Chapter 24 Jacob
Jacob
There were lows, and then there were real lows.
Jacob sat on the floor in front of his ragged old sofa, not even feeling enough power to lift himself up onto the seat.
The damage wasn’t too bad; the fish ’n’ chips had been in a plastic bag and had escaped the slush shower, while the muck would wash out of his coat.
He’d left it by the sink to deal with later, when he had the power to do anything.
Right now, he couldn’t even eat. Getting home late after the long walk from his mother’s, he’d been on a total high after speaking to Charlotte.
He’d come home, cleaned up his flat with a fury that he had rarely mustered for anything, fearful that she might one day visit and be disappointed.
The floor beneath the sofa was now polished, the narrow gaps around the fridge were cobweb free, and all three of the windows gleamed with polish.
Buzzing, he had sat down and watched an old romantic comedy, one where he had imagined himself and Charlotte in the lead roles.
He had squirmed when they kissed at the end, closing his eyes, imagining that it was he and not some generic Hallmark actor standing beneath the towering town square Christmas tree, holding Charlotte instead of Vanessa Hudgens.
It was the perfect end to a perfect Christmas.
He had got up, ready to go to bed, felt a grumble in his stomach, and realised he had completely forgotten to eat.
Having run out of breakfast cereal and with an early start tomorrow due to Monday morning deliveries, it was best to get some food in his stomach, so he duly headed out to the fish ’n’ chips shop across town, making it just before it shut at ten p.m.
Nearly home, he had been surprised to hear a car coming up behind him, as the snow had turned most of Brentwell’s residents into pedestrians, and the JCBs helping to clear the roads generally didn’t operate so late.
It had been quite a shock to see not just a regular car, but a magnificent Rolls Royce pulling up alongside him.
Seeing the window rolling down, he had wondered if he had stepped out of his flat and into some bizarre modern take on the Danish Snow Queen fable, where some ghostly woman of the night might try to tempt him away from his growing affection for Charlotte.
Seeing his stepbrother’s grinning face had been one virtual slap back into reality; seeing Charlotte sitting in there with him had been like a full-on mallet hammering him into the ground.
As his brother had laughed, the car had sped off, showering Jacob with slush, and it had been all he could do not to slump forward into the snow in defeat.
Now, back at his flat, cold and shivering after wandering the streets in despair for far longer than was necessary, he had no desire to eat, and had let the fish ’n’ chips go cold.
To compound everything, his building had been struck by a sudden power cut, that, by looking at the glittering lights outside, had been pretty much confined to this tiny corner of Brentwell.
His head spun. She had sounded so happy to speak to him. He had thought she was genuinely looking forward to seeing him, but he now knew what she had to do after needing to end the call.
Go on a date with James.
Jacob wanted to feel angry, but all he felt was a cold, bitter hopelessness.
Just comparing them man to man, his stepbrother was older, taller, better looking, more charming, more interesting, and that was before he even considered the differences in lifestyle.
His stepbrother was rich, famous, powerful.
Jacob was a nobody who worked in his aunt’s tearoom and lived in a cold flat above an estate agent.
He couldn’t blame her, really. But why Charlotte? Of all the people in all the world that his brother could have chosen, why her?
He wanted to thump his head against the wall, but he felt too deflated even to get up and do that.
He woke up cold, and with a cold, but at least the power was back on.
Against his better judgement, he ate reheated chips for breakfast, then wished he hadn’t.
Outside, the world looked bleak. There had been no overnight snow, so instead of pretty and Christmassy, the town looked icy and crusty.
Wanting to stay in bed but feeling like he had let his aunt down a little recently, he dragged himself across town.
He wasn’t in the mood for Pete Markham’s cheery greeting, but Pete was in the mood to give it, and called out to Jacob as he stumbled, head down, across Sycamore Park’s south plaza.
‘I have a bacon bap with your name on it, lad,’ came the cheery cry, and like an icebreaker attempting an Arctic turn, Jacob slowly redirected himself over to the burger van.
‘Top of the morning to you,’ Pete said with a cheerful grin. ‘Or, should I say … bottom?’
‘My life is a disaster,’ Jacob said. ‘And I have a cold.’
‘And I have a warm … coffee!’ Pete said, holding up a jug. ‘Do you want me to lace it with a little Christmas spice, clear out those sinuses?’
‘No, it’s all right.’
‘So, tell Uncle Pete what’s happened.’
