by Sharon Sant
‘But I know he hasn’t got back with Ellen,’ he added shrewdly.
Jacob silently chided himself for his selfish thoughts. ‘I was just wondering how he was.’
Jacob’s statement was a half-truth. He had missed his friend too, but the distance between him and Ellen was different, an ache that nothing could ease. On Astrae he had thrown himself into his role as Watcher, taking his responsibilities seriously, as was demanded of him, training every day, pushing himself to the limit. Any spare moment had been dedicated to the search for the other like him, whose existence had been revealed by Makash on the night Jacob had defeated him. He had clung desperately to the belief that he could find the other Successor quickly so that he could return home and be plain old Jacob Lightfoot again. And he had thought that his constant activity would leave no room to pine for Ellen. But he was wrong on both counts.
His dad grabbed his bags from the floor. ‘Come on, don’t stand there all day.’ He nodded his head towards the kitchen door. ‘I’ll get the kettle on. I bet you’re gasping for some proper tea.’
‘They do have tea in New Zealand, you know,’ Jacob said, following his dad down the hallway.
‘Yes, but it’s never the same, is it?’ Phil dropped Jacob’s bags by the doorway. He busied himself filling the kettle and pulling out mugs from a high cupboard.
Jacob smiled quietly, thinking about the scolding his father would get for making a mess when his mother got home. His gaze travelled the bright room.
‘You’ve decorated,’ he observed.
‘Hmmm? Oh, yes. Your mum fancied a change. Bit girly for my liking, but she gets what she wants, as usual.’
‘I like it,’ Jacob said, taking in the walls that had been sunshine yellow the last time he was there, now sugary lilac, a purple grape mural stencilled over one wall.
‘Ellen helped her,’ Phil continued. ‘She has quite an eye.’ He returned to the table and set down two mugs of strong tea.
Jacob’s thoughts turned back to Ellen’s bedroom, the calm haven she had created in one corner of her otherwise chaotic home. ‘She does,’ he agreed. The craving to see her, to hold her, to have the scent of her fill his head was increasing by the second.
He pulled out his mobile phone. The battery was dead, of course. It hadn’t been used since he had left for Astrae. His dad noticed him looking at it.
‘Charger’s in the drawer. You left it behind. Lucky you managed to get a spare.’ He gestured to a unit near the window.
‘Do I still have a service?’ Jacob asked.
His dad shot him a confused glance. ‘Of course. How do you think you’ve been phoning us?’
The guilt maggot squirmed again in Jacob’s gut. All those conversations that his parents had had with him, they were implants, fakes, memories he had given them to protect them and soothe them in his absence. His thumb stroked the phone as he sat in silent contemplation. Things for everyone on Earth had carried on the same as always – mobile phone contracts, decorating, coffee mornings – while he had struggled every day on a distant planet, yearning to be back and surrounded by all that normality.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Astrae. The people had welcomed him and treated him like a god, which was how they saw him. But he felt keenly his difference from them; he was a product of his upbringing, and that upbringing had been in a quiet suburb in a small country on Earth, a place of TV and school homework and DIY. Astraens thought differently, their emotions, the way they expressed themselves, it was all so… he could think of no other word than alien, despite the fact that he was actually one of them. Being dropped in Astrae, he often thought, was something akin to taking a tribesman from the Amazon and dropping him in New York. Or maybe it was the other way around.
His dad dragged himself up from the table to fetch the phone charger. It was then that Jacob noticed the difficulty with which he moved.
‘Dad, what’s the matter?’
‘Huh?’
‘You look sort of… stiff.’
‘Oh that,’ Phil replied, returning to the table with the charger. ‘Don’t you worry about that.’
Ioh’s consciousness broke in and Jacob saw a flash of a word. The word was cancer. The blood drained from his face and he stared at his dad while this revelation sank in. He had been so wrapped up in his own feelings at his return that he hadn’t seen the signs. His father was pale, his face lined deeply, he was much thinner than he had been on Jacob’s departure.
