by Sharon Sant
‘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.
Two: The Coming of the Watcher
Jacob was still in his school uniform. He glanced at the digital clock on his bedside table. It had just gone three in the morning. Moonlight streamed through his open bedroom curtains, throwing the sharp edged contours of his furniture into silvery relief. Uncle Dan was downstairs on the sofa, asleep. Jacob could hear the low, throaty rumble of his snoring and wished he would just go home; he couldn’t stand being around him. He couldn’t stand to be around anyone. He wanted to be alone, not to have to speak ever again. He wished he could cry. It didn’t seem normal somehow not to, it seemed distinctly alien. The burden of guilt was hard to bear; it tore at him and made him want to scratch and pinch himself in sheer spite.
Eventually, he slid off the bed and padded across the hall to the bedroom that his parents had safely occupied only the night before. Jacob pressed his ear to the closed door, willing a sound - steady breathing, the crack of the bedsprings as someone got comfortable, a low snore. The pain the silence brought felt like a hole being carved into his heart. He pushed the door open and gazed at the empty bed. Suddenly feeling the need to be close to the scent still lingering on the pillows, he crossed the room and threw himself onto the bed, face down, breathing deeply and trying desperately to hold on to the memory of the smell, to store it away so that they would never leave him.
As he lay, his face buried close to the only biological traces of his parents he had left, echoes of the evening’s conversations began to crowd his head. Why had his mum called his dad out of work? Something to do with him - but what? There were witnesses who had seen the silver Mondeo break through the roadside barriers and plunge from the bridge into the swirling waters below, but as yet police divers had failed to recover any bodies. How was it that their car had breached the barrier? He couldn’t accept what the police had told him, that there was a freak weakness in the metal. He had questioned them again and again. When they had gone he had questioned Uncle Dan again. None of it seemed right. How could they be so sure his parents were dead? It didn’t add up. And it didn’t feel like they were dead, deep inside him, it all felt wrong. He had tried to explain this to Uncle Dan, who gave a small, sad smile and muttered something to the WPC about denial.
The next few days of waiting for news were an excruciating blur. There was no structure to the day, no hours to mark it out, only darkness or daylight. When he wasn’t lying on his parents’ bed, their scent fading daily along with his hopes of their ever coming back, Jacob was in his room, on his own bed, staring blankly at the walls. Ellen and Luca phoned him, but he ignored the calls; they sent him texts which he didn’t reply to. Every day he heard their low, earnest voices at the front door speaking to Uncle Dan and heard their receding footsteps as they left again.
On the fifth day, Uncle Dan came up to his room and sat on the end of the bed upon which Jacob lay with his arms folded above his head, unmoving, staring into space.
‘I’m sorry to be talking practical, Jacob…’ He wiped his sweaty palms over his canvas trousers. ‘But I can’t stay here forever.’ Jacob continued in his silent contemplation of a dagger of impertinent sunlight that blazed across the ceiling, as if to mock his sorrow. ‘And there isn’t room for you with us… you know I would if I could, but…’ His voice tailed off.
Jacob sat up and fixed him with a shrewd look. ‘Aunt Carol doesn’t want me, that’s what you mean. I’m going into care - right?’
Uncle Dan shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry. You’ve been allocated a social worker. Linda. She sounds nice. She’s coming over later.’
Jacob saved him further explanation by swinging off the bed and striding across to his wardrobe. He began flinging clothes onto the floor.
‘Fine,’ he muttered through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll pack, then.’
Luca answered his front door, addressing Jacob in a low voice as he glanced back down the hall to make sure that no members of his huge family were in earshot.
‘Jakey, you can’t stay here, mate.’
‘But they’re going to put me in a home.’
‘Running away isn’t going to help,’ Luca
snapped back. Jacob pouted. ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t,’ Luca added more sympathetically. ‘Mum and Dad would go mental if they found out.’
‘They won’t, I’ll be quiet, stay out of sight; it’s only for a few days until I think what to do.’
