Chapter 34 Jacob
Jacob
Jacob called the police while Aunt Marjorie comforted Clarice.
A couple of minutes later, Mark Bobbins came barrelling through the door, and announced that all the local police were out looking for Billy.
The customers, catching on to what was happening, began to organise themselves into search parties while Mark tried to calm a hysterical Clarice.
They managed to establish where Billy had been, where he should have been by now, and the route he should have taken.
Aunt Marjorie produced a map of Brentwell and they tracked where Billy might have gone.
‘My boy,’ Clarice sobbed. ‘He’s all I have. You have to find him.’
‘Has he ever taken public transport on his own?’ Mark asked.
‘Never. Not without me.’
‘And he has no money?’
‘A couple of pounds to buy a drink and a snack.’
‘You can’t go more than a couple of stops on that much these days,’ muttered a scowling Barbara Bakersfield. ‘If it weren’t for my bus pass—’
‘Then he’s most likely somewhere close,’ Mark said. ‘Hang on a minute.’ He paused to take a phone call. ‘Right,’ he said, putting his phone back in his pocket. ‘With this snow, traffic’s practically at a standstill. So it’s therefore likely he’s on foot.’
Within minutes, everyone who was willing and able was out on the street.
Jacob, not part of any of the search groups, hurried up the High Street, trying to guess where Billy might have gone.
When she wasn’t busy, Clarice talked constantly about her son, her total and utter love for him shining like a beacon through the poverty she fought so hard to escape.
Jacob knew the boy’s favourite films, his favourite songs, his favourite sport—
Football. The boy was obsessed. A massive fan of Exeter City, for some reason.
A glutton for punishment, maybe, but at least he wasn’t a glory hunter like most kids.
Jacob had never really been into football, but had found it interesting at school how whichever team currently at the top of the league always seemed to have the most fans.
Brentwell Sports Park was to the town’s north, up past the church.
When he reached it, however, he found himself presented with a blanket of white.
A couple of dog walkers urged reluctant pets along a walking path that had been cleared, but there was no sign of any runaway children.
Disappointed, but more determined to find the boy than ever, he wracked his brains.
Where would a football mad kid go to hang out in the middle of winter?
Of course.
The same place Jacob would have gone, in the same situation.
Brentwell Sport Supplies was down a side street past Daphne’s Exotic Curiosities.
Small and not well attended, it had struggled since out-of-town supermarkets had begun opening sports departments.
As Jacob came in the door, a sleepy teenager sitting behind the counter looked up from a Nintendo Switch.
‘Are there any kids in here?’ Jacob asked.
The teenager frowned. ‘Dunno. Might be one upstairs.’
‘Thanks.’
As the boy went back to his game, Jacob pushed through racks of dusty t-shirts and running shorts and raced up a set of stairs.
Here were dusty racks of golf clubs, cricket bats and tennis rackets, skateboards, squeezed to one end to accommodate seasonal displays, mostly rugby and football goods: racks of balls and boots, school kits, replica shirts.
In one corner, almost a cubbyhole space, was a section focused on the local teams, rugby gear, football shirts, a couple of signed items in glass cases with ambitious price tags.
Standing next to a rack of Exeter City shirts was a little boy.
‘Billy,’ Jacob said.
Billy Toad turned round. His cheeks were streaked with tears, and his bottom lip trembled.
Jacob had met the boy a few times when he came by the tearoom after school to sit until Clarice finished work.
They had played a couple of games of chess.
Jacob had tried to let the boy win, only to realise with some dubious major piece sacrifices, that the boy had been trying to let him win.
After that, they had gone full tilt, and Jacob was yet to win a game.
‘Jacob,’ Billy said.
‘It’s all right,’ Jacob said. ‘You’re not in trouble. When you didn’t show up at the park, people got worried, that’s all.’
‘I didn’t want to go,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want them to make fun of me.’
‘Who?’
‘The other kids.’
Jacob closed his eyes. Children could be cruel. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Just let me make a phone call, then you can tell me all about it.’
He called the tearoom first. Aunt Marjorie answered, and in the background, he heard Clarice crying.
Marjorie put her on for a moment to talk to Billy, then Jacob spoke to Mark, who said he’d call into the station and report that the boy had been found.
He overheard Marjorie offering free coffee and cakes to all the searchers.
Then Jacob pulled up a stool in the corner of the sports shop for Billy to sit down on.
‘No one’s angry with you,’ he said. ‘We just wondered where you were.’
‘I didn’t want to see them,’ Billy said again.
‘Who?’
‘The kids at school.’
‘Why?’
‘The … the … magician. He … did that trick.’
Jacob took a deep breath, his blood starting to rise. Clarice had told him what had happened, that an unlucky coincidence had made the boy a laughing stock. He tried to make light of it, though, tried to reassure the boy it was just a trick.
‘That’s magic for you, isn’t it? Didn’t he predict what you wanted for Christmas? I heard that was pretty impressive.’
Billy shook his head. ‘When I sat down, he whispered to me. He said, “You ask for Lego, or there’ll be no Father Christmas this year.”’
‘What?’
Billy sniffed. ‘His voice, it was so creepy, like a demon. I was too scared to say anything else, so I said what he wanted.’
Jacob took a deep breath. ‘We need to sort this out,’ he said. ‘Come on. Let’s take you down to the park and have a word with everyone.’
First, however, they headed for the tearoom, where a cheer went up from the assembled customers as Jacob walked in with Billy beside him. Clarice immediately hugged her son close, while Mark patted Jacob on the shoulder.
‘Nice one. We’d skipped that place because no one really goes in there, do they? You ever thought about joining the Force? We could do with more lateral thinkers like you.’
