The school day was as uneventful as always. Predictably, Jacob sailed through his history test and Mr Galley gave the mark with the air of one who has begun to find his pupil's continual high performance tedious. Luca’s cheating narrowly missed discovery when he lifted his arms in a loud yawn and exposed the black smudges of information that Jacob had put there. Luckily, Mr Galley had been distracted by Chloe Winsome’s phone going off in her bag and Jacob had managed to mouth a reminder to Luca to cover up. Lunch was a turgid affair of undercooked chips and overcooked sausages, haute cuisine by the school cook’s standards, accompanied by Luca’s usual repertoire of toilet humour and visual gags involving items of cutlery placed into various orifices, all greeted by rolling of eyes from Ellen and self-conscious sniggers from Jacob. Everything seemed normal, but still Jacob couldn’t shake the completely illogical sense of unease and foreboding that had settled over him.
After school Jacob and Ellen walked back to her house without Luca, who had managed to get detention.
‘You’ve been quiet today,’ Ellen said.
Jacob shrugged. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’m not bothered. I just wondered… do you want to talk about something?’
Jacob shook his head. What could he say? During the night some mental bloke turned up in my room, told me I was from another world and asked me to go back there with him. Then he threatened me because I said no, and I’m terrified of some random act that may or may not happen with no idea of what it might be.
Smart. Ellen would probably lock him out of her house and call the funny farm. He put on the brightest smile he could muster. ‘I’m fine.’
Ellen gave the peeling wooden gate a rough shove. She led Jacob through the tangle of weeds that choked the path of her front garden, ignoring the chip papers, sun-bleached crisp bags and squashed plastic bottles. No matter how many times she cleared them away, it seemed the swirling winds that blew across her estate always brought them back. It was easier to overlook them. She rattled her key in the lock of the front door and it opened to reveal a half-naked boy of about four chasing a terrified mongrel dog along the hallway. The smell of old frying oil wafted through from the bare plastered kitchen at the end of the passage.
‘Tommy, get some pants on!’ Ellen snapped as her brother raced past. Tommy ignored her and, with a squeal of delight, continued to hound the little dog. She turned to Jacob, colour rushing to her cheeks. ‘Mum’s been ill again. She did tell me she felt up to cleaning today, though…’
‘It really doesn’t bother me,’ Jacob reassured her. He had told her the same thing a thousand times before.
‘My room’s ok. Let’s go before Mum sees you. I don’t know what time Luca will be here, but he’ll just have to deal with her.’
Ellen’s bedroom was always clean and neat, completely at odds with the rest of her chaotic home. Each of the four walls was a different colour from spare bits of paint found lying in the cellar and finished with an unsteady hand, but Ellen was proud of her handiwork. Hers was the only room in the house that had been decorated since she, her mum and her brothers had moved in when Tommy was a baby. She had furnished it with an eclectic but homely mix of scavenged items and Jacob always felt comfortable in there.
Jacob slid off his backpack and flung himself onto the bed. Ellen perched on a dressing table stool and grabbed a packet of sweets, throwing one to Jacob who caught it neatly.
‘I’ll get you something to drink. Stay here or she’ll see you.’
Jacob nodded, chewing as Ellen closed the door behind her. He finished his sweet and lay back on the bed, gazing up at a rippling shaft of sunlight on the ceiling. The indistinct sounds of Tommy squealing and cupboard doors being slammed below in the kitchen carried up to him. He vaguely wondered what was taking her so long. But he was warm and the bed was soft and fragrant with the scent of Ellen, and by degrees he became drowsy. His eyes closed and he drifted, balanced on the brink of sleep.
Ioh…
Jacob shot upright looking wildly around. He was still alone in the bedroom. The sound of Ellen arguing with her mum echoed up the stairs. Feeling sick, he staggered over to the window overlooking the forlorn garden and opened it wide. Sticking his head out he gulped in the fresh air, scanning the street and surrounding gardens as far as he dared to lean out.
A creaking door made Jacob spin round and almost lose his balance.
Ellen surveyed him with concern. ‘Are you alright? You’ve been weird all day.’ She held out an earthenware mug.
Jacob struggled to regulate his breathing as he closed the window. His face was burning, he was shaken, but also painfully conscious of the fact that he looked like an idiot. He sat on the bed and gratefully took the mug. It was empty and he looked up at Ellen with a silent question.
‘I found this…’ Nestled in the crook of her arm she had a bottle of coconut liquor. She grinned. ‘It’s horrible stuff, but it’ll be a laugh!’