Jacob had thought that cutting himself off from the happenings on Earth had been the best way for him to cope with his exile, but he saw now that it had been selfish, leaving him ignorant of the trials that had befallen everyone he loved. But then, would he have been able to return to help them? He had fought long and hard with the Astraen Council to finally let him come back now - and only with a time limit, at the end of which, if the other Successor had not been found he was to return for good. They hadn’t wanted him to go in the first place, had fought against the notion of a second Successor and he understood this; it upset the order that the Astraens craved above all else. It had been a long battle to make them understand that his upbringing on Earth made him see things differently from them, that the yearning to return there was part of his nurtured humanity. Jacob was their Watcher and for him to have the slightest rejection of his birthright was unthinkable to them.
His first thought was to cure his father, and he was just about to reach under his shirt for the blood-warm amulet that lay beneath it and envision the ancient words of healing when he stopped himself. The warnings of the previous Watcher, his real father, Dae, echoed in his thoughts. To tamper with the natural order was to risk severe consequences. Last time he had done it, bringing Maggie and Phil back from the dead, he almost destroyed them again and himself in the process. He realised, with a wrench of grief, that if his dad was destined to die, he must let him die. But how could this be right when it felt so wrong?
‘Hey,’ his dad said softly, ‘you don’t look so good yourself. Jetlagged? Want a lie down? Your room’s all ready.’
That was the second jolt. In the midst of their heartache and pain, they had clung on to the idea that Jacob was returning, keeping everything ready for him - the phone, his room - it was all too much.
‘Now then… What’s all this? Don’t think I didn’t just see that eye change,’ Phil said gently.
‘Dad, just how ill are you?’
Phil shuffled awkwardly on his seat. ‘I’m ok. Chemo is going well, so they say, though it knocks seven bells out of me when I go-’
‘So it is cancer!’ Jacob squeaked.
‘We didn’t want to say anything while you were so far away. It didn’t seem fair to make you come home from your trip, and you would have done if we’d told you.’ Phil smoothed a hand across his thinning hair. ‘I half hoped that my treatment would have been done and dusted and I’d be well when you got back.’
‘So you weren’t going to tell me at all?’
Phil shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps later.’
‘When would later be?’ Jacob began, almost in anger, until reminded once again of the fact that he should have been the one to sense it, and would have done, had he chosen to open himself to messages from home. He sighed. ‘Sorry Dad, it’s just a shock, that’s all.’ There was a brief silence. ‘So, what’s the prognosis?’
‘Good,’ Phil said, rallying himself to a false cheeriness. ‘Chemo is three months in now, so not much longer to endure, then some more scans to see if it’s done any good. I feel positive about it, though.’
‘I suppose that’s something,’ Jacob replied gloomily.
‘This wasn’t the welcome I had wanted for you,’ Phil said.
‘Not quite bunting and streamers, is it? Mum’ll flip her lid,’ Jacob replied with a slight smile.
Phil returned it and then gazed into his cup. Jacob dragged his own mug across the table and wrapped his hands around it.
‘I don’t know what to say, Dad.’
Jacob looked down at his tea to hide his eyes, sure that their colour was darkening still. He had six months and then he had to return to Astrae. Six months to help his father beat cancer, set things right with his friends and find someone, another one like him, amongst the seven billion people that swarmed over the face of this planet. No pressure, he thought wryly.
They were interrupted by the slam of the front door and a squeal from the hallway.
‘Phil… what’s all this mess…’ she began, her voice travelling through the house.
At the kitchen door, Jacob’s mum dropped her shopping bags and ran to him, arms outstretched. He stood up. ‘Jacob!’ she cried, pulling him into a fierce hug that startled him with its strength. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ She drew away and craned her neck up to look at him. ‘My God, you’re huge!’
He grinned. ‘Not really, Mum. Maybe you got smaller.’
‘Cheeky!’ she smiled.
‘I hope not,’ Phil cut in. ‘Any smaller she’d be a Borrower.’