Jacob smiled. ‘I’m just happy he’s back with his mother.’
‘Well, just in case, I’ll stop by next week with an application.’ Mark grinned. ‘It’ll give me a good excuse to grab another one of these mince pies.’
Clarice didn’t want to leave Billy on his own, but Jacob and Mark offered to escort him down to the park.
Mark, donning his policeman’s helmet, asked the kids to assemble and then gave them a stern lecture about looking out for each other, how a rising tide lifts all boats, and how Christmas is a time for sharing, giving and compassion.
Jacob got the impression that Mark had his sights set more on motivational speaking than policing, but at the end, all the kids clapped, and Charlotte gave Jacob a grateful smile, which was the best gift of all.
She came over and stood beside him. For a long time, she said nothing, then he felt her fingers taking hold of his.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Is everything all right between us?’ he asked.
Charlotte looked up at him. Her cheeks were flush from the cold, her breath steaming in front of her. She wore a little woolly hat that held her blonde hair against her face. He stared at her, unwilling to look away, wanting to pull her close, hold her, never let go.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I just had a few things … a few things to do.’
‘Have you done them now?’
‘Maybe. What happened with Billy?’
Jacob told her about James, what Billy claimed he had said. ‘It was all a set up; it must have been. I need to go and see him. I need to know if it’s true.’
‘He told me he was sorry for everything,’ Charlotte said. ‘He was so apologetic. And he seemed so genuine.’
Jacob sighed. ‘I think what you have to remember about James is that he’s a master at what he does. He’s a master at making the unreal seem real.’
With their group complete, a few of the kids had climbed up onto the stage, and several parents were starting to look frustrated, wanting to get on with things. Charlotte held onto Jacob’s hand for a moment longer, then gave him a reluctant smile.
‘I’d better get this rehearsal underway,’ she said. ‘Can we meet up later?’ She smiled. ‘Maybe we could get some chips or something?’
‘I’d like that,’ he said. ‘I’d like that very much.’
He didn’t want to leave her, but she had her pupils to attend to. He had something he needed to do, too.
He went over to the theatre, where James’s car sat outside.
He remembered walking past it before, feeling a little overawed by something that was light years more advanced than his simple bicycle.
This time, he gave it a wide berth, heading for the same back entrance to the theatre that he had used before.
Making his way through the corridors, he heard a distant rumbling coming from the theatre itself.
Wondering whether there was a performance in progress, he climbed to an upper gallery and opened one of the heavy soundproof doors a crack.
Inside, the gallery was dark, the seats empty, but flashing lights were coming from the stage.
He crept inside, closing the door, then sneaked down to the edge of the balcony and peered over.
James was down below, standing in the middle of the stage, hands aloft. A number of assistants, some in ghoulish costumes more fitting for Halloween than Christmas, stood nearby, awaiting direction.
‘Let’s bring it on,’ James said. ‘At this point the helicopter will be circling, ready to drop the blanket.’ He waved a hand, and from the back of the stage came a cheap mock-up of a Christmas sleigh, pulled by a couple of men wearing harnesses, reindeer horns on their heads signifying their roles.
Another assistant held redundant reins as the two men pulled the sleigh forward.
‘Here,’ James said, lifting a hand. ‘The mirror net comes up here.’ He lifted a hand, and two assistants pulled on ropes, lifting something that literally made the sleigh vanish. Jacob blinked, unsure what he was seeing. All he could see was an empty stage.
‘Good, good,’ James said. ‘The reindeer will be alarmed, so Michael here will run in and secure their reins, turn them back around, lead the sleigh away. The helicopter will lower the blanket, completely obscuring the scene, all the while my entrance music will drown out the sound of the blades. When the blanket goes back up, Father Christmas and his sleigh will be nowhere to be seen.’
James marched to the far side of the stage. Two attendants ran to him, dropping black sheets over him that turned him into little more than a shadow. From somewhere his amplified voice continued, ‘And when the darkness dawns, and the light has fled … I will arise!’
There was a dramatic puff of smoke and the pop of crackers.
As the smoke cleared, Jacob covered his mouth to suppress a gasp.
Where James had stood was now a terrifying hunchbacked demon, face a barely describable monstrosity of angles and wrinkles and warts.
Horns protruded from a straggle of hair, a thick, crocodilian tail slapped back and forth, and hooked, slimy claws had appeared where hands had been.
The demon swung its head back and forth. ‘At this point, the rest of you run in,’ came James’s voice out of the demon’s mouth. ‘You toss those crickets everywhere. Steal every Christmas hat you can, and don’t forget to laugh.’
A cackle of demonic laughter rose from the assembled ghouls. James lifted twisted, prosthetic arms. ‘You are banished, my brother!’ he screamed, in a hideous witch-like voice. ‘Christmas belongs to me, now. Lord Krampus of the dark!’
Lights began to flash and crackers to pop. Smoke rose, and James, laughing, turned and disappeared backstage. The assistants made a few circles of the stage, then ran off.
‘Perfect,’ came James’s voice, normal again. ‘We exit stage right, and vanish into the trees, leaving them to ponder the meaning of their very existence. Good job, everyone. Sandwiches in the back room, then we take it again after lunch.’
Jacob crept back out of the gallery, slipping through the door.
He left the theatre, heading back across the park, but now the stage was deserted, everyone having gone home for lunch.
So, his suspicions about James had been true.
His brother did have something in mind: he planned to disrupt the Christmas festival.
Jacob stared at the stage, wondering what he could do.
He had to do something; otherwise his brother would ruin Christmas.