The Darkness Within

by Cathy Glass

  Jacob had then asked if stress could be causing the problem and reluctantly divulged that his parents had been arguing a lot, which had surprised Dr Shah. The doctor knew Jacob’s father was a reverend, and he didn’t really expect ministers to argue with their wives, instead imagining them to discuss matters rationally. However, he readily agreed that stress could be responsible.

  ‘Perhaps your parents would find it helpful to come in and talk to someone here?’ he suggested, aware that transplants could put the whole family under a lot of stress. ‘We offer a counselling service.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll ask them,’ Jacob said politely, with no intention of doing so.

  Dr Shah then told him to book an extra appointment so the levels in his blood could be checked again, and if he felt unwell to contact them immediately.

  No doubt there’d be more aggro tonight, Jacob thought now, as he turned his key in the front door of his parents’ house. Once the Rev got going there was no stopping him. This morning he’d been lecturing him again about the evils of smoking illegal substances. Jacob had tried to be reasonable to begin with and said the weed was for medicinal purposes, and had even bothered to show him a web page on his phone supporting this. But the Rev had droned on and on that he’d seen what drugs did to people when he’d been working in the city: tearing families apart and making the kids aggressive and paranoid, which by implication was clearly what he thought was happening to Jacob. Meanwhile his mother had unwisely brought up the matter of him drinking beer – saying it was bad for his health. That’s when he’d exploded. For fuck’s sake, it was only a few beers in his room! And from there on it had escalated until his taxi had arrived to take him into town.

  Having been expecting the worst, sad faces and more lectures, Jacob was now surprised to see his mother coming towards him smiling convivially. ‘Hello, love, how did you get on at the hospital?’

  ‘Fine.’ He shrugged. ‘Is the Rev out?’

  She was about to correct him and say ‘father’ but thought better of it, and nodded instead. ‘Sit down, dear, I need to talk to you.’

  He hated her calling him dear or love, but then he hated most things about her now. ‘I’ll stand,’ he said. ‘It won’t take long.’ He was craving a joint. He had at least three a day now, often more.

  She touched her face nervously, uncertain of how to begin. ‘Eloise telephoned while you were out.’ He made a move to go. ‘No, hear me out, please,’ she said quickly. ‘I know you said it’s all over between you, but she’s been trying to contact you. She thinks you should talk and so do I. I asked her here for the weekend but she can’t make it. Her parents are away and she’s house-sitting – looking after the cats. She suggested you went there on Saturday. I really think you should. It would give you both some space to talk things through. You’ve known her a long time. Will you go, dear?’ She stopped, breathless, and looked at him hopefully.

  He was about to dismiss it out of hand and tell her to keep her nose out of his fucking business when it occurred to him that it might be preferable to spend the weekend with Eloise, who had clearly forgiven him, than with his parents. Interesting, he thought, that despite all Eloise’s tears and protests, and running away at the first opportunity, she’d actually enjoyed the way he’d fucked her, and now wanted more. Well, there was a lot more where that came from. He was stronger now and more virile.

  ‘OK,’ he said easily. ‘But haven’t you forgotten something?’

  ‘What?’ Elizabeth looked at him, concerned.

  ‘I haven’t got a car. Have I?’

  ‘You can borrow mine,’ she said without hesitation. ‘I can manage without it this weekend. I’ll be spending most of my time with Mary Hutchins, she’s ill in bed. I am pleased you’ve decided to see Eloise, love. I hope you can sort something out. Shall I phone her or will you?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And Jacob?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mary Hutchins was asking after you. It would be lovely if you could pop in and see her like you used to. She’s very poorly.’

