Owning Jacob - SA (6 page)

Colin stood on the steps. He had obviously come straight from work, although the slightly loosened tie indicated that he was now official y in his own time. 'Sorry I'm late.

Last-minute crisis.' He broke off, gawping at Ben. 'What's happened to your hair?' Ben resisted the urge to touch the stubble on his scalp.

He'd stopped off at the barber's on the way back from seeing Jessica. He'd remembered Sarah running her fingers through it as he told the man to take it off. 'I've had it cut.'

'I can see that' Colin tore his eyes from it, looking at him with concern. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah.' Ben closed the door. 'Did Maggie mind you coming?' Naw, she's used to me being late. So long as I get back before it's time for Scott and Andrew to go to bed there's no problem.' Both Colin's sons were older than Jacob. On the few occasions when they 'played' together it was obvious they were under instructions from Maggie to be nice. It usual y ended with Jacob sitting by himself while the two brothers did whatever they wanted.

'Let's go in the kitchen,' Ben said, as Colin started towards the lounge. Colin looked surprised but made no comment.

Til just say hel o to Jacob first.' He always made an effort to treat Jacob normal y, and if he tried a little too hard it was stil better than Maggie's forced good humour.

Stop being so hard on them. It isn't their fault.

'Hi, Jake,' Colin said, striding over to the table. Jacob didn't look up from his jigsaw, but Ben could see him stiffen and knew what was coming next.

'Hang on,' he began, but Colin had already bent down in front of the boy. Jacob tucked his head on to his chest and thrust his arms out at him in a pushing-away gesture.

'No! Nono!' Startled, Colin slowly backed away. 'Okay, Jacob, sorry.' He raised his eyebrows at Ben.

'He's been a bit edgy the past few days,' Ben told him.

Jacob sat rigidly, head down, arms stil held out. 'It's al right, it's only Uncle Colin. You know him, don't be sil y.' The arms remained raised, warding off.

'Come on, stop it, Jacob!' he snapped.

'Easy, Ben,' Colin said, shocked.

Ben took a hold on himself. He tried to say something to reassure Jacob, but it was like digging in a dry wel . He just stood there, unable to think of a single thing to do.

Colin was looking from one of them to the other, worried.

He came forward again, reaching into his pocket for a tube of Smarties. 'I've brought you some sweets, Jacob,' he said, giving it a little shake as he set it down on the table. Jacob's eyes flickered to it. After a moment he tentatively brought his arms down and picked it up.

Ben felt some of the tension leave him as Jacob visibly relaxed. The boy turned the tube around in his hand, apparently soothed by the motion and the sliding rattle of the sweets.

'Are you going to say thank you?' Ben asked.

'It doesn't matter,' Colin said quickly, taking Ben's arm and leading him away. They went into the kitchen. Ben blocked open the door so he could see into the other room.

Colin stil looked upset. "What was al that about?'

'I told you, he's a bit touchy lately.'

'I didn't mean Jacob.' Ben went to the fridge. 'Beer?'

'If you're having one.' He handed Colin a can and a glass. He opened his own and drank straight from it.

'So are you going to tel me?' Colin asked.

Ben went to a kitchen drawer and took out the newspaper cuttings. He tossed them on the kitchen table. You don't have to read them al . The first one'l do.' Colin quickly scanned it, then looked up, puzzled. 'Sorry, I don't understand.'

'It's Jacob.' The words actual y hurt, a real physical pain in his throat Colin was frowning. I'm not with you.'

'The baby that was stolen. It was Jacob. Sarah did it.' Colin stared at him, then looked at the cutting again. Ben could see him struggling not to show his disbelief. 'Ben-' I'm not fucking fantasising. I'm serious.' He told him what had happened, from finding the cuttings to visiting Jessica. Tel ing it to someone else didn't help as much as he'd hoped. It just seemed to make it more real. When he had finished Colin glanced through the open doorway towards where Jacob was playing in the lounge.

'Christ.' Ben gave a crooked smile. "Yeah. That's what I thought.' He was shivering, although the house was warm. He drained the beer can and sat down. Œ:

'Have you told anyone else about this?' Colin asked.