If Jacob’s mum could have seen him right then she would have been horrified. The idea was enough to make him grin and hold out his cup. Ellen poured a generous slug and he sipped it, his face contorting into an involuntary look of disgust. But the warm numbness of alcohol had an immediate effect. He took another sip, then another, until he had drained the cup and leaned back in dizzy contentment against the headboard. The fear that had seemed so real to him moments earlier quickly evaporated into a tipsy memory. Ellen sat next to him, sipping her own. Jacob looked at her. Snub nose, green eyes, a sprinkling of freckles across perfect cheeks, hair like black satin: all the parts that made the whole seemed to appear to him in separate snapshots. His stomach was filled with thousands of wriggling, gnawing maggots, nibbling in tiny bites. He listened to songs about love all the time and it always sounded incredible, life affirming, magical. Was this what it actually felt like, this sweaty, stomach churning sickness? He forced himself to think of something else.
‘What did Luca do this time?’
Ellen shrugged carelessly. ‘No idea. He just text me, though. He says he’s finished with Dulson and he’s on his way.’
Suddenly, Jacob didn’t want to stay. ‘I feel a bit sick. I think I’ll go home…’
‘Oh God, sorry, it’s this…’ She shook her mug.
‘No – honestly, it’s fine. I’ve been feeling weird all day.’ The words he wanted to say fought their way up into his throat, but he swallowed them back.
Feeling dazed, Jacob made his way slowly home in the balmy evening air. The streets were filled with the shrieking and laughter of children at play. Music pulsing from a stationary car with its doors open and a knot of older kids gathered round it made his head hurt. His thoughts were pulled in every direction, stretched to breaking point. Somewhere on the journey he retched and couldn’t stop himself vomiting into a storm drain. Hurriedly wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Jacob glanced around, his face growing hot as he spied an old lady at the upstairs window of a house watching him. The sickly-sweet smell of second-hand alcohol clung to his clothes but his head felt clearer now.
He continued home as if walking in somebody else’s body. Something was pushing its way to the front of Jacob’s awareness, some foreboding, a warning, but he couldn’t focus on it. The now familiar feeling of icy cold dread squeezed his senses sending shudders through him. His legs felt brittle as matchwood. He watched for something, he didn’t know what, as he walked the streets, homing in on every hidden corner. He didn’t see anyone, he just felt someone. The feeling became stronger with every step; an irrational fear that gripped him as he drew nearer to home.
Uncle Dan’s van was in the driveway and a police car was parked on the kerb nearby. Jacob’s step quickened; instinctively he knew something was very wrong. There was no sign of his dad’s silver Mondeo. His hand shook as he twisted the key in the lock of his front door. Dusty sunlight showed the motes suspended in the air and the low murmur of subdued conversation carried along the hall as he stepped in. In the sitting room he found Uncle Dan perched uncomfortably on the sofa cradling a mug of tea in his hand. A policeman stood at the fireplace speaking into a crackling radio and a WPC sat on one of the armchairs completing some paperwork. As Jacob stood in the doorway Uncle Dan and the WPC rose tensely to greet him. The male police officer beckoned Jacob in, still talking into his radio, and then left the room to continue his conversation.
‘Uncle Dan... Where’s Mum?’ Jacob’s eyes flicked with trepidation between the two that remained.
His uncle was six-feet-four, a human haystack with a booming voice, but somehow he looked very small at that moment. ‘Jacob…’ he gulped, ‘Oh God, Jake… I called Luca and he said you had just left Ellen’s and -’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘There’s been an accident.’
‘Accident?’ Jacob felt the room begin to tip. He was afraid his legs would buckle and gripped the side of a chair for support.
‘Your mum called your dad out of work and he rushed out saying there was something wrong at home, something to do with you and - ’
‘Me? There’s nothing wrong with me,’ Jacob interrupted.
‘But he never came back. The police called the office an hour ago and I came straight here - ’
‘For God’s sake, Uncle Dan, just tell me what’s happened!’ Jacob slumped down onto the chair he had been holding and grabbed at his hair, dreading to hear what he already knew.
His uncle almost whispered in a trembling voice that seemed far too small to belong to his gargantuan frame. ‘It’s possible...’ He couldn’t finish the sentence and looked pathetically to the WPC for help.
‘We haven’t found them yet…’ she cut in, speaking in a steady professional tone.
Jacob couldn’t hear any more for the buzzing that filled his head.