‘Phil!’ Maggie began, but couldn’t think of a witty retort. Instead, her gaze returned to Jacob. ‘You look like a grown man,’ she observed. Jacob thought he detected a hint of sadness in her voice.
‘Still not shaving, though,’ Jacob said, rubbing his smooth skin - another Astraen trait.
‘Not all it’s cracked up to be,’ Phil countered.
Maggie glanced at the table. ‘I see your dad’s fixed you a drink.’ Jacob nodded. ‘I bet you’re hungry, though. I’ll get you something.’
‘Sit down, Mum. I can wait.’
‘No, I know what airline food is like, absolutely awful, I’ll get my coat off and sort you a snack.’
Without giving Jacob a chance to argue, she had bustled back out to hang her coat and retrieve her shopping. She returned a few moments later and began to unpack the bags, laying the items out on the table. Jacob spotted a cellophane pack containing coloured triangles of fabric. He caught his dad’s eye and they shared a grin.
‘Bunting!’ Phil mouthed.
‘You should have phoned us,’ Maggie called from the fridge. ‘We could have come to the airport. Why didn’t you give us the flight number; we’d have checked to see when it was due.’
‘I didn’t want to bother you,’ Jacob replied.
‘You wouldn’t have,’ she said. ‘Besides,’ she continued, bringing over a plate of sandwiches which she placed in front of him, ‘I would have had a bit of warning. Nothing’s ready yet.’
‘Ready?’ Jacob’s sandwich stopped half way to his mouth. ‘What do you mean, ready? Dad says my room is all sorted.’
‘I was going to do a little welcome home get-together… Uncle Dan and Aunt Carol were going to call in.’
Jacob’s stomach dropped. It was bad enough keeping up the pretence to his parents, without other family members to lie to.
‘I’d rather not,’ he said carefully, glancing at his dad’s reaction.
‘I did try to tell her,’ Phil replied. ‘But you know how it is.’
‘Nonsense,’ Maggie said, wiping her hands on a tea towel, ‘everyone is dying to see you. I saw Ellen today. She says she’ll bring Luca over too.’
Jacob placed his sandwich back on the plate, his insides suddenly churning. Half of him was elated at the idea of seeing them again, the other half in dread. What if they were back together? What if things had changed between them all beyond recognition? Two years without contact was a long time, what if their lives had moved on and they didn’t want to know him any more? It was a rejection he didn’t think he could handle. He wondered if they had known about his dad’s illness, and the feeling of guilt squeezed again.
‘What about Dad?’ Jacob asked quietly. ‘Won’t it all be a bit much for him?’
Maggie looked from one to the other. ‘You told him?’ she said to Phil with reproach in her voice.
Phil shrugged. ‘He guessed something was up.’
‘Don’t blame him,’ Jacob replied in his dad’s defence. ‘It didn’t take much working out.’
Maggie’s expression softened as she glanced at her husband. She took a seat at the table. ‘I suppose not.’ She squeezed Jacob’s hand. ‘Are you very annoyed that we didn’t tell you?’
Jacob stared into his mug. ‘Course not,’ he replied. ‘But I wish you had.’ He lifted his head and held her gaze. ‘Can you imagine how guilty I feel not knowing?’
She nodded. ‘I suppose you must.’
‘Does everyone know but me?’ Jacob asked.
‘Dan and Carol do, some people at work, of course, needed to know. We kept it to ourselves as much as we could. Your dad didn’t want a fuss.’ Maggie’s eyes glistened.
‘Don’t cry,’ Jacob said, dismayed at her distress. He searched for the words to make it better, but nothing would come.
She sniffed hard and rubbed her eyes. ‘I’m not. Eat that sandwich, before it gets cold,’ she said, gesturing to his plate.
‘Cold?’ Phil raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ Maggie replied, getting up from the table to finish unpacking the shopping. ‘Stale. I mean stale.’
Jacob and his dad shared a meaningful look.