  He shrugged and continued up to his room where he locked the door. Having switched on his music he sat in the chair by the window and began rolling a joint. He could roll joints efficiently now, without dropping any; he’d had a lot of practice. He opened the window, lit the tip of the joint, inhaled, and then sat back and waited for it to hit. He was soon in the best place ever. Time contracted or telescoped depending on what he was thinking, and his senses sharpened. He gazed at the passing clouds shaped like objects and people’s faces. He heard the birds’ chatter, the sound so intense that he felt he was part of their conversation. Human voices sounded in the distance, he heard the hum of a car pulling into the village. Images of Eloise and Rosie came and went and his thoughts drifted to the two of them together. Very nice. Rosie was sucking his cock, he could feel her mouth wet and warm sliding up and down, and the tip of her tongue teasing his foreskin. He put his hand on her head and forced her mouth further down so his prick hit the back of her throat, while Eloise sat astride his face. He could taste and smell pussy. No more playing hard to get for Eloise. He knew what she liked – the same as all women – a bloody good fuck. And if she or Rosie started playing hard to get he’d teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

  The landline rang in the distance and then stopped. He assumed his mother had answered it downstairs. Eloise again? God, she was keen. He’d text her later and say he’d be there around midday on Saturday. The house to themselves sounded good. He took another drag, closed his eyes, rested his head back, and imagined everything he was going to do to her over the weekend.

  Downstairs Elizabeth’s face had turned ashen as she listened to Dr Shah tell her that Jacob’s test results today were causing concern and he needed to get in touch. ‘Please persuade him to make an appointment,’ he said. ‘I appreciate the biopsy is an uncomfortable procedure but at present it is the most accurate method we have for looking for signs of rejection.’

  ‘Do you think his new heart is being rejected?’ Elizabeth asked, sick with fear.

  ‘No. But I need to check to be sure.’

  ‘I’ll speak to him,’ she said. ‘I’d no idea. Jacob didn’t say anything when he came home.’

  Dr Shah paused. He knew tact wasn’t his strong point – his colleagues had told him – but he tried his best. ‘I appreciate you can’t come to Jacob’s appointments any more because you’re very busy, but recovery is a long journey and a difficult one to do alone.’

  ‘He’s not alone. My husband and I are here with him,’ she said, shocked. ‘And I’m not so busy I can’t attend his appointments, but Jacob doesn’t want me to. He wanted his independence and you said it was good for him.’

  Dr Shah drew a breath and reminded himself to be patient. ‘I don’t wish to pry but Jacob is my responsibility and I need to make sure everything possible is being done to aid his recovery. As with any chronic illness or operation, recovery can be hindered by worry and stress. Jacob appears to be under quite a lot of stress at home at present. I’ve suggested it might be useful for you and your husband to come and have a chat with one of the counsellors here.’

  For a moment Elizabeth thought Dr Shah was finally acknowledging that there had been a dreadful change in Jacob’s behaviour since the transplant and was now offering help, until he added, ‘I’m sorry that you and your husband are having marital difficulties, but please try not to let it impact on Jacob. It’s possible to keep separation amicable. My wife and I did.’

  The awful truth dawned. ‘Did Jacob tell you that?’ she gasped in disbelief.

  ‘Yes, while we were discussing the effect stress can have on recovery.’

  ‘But it’s not true,’ Elizabeth cried. ‘The only problems my husband and I are having are with Jacob!’

  Dr Shah paused and drew a deep breath. ‘Please try not to hold your son responsible for your marriage breakdown,’ he said, as diplomatically as he could. ‘And persuade Jacob to boo
k that appointment for the biopsy. Concentrate on him. You know where I am if you need me.’ And with that he closed the conversation.

  Elizabeth stood, unable to believe what she’d just heard. How could Jacob have told the doctor those dreadful lies? And why? To make them appear as bad as he seemed to believe them to be? It was wicked and it didn’t make sense. Her hand trembled as she returned the phone to its cradle. She’d always offered to go with Jacob to all the appointments, but he’d consistently refused, often being rude and hurtful in the process – I don’t need you any more.

