Owning Jacob - SA (16 page)

Sandra Kale came back into the hal way. She had Jacob by the hand. Ben could see that he didn't want to go with her. He squatted in front of him.

'Jacob? It's me. Ben.' Jacob kept his head down, but Ben thought there was a glimmer of recognition. He seemed healthy enough. He wore a T-shirt and a pair of shorts that, if not completely clean, were not exactly dirty either. His hair was longer than the last time Ben had seen him.

'I've come to take you out, Jacob. Would you like that?'

'His name's Steven.' Kale bent and effortlessly lifted the boy. He held him easily in the crook of one arm as Ben straightened. 'You wanted to see him. You have done.' I'm supposed to be taking him out' Sandra Kale came forward, her face pinched with spite.

Her bathrobe was flapping loose, revealing more of her breasts.

"Why don't you just get lost? Just leave us alone!'

'Cover yourself up,' Kale said. She glared at him, then flounced into the house. A door banged.

Ben tried again. I'm entitled to contact once a month.

That was part of the agreement' Kale stared at him, then raised his free hand. Ben tensed but there was no blow. Kale rotated it studying it as he slowly flexed his fingers as if its workings were new to him.

'It kil ed her,' he said, stil watching his hand, almost absently. 'Losing him. It kil ed her. They said it was an accident, but it wasn't. I knew her. I'd seen it coming, but I couldn't do anything. Jeanette carried him for nine months, bled and screamed to get him out, and then some bitch came along and took him before she'd even had a chance to hold him properly.' The hand clenched into a fist. The curled edge of the forefinger was thickly cal used and cross-hatched with ingrained oil. Kale rubbed his thumb over it. It made a faint rasping noise.

He lowered the hand as though he'd grown bored with it and looked at Ben again. His eyes were unbearable.

'He never knew her. His own mother, and he never knew her. Now he doesn't know me. He doesn't talk. Your whore did that to him. She took my wife and kid away from me.

Six years. That's how long she had him. That's how long I thought he was dead. Six years. Now you come here wanting to take him away again.' Ben wanted to tel him he was wrong, that he was being unfair. But he knew it wouldn't make any difference. The man's viewpoint was as rigid as his body. 'It isn't like that.

I'm only-'

'He doesn't want you. He doesn't need you. You're not part of the pattern any more.' Ben didn't know if he'd heard right, didn't know what the fuck the man was talking about 'Look, it was agreed. Jacob won't understand why he doesn't see me-'

'His name's Steven.' Ben bit back the objection. One thing at a time. "You Can't just cut us off from each other.' 1 can do what I want' It was said without petulance or bravado.

Looking at him, Ben saw that nothing he could say, no talk of rights or court action, was going to alter anything. Jacob sat on his irm, apparently content He was wriggling his fingers.

After I moment Ben realised that he was copying Kale's earlier movements with his hand.

'Can we at least talk about this? You know, perhaps sit down-'

'I don't want you in my house.'

'Oh, come on, this is getting stupid!' Kale's whistle made him jump even as he was regretting the choice of words. There was a scrabble of claws from within the house. Oh fuck, Ben thought as he saw the bul terrier from the scrapyard materialise in the hal way. It trotted towards them, bow-legged with muscle. He felt childishly betrayed when he saw Jacob trying to whistle himself.

The dog stopped at the doorstep and glared up at him. A threatening rumble came from its throat. He quickly checked to see how far away the fence was. Kale held his hand over the animal's head, restraining it without touching it.

'Go on.' Ben thought that Kale was speaking to the dog before realising it was to him. He flinched back as it gave a single, yapping bark, its front legs bouncing clear of the ground.

Then Kale pushed it back into the hal with his foot and shut the door in his face. He angrily raised his hand to bang on the peeling grey wood, then lowered it. He knew it wouldn't do any good. Al he'd achieve would be an assault by Kale, or the dog. Or both. He didn't want that to happen in front of Jacob.

He didn't want that to happen ful stop.

He turned to leave. The woman with the brush hadn't moved. Other people had also come out of the nearby houses to watch. Ben tried to ignore their col ective hostility as he went down the path. When he reached the Mini radiator gril e he gave it a savage kick that sent it spinning into the overgrown garden. It hurt his foot, but he refused to limp as he walked back to his car.

