by Cathy Glass
There were ten minutes left on the ticket and uncertain what to do for the best, Elizabeth summoned the courage to phone Jacob, acknowledging it did need courage to even speak to him when he was like this. Her call went through to his voicemail and she left a message: ‘Hi Jacob, it’s Mum, love. I’m still close to town. Do you want a lift?’
Then she gazed out of the window, watching people pass on their way in and out of the hospital. The last few minutes of ticket time elapsed and Jacob didn’t return her call or text. She could have bought another ticket but what would have been the point? She couldn’t sit there in the hospital car park indefinitely waiting for him. He might be making his own way home now. Just before the ticket expired she texted: Going home. Call me if you need a lift. Take care. See you later. Love Mum. X
She waited another minute or so to see if he would contact her and then started in the direction of home. Her phone was on the passenger seat beside her and as she drove she occasionally glanced at it, willing it to buzz with an incoming call or text message when she would immediately pull over to answer it. But it remained fiercely silent. Perhaps Andrew had been right when he’d said Jacob had to do this to realize he needed them.
But she wasn’t trying to suffocate him as Jacob had claimed. That was unfair. Yes, she’d mothered him more than one would a healthy young man but that was to be expected, surely? What mother wouldn’t have fussed over her son during a chronic illness, heart transplant and long rehabilitation? He’d been so weak and dependent on her for so long it had become second nature to nurse him. Had a new heart not become available when it did, it was doubtful Jacob would have lasted the year. And the old Jacob – the one she’d nursed while waiting for a transplant – hadn’t minded being looked after, indeed he’d thanked her many times. It was the new Jacob that found her so irritating and pushed her away. But then of course he was healthier now than he had been for a long while and Elizabeth recognized she’d have to learn to take a step back. Quite a few steps, in fact, and only help when asked.
It was just after two o’clock when she arrived in the village and rather than go straight home to an empty house she decided to visit Mary Hutchins. Mary was 92 and still lived alone in a cottage on the edge of Maybury. Elizabeth usually popped in once a week for a chat and a cup of tea, and to make sure Mary was keeping the house warm and eating regular meals. Other villagers visited her too and took her to her hospital appointments. Between them, their help allowed Mary to retain her independence and stay in her own house rather than go into a care home.
Elizabeth parked in the lane outside Acorn Cottage and checked her phone again before getting out. She opend the small latched gate, went up the garden path, and knocked on the door. The net curtains at the front-room window lifted and Mary looked out, smiled and signalled for her to use the key from under the mat to let herself in.
Chapter Fourteen
Jacob had quickly realized he wasn’t up to walking the half-mile from the hospital into the town and was now waiting for a bus, wishing he’d followed his exercise plan. Since leaving the hospital he was supposed to have been walking a little further each day, but walking around the village hadn’t appealed. The place was dead, full of old people, chickens and cows; there wasn’t even a pub any more or a village shop. So apart from giving Eloise one good fuck and wanking every day to the porn on the internet he hadn’t really had much exercise at all, and suddenly he was feeling it. As he waited he checked his phone again. But other than the voicemail and text message from his mother there was nothing new. He was expecting a message from Chez to say exactly what time to meet. Following Chez’s instructions he’d texted him to say he was on his way and would be about thirty minutes.
Txt wen you’re on yor way man, Chez’s message had said. I can’t b hanging rownd wiv stuff on me so don’t b l8.
Jacob had to get some cash from the bank first, but the timing should be OK. He’d be at the bank in about ten minutes, then once he received Chez’s text he’d make his way to the disused storage depot a few minutes out of town, where Chez had said there was no CCTV. There Jacob would give Chez the money in exchange for the cannabis he was supplying.
The bus arrived, he got on, sat down and checked his phone again. He hadn’t met Chez yet, but did have a description of sorts – black jeans and a hoodie, and there wasn’t likely to be anyone else at the disused depot.
