Owning Jacob - SA

Chapter six

The girl looked as tired as the last time Ben had seen her. She greeted him as unsmilingly as before. You can go straight in.”

He went to the door and tapped.

Quilley’s voice came from inside. “Come in.”

The detective was sitting behind the desk. The small room was still thick with stale cigarette smoke, but at least the pneumatic drills outside were silent. Quilley motioned Ben towards the spare chair without looking up from what he was writing. “Take a seat, Mr Murray. I won’t be a moment.”

Ben sat down. He stared at the top of the detective’s head and wondered if he went through the same rigmarole with every client. He felt an irrational burst of dislike for the man.

Quilley put down his pen. “There we go.” He sat back. “And how are you keeping?”

“Fine.” Get on with it.

“Locating the Kales was a bit more complicated than I’d thought it would be. It involved... well, quite a lot more digging around, shall I say, than I expected.” His smile was blandness itself.

He opened a cardboard folder. “Right, here we go. John Kale. Currently lives with his wife in a place called Tunford, which is a small town halfway between Northampton and Bedford. Kale’s from the area originally — he was brought up in an orphanage, don’t know if you knew that — and moved to Tunford when he left the army four years ago. He was discharged after he was wounded in a border incident over in Northern Ireland. Leg injury. That was after his first wife was killed, so perhaps—”

“His first wife was killed?”

“Sorry, didn’t I mention that? That was Jeanette, who you already know about. She died in a road accident six years ago. Quite tragic, really.”

Six years. The significance of that wasn’t lost on Ben.

Quilley was watching him with that half-smile. “Are you all right, Mr Murray? You look quite pale.”

“I’m fine. Go on.”

“Where was I? Yes, John Kale. Remarried about the same time he moved to Tunford. His second wife’s called Sandra. Met her when he was stationed at Aldershot after he was wounded, not long before he was discharged.” The detective turned down his mouth. “Doesn’t look a very select article, Mr Murray, if you don’t mind my saying. Works as a barmaid in the local pub. Kale’s employed in a scrapyard in the next town. Quite well thought of, from what I can gather. Bit of a local hero. You know, local boy goes off to fight, wife dies, he comes back injured. All very tragic.” He looked across at Ben, as though waiting for him to say something.

Ben took it as his cue to ask what he had been dreading. “Do they have any children?'

There was a subtle change in Quilley’s attitude, as though the question pleased him. “No, and that’s another tragedy. Kale had a child by his first wife, a little boy, but it seems the baby was stolen from the hospital not long after it was born. Jeanette Kale was staying down in London with her parents at the time. They never did find out what happened to it.” He tut-tutted. “Makes you wonder if that had anything to do with what happened afterwards. You know, her getting herself killed, him getting shot. Almost like everything went to pieces for them after that.” His smile remained, but his eyes were unmistakably watchful now. “Still, they say things happen in threes, don’t they?”

Ben told himself he was being over-sensitive about the man’s manner. “Did they have any idea you were checking up on them?”

“Oh, no need to worry about that. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I let people know when I was checking up on them, would I?”

The impulse to get out of the office and away from the man on the other side of the desk was growing stronger. “So is that everything?” He found himself hoping it was.

“I think it more or less covers what you wanted to know, wouldn’t you say?”

Ben found himself nodding. “How much do I owe you?”

The detective’s smile was no longer so bland. He settled back in his chair, folding his hands across the top of his stomach. “Well, now we come to a bit of a problem, actually.”

Ben’s hand slowed on the route to his cheque book. “I’m not with you. We agreed on a rate.”

“Yes, yes we did. But that was before... how shall I put it? Before I was fully aware of the nature of the research.” He nodded, as if appreciating the phrasing. “You see, Mr Murray, the reason I’m so good at my job is that I believe in thoroughness. I don’t like leaving things half done. And if I come across something that puzzles me, well, I can’t rest until I’ve got to the bottom of it, if you take my meaning. How is the book going, by the way?”

The walls of the office seemed to be closing in. “Okay.”

“Good, good. Because I got to thinking that it’s rather unusual for a writer — or a photographer, such as yourself — to hire a private investigator to locate someone just to interview for a book. To say nothing of expensive. Anyone doing that must either want to interview them very badly indeed or...” The smile broadened. “...or have their own reasons for doing it. Now you might say that those reasons are none of my business, and perhaps you’re right. But as I pointed out to you at our last meeting, I do like to know a little about who I’m working for. And so I took the liberty of carrying out a little ‘extracurricular’ research, for want of a better term.”

Ben thought about the phone call to the studio. The detective had been checking up on him. Oh, Jesus, what have I done?