Across the street, the man in the vest leaned over his gate and spat on the pavement.

The floodlights caught the fine drizzle as it fel and turned it into beads of silver. The harsh glare bathed the footbal pitch in unnatural brightness, shifting once-familiar colours into an unreliable spectrum and giving objects a hard-edged focus that was both more vivid and unreal. Beyond the light there was only blackness, so that the floodlit pitch seemed to exist by itself in an ocean of shadow.

Ben's head hung between his knees. Next to him Colin tquatted with a footbal between his legs. His hands were bulky in the goalkeeping gloves, and his track suit was smeared with mud. He nudged Ben and offered him a plastic bottle of water.

"You okay?' Ben nodded without lifting his head. He was stil too winded to speak. His throat hurt as he drank. He lowered the bottle after a couple of swal ows, swil ing the last of it in his mouth before spitting it out. He was thirsty but he knew if he had any more it would only give him a stitch in the second half.

[ He handed the bottle back. Colin's Adam's apple jerked as he drank deeply, eyes shut. Ben felt the burning in his thighs and calves and wished he played in goal himself. His breath was beginning to come back, but his chest stil ached.

II

SIMON BECKETT

Colin's chin shone wetly when he lowered the bottle. He wiped it with one gloved hand. 'How's the leg?' Ben examined the scrape on his shin. Dried blood and dirt obscured it. Til live.' Colin looked over to where the opposing team were sprawled around the goalmouth in a mirror image of their own.

'He's a dirty bastard. He has somebody down every game.' The match was a 'friendly' between Colin's firm and a rival practice. The teams were supposedly made up of lawyers from each, but a blind eye was turned to ringers such as Ben, provided they weren't too good. Which, right then, he certainly wasn't. He kneaded his calf muscle and looked over at the player Colin had indicated. He was in his twenties, with curly black hair and an arrogant strut. He had brought Ben down with a late tackle, unnoticed by the referee, and run on without a backward glance. Ben hadn't seen him before, but then he hadn't played for weeks. He felt every one of them now in every part of his body.

Since seeing Kale's ripped torso and corrugated bel y he'd been making an effort to get fit. He'd been drinking less and cutting down on joints, even doing sit-ups and push-ups at home. It didn't seem to help. Having a bruised and scraped leg helped even less. During the game he had been too busy to dwel on it, but now, with time to catch his breath and thoughts of Kale and Jacob stil in his mind, he looked over at the laughing player with a gathering of animus.

The second half was easier than the first Either he had caught his second wind or was pacing himself, and he no longer envied Colin his stationary spot in the net quite so much as he huffed around in midfield.

There was stil no score when the bal came to him on the break. He ran with it, seeing the greyhound-thin shape of one of the forwards sprinting towards the goal. He swung his leg into the pass, and suddenly he was sprawling face down

in the wet grass. He looked up to see the curly-haired player running off down the pitch.

Ben was barely aware of the whistle blowing as he scrambled to his feet. The other player turned around just as he reached him. Ben threw a punch and felt the jar shoot along the length of his arm. He was hit himself, and then they both slipped in the mud and fel over.

They scrabbled about on the ground for a few seconds before they were dragged apart. As Ben was pul ed to his feet the curly-haired player caught him on the cheek. Ben kicked him on the thigh, then other players were between them. Colin had both his hands on Ben's chest, pushing him back.

'Al right, Ben, al right, cool id'

'The bastard hacked me!'

'I know, I know, but-'

"The cunt!'

'Look, calm down, wil you? I've got to fucking work with these people!' The intensity in Colin's voice penetrated even Ben's anger.

He looked at his friend, took in the thinning hair stuck darkly over his scalp with the rain, the face that was beginning to show incipient jowls where a jaw line used to be, and felt as though he were looking at someone he didn't know. The heat went out of him.

'Sorry.' Colin took his hands from his chest, giving him a warning look. 'What's the matter with you?' I'm sorry. I lost it a bit'

'A bin Jesus, Ben!' Ben mutely accepted the reproof. The referee, an older

..jlicitor from Colin's firm, beckoned him over. He hung his_ head as he stood next to the player who had fouled him, ying nothing as they were first told off, then sent off. His

>ots squelched desolately through the mud as he made hisI way from the pitch to the sports hal 's changing room. GoodI move, he thought, hitting a lawyer with twenty other lawyers as witnesses. His opponent walked paral el with him, a few yards away. The heavy slap of the bal being kicked resumed behind them.

