Chapter 6 Jacob #2
Jacob stayed for lunch, then said goodbye to his mother and headed back into Brentwell.
Her condition had been better than he had expected, but he made a mental note to call Sandra at the home help service to check.
Then there would be social services to call, to ask if there were any other facilities available to help his mother.
She wasn’t quite ready for stairlifts, but the time would come, sooner rather than later.
She had worked diligently as a nurse for more than thirty years, working long hours for low pay.
As far as Jacob was concerned, the government owed her.
Whether it would pay up, or whether he would have to get a part-time job and save up, remained to be seen.
He could always move back in and save rent on his own place, but no matter what he said, he understood his mother.
She valued her independence, as he did his own.
His fingers were freezing by the time he reached town. With December on the way, it was time to start wearing gloves, maybe even a hat and scarf. Thinking about it gave him an idea, so he headed back to his flat, above an estate agent in the centre of Brentwell.
On the upstairs floor of the two-storey red-brick building, the access was down a little alley between the estate agent and the charity shop next door, leading to a tiny internal courtyard where he secured his bike to a fence and climbed a rickety set of metal stairs to the door set into the wall on the upper floor.
Once, his flat had been a storeroom of sorts for the shop downstairs, but someone had seen an investment opportunity, blocked the internal stairs and added the door and the metal staircase leading up from the courtyard.
With the fittings rusty and loose on one side, Jacob always felt like he was stepping off a gangplank onto a ship, and sometimes wondered if one day he’d open his front door to find the staircase had collapsed.
He kept a length of rope in a cupboard just for this very purpose, but the truth was that if he squatted down and hung over the edge, he could probably jump it without much difficulty.
Getting back up, however, would take a little more effort.
While the building looked nice enough on the outside, his flat was basically a bedsit with a plywood wall separating what was supposedly a bedroom from the kitchen-diner area.
The reality was that it was too small even for a bed, so he slept on a sofa bed against one wall and kept the pseudo-bedroom for storage.
He put the kettle on, then went into his storeroom and came out with a big cardboard box.
Never being much of one for material possessions, for several years the majority of his Christmas presents from colleagues, neighbours, and distant family had centred around keeping his extremities warm in winter: hats, scarves, gloves, and thermal socks.
Since he could only wear one of each at a time, he had naturally favoured those from his mother, so now gathered the others that he didn’t need into a big carrier bag.
He stopped long enough to drink a cup of tea and eat a sandwich for lunch; then he piled the items he didn’t need into a bag and cycled across town to the children’s home where he volunteered a couple of days each week, mostly just as a general entertainer, teaching the kids to play Monopoly, chess, Connect 4 and whatever new board game he had found in a charity shop that week.
In the office, Lisa Cole, the manager, sat hunched over the computer. Through a door, Jacob could hear the laughter of young children, those too young for school. He smiled as Lisa looked up from her work and set down the bag on the desk.
‘Donations for the Christmas presents this year,’ he said, turning the bag upside down. ‘These all still have labels or are in their packets.’
Lisa clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, great. We can use these for some of the older kids for sure. Honestly, I’m all for donations, but kids know when they’re getting cast-offs.
I know we’re a charity, but we’re not a charity shop.
I had a guy come in yesterday and dump a box of CDs on my desk.
I mean, these kids don’t know what a CD is.
I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s so hard, isn’t it? ’
‘Making them feel valued.’ Jacob nodded. ‘I know.’
‘Without it looking fake.’ Lisa pushed poorly fitting glasses up onto her tied-back hair, where they stayed for a moment before starting to slide back down.
‘People think kids are stupid. They’re more intelligent than we are, but some of them …
some of them have too many issues to let it shine through. ’
‘You’re doing a fine job,’ Jacob said.
‘I’m doing a job. That’s as far as I’ll go.’ She sighed again. ‘You have no idea how much I appreciate your help. Yours and the other guys who come in. I get paid for this. A pittance, maybe, but it’s something. You’re giving up your time for nothing.’
‘It’s not for nothing,’ Jacob said.
‘Well, I appreciate it nevertheless. Oh, have a look at this.’ She pulled open a drawer and pulled out a stack of tickets wrapped in an elastic band. ‘These were delivered this morning. They’re free tickets to a show at Brentwell theatre. Some magician.’
Jacob felt a knot in his stomach. He looked down at the stack of tickets, the top showing a miniature condensed version of what he had seen on the posters appearing all over town.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah. I think so.’
Lisa grinned. ‘You look like you just got caught short or something. Not much of a fan of magic?’
‘Not of this guy.’ Jacob sighed. ‘He’s my stepbrother. If you want to take the children, that’s fine, but if it’s all right by you, I’ll skip it.’
Lisa slipped her glasses down and leaned forward. ‘It sounds like there’s a bit of a story there. I’ve always got time for coffee if you’ve got beans to spill.’
Jacob pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I’d love a coffee,’ he said.