  So she and Andrew had given him his independence, which was supposed to aid his recovery. She’d paid for all the taxis and had given him extra money when he wanted it, which was often. She always asked how he’d got on at the hospital but he never shared anything with her now, sometimes telling her to mind her own f-ing business. He’d told Dr Shah she and Andrew were divorcing! For what purpose? To gain sympathy? What other lies had he told him? This was her son and although she hated herself for admitting it he’d become a deceitful, sly, manipulative liar, and to some extent she blamed herself. She’d let him get away with it, pandering to his needs and making excuses for his appalling behaviour, but with good reason. Volatile and unpredictable, Jacob exploded into anger at any opportunity and it was frightening. I doubt he’s told Dr Shah that, Elizabeth thought bitterly.

  Summoning all her courage she went upstairs to confront him before she lost her nerve. She knocked on the door and tried to open it but it was locked. ‘Jacob. We need to talk. Open this door please.’

  She could hear his music and could smell the stuff he smoked coming from under the door. ‘Jacob. Let me in now. Dr Shah just phoned and I’m not pleased.’

  Suddenly the door opened with such force that she instinctively stepped back. Jacob towered over her, eyes wide and staring. ‘Fuck off will you!’ he shouted in her face, and slammed the door shut.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Read it please,’ Elizabeth said to Andrew.

  He pulled his chair over so he could see the computer screen. They’d been working separately in the study, he on parish business at the large oak desk, and Elizabeth at the computer on the smaller one. She’d been searching for articles online. It wasn’t the first time she’d made these searches but it was the first time she’d shared any of them with Andrew.

  As he read and scrolled down the web page he absently stroked Mitsy’s head. Even the dog seemed to appreciate the change in atmosphere now Jacob was out of the house. It was Saturday afternoon and he’d left to spend the weekend with Eloise. Elizabeth thought it was like a breath of fresh air, a reprieve, a chance to move and speak freely again. Andrew neared the end of the article and sat back in his chair.

  ‘Liz, it’s a tabloid newspaper. Don’t you think it’s been exaggerated for effect? Even the journalist says there is no medical evidence to support what the woman is claiming.’

  ‘I know, but I’ve found other similar stories.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it. As Dr Shah said, this sort of thing sells newspapers. But logic tells me it’s not possible. A person’s likes and dislikes are part of their personality, who they are, their soul. And you can’t transplant that.’ He took her hands in his. ‘I know you’re desperate to find a reason for Jacob’s behaviour, I am too, but I really don’t believe this is it. I think we need to look closer to home, accept responsibility, and work through it as a family.’

  ‘But how can it be us?’ Elizabeth asked, anxiously. ‘What are we supposed to have done wrong? Do you know?’

  He gently stroked her hand. ‘Liz, I’m not suggesting we have intentionally caused Jacob his problems, but perhaps we’ve inadvertently made them worse by not responding to him as we should have done. Clearly something is upsetting him or he wouldn’t be behaving as he is doing, or have told Dr Shah all those lies. I think we should take up the doctor’s offer of counselling – the three of us, Jacob included. It will give us all a chance to speak our minds openly in a controlled environment. The counsellor won’t let it get out of hand and we can explain to Jacob how damaging and hurtful his behaviour is and he can tell us how he’s feeling.’

  She held his gaze. ‘You know I’ll try anything if it gets us back the old Jacob. But I doubt he’ll agree to go. He can’t bear being in the same room with us at present.’

  ‘I’ll speak to him when he comes home. I need to do more, especially now you say you feel threatened by his behaviour. I know it’s difficult but perhaps counselling is the way forward.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said desultorily, not convinced. Andrew hadn’t seen as much of Jacob as she had.

  ‘Now come on, love, cheer up. I’ve got a surprise for you. You’ve been wanting to eat at The Old Manor House restaurant for some time so I’ve booked a table for tonight. A romantic dinner for two.’

  She smiled and her spirits lifted a little. ‘Thank you. That is kind. You are thoughtful. I love you so much.’

  ‘I love you too,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘Now, no more surfing the internet. It won’t help. You can prove anything online.’

  ‘All right.’ She smiled again and closed the web page, feeling slightly chided for having embraced and believed what she’d read there. Andrew returned to his desk. ‘I’m going to pop over to see Mary shortly. I’ll take her some dinner too.’

