really looking forward to seeing Gary and his boss Craig again after the last time. He could have caught the bus; the showroom wasn’t far. But a cab was far more comfortable and in keeping with his style. The driver pulled up onto the forecourt of Grange Motors soon after 9.30. Jacob paid him, added a decent tip and then strolled up the forecourt and in through the glass doors of the main entrance. The showroom had only just opened and he was the only customer. He spotted wanker Gary straightaway and Gary saw him. So too did his arsehole manager Craig. Clearly anticipating trouble, it was Craig who came over, drawing himself to his full height and touching the middle button on his jacket as he approached.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ he asked straight-faced and eyeballing Jacob.
‘I want to buy a car,’ Jacob said.
There was a short pause as Craig snorted air in through his nostrils before speaking. ‘If I’m not mistaken, I believe you were in not that long ago and we discussed your situation then.’
‘And my situation has changed,’ Jacob said. ‘I want to buy a car, a decent one, and I’ll be paying with cash.’ He could see wanker Gary watching from the other side. ‘Using my debit card,’ he added. ‘The money is in my current account. Check if you like.’
Another short pause. ‘That won’t be necessary.’ No, of course he couldn’t risk losing business. ‘What type of car did you have in mind?’
‘Not sure yet, I was hoping you could help me choose.’ He was going to make him work for his money.
‘And your budget?’
‘Around fifteen grand,’ Jacob said and watched his reaction. A definite shift in attitude.
He signalled to Gary to come over, explaining that as the manager he wasn’t involved in actually selling the cars but left that to his staff, which suited Jacob fine. Wanker Gary would be doing the work and showing him some respect while he did it.
‘Would you take care of this gentleman?’ Craig said to Gary as he joined them. Gentleman was it now, Jacob thought. He liked the sound of that. Just showed what a bit of money could do. ‘His budget is fifteen grand,’ Craig said. ‘He’s not sure what he wants so show him around.’ Then turning to Jacob, ‘If you can’t find what you’re looking for on the forecourt we can check online with our other garages, then arrange to have the car brought here.’
‘Excellent,’ Jacob said, enjoying his new-found attentiveness; rather different from last time!
Craig gave him a comradely tap on his shoulder and returned to his office from which he could see most of the showroom and some of the forecourt outside.
Jacob stood squarely in front of Gary and looked at him expectantly. Gary was clearly struggling and would probably rather have been shovelling pig shit than selling him a car.
‘Well?’ Jacob asked.
‘What type of car are you looking for?’
‘Not sure yet, so do as your manager told you and show me some.’ He saw Gary’s mouth twitch as though a retort was trying to get out. ‘Pardon?’
‘Nothing. This way,’ he said stiffly and led the way outside and to the first row of cars on the forecourt. ‘Do you have any idea of the make, model, or engine size you want?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Do you want petrol or diesel?’
‘Not sure yet,’ Jacob shrugged.
‘Manual or automatic?’
‘Open to either really.’
‘Any preference in colour or the number of doors?’
‘No, not yet. So tell me about them and then I can make up my mind.’ He was going to enjoy this. There must be a hundred cars on the forecourt and he began walking around the first.
Gary hesitated, guessing he was probably being made a fool of but aware if he was there was nothing he could do about it. With his face set in an expression of salesman’s professionalism he began telling Jacob about the car he was now looking at. Once he’d finished, Jacob shrugged.
‘It’s not really what I want,’ he said, and moved to the next one. ‘What about this one?’
Gary went into his spiel again and talked about the make, model, engine capacity of the car and why it was a popular choice. As before Jacob showed interest until he’d finished and then with a shrug said, ‘Nah, not for me,’ before moving on to the next.
So they continued along the first row of cars and then began on the second row, when Jacob suddenly stopped; something had caught his eye.
‘Isn’t that the car I wanted when I was in here before?’ he said, pointing to one in the row behind.