“I must offer my condolences on the death of your wife.” Quilley shook his head, slowly. “A terrible thing to happen at that age. Terrible. And leaving you to look after a little boy as well. A handicapped one at that. It can’t be easy. Particularly when, if you’ll pardon me saying, he isn’t actually yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that he’s your stepson. What else could I mean?”

The edge of the chair seat dug into Ben’s palms where he gripped it. “If there’s a point to this why don’t you get to it?”

“No need to be defensive, Mr Murray. I’m only commenting on the facts. And I’m sure that when you come to interview Mr Kale for your book you’ll find it helpful that the two of you have so much in common. Quite a catalogue of coincidences, really. His first wife also having died young, and you both having sons — or in your case a stepson — born on virtually the same day. Except that Mr Kale doesn’t know where his son is, of course.”

The urge to walk out and the desire to lunge at the face across the desk were equally strong. “I don’t see how any of that’s relevant. Or anything to do with you.”

The detective grinned as if Ben had made a joke. “I take your point, Mr Murray. Of course, it isn’t anything to do with me. Nothing at all. And I do apologise if I’ve touched on a nerve. I’m sure you’re very fond of the boy. Look on him as your own after all this time, I dare say.”

Ben felt uncoordinated as he took out his cheque book. “I asked how much I owed you.”

“So you did, Mr Murray. And, as I said, it’s a difficult question. You see, what we basically have here are two separate issues. On the one hand there’s the fee for my time and expenses, which is fairly straightforward. But then there’s the question of... how shall I put it? The value of information, let’s say. And I’m sure you can appreciate that’s less easy to put a price on. What’s worth one thing to one person may be worth much more to another. How do you judge these things?” The detective’s smile was indulgent. “I’m sure you appreciate the problem.”

The pen seemed cumbersome as Ben wrote out a cheque.

“It’s six days by my reckoning. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and include Saturday at the same rate. There’s fifty pounds for expenses as well.” He tore out the cheque and dropped it on the desk. He stood up. I’ll take the report with me.”

Quilley’s smile had shrunk a little but it was still there. He handed Ben the cardboard folder. “As you wish, Mr Murray. As you wish.”

There were signs that Maggie’s charity was wearing thin. Her smile was glassy as she served the lasagne. Ben sat next to Jacob. On the other side of the table Scott and Andrew whispered and cast glances across at him, sniggering from time to time.

Colin still wasn’t home. He had called to say that he would be working late. Maggie ordered them all to the dinner table as she announced the news.

“He says it’s unavoidable, so that’s all right, isn’t it? Still, never mind. I’m sure we can manage without him. And if his dinner’s burnt when he decides to get back, that’ll just be too bad, won’t it? If he doesn’t like it he’s always welcome to find himself some other hotel.”

Ben said nothing. He wished he hadn’t accepted Colin’s invitation. He had called him at work as soon as he had left the detective’s office. A secretary had said he was in a meeting, but Ben had insisted on talking to him.

Colin had listened to his ranting account and then said, “Shit.” He’d told Ben he couldn’t get away just then, couldn’t even talk for long because he’d got a room full of record company suits and an angry band, and if he didn’t get back soon they’d start breaking the furniture on each other. “Come over for dinner tonight. We can talk then,” he’d said.

But when Ben and Jacob had arrived at the house he’d found that Maggie wasn’t expecting them. Now she had the toothpaste smile of the self-martyred as she handed out the plates. “I just hope there’s enough to go around. Of course, it would have been nice if Colin had had the consideration to tell me he’d invited guests, but I suppose that would be asking too much. After all, that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? I don’t have anything better to do than stay at home all day while he goes off with his bands.”

Maggie seemed convinced that Colin’s work was mainly socialising because most of his clients were musicians. Ben hadn’t heard her complain about the money he earned, though.

“Don’t bother about me,” he told her. “I can eat later.”

“No, of course you won’t. If there isn’t enough Colin’ll just have to go without. Perhaps then he’ll make more of an effort to get home on time when I’ve gone to the trouble of cooking.”

The serving spoon rattled against china. “Scott, it’s rude to whisper to your brother at the dinner table.” Scott ignored her, whispering behind a cupped hand to Andrew. Although Ben couldn’t hear what was being said he could guess its subject by the way they were looking at Jacob, who was busily picking out the pieces of onion from the sauce and arranging them end to end around the rim of his plate.

Andrew giggled as his elder brother finally lowered his hand.

Scott glanced at Ben indifferently, still smirking. Ben stared back at him, fighting the desire to ram his fork up the little bastard’s nose.

He’s only a kid, for God’s sake. Don’t be so touchy.

He turned to Jacob. “Come on, Jacob. Eat your tea.”

Jacob looked up, blankly, at the sound of his voice, then went back to sifting out the onion.

Maggie finished dishing out the lasagne and sat down. For a while there was no noise except the scrape of cutlery.