‘Jake, there is nothing you can do.’
‘Mum and Dad will come back.’
Luca paused as if considering and then frowned. ‘It’s no good,’ he said finally. ‘We’ll never get away with it. You know what my mum is like, how long d’you think you can stay in my room without being found? I mean, if it was Ellen’s… hey, where are you going?’
Jacob was already running down the road.
‘You’d better get in quick. Thank God Luca warned me you were coming; I was ready to go out. And your uncle Dan’s been on the phone.’
Jacob stepped into the dingy hallway and followed Ellen upstairs. His steps echoed on the bare wood as if they would betray his presence to the world. In Ellen’s room, he shrugged off his backpack and threw himself down on the bed.
‘God, Jacob, your eyes look mad. They’re almost black today; I’ve never seen them like that.’ Something in the way he looked frightened her but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
Jacob pushed himself up again and went over to the mirror. ‘Neither have I,’ he observed in a dull tone studying his reflection carelessly. He went back over to the bed and sat down.
Ellen folded her arms. ‘Now what?’
Jacob shrugged. ‘I thought maybe I could stay here for a bit…’
‘Right. Then what?’ She strode over to the window and looked out. ‘How long is a bit?’ she continued as she surveyed the street outside. ‘Your uncle will come looking for you. It won’t take him long to work out where you are.’
‘A few days, I promise. I just need time to sort my head out and think of what to do. Mum and Dad will turn up soon.’
‘Jacob…’ Ellen left the window and sat next to him on the bed. ‘Luca told me you said that to him. It’s been five days. I know it’s hard, but you have to get used to the fact that they’re probably not coming back.’
‘Where are they, then? No bodies. Where have they gone? Maybe they’re in a hospital somewhere, unconscious so no one knows who they are…’
‘Jacob…’ Ellen shook her head sadly. ‘How can that be true? If they had been found alive, you would know by now.’
‘What do you know about it?’ Jacob fired back, instantly regretting the venom in his voice. Ellen bit her lip and turned away without reply. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured.
She waved away the apology as she turned her troubled face back to his. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She hesitated for a moment before she spoke again. ‘A couple of days and I’ll do my best to put your uncle off. But you’d better figure out what you’re going to do - and quickly.’
Ellen’s phone bleeped. She flicked it open and read the message. ‘Your uncle has been to Luca’s house. He’s on his way here.’ Jacob began to curse his friend but Ellen interrupted. ‘It’s not Luca’s fault. He would have had to tell your uncle where I lived. It’s awkward for us, you know.’
‘I’m sorry. I just can’t go into care. It’s not fair. It’s like everyone is admitting they’re… I just can’t.’
‘If they are found, then you’ll be able to go home again.’
‘You just said they won’t be.’
‘Then you’ll have to be cared for by someone.’ Ellen’s statement was stark.
Jacob gnawed his lip. ‘A real friend would help me.’ His pleading expression bordered on confrontational. He knew it was wrong to put her on the spot, but he couldn’t help himself.
‘That’s not fair.’ Ellen chewed her nails, considering their options anyway. ‘Ok,’ she decided finally, ‘I’ll help. But you’ll have to go out for a bit while your uncle is here.’
‘I can’t, someone might see me.’
The sound of a knock at the front door boomed through the house. Ellen rushed over to the window and looked down; she could see the top of a man’s head. ‘It’s him already! Stay out of sight and be quiet.’ She bolted for the door to make sure nobody let Jacob’s uncle into the house.
The childish voice of Tommy chattering to his uncle carried through the walls up to Ellen’s room and Jacob listened, silently praying that Tommy hadn’t already given him away. Then he heard Ellen’s soft tones added to the mix. He squeezed himself down on the floor between the side of the bed and a nearby cupboard, hardly daring to breathe. As he waited, listening to the murmurings of conversation which seemed to be coming from beneath his feet, he suddenly felt the tiny hairs on his neck stand on end. Jacob looked around the room but could see nothing. Even as he did so, the outline of a man began to form, pulling together into solidity as if drawn from the surrounding air, until the figure stood before him.