Phil and Maggie had seemed unwilling to share any more details about Phil’s illness. So, after an hour of what felt like interrogation about his trip, Jacob retreated to his room, making excuses about jetlag and needing to lie down. It wasn’t that he hadn’t loved seeing his parents again, but he was constantly plagued by the fear that his carefully constructed web of lies would trip him up. He had made sure, or rather, Ioh, his Astraen self, had made sure, that the details were firmly planted in his parents’ heads - to them real and solid truth - and he guessed there was little he could say to undo that. But the idea still unnerved him. And the guilt that gnawed over his abandonment of them did little to ease it.
Seeing his bedroom again after all this time had been a peculiar experience. He couldn’t decide whether it reminded him more of a museum or some creepy shrine for a dead person. Everything had been perfectly preserved, just as he had left it, even down to the book still half-read on his bedside table. It was as if his parents had not anticipated any change in him on his return, that he would still be the same gangly fifteen-year-old he had been when he left. It seemed short sighted of them. But then, he supposed, how could they know what sort of man he was becoming when they only had false memories with which to judge?
He settled on his bed. The freshly washed sheets smelt like summer. Little things like this; they were what he’d missed about home almost above everything else. Almost. In a few hours he would be faced with Luca and Ellen. His hand crept beneath his shirt to the amulet that he never removed - the last connection to his real mother, her guardianship, infused with the power of her love. He had often wondered what she would make of him if she could see him now as Watcher, finally in possession of his birthright, his destiny. Would she be proud? Or would she be disappointed to learn that all he ever wanted to do was use his power to alter things on Earth, to make it so he could return and forsake his true home. For now he was not thinking about his responsibilities to his own world, but about how unethical it might be to contact Ellen through her mind, despite the long months of nothing. He briefly grappled with the idea, wrong though he knew it to be. He needed to know how she felt about him now. And it might be impossible to speak to her alone at his mum’s get-together. But then, she at least deserved the respect of some privacy. He decided to go with his better judgement and wait to see her in the flesh, come what may.
Jacob made his way downstairs, bare-footed and rubbing his eyes, after having fallen asleep for a while. As he entered the kitchen, he groaned at the sight that greeted him. His mum had hung a painted banner across the window that said: WELCOME HOME, and bunting in primary colours adorned the four walls. The kitchen worktops w
ere piled high with sandwiches and savouries and a huge chocolate cake dominated the spread.
‘You look better for a sleep,’ Maggie remarked as she mixed some fruit punch.
‘You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble,’ Jacob replied, trying not to sound as ungrateful as he felt.
‘It was no trouble. My baby boy has been missing for two years and I can’t put on a bit of food to welcome him home?’ There was a hint of reproach in the look she gave him. Seeing there was nothing he could do to prevent the party, Jacob relented and decided he was going to try and enjoy it, for her sake.
‘Course you can. I just didn’t want you wearing yourself out. Or Dad…’
Maggie sighed and paused to look out of the window. ‘It’s nice to think about something other than that for a change,’ she said, finally.
‘I suppose it must be.’ Jacob sidled over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She turned to him with a watery smile.
‘It’ll be nice tonight, you’ll see.’
He nodded, then leaned over to pull at the cling film covering a plate of sausage rolls. Maggie slapped his hand away.
‘Ow!’ Jacob cried in mock injury.
‘Not till later,’ she scolded.
‘But I thought this was for me.’
‘It is. Later.’
Jacob grinned and made his way to the fridge. Pulling out a plate of cold chicken, he dragged himself up to sit on the worktop and began to pick at the meat. He marvelled at how good it was. The Astraens had done their best for him, food wise, but it just wasn’t the same.
Maggie cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘What are you doing up there? We have chairs, you know.’
‘Yeah, but I bet you’ve missed this,’ he quipped.
‘I haven’t missed scrubbing your dirty bottom marks from my work surfaces.’
Jacob crammed another handful of chicken into his mouth and swung his legs roguishly. Despite the bittersweet nature of his return, he had missed moments like this. Being home had already started to make him feel like a boy again, and part of him liked it.