‘Yes. Would you like to see it?’ Gary asked enthusiastically. ‘It’s in your price range.’
Jacob thought for far longer than was necessary as Gary waited expectantly. ‘Nah, I don’t think so. You’ve got plenty of others here for me to see.’
Gary’s irritation was palpable but to his credit he concentrated on his sales pitch and explained in a fairly amicable tone the selling points of the car Jacob was now showing an interest in. He listened, nodded and then asked a couple of questions as though he might really be considering buying it, but then shrugged and said, ‘Nah, it’s not for me.’ And moved to the next.
Presently he grew bored with simply looking at the cars and said he wanted to test-drive his favourites.
‘I’ll need to see your driving licence,’ Gary said, clearly hoping he hadn’t brought it with him.
With a self-satisfied flourish Jacob produced his licence. The look on Gary’s face was priceless as he took it to the office to be photocopied. An hour later he’d test-driven three cars and it was nearly twelve o’clock. He’d been here for two and a half hours and was tired of wanker Gary. He was hungry and had yet to find a new supplier for his weed. He’d had enough fun for one day, so he pointed to the car he’d originally wanted on his first visit to the garage. ‘I’ll take that one,’ he said.
‘The one you chose last time?’ Gary asked incredulously, looking at him. Jacob nodded. ‘But I asked you at the start if you wanted to see it.’
‘Yes, but I hadn’t decided then. Give me a good price and the deal is done. Come on, cheer up mate, just think of your commission.’ And slapping him heartily on the back, Jacob led the way inside. He was even with Gary now, which left just Chez to sort out.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It felt good being behind the wheel again, very good indeed. It was a powerful motor and in his favourite colour, black – black bodywork, seats, dashboard and upholstery, which seemed to add to the power and a sense of control. Black was definitely his colour now.
He’d got a good deal too, the price lowered by another £500 after he’d pointed out that the car hadn’t exactly been snapped up as it had been there at his first visit. Gary hadn’t had the authority to lower the price so he’d done the deal with the manager. Yet even as he’d finalized the deal he could see they both doubted he really did have the money. So when the bank called back to verify the purchase – standard practice on any transaction over £5,000 – he got a huge kick from seeing the looks of thinly masked surprise on their faces. That showed them!
Gary had come onto the forecourt to give him the keys and see him off, and before he’d driven away Jacob had lowered the window and said, ‘You need to get rid of all your shit, man. I can smell it from here.’ He saw Gary give him the middle finger in his rear-view mirror so he slammed the car into reverse and drove back, making Gary jump out of the way. Great fun. The wanker. He’d left in a blaze of tyre noise and burning rubber, his image and credibility restored. Now to get his weed.
He stopped off at the fast food drive-thru, bought a burger, fries and a Coke and ate them as he drove. He felt he’d had a satisfactory morning and the day promised to get better. As the road widened into a dual carriageway between the towns he put his foot hard down on the accelerator to see what the car could do. She met the challenge: eighty, ninety,
ninety-five miles per hour. The adrenalin rush from the speed raised his mood further. He had to swerve to avoid an oncoming motorbike. ‘Up yours!’ he yelled out of his window.
Yes, the car was performing well. Big, powerful and dark was the new him, it matched his image and street cred. Rosie would be impressed. Women liked powerful dominant men, even independent women like Rosie. He hadn’t asked if he could stay with her. He’d just assumed that’s what would happen. She’d be fine with it after last night. He smiled at the thought of banging Rosie again; he’d done a good job, despite his injuries, and he’d do even better tonight. Make her scream and beg for more, unlike Eloise who didn’t know what she was missing. Silly cow.
Throwing the empty food cartons out of his car window, Jacob ramped up the music and drove like a bat out of hell. Ten minutes later he slowed the car as he entered the outskirts of the town and speed cameras appeared. He continued to Southdrive estate, a well-known hot spot for drugs, crime and the disaffected. He parked on the edge of the estate and waited. A woman with three kids walked past, then an old guy with a dog, not the type of people he was looking for. But it wasn’t long before three teenage boys sauntered towards him, low-rise jeans, hoodies and obviously NEETs – not in employment, education or training. Perfect. He watched them approach, then as they neared the car he lowered his window.