He’d been surprised just how easy it had been to arrange to buy cannabis. While messaging in one of the online chat rooms he’d mentioned he’d had a heart transplant which instantly rocketed him to being something of a minor celebrity – a hero – the first dude any of them knew who’d had a transplant. Then someone typed in that their gran had her leg off last year and he’d given her some cannabis, and it made her so high she didn’t mind losing her leg and having to hop around. Jacob had typed, semi-jokingly, he could do with some of that stuff now, and five messages later the meeting had been set up. A hundred pounds for a quarter-ounce. It was good quality, strong stuff, Chez had said.
Jacob got off the bus and headed for the bank. It felt good being out by himself, in control, and away from the rectory and his parents. They were doing his head in and it had to stop. Freedom rules, he thought, for now he’d done it once – reclaimed his independence – it would be easy to keep going. He had plans. A car was next. A decent one. He’d had an old banger that had finally given up on him just before he’d become ill. Originally he’d been going to save up for another car but that wasn’t going to happen with no salary coming in, and he couldn’t wait for ever. He’d been researching new cars online and had found there were some really good deals. Decent cars, fast ones that would give him power and status, that didn’t need much of a deposit. Once he’d met up with Chez and got his stuff, his plan was to go to the showrooms in town. He’d already spoken on the phone to a guy called Gary there who’d said that if his credit was OK, he could drive a car away. He felt his heart step up a beat at the thought. A new, flashy fast car was just what he needed.
‘Shit!’ Jacob said aloud, arriving outside the bank. A sign over the cash machine read: Out of order. We apologize for any inconvenience. ‘Shit,’ he said again. How long was the queue at the counter? He couldn’t risk being late for Chez.
Inside the bank he was relieved to see that there wasn’t a queue, and one of the cashiers was already free. He went up to the counter and the cashier, blonde and attractive, smiled at him, greeting him with a bright, ‘Good afternoon. How can I help you?’, like she was genuinely pleased to see him.
‘Good afternoon. My day just got a lot better. Unfortunately, I just want your money for today.’ He held her gaze and saw her blush. He liked that, shy, not confident and overpowering. Eloise had become far too assertive lately and often reminded him of his mother.
She passed him the PINsentry reader and he inserted his card and entered his PIN. He slowly slid the card reader back across the counter and didn’t immediately remove his hand, so that as she took it her fingers brushed his. He saw her flush again.
‘How would you like your money?’ she asked.
‘However you’d like to give it to me,’ he said suggestively, holding her gaze.
The cashier sitting next to her heard and in a loud whisper, intended for him to hear, said jokingly, ‘You’d better watch that one.’
He laughed. ‘Twenties will be fine, thank you. Has anyone told you you’ve got a lovely smile?’ It sounded cheesy but it worked.
‘Thank-you,’ she said shyly.
He watched as she counted out his money. He could tell his gaze was making her self-conscious, unsure of herself.
‘Thank you so much,’ he said charmingly, taking the notes she passed him. ‘I’ll know where to come in future.’
She threw him a small smile and he moved away so she could serve the next customer. He stood to one side and sorted out his money. One hundred pounds in his pocket for Chez and the other fifty he tucked into his wallet. Before he left the bank he t
urned and caught the blonde cashier’s eye. He grinned at her and she smiled back. His day was getting better by the minute. Next time he came in – and there would certainly be a next time – he’d ask her for her name.
Outside, his phone bleeped with a text message. It was from Chez. Meet in 10. Perfect timing, Jacob thought and texted back, OK. I’ll be there. He began a steady walk up the High Street towards the end of the town. After a couple of minutes he felt his heartbeat quicken as the adrenalin kicked in, just as the doctor had explained it would. Although he probably didn’t have this kind of exercise in mind, Jacob thought to himself – most likely he’d been thinking along the lines of using a treadmill in a gym rather than going to buy weed.
He timed his walk so he would arrive in exactly ten minutes, as Chez had said neither of them should be seen hanging around. But when he entered the disused depot and stood by the rusty containers as Chez had stipulated, there was no one to be seen. Then suddenly out of the shadows a short hooded figure appeared and came towards him. He walked right up to Jacob and leant in, head down.
