Chapter 10 Jacob
Jacob
Crouched in the entrance, Clarice Toad had produced an industrial-sized handkerchief with which she now mopped up her tears as she sobbed and sneezed.
‘He’s so excited,’ she sniffed, as Jacob squatted beside her, ready with his own packet of pocket tissues should her handkerchief not prove sufficient.
‘He loves Christmas. Last year was a push, but I managed to get him the Lego set he wanted, plus a couple of bits and bobs. This year I’ll be struggling to put food on the table.
We’ve had to start sleeping in the same bedroom so that I don’t have to heat the whole flat, but it’s not ideal, is it?
If only I could keep my job, we’d make it through again, but I’m barely keeping up with the rent as it is.
I thought the best thing I can give the lad is a roof over his head.
Surely he’ll understand? He only wants a football because he’s really into Exeter City at the moment.
God knows why. I told him even Argyle are better, but it’s like watching two marshmallows attempting a fight to the death … I’m not a bad mother, am I?’
‘You’re an excellent mother.’
‘I’m so sorry about Nora’s biscuits. I’ll pay you for them, I promise. It’s just that we never eat anything like that. I try to keep him eating right with fresh vegetables and fruit rather than frozen pizzas all the time, but it costs a lot to eat well in this country, doesn’t it?’
‘You might be suffering now, but he’ll thank you in ten years’ time when he’s playing full back for The Grecians.’
‘It’s the only dream I have left that my boy will make something of himself.’
‘Keep holding on to that dream,’ Jacob said.
Clarice gave her nose another loud blow, then stood up. ‘I’m sorry; I’ve got to go. My lad’s with a neighbour. I’ve got to pick him up.’
Jacob watched her go and attempt to close the outer door on her way out, but when it made a nasty scrape on the floor due to the loose hinges, she gave a tired shrug and left it propped half open.
Jacob stood alone in the empty lobby for a few seconds, then turned back to Nora’s letterbox.
Slipping his fingers inside, he poked out the Christmas card that lay crumpled inside, pressed the corner back into shape, then slipped it into an inside pocket of his coat.
Back home, he found a pad of paper and began brainstorming ideas. It was set to be a busy Christmas. He had already agreed to play Father Christmas for the children’s home Christmas party, but what about other children, like Mrs. Toad’s boy, who were going to go without this year?
He scribbled down a few ideas. Sometimes it felt overwhelming, trying to put a smile on people’s faces, but the sense of satisfaction …
it was what he lived for. When he showed up at the children’s home with some new board game he’d picked up in a charity shop …
not all of them liked him; some had issues they were dealing with that couldn’t be solved with a simple game of Monopoly, but others looked like he’d made their day.
Seeing their faces change, a little happiness brought in when life had dealt them a poor hand, gave Jacob more satisfaction than anything else could.
Most of the children at the home were young; they still had a chance.
He looked at the Christmas card lying on the tabletop.
The back was blank, no return postal address.
He had wondered if it might just be from a neighbour, or a circular from some company, junk mail masquerading as Christmas cheer.
That someone had taken the trouble to stamp and mail it to Nora suggested it came from someone important to her.
Of his own Christmas cards, the only ones not hand delivered were from his mother and a cousin living in America.
In the age of email, sending Christmas cards was a dying tradition.
Nora didn’t seem to be popular, but someone at least thought enough of her to make the effort.
He picked it open with a butter knife, withdrawing a pretty picture of a North Pole scene, slightly higher quality than a lot of the cards he received, the card firm, the picture detailed. He opened it, scanning the message.
Dear Nora, wishing you a great Christmas this year. Love, Rita, Tim, Ellen and Philip, and Barney xxx.
No surname. Jacob retrieved his laptop computer from the armchair of the sofa and pulled up some social media sites.
He typed in the names, but there were no results for any of them using Shapton.
He tried a few combinations of the names, hoping to get lucky with some photo tags, but in the end gave up.
He was pretty convinced that Barney was either a dog or a cat, but the identities of the others remained a mystery.
On Sunday, he did the usual supermarket run, then headed over to his mother’s to cook Sunday lunch.
This week was roast beef, and after dinner, Jacob sliced the remaining meat and packed all the leftovers away for his mother to use over the next couple of days.
Then they sat down together to watch an old film on TV, before Jacob said goodbye just before dusk and headed back into Brentwell.
While he was used to riding at night, the temperature had taken a sharp dip over the last few days.
People were talking about snow over Christmas this year, which would certainly give the town a bit of festive cheer.
He decided to cut through Sycamore Park on the way back to save a little time.
By the north entrance he spotted a new signboard hanging from the fence, advertising this year’s Christmas festival on Christmas Eve.
Every year Aunt Marjorie had a stall in the plaza, selling cakes and biscuits, and Jacob always brought his mother down.
Among the usual line up of local bands, dance groups and performers, he was surprised to see a special guest appearance from his stepbrother, labelled as “James Steamblack: Brentwell’s World Famous Illusionist”.
His stepbrother, it seemed, had given up plans of world domination, and was fixated on taking over Brentwell instead.
Pushing his bike, Jacob walked across the plaza to the theatre.
His stepbrother’s poster now dominated the outside, towering thirty foot up the side of the building.
Slightly overawed, Jacob, holding the handlebars of his mother’s lilac bicycle, stood by his stepbrother’s feet, like a bug waiting to be crushed.
People were gathered inside the lobby, dressed up for a night out.
Jacob wandered closer, peering through the window.
Near the theatre entrance was a signboard announcing an early bird illusion show for select guests only.
Jacob cupped his hands around his eyes to see better, then quickly pulled away as a door opened and a figure stepped through, dressed in a top hat, black suit and cape.
His stepbrother. Here, in Brentwell. Right in front of him—
‘Hey, watch out, you nearly knocked into us.’
Jacob turned. Two young women stood right behind him. He had pulled the bike away when he saw his brother, almost knocking it into them as they walked past. As he put up a hand to apologise they turned, their faces catching in the light through the theatre windows.
One, with long black hair and an eyebrow ring he didn’t recognise, but the other, with a neat blonde bob and pretty eyes, was the girl who had booked a wake at Aunt Marjorie’s for tomorrow. He opened his mouth to speak as he met her eyes, but all that came out was a dribbly groan.
‘Nice bike,’ the girl with the black hair said with a chuckle. ‘I heard the fashion police have a warrant out for its arrest. Maybe Steamblack can make it disappear.’ She sniggered and nudged the other girl, who gave a shy smile. ‘Come on, Charlotte. We’ll be late.’
Before Jacob could reply, the two had marched off, the black-haired girl holding onto Charlotte’s arm like a chaperone.
Just before they reached the main doors, Charlotte glanced back.
Hidden in shadow, Jacob was unable to see whether she was smiling or laughing.
Then they were inside, moving towards the doors that led to the stalls.
Jacob, standing forlornly in the dark, watched as the towering figure of his stepbrother stepped forward, reached out for Charlotte’s hand and gave an extravagant bow.
The two girls appeared to flinch away in both shock and excitement, then burst into laughter at something his stepbrother said.
Then, as they passed through the doors, Steamblack turned, his cloak swirling.
He headed for the stairs heading to the theatre’s upper level, then suddenly paused, turning towards the large floor-to-ceiling window.
Surely Steamblack couldn’t see Jacob standing outside in the dark? But as Jacob watched, involuntarily giving a shiver, his stepbrother reached up, tipped the front of his hat, then turned and marched off, cape swirling behind him.