‘Hey.’ They paused. ‘You know where I can buy a smoke?’
They looked at him carefully, standing a couple of feet from the car and clearly trying to decide if he was a plain-clothes cop. ‘Why?’ the tallest and probably the eldest asked.
‘I’m looking for some.’
‘What makes you think we know where you can get it? It’s illegal, man.’ They laughed.
Jacob laughed too. ‘I’m sure smart boys like you know where I can buy a smoke. I’m clean out.’
The eldest looked around, checking for anyone watching. ‘OK. Come with us.’
Jacob shook his head. ‘Nah.’ They would know he had money on him if he’d come to buy and could mug him just as Chez had. ‘Bring it here. I can wait.’
The lad shrugged, said something under his breath to the others, and then they all walked away. Jacob wasn’t sure if they were going to get him the stuff or not. If they didn’t return he could always ask someone else, there’d be plenty selling on this estate. But five minutes later they reappeared, now with a fourth guy. He pressed the internal locking system as they approached the car and then lowered his window again. The new guy stepped forward.
‘Taco,’ he said, offering his hand for shaking through the open window.
‘Jay,’ Jacob said.
‘You want a smoke?’
‘Yes. I’m out.’
Taco lifted his jacket to show him the goods, and a minute later the deal was done.
‘Good doing business with you,’ he said, shaking his hand again.
‘And you,’ Jacob said.
They walked away, quickly disappearing back into the estate. Jacob tucked the packet under his seat and drove off in a screech of tyre rubber. It had gone well, he thought. Easy-peasy. He had enough for a week and Taco’s number for next time. He’d also paid £10 less than he had been paying Chez; not that the price mattered, it was the quality that counted, and Taco had promised it was good, pure stuff.
He drove from the town and, once in the countryside, parked in a lane and rolled a joint. As he sat with his window down inhaling the smoke he began to feel in a better frame of mind for going back to the Rectory. He didn’t plan on staying long, just long enough to collect fresh clothes, his meds and a few things he needed. But it was likely that at least one of his parents, perhaps both, would be in. That was the problem with having parents who didn’t work 9 to 5. Just as well he didn’t have to stay long.
His head was buzzing now and the view from the car window shimmered with a new-found vibrancy. Yes, it was good stuff as Taco had promised. Life was good. He took his time finishing the joint and then threw the butt in the ditch and set off, driving fast along the twisting country lanes, so fast that he felt he could fly. The thrill of it was intense, almost orgasmic; the ultimate climax where he came forever. Oncoming drivers couldn’t always see him because of the dips and bends in the road so they had to brake and swerve at the last second.
‘Get out the way, you fucking prick!’ he yelled, sounding his horn. ‘Idiots!’ Didn’t they know he was competing in a cross-country rally? He was the best in his field – in his race of one.
He laughed out loud, gripped the steering wheel and kept the speed up. He could see the look of admiration on the faces of those he passed as he rounded another bend with the minimum drop in speed. You couldn’t let up for a moment if you wanted to stay ahead of the rest, in the lead. And that applied to life in general, he thought. Stay on top and you commanded respect, but take your foot off the pedal and you were done for – a nothing.
Time compressed and it seemed he’d only been driving a minute or so before he was approaching his village, although it must have been half an hour. Ignoring the thirty mph speed limit and the ‘Please drive carefully through the village’ sign Jacob sped on, sending road chippings flying up the fronts of the cottages he passed. Just as well Mummy and Daddy couldn’t see him now!