You're the first'

'So no one else knows? You haven't mentioned it to your dad?' TSto.' Ben's mother had died while he was at university.

His father had remarried, a woman ten years his junior who made it clear she regarded Ben as competition for her husband's affections. Her presence came between them whether she was actual y there or not, an intangible barrier that became harder to overcome as time went by. She hadn't gone to Sarah's funeral, and even through the numbing grief of the day, he had heard his father's apologetic excuses and felt sorry for him. That had been the first time in a year they had seen each other, and the first time in six months they had spoken. His father was no longer someone in whom Ben confided.

"What about Sarah's parents?' Colin asked. 'Do they know?'

'I told you, I haven't told anybody.'

'I didn't mean that. I meant do you think they've known al along? Could Sarah have told them?'

'I doubt it. I don't think it was something she even acknowledged to herself. Not consciously. And if her parents ever suspected anything, I'm pretty sure I'd have picked something up from them before now.' Colin pul ed absently at his lower lip. Ben could see him beginning to sift and arrange the information, applying himself to it like any legal problem. 'Have you thought about what you're going to do?'

'I haven't thought about anything else. But I stil don't have a fucking due.' Colin's hand unconsciously went to straighten his tie, entirely the solicitor now. Ben had always envied the way he could calmly tackle problems. 'I don't think you need to decide anything straightaway. At this stage the main thing is not to go off half cocked. You need to make sure that whatever you do is best for everyone concerned. For a start, have you considered that Jessica might be lying?'

'She wasn't.'

'I'm not saying she was, only that it's a possibility you shouldn't overlook. I mean, what have you actual y got? Some old clippings, and the story of someone who, let's face it, isn't exactly out to do you any favours. Can you be one hundred per cent sure that she's not making this up just to cause trouble?' There was nothing Ben would have liked to believe more.

But, tempting as it was, he couldn't bring himself to accept it. 'She wouldn't do that. Not when it means incriminating Sarah.'

'Are you sure? She might not expect you to tel anybody.

And you said yourself that Sarah had more or less lost touch with her. You might have handed her a way of getting back at you both.'

'I know what you're saying, but I can't-' Colin held up his hand. 'Just think for a second. What actual confirmation have you got that what she said is true?'

'None, but-'

'That's right, none. Have you checked to see what else might have been in the papers about the story afterwards?' Uncertain now, Ben shook his head.

'So for al you know, little Steven Kale could have turned up safe and wel a week or two later. And Sarah might have just put the cuttings into a box and forgotten al about them.

The point is, you don't know. If you go to the police or social services now you could be letting yourself in for a whole lot of trouble for no good reason. And Jacob as wel , don't forget.

Al because of some vague suspicions and a story you were told by someone who hates your guts.' Ben rubbed his eyes. He didn't feel any more hopeful, but he knew what Colin said made sense. 'I suppose you're right'

'Okay, then. So what we've got to do now is find out if the Kales' baby ever turned up again. And also if its parents are stil alive themselves.' The look he gave Ben was cautious.

'If they aren't, you might want to think again about what you're going to do. Regardless of whether their baby was found or not.' He knew what Colin was hinting at. He didn't know how he felt about it, though. 'How do I go about finding out?'

'It'd mean a lot of digging around.' Colin sucked air through his teeth as he considered, making a tiny whistling noise. 'It'd probably be best to hire someone to do it for you.

It'l cost, but it'd be faster and less trouble.'

'Do you know anyone?'

'Not personal y, but I could ask around. We sometimes have to use private detectives at work.' He gave a dry smile.

'You'd be surprised the sort of messes musicians can get themselves into.' Not only musicians, Ben thought. 'How soon can you let me know?':

'Tomorrow, probably.' Colin looked uncomfortable. 'Look, this might be jumping the gun a bit, but depending what the detective finds, perhaps you should start thinking about consulting a lawyer who specialises in family law. My field's entertainment. I haven't a clue what the custody situation would be if… wel , if the worst came to the worst.' Ben nodded. Colin looked across at him. 'I'm assuming you'd want Jacob to stay with you.' Ben studied his beer can. 'Let's wait and see what the detective turns up.'