‘The girl I like is dating my evil stepbrother,’ Jacob said. ‘At least I saw her in the back of his Rolls Royce.’
‘Are you plotting a book? My Lily knows a lady who might be interested in a collaboration. Have you ever read The Trainspotter’s Guide to Romance?’
Jacob shrugged. ‘My mum’s read it. She said it was amazing. It’s on my to-read list.’
‘Bestseller. You could follow in those footsteps with an idea like that. Now, how to “blandify” it? How to get the girl without having to be too dramatic … you know what I suggest?’
‘What?’
‘Go and talk to her.’
‘What would be the point?’
Pete held up a paper cup. ‘You see this? Do you know what it says on the back?’
‘I don’t know … a brand name?’
‘Actually, it doesn’t say anything because it’s just a generic paper cup, but that’s not my point. My point is that you can’t see the whole cup unless you look at it from both sides.’
‘I get your point, Pete.’
‘Think it over while you digest this bacon bap and a nice strong coffee on your walk over to work. By the way, do you reckon I should go for fairy lights around the van window, or just some little tree to stand out the front there?’
Jacob smiled. ‘Both.’
‘That’s my lad. You have a good day.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘The paper cup, Jacob. Think about the paper cup.’
By the time he had made it over to the tearoom, he had cheered up a little. Not much, to be fair, but it was easy to use his cold as an excuse in front of Aunt Marjorie.
‘We’ll keep you out the back today,’ she said. ‘Can’t have you dripping on the customers.’
‘I’m not that bad.’
‘Bad enough. Daphne dropped in some spices just before you showed up, so I’ll give her a call and see what we can use to make a little sinus clearing poultice. Use a bit of that hippy magic to clear you out.’
‘Please don’t mention magic.’
‘Have you had a run in with your stepbrother?’
Pete had opened the floodgates, and the river of Jacob’s misery was now in full flow. ‘Yeah, kind of,’ he said.
He gave her a brief overview, then tacked on Pete’s advice at the end.
‘You’ve got to love Pete Markham,’ Aunt Marjorie said. ‘Even if you don’t like his coffee. He knows what he’s talking about.’
‘What would you suggest?’
‘I would do exactly what Pete says. Go and talk to her. He might have just been giving her a lift home. You said she sounded nice to you on the phone, didn’t you?’
He sighed. ‘She sounded lovely. Like she was actually looking forward to seeing me. Do you think she was faking it?’
‘Something you need to learn about women, Jacob. If we like you, we might not tell you. But if we don’t like you, you’ll know it.
If she sounded like she liked you, then believe me, she likes you.
’ She gave a little squeal. ‘Oh, this is so exciting. Can I leave you to deal with the next couple of deliveries while I conference call Daphne and your mother? We’ll need to discuss this at length, work out a strategy. ’
‘Please don’t tell my mother. At least not about James.’
‘He who should not be named. It’s Christmas. Positive news only.’
Jacob sniffed. ‘I might drip on the delivery drivers.’
Marjorie grimaced. ‘Yes, perhaps I’ll have to wait until tonight. You really must go and talk to her, Jacob.’
‘I was planning to go over to the school this afternoon to talk to her about Clarice Toad.’
‘So why change your plan? You made it; you do it. Just ignore everything that came in between.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yes.’ Marjorie put up a hand. ‘But one thing. If you get close enough to talk to her, don’t drip on her.’
Jacob forced a smile. ‘I’ll stick tissues up my nose if necessary.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
The thought of going over to the school filled him with dread, but his aunt—and later Daphne, who dropped in at lunchtime, going into a shoulders’ together conversation with Marjorie over cups of herbal tea and then announced that she agreed with everything Marjorie and Pete had said—was right.
He couldn’t know the truth about seeing Charlotte with James unless he asked her straight out.
He had considered calling her, but while she was at work it was too easy for him to call at the wrong time, and if she didn’t answer that would set him wondering again. He had promised to go over to the school, and so he did.
It was already dark by the time he got there at half past four, after leaving work early with Marjorie’s blessing, and a paper cup of spiced latte to ‘put a bit of wind in your sails.’
He stood outside for a long time, trying to drum up the nerve to go inside, until finally he caught a parent glaring at him from a car window and started worrying that he looked like some kind of stalker.
In the reception, a mean-faced woman looked up at him as though he had spoiled her whole day.
‘Yes?’
‘Um … can I have a word with … ah … Charlotte Harding? The … ah … teacher?’