Tucking bastard.' Ben looked around. 'What?' The other player's lip was swol en. He gave Ben a look of contempt. Their studs made clacking noises as they reached the path. You heard, wanker.' The hot anger that Ben thought had gone suddenly boiled up in him again. If you've got something to fucking say, fucking say id' Tuck off.'

'Are you going to make me?' He felt disbelief as he heard himself, but the desire to lash out was a thick pumping of blood behind his eyes. He could barely contain it. The other man looked away with a snort of derision.

"You're not fucking worth it,' he said, but Ben was attuned enough now to see his uncertainty. It fuel ed him.

'Come on, you curly-haired twatl' He had his fists bal ed.

'Come on!' The other man kept his head averted, "just leave me alone.' There was a moment of savage joy when Ben almost hit him anyway. It burst as swiftly as an overfil ed bal oon. He stopped and let the other man go into the sports hal ahead of him as the shame rose up. He wanted to chase after him and say he was sorry, that he wasn't real y like that.

Aren't I? He could exorcise his frustration on a footbal pitch, with someone he didn't feel threatened by, but not when it mattered. He would never have dared do it with Kale. So what did that make him? Lavish with self-disgust, he went into his team's changing room to get showered.

Both teams went for a drink afterwards, fil ing one side of the pub with the smel of wet hair, deodorant and talc. Some of the players ignored him, especial y on the opposing side, but others grinned and made boxing jokes.

He'd only gone to the pub because he'd hoped to restore lome of his self-esteem by apologising to the curly-haired player. He'd visualised shaking his hand, buying him a drink, laughing about how stupid they'd been in the heat of the moment, until he'd begun to feel as though it had actual y happened. But in the pub there was no sign of the other man. Ben heard someone say that he'd gone itraight home.

He stood with Colin at one end of the bar. He could tel by Colin's stiffness that he had something to say. Knowing he had deserved it, Ben waited.

'It's no good taking it out on everybody else,' Colin said final y, when no one else was in earshot. He occupied himself by unwrapping the cel ophane from a cigar. It was a habit he had only recently acquired, and Ben stil wasn't used to seeing kim smoking them.

'Taking what out?' he asked, even though he knew.

'This business with Jacob. I know it's frustrating but you're Joing to have to get hold of yourself.' 1 lost my temper, that's al .' Colin just looked at him. Ben sighed.

'Al right, I'm sorry. But it's just … shit, it's just so ktutratingl'

'Kale's only stopped you seeing him once. He might change m)U mind once things settle down.' H 'He might let me sleep with his wife as wel .' Ben wondered Kfhy he'd made that particular comparison.

Colin lit the cigar and puffed on it self-consciously. 'I idmit it isn't very likely, but you're just going to have to be patient and hope he comes round. You can't do anything on the basis of one visit.' It isn't going to make any difference whether it's one visit or twenty. Kale isn't going to budge. He doesn't have to, he's got Jacob now. Everything's on his side.' Colin tapped his cigar into an ashtray, frowning. 'He can't stop you from seeing him indefinitely.' Ben swirled the beer around in his glass. 'Can't he?'

He'd already told Jacob's social worker what had happened.

Carlisle had listened with the weary expression of someone who'd heard it al before. He'd grudgingly agreed to contact the Kales, but his manner grew downright frosty after Sandra told him that Ben had arrived late and drunk. Ben's protests that she was lying were met with a stony insistence that the local authority couldn't intervene in 'personal squabbles'.

Incensed, he'd gone to see Ann Usherwood. He'd expected reassurances and promises of action. Instead she warned him that the social services were notoriously reluctant to become involved in arguments over contact. If Kale continued to prevent him from seeing Jacob, Ben could eventual y take him to court, she conceded. But such disputes were always expensive and messy, and any iulings difficult to enforce.

Thinking about Kale, Ben knew it might be impossible.

As a last-ditch attempt he had phoned Sandra Kale, cal ing when her husband would be at work in the hope cf persuading her to appeal to him. 'I know we got off to a bad start,' he'd said, before she could hang up. 'But I'm not trying to take Jacob away again. I only want him to let me see him occasional y.'