  ‘How is she?’ he asked.

  ‘Improving.’

  ‘Good. Give her my regards. I’ll try and visit her next week.’

  It was after midnight by the time they returned home from The Old Manor House and the evening had lived up to expectations. The food had been excellent and the olde-worlde ambience relaxing. Tired but emotionally rejuvenated, Elizabeth said goodnight and went up to bed while Andrew, always a night owl, stayed downstairs to run through his sermon for the following morning. It was aptly chosen and entitled ‘When God Tests Our Faith’. He was planning on including an example from his family and how they had felt they were being tested when they’d been told Jacob had an incurable heart disease. He’d given enough sermons in his career as a minister to know that the congregation appreciated an example or two from his personal life. It made the teaching more relevant to their lives, and if the minister had admitted to erring then so could they. It was so important to make sure he could relate to the congregation and they to him.

  He made a few notes in the margin and underlined a couple of salient points he wanted to emphasize. Coming to the end and satisfied with his efforts he tucked the sheets of paper into his briefcase and then saw Mitsy into her bed. He checked the doors were locked, switched off the downstairs lights and went quietly upstairs to their bedroom. To avoid waking Elizabeth he took his pyjamas into the bathroom to change. It had been a lovely evening; he was so pleased he’d thought of the idea, they’d both been relaxed and Elizabeth had laughed freely as she hadn’t done in a long while. He appreciated he needed to take more responsibility for Jacob while he was like this. If he was honest he’d been avoiding him and leaving the house when he was angry. He hated confrontation and shied away from it – strength or weakness he couldn’t say, it was just who he was. But that had to change now Elizabeth had admitted she couldn’t take much more and was sometimes scared of their own son.

  As Andrew finished washing he heard Elizabeth’s car draw up outside and his heart sank. Jacob wasn’t due home until tomorrow, which didn’t bode well for him having patched up his differences with Eloise. Was he upset? Angry, or taking it in his stride? He must be disappointed. Was this a good time to talk to him? Andrew briefly considered going down to see him now, but then decided it would be wiser to wait until the morning. What he would say he didn’t yet know, but he was hoping for one of those father and son chats similar to the ones they’d had in the long months of Jacob’s illness while he waited for a transplant. Most evenings when he’d returned home from his parish work he’d sit and talk with Jacob. He’d confided in him about his fears of dying and Andrew had reassured him as best h
e could. They needed to become intimate again, once he’d opened up the pathway of communication.

  Leaving the landing light on for Jacob, Andrew crept silently into his bedroom and closed the door. He eased back the duvet and climbed into bed without disturbing Elizabeth. She was fast asleep on her side and facing away from him. He moved closer and slipped his arm around her waist, enjoying the comfort and warmth of her familiar body. As he did every night before he went to sleep he said a silent prayer of thanks, asking for forgiveness for his sins and the strength to face the challenges of the next day. But tonight quite suddenly and to his surprise another prayer came into his mind, one he hadn’t even realized he’d remembered. It was called ‘Now the Light Has Gone Away’; his mother had taught it to him as a child – long before he’d entertained any ideas about following a career in the church. Now with a stab of emotion he remembered teaching this prayer to Jacob as a child. Perhaps he’d remind him of it when they talked. It was memories like this that bonded a family – a treasure trove of shared experiences – that saw them through the bad times and reunited them. And with a feeling of inner peace and tranquillity he thanked the Lord and closed his eyes ready for sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mary Hutchins had lived in Acorn Cottage most of her life. Her father had brought his wife and young family to live in the village when Mary had been a toddler, the youngest of three children. Mary’s older brother and sister had died some years before, and with no family of her own she appreciated her many good friends in the village. She loved the cottage and had only lived elsewhere when she’d married, returning to the house a year later as a war widow. Mary’s biggest regret was that she’d never had children, but she knew she had a lot to be grateful for. It was at times like this when she wasn’t feeling well that she knew how lucky she was to have so many kind people in the village looking after her.