“This is really nice,” said Ben, dutifully. To give Maggie her due, she was a good cook.

“Thank you. Nice to know someone appreciates me.”

Oh God.

Scott and Andrew were giggling and nudging each other.

“If you two boys don’t hurry up, you won’t get any dessert,” Maggie said with forced jocularity.

“That’s all right, because I don’t want any,” Scott told her.

“Well, perhaps we’ll let you go without all week, then, shall we?” The bright smile was set on her face now, as convincing as a party mask on a mugger. “Good.”

Maggie’s mouth twitched, and Ben hoped for a moment that she would resort to violence against her first-born. Instead she tore her eyes away and noticed Jacob, still arranging the onions in a line.

“Eat up, Jacob. Don’t play with your food when Auntie Maggie’s gone to the trouble of cooking it, dear.” Jacob didn’t even look up. “Did you hear Auntie Maggie, Jacob?” she persisted, “Be a good boy and do as you’re told.”

Because your brats certainly don’t. Ben gripped his cutlery. He had seen Maggie in her picky moods before. They ran off Jacob, and usually Ben took no notice. Right then, though, he wasn’t in a good mood himself.

“He’ll get round to it,” he said, as casually as he could manage. “No need to push him.”

Maggie’s smile glittered. “Was I pushing? I’m sorry, I’m sure I didn’t mean to. It’s just a little annoying when you see something you’ve cooked go to waste.”

Scott and Andrew had fallen silent and stopped eating, aware of the sudden tension between the adults. Only Jacob seemed unaware of it. Ben told himself to ease off. A scene wouldn’t do anyone any good, and Maggie had been helpful since — since Sarah died. The thought snuffed the heat out of him.

“It won’t be wasted. If the worst comes to the worst I’ll finish it myself,” he said, doing his best to smile naturally.

Maggie backed off a little herself. At least she seemed to.

There was an interval while she put green salad on the side of her plate. Then she asked, “Have you any idea yet what you’re going to do about Jacob?”

Ben felt the lasagne clog his mouth. He took a drink of water. I’m not with you.”

“About his school, I mean. Not that I mind running him backwards and forwards for you.” She smiled, saccharin again. “He’s such a treasure. But it isn’t always convenient, and I expect you’ll want to sort out something more... well, more permanent, won’t you?”

His relief was followed by irritation. Here it comes, he thought. First the favour, then the bill.

“Yes, I will.” He knew he wouldn’t ask her to collect Jacob again, no matter how difficult it became.

“I don’t want you to think there’s any hurry as far as I’m concerned,” she went on, back-pedalling now she had made the point. “I know it’s not easy for you, though, and I just wondered if you’d had chance to think about any other options.”

“What sort of options?” He could guess.

“Well, I don’t know, really. Perhaps some sort of...” She glanced at her two sons, who were no longer paying the slightest bit of attention, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “...of residential school. Of course, it’s only a thought. I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but with Jacob being a... a special little boy, and you being busy and all, well...” Her smile was failing against his silence. “You don’t mind my mentioning it, I hope?”

“Why should I?” He stood up. “Excuse me.” He left the table, knowing it was rude of him, but also knowing it was less rude than what he might have said if he’d stayed.

The bathroom was at the top of the stairs. Ben locked himself in. He hadn’t particularly wanted to urinate but now he was there he did anyway. It gave him something to do to take his mind off his anger.

When he had finished he put down the pink marble-effect seat and pressed down the gold-plated flush handle. The washbasin taps were even more ornate, a pair of stylised and vaguely Japanese-style dolphins. As he dried his hands on one of the soft pink towels he remembered what Colin’s room had been like when they had been students.

The decor hadn’t run beyond posters and empty bottles of Newcastle Brown. It didn’t take much guessing whose hand had been behind decorating the house.

He went back downstairs, cooler-headed than when he went up. It wasn’t worth falling out with Maggie, if only for Colin’s sake. And, after helping out with Jacob for the past three weeks, he supposed she had a right to ask what his plans were. It wasn’t her fault that he didn’t have any.

The thick oriental carpet silenced his footsteps as he returned to the dining room. He heard voices from it before he reached the doorway.

“...well, he is,” Scott was saying. “I don’t see why he’s got to come here!”

“I don’t care, I’ve told you not to call him that!” Maggie snapped, trying to whisper.

“Why not? He can’t understand.”

“That’s not the point! It isn’t a nice thing to say.”

“So what? He is a mong. And you don’t want him here either. I’ve heard you telling Dad.”

“You shouldn’t have been listening! I won’t tell you again—” She broke off as Ben came in. “Oh.” She hastily tried to assemble a smile. “We, er... we were just—”

“Yes, I heard.”