‘What do you want from me?’ Jacob folded his arms across his head as if to defend himself. ‘Haven’t you done enough damage?’
Come with me.
The voice was inside his head. Jacob’s eyes were wide. The man looked different in the daylight, even more compelling.
‘Who are you?’
The man simply repeated his request. Come with me, Ioh.
For reasons that he couldn’t understand, Jacob suddenly felt that he did want to go, wherever it was that the man could take him. He was lost, vulnerable, no longer sure of his place in the world, no longer sure where his world was. The man sensed his hesitation and offered Jacob a long-fingered hand. Jacob slowly reached for it…
NO!
Someone else had called a warning. Jacob recoiled, snatching his hand away as if he had been burnt. He looked for the source but could see no one else. Down below, there was now only Ellen’s voice and that of his uncle in the hallway. Jacob’s eyes roved Ellen’s familiar, comfortable room, looking everywhere but at the man standing before him, desperately clinging to any tiny thread of reality.
Where will you go? The man had a cold look of triumph on his smooth features. Jacob shook his head slowly, but didn’t answer. He didn’t know. Even as he tried not to look at them, he felt inextricably drawn to those eyes…
The sound of the front door slamming shut reached them and broke the moment. The man’s cool smile did not reach his eyes. Jacob tore away his gaze and held his face in his shaking hands as if not seeing the man would make him go away.
‘Jacob, what are you doing down there?’ Jacob looked up and saw that only Ellen was now in the room with him. She stooped down and studied him with concern. ‘You look white as a ghost!’
In the evening Luca appeared with chips which they ate from the paper cross-legged on Ellen’s floor. The spicy aroma of hot salt and vinegar clung to the air long after the remains of the meal had been cleared away. Jacob managed a little, more than he had eaten for days. Wrapped in an old quilt, his head on one side, he leaned back against the wall as the other two discussed his future, almost as if it didn’t concern him. Jacob, exhausted, was content to let them.
‘He can’t stay with me.’ Luca was adamant. ‘Mum and Dad would never allow it. Why can’t he stay here? He could strip naked, paint himself blue and sing Rule Britannia on your roof and your mum wouldn’t notice.’
Ellen scowled. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘True, though,’ Luca replied, refusing to retract the insult.
‘What if the police come looking? I suppose it’s alright if they arrest my mum for kidnap?’
‘Don’t be stupid. The police aren’t going to come.’
‘How do you know?’
‘If he comes to my house, my mum will ring the police as soon as she finds out, and we’ll both be in the kids’ home.’
‘Luca!’
‘Well…’ Luca glanced at Jacob, but the quip had gone unnoticed. ‘It’s not like he doesn’t know where he’s going,’ he concluded lamely.
‘He doesn’t want to go to the home.’
‘If you’re so bothered, let him stay here.’
>
‘I told you, he can’t…’
‘Why not?’
‘Because…’ Ellen strung out the word mockingly. ‘I have two big-mouthed brothers who will tell the whole world he’s here.’
‘What about my sisters? There’s six of them!’
‘Yeah, but they don’t all live with you.’
As Ellen and Luca continued to bicker quietly amongst themselves, their voices became a monotonous drone, lulling Jacob’s exhausted mind which grew light as he drifted into sleep…
He found himself looking into the face of a man he had never seen before, but at the same time someone inexplicably familiar. His cheekbones were high and strong, Jacob recognised a certain flawless, almost radiant tone of skin. He had straw-blonde hair like Jacob’s own, and clear eyes the deep grey-green of the wild Atlantic, all at once beguiling and terrifying, just like those of the first man who had visited Jacob in the dead of night. He spoke to Jacob in an oddly comforting voice.
‘I shall come to you through dreams as often as I can. You will need me for a while. I cannot come to you any other way; my body is not free as my mind is.’