‘Hey man, you got the cash?’ he asked agitatedly. His hoodie was so far over his head that Jacob couldn’t see his face, but he delved into his pocket for the roll of notes. ‘You Chez?’ ‘Yeh of course?’ The dealer shifted on his feet and angled closer. ‘Come on, man, hurry up. You need to have it ready.’
Jacob pulled out the money and handed it to Chez, who stuffed it into his own pocket. In the same movement he pushed the packet of cannabis into Jacob’s hand. ‘Put it away, man,’ he hissed and was off, quickly disappearing out of the depot. Jacob stood for a moment, clutching the bag of weed. It had been as easy as that.
Chapter Fifteen
‘But you told me I could drive a car away!’ Jacob fumed, his anger finally exploding. ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ He’d spent an hour with Gary on the forecourt choosing a car and then when they’d gone inside to do the paperwork, he’d told him he couldn’t have the car after all.
‘I’m sorry,’ Gary said again, trying to pacify his very irate customer. ‘Our offers rely on your credit rating. I did say that on the phone. You have no income at present so the finance company will only loan you three thousand pounds.’
‘Which isn’t going to buy me a fucking car!’ Jacob thundered, and struck the table with his fist. ‘Fucking wanker.’
Another guy in a suit came over. ‘Hello, I’m Craig, the manager. Is everything all right here?’
‘No. It fucking isn’t,’ Jacob stormed. ‘This prick has just wasted half my day.’
Gary slid the forms containing Jacob’s details and the response from the finance company across the desk so his manager could see. Craig turned the pages and then, straightening, addressed Jacob.
‘I’m afraid what Gary has told you is correct, sir. Without any income no finance company is going to advance you the money you’re asking for. You could choose an older, cheaper model, although we don’t have any here we can show you. Or come and see us again when you’ve returned to work. I’m sure we’ll be able to help you then.’
‘I’m not waiting fucking months for a car!’ Jacob fumed. ‘Fuck you!’ He stood with such force that both men started. ‘You can stick your cars up your arse. Fucking wankers!’ He stormed out of the garage, kicking the glass door as he went.
Idiots! How dare they treat him like that? Arseholes! What a waste of fucking time! He was hungry and thirsty too, which wasn’t helping his temperament. He was supposed to eat and drink regularly throughout the day and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. His heart had speeded up; adrenalin from all the aggro in the car showrooms. Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum it went. He had to calm down.
Food and drink first, that was the priority, then he’d be able to think more clearly about what he should do. He began to retrace his steps back along the High Street. He was craving carbs and fat, not the lean nutritious muck his mother kept giving him. Fast food, that’s what was needed, it would enter his bloodstream quickly and raise his glucose levels. He knew low glucose levels left him agitated and in a bad mood. He’d been feeling the craving for what his mother called junk food for some time.
He stopped outside the kebab shop. A large solid meat doner kebab turned slowly on its rotisserie in the window. Hot, sizzling, dripping and spitting fat. Just what he needed. His mouth salivated as he went in.
‘A doner kebab in pitta bread with a large chips and a can of Coke,’ he ordered.
‘Eat in or take away?’ the guy behind the counter asked.
‘In,’ Jacob said. ‘And give me the Coke straightaway.’ It was cold, fresh from the fridge. ‘Cheers, man.’
‘You’re welcome. Take a seat and I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.’
Jacob crossed to one of the tables, popping the ring pull on the can as he went. He sat down and took a large swig. Spot on. The sugar and caffeine hit the back of his throat and then his stomach. Jesus. It felt good. He hadn’t had a cola drink in months and wasn’t supposed to; it was bad for him. But hey, life was for living and he intended to live his new life to the full. As he sipped the Coke he checked his phone to find two new texts, one from Chez: Enjoy man. See u soon and remember it didn’t come from me. The other from his mother: Please text or phone to let me know you’re OK. Your father and I are worried about you.
He set the phone on the table and swigged some more. He was now in a better frame of mind to start phoning other garages. He took one of the copies of the local newspaper from the rack, nodding to a bloke at another table. The adverts placed by car dealerships started on the front page and continued inside. Dozens of them. No deposit. Low interest rate. Easy terms, but that’s what wanker Gary had said. Jacob keyed in the number of the garage with the largest advert and explained his situation to the salesperson: that he needed a decent car but was off work sick at present.