The traffic seemed even heavier than usual, or himself less patient, as he drove Jacob to school the next morning. The car sat in the meandering lines of vehicles as they crept forward, snarling into knots at junctions. Early as it was, the June sun was already baking down, indistinct through the purpling haze of smog.

He made no attempt to talk to Jacob. He'd hardly spoken to him at al the night before, even when he'd bathed him and put him to bed. Whenever he looked at him he felt such a turmoil of emotions it was impossible to see past them. He knew he wasn't being fair, knew that whatever had happened wasn't the boy's fault. But tel ing himself that nothing had real y changed didn't help.y Everything had changed.

The traffic thinned out as he neared the school. It was in Islington, and getting there and back twice a day, five times a week, was often a nightmare. There was a special-needs school closer to where they lived in Camden, but it catered for children with a variety of learning difficulties, not just autism. The Islington school was one of the few that was only for autistic children. He and Sarah had decided diat the benefits of Jacob being given specialist education and treatment outweighed any inconvenience of transport. Sarah had even insisted on taking and col ecting him themselves, an arrangement Jacob soon regarded as inviolable. He could stretch his acceptance to include Maggie, but not to the local authority's minibus, with its roundabout route as it col ected other children.

They had been lucky to get him into the school at al .

Jacob had been almost school age before he had final y been diagnosed, and it had taken letters, pleas and numerous phone cal s to the educational services to enrol him in time for the next term. But if nothing else it had given Sarah - and Ben as wel , he remembered - something to do to help ease the shock of the doctor's verdict.

The memory of the afternoon in the specialist's office had, until now, ranked along with his mother's death as being one of the worst moments of Ben's life. He had held Sarah's hand as the man had explained that, while Jacob wasn't mental y retarded, he had a disability which prevented him from communicating or relating to the people and world around him in the usual way. There were, he had said, wide-ranging degrees of severity, and, while Jacob didn't exhibit as extreme signs as some, he would stil need special education and care. They had listened, numb, as he told them about the behavioural problems they could expect, from an obsession with apparently senseless, repetitive activity, to the fact that Jacob would find it difficult to understand normal human interactions, or even ful y recognise how to use language to communicate. Ben had ' asked if there was a cure. No, the doctor had said.

Autism could be helped, improved, yes, but not cured. Sarah had looked over at where Jacob was playing with a toy abacus on the floor, sliding the beads around on it as though he knew exactly what he was doing.

What causes it? she had asked. The doctor had spoken at length about brain development before, during and after birth, about genetic traits and childhood il nesses, and in the end shrugged his shoulders and confessed that no one real y knew. And Sarah had stared at Jacob with a look in her eyes that Ben hadn't been able to fathom, but which now, he thought, he was beginning to understand. That night, as they lay sleepless in bed, she had stared up at the ceiling and said, 'It's a judgment.'

'Oh, come on!' Ben had been disturbed by the way she had withdrawn into herself since leaving the specialist's office.

She kept her gaze on the ceiling. 'It is. It's my fault.' The matter-of-fact way she said it had frightened him.

'How is it your fault?' She didn't answer. "Thinking like that it isn't going to help,' he persisted. 'I know it's hard, but it's just something we're going to have to come to terms with. It's no good blaming yourself.' For a long moment she didn't reply. Then tears had run out of her eyes, trickling sideways towards her ears as she lay on her back, and she had turned to him and sobbed until, at some point, they had both drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Next morning Sarah had begun determinedly telephoning

5° i.

OWNING JACOB around autistic schools. She had never mentioned judgment or responsibility again.

Ben thought about what she had said as he parked the dusty VW Golf outside the school gates. He turned to where Jacob was belted into the back seat. The little boy had one hand close to his face, moving it from side to side as he stared out of the window through his spread fingers.

"We're here, Jacob. Are you going to undo the seat belt, or shal I?' There was a momentary hiatus in the swinging hand, then Jacob carried on as before. Suppressing his anger, Ben climbed out of the car and opened the back door. Jacob peered up at him through his fingers, and continued to do so as Ben unbuckled him from the seat belt. Holding his free hand, Ben led him towards the school gates, and it wasn't until Jacob gave a grunt and began tugging at him that he realised he had forgotten the routine.