He went over to Jacob. The boy sat with his chin tucked on his chest, eyes downcast. Ben’s jaw muscles hurt to think of him sitting there as they talked about him. “Come on, Jacob, time to go home,” he said, taking his hand. He shot a glare at Scott, who was sullenly staring at the table. “Thanks for dinner, Maggie. Tell Colin I’ll talk to him later.”

“Ben, there’s no need to... I mean, I don’t want you to think—”

“Don’t bother to get up.”

She still followed them into the hallway, smiling anxiously. “Are you sure you won’t stay for dessert?”

“I don’t think so, Maggie.” He opened the door and went out before she could say anything else. His Golf was parked further up the street. He hoisted Jacob up and carried him, even though it wasn’t far.

He felt he wanted to cry. He thought about Maggie again and let himself feel angry instead.

He set Jacob down when he reached the car. As he unlocked it there was a shout He turned to see Colin hurrying from his BMW. There was no sign of Maggie.

“Where’re you going?” Colin asked, breathlessly.

“Jacob’s tired, so we’re going home.”

“Home? I thought you wanted to talk.” He took hold of Ben’s arm. “Come on, you can have a quick drink—”

“It’s okay, I’ll give you a ring.”

Colin let his hand fall. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just want to get Jacob home, that’s all.”

They looked at each other. Colin glanced towards the house. He seemed to sag slightly, then drew himself up. “If you’re in a rush let’s talk in the car.”

Jacob played with a puzzle in the back while they talked.

Ben described the meeting with Quilley. When he’d finished Colin kneaded the bridge of his nose. The flesh of his face was pale and puffy. His scalp showed through his thinning hair. He looks middle-aged, Ben thought, with a slight shock.

“I’m sorry, Ben. If I’d any idea he’d pull something like this I’d never have recommended him.”

“You weren’t to know.” But he still felt resentment, unjustified or not.

“I know it doesn’t help but I’ll see to it he doesn’t get any more work from our firm. I’ll put the word out to other people as well. It’s just a pity you didn’t tell him you’d got his name from us. I don’t think he’d have tried anything if he’d known.”

“I’m more worried about what I’m going to do now than what I should have done.”

“I can call him, if you like. Tell him we represent you. That might make him think twice before he does anything else.”

“Are you sure you want to get your firm involved?” Colin didn’t say anything, but Ben could see he wasn’t.

“I don’t have any choice, do I?” he went on. “I’ve got to assume it’s all going to come out.”

“You don’t know for sure there’s anything to come out.”

“Oh, come off it.” Colin looked at Jacob playing on the back seat. He gave a sigh. “Okay, then. The next thing to do is to get some advice. I can ask around, see if anyone knows a good family law solicitor. The number of divorces our clients go through I shouldn’t think that’ll be a problem.” He gave Ben a sheepish glance. “I’ll make sure it’s someone reliable this time.”

The streetlights had come on, although it wasn’t dark. Ben looked at the weak yellow glows. “You don’t think I should go straight to the police?”

“Christ, no. If you do they’ll be all over you. You could wind up being held on a kidnapping or aiding-and-abetting charge and with Jacob put in care before you know what’s happening. You need legal representation before anything else.” He paused. “The question of custody’s going to be tricky enough as it is.”

Ben was aware that Colin was watching him, trying to gauge his reaction. In the rearview mirror he could see Jacob’s face, unconcerned. He felt an urge to hug him.

“What I can’t stop thinking about,” he said, in a voice that wasn’t quite steady, “is how the other poor bastard must feel. You know who I mean. It’s been over six years. We’re sitting here, calmly discussing what we should do, and he’s sitting somewhere not knowing if his son’s alive or dead. I keep thinking about what he must have gone through, and what happened to his wife, and... fuck, I don’t know...” He broke off and turned to stare out of the side window.

Colin was quiet for a while, giving him a chance to recover.

“You’ve got to think about yourself, Ben,” he said gently. “And Jacob. I’m sorry for this guy too, but it doesn’t alter the fact that you’re in a vulnerable situation. If this does all come out you’re going to have to prove you knew nothing about it until now. You’re going to have to decide fairly soon what you’re going to do, and to do that you need expert legal advice.”

“I know.” Ben cleared his throat and nodded. “I know you’re right, and I will, but...” He realised he’d already come to a decision. “I’d like to see him first.”

“Oh, now look, Ben—”

“I don’t mean I want to meet him. I just want to see where he lives, what he looks like. Try and get some idea of what sort of a man he is. I can’t decide anything until I know that.”

He expected an argument, but Colin was silent.

“When?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought that far. “Tomorrow morning, perhaps.”

Colin passed a hand over his face and shook his head. But whatever objections he had he kept to himself. “I’ll come with you,” he said.