‘It’s difficult, mate, to get finance without any income,’ the guy said.
‘How difficult?’ Jacob asked.
‘Impossible.’
‘Wanker,’ he said and cut the call. He tried another garage and got the same reply. His food arrived and he asked the guy if he could borrow his Biro. Jacob crossed off the two garages he’d phoned as he ate.
Swallowing a few more mouthfuls and enjoying every bite he then phoned another garage and got the same response. Then the next and the next, and so he continued, eating, swigging, phoning, cursing and striking an angry line through the adverts. By the time he’d finished his food he’d phoned virtually every garage in the paper and was seriously pissed off.
‘Fucking wankers,’ he said out loud.
The bloke at the other table looked over and nodded. While the guy serving, who’d heard enough to know what was going on, said, ‘Why don’t you ask a relative to lend you the money? That’s what I did. Borrowed it off my brother. I pay him each month plus a bit of interest, but nothing like those sharks.’
Jacob was about to dismiss the idea on the grounds he didn’t have a brother but then thought of his parents. They were tripping over themselves trying to please and pacify him in order to aid his recovery. A new car would certainly help their cause. His mother had been there when the doctor had said he needed his independence. Impossible without a car.
‘Thanks, man,’ he said as he stood to leave. He tossed the Biro over the counter and the guy caught it.
‘You’re welcome, man. Good luck.’
Outside, Jacob was feeling much better now. The food and drink had raised his glucose levels; he had weed in his pocket for later, and he also had the solution to his car problem. It didn’t get much better than that! Once he had his new car he’d drive to the showrooms and show wanker Gary and his manager. Rub their noses in the custom they’d missed.
As he walked he texted to his mother: Sorry, Mum. I’ve been looking at cars. I’m ready to come home now. Would appreciate a lift. J x
His phone rang immediately as he knew it would. ‘Oh darling, I’m so glad you’re all right. I k
now I mustn’t fuss so much. I’m sorry. I’m home now so rather than hang around and wait for me to drive all the way there why don’t you take a taxi? There’s a stand in the High Street.’
‘Won’t it be expensive?’ he asked.
‘Don’t worry, love, I’ll pay for it. You just come home.’ Which was exactly what he’d thought she’d say. Predictable or what!
At the rectory Elizabeth had been so relieved to hear from her son that her eyes had filled. She texted Andrew to say she’d spoken to Jacob and he was on his way home. Then she checked she had plenty of cash, and left her purse out ready. Jacob had sounded so much better on the phone, more like his old self. He’d thanked her and had called her Mum. His text message had been polite too, and he’d signed off J x just as he used to. Yes, the time he’d spent alone had obviously done him good. That little independence. Thank goodness. ‘Thank you,’ she said out loud, glancing up to the heavens. We’re slowly getting back to normal, she thought, and not a moment too soon. I don’t think I could have taken much more.
Fifty minutes later the cab pulled up outside the rectory and Elizabeth grabbed her purse and rushed out. Jacob was just getting out of the cab and smiled at her. ‘Hello, Mum.’ He looked as though he was pleased to see her.
The driver lowered his window and she paid him, adding a generous tip. ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ she replied.
As she and Jacob walked up the garden path he kissed her cheek. ‘Sorry about this morning, Mum. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘That’s all right, love.’ She smiled happily. ‘I understand. Forget it. You said you’d been looking at cars. Did you find anything suitable?’
‘Yes, although I want to discuss it with you first. When you have a moment,’ he said, which pleased her immensely.
He let her fuss around him for a while as it kept her happy. She wanted to take his temperature and blood pressure as she thought he looked a bit flushed. He was supposed to take them each day or if he felt at all unwell but he felt fine. He thought his colour was probably due to the promise of a new car and the Coke and greasy food, but if allowing her to play nurse helped butter her up so much the better. The readings were slightly high but within normal. She packed away the blood pressure monitor and joined him on the sofa. ‘Tell me about the car you’ve seen,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to hear.’