With a screech of tyres he turned into Rectory Lane and came to an abrupt halt outside the rectory. His mother’s car was parked there but not the Rev’s. A few seconds later, having heard his car arrive, her face briefly appeared at the living-room window. He got out as the front door opened.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Yes. Why shouldn’t I be?’ He began up the path.
‘You took your tablets very late last night. Have you had a check-up at the hospital?’
‘Yes,’ he lied. It was easier than saying no.
‘You’ve got a car,’ she remarked as he stepped in and past her.
‘Apparently. I’ve come back to get some clothes and more tablets, then I’ll be off again.’
‘You’re not staying?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He started towards the stairs.
‘Where will you be? I mean if we need to get hold of you.’
‘At Rosie’s, but you have my mobile number.’ He went upstairs and into his room.
Elizabeth waited for him in the living room, anxious and on edge, until he returned downstairs, his bulging holdall slung over his shoulder and keys in his hand. ‘Jacob, I need to talk to you,’ she said.
‘What? Can’t it wait? I’m in a hurry.’ He glanced at her, with a look of derision. She felt shaky inside, but pushed on.
‘It will only take a moment. I need to ask you something.’
‘Go on then.’
‘Can we sit down?’ She’d been hoping for time to have a proper discussion.
‘No. What is it? If it’s about the car, I got a bank loan.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Although it had crossed her mind how he’d been able to afford the car without an income. ‘Jacob, have you ever considered tracing the donor? Do you have any thoughts on the subject?’
‘What are you talking about?’ he asked, and might as well have added, ‘You silly cow,’ for the scorn on his face.
‘The donor. Your heart donor. Have you thought about tracing him?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Some people who have transplants want to trace their donors. Meet their family, thank them, and find out what the donor was like.’
‘So?’
‘Is it something you want to do?’
‘No. I couldn’t give a shit,’ he said with disdain.
‘So you don’t feel strongly one way or the other?’ She needed to know. It was important. ‘We’ve never really discussed it.’
‘He’s dead, for fuck’s sake. End of story as far as I’m concerned.’
‘There’s no need to swear,’ she felt obliged to say.
‘Is that it then? Is that what you wanted to talk about?’
‘Yes. Say hell
o to Rosie for me.’
He hesitated and for a second Elizabeth thought he might be going to kiss her cheek as he always used to do when he left the house, but the moment passed, and raising his eyes in exasperation he went off, slamming the front door behind him.
With a slight feeling of relief that she’d finally broached the subject, Elizabeth moved to the window and, standing back so she couldn’t be seen, watched him get into the car. His body, the way he stood and held himself seemed different now. He appeared to walk with his legs slightly further apart, his arms a little more out from his sides as though pumping himself up to seem as large as possible, as she’d seen thugs do in the street. But at least she now had the answer she needed, and felt exonerated in tracing his donor. She’d decided that morally she should find out Jacob’s views first. Had he said under no circumstances should the donor be traced then she’d convinced herself that would be the end of it. If he’d shown great enthusiasm for tracing the donor and meeting his family then she’d have been prepared to share her findings with him, and suggest they visit the family together. But now she could take the next step alone, and her disquiet increased. For one way or the other she’d have the answer she sought. Jacob had either become evil through cellular memory in his transplanted heart, or she and Andrew were responsible. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jacob had just finished taking Rosie for a ride in his new car, showing it off and showing her what it could do. She’d looked a little surprised when he’d arrived on her doorstep with his holdall.
‘You’re staying then?’ she’d asked.
‘Of course. You don’t get rid of me that easily.’ He’d said it with such roguish charm that she couldn’t refuse. He’d kissed her, and then deposited his holdall just inside the door. ‘Come on, I’ve got something to show you.’
‘But I’ve just got back from work and I’m about to make dinner,’ she’d protested.
‘Leave it. We’ll pick up a takeaway later.’
Taking her by the hand and allowing her to grab her handbag which contained the keys to her flat, he drew her down the stairs. ‘What is it?’ she asked, her face a mixture of excitement and apprehension.