Owning Jacob - SA (20 page)

'Shiti' He grabbed for his camera, fumbling to attach the telephoto lens. A film was already loaded, but there wasn't time to waste with the tripod. The man was already moving down the track as Ben hefted the Nikon, struggling to support the huge lens while he focused. He only managed to fire off a couple of shots before the man cut up a path between two of the houses.

Swearing, he shifted his attention back to the Kales' garden.

Sandra had shut the gate and was almost at the door.

Before she went in she took a last look around. Under the magnification she seemed to be standing right in front of him.

Her face was without make-up, the bleached hair uncombed

and ruffled. Its dark roots contrasted with the artificial yel ow of the rest. One cheek was marked by an angry-looking red spot, and her lips were puffy and bare of lipstick except for a smudge at one corner. Her nipples pushed at the T-shirt, and the bounce of her breasts as she moved suggested that she wore nothing under it. As she stepped into the house the T-shirt rode up fractional y, giving him a glimpse of a bare buttock. The door closed behind her.

There was a shadowy glimpse of her walking past the kitchen window, heading into the house. Ben automatical y raised the camera. One of the upstairs windows was frosted, obviously the bathroom or toilet He shifted his attention to the other. It was the one where he'd seen Sandra the first time he was there. The telephoto lens didn't have a zoom capacity, but by sharpening the focus he could make out some of the details of the dark interior through the glare on the glass.

There was the pale square of a double bed, the bright sliver of a dressing-table mirror. Then a door opened and Sandra Kale appeared. Only her white T-shirt and yel ow hair stood out in the room's shadows, but she became more visible as she moved nearer the window. Ben took several shots as she changed the sheets on the bed, then bundled the dirty linen in her arms and left the room.

The ache in his arms made him lower the camera. The house was again reduced to an innocent part of the row. He stared down at it with a hol ow feeling of excitement.

"You randy bitch,' he said, wonderingly.

He began setting up the tripod.

'Of course, that's only my opinion/ the woman said. 'But the courts are far too lenient. It's so obvious I can't believe there's any argument about it. Sentences have dropped, and crime's increased. Even a blind man could see the correlation. And yet - and this is what real y amazes me - yet you stil get these people crying on against sending criminals to prison!'

The woman looked around the table, hands spread, her incredulous smile inviting everyone to share her amazement.

The other guests looked back at her with uniformly bland expressions. Ben felt pins arid needles starting in his legs and recrossed them. He took another drink of wine and silently congratulated Maggie on another rip-roaring success.

She was sitting opposite him at the far end of the table, her russet-coloured dress clashing in an unhappy combination with her dark red lipstick. Neither of them suited her. The party was to celebrate her and Colin's tenth wedding anniversary, but her inverted Midas touch applied to social events as it did to everything else. By some perverse gift of planning she had managed to invite exactly the wrong number of guests;

too many for a dinner party and too few for anything else.

Even so, the food had been good, the wine even better, and it might not have been so bad if the chemistry between the guests hadn't been non-existent. Sometimes a mix of different

types could make an evening, but in this case they had simply cancel ed each other out.

Except for the woman.

She had started before the cheese course, and as the other conversations had dried up, hers had expanded to fil the gap. Attractive in an overfed way, she had the loud, monied confidence that came from never having her opinions chal enged, and not listening when they were.

'It's like the whole question of capital punishment,' she explained, smiling reasonably. 'Everyone knows its a deterrent, so why in God's name we don't use it heaven only knows!

These people wouldn't be so ready to murder and rape at the drop of a hat if they thought they'd be strung up for it. Instead, what do they get? Something ridiculous like a suspended sentence or community service half the time. I know that certainly wouldn't deter mel' Ben didn't doubt it. It would take beheading just to shut her up. He looked across at Colin, surprised that he hadn't stepped in to steer the party back on course. But Colin was staring with absorption into his glass, either unaware of or indifferent to the woman's monologue. He had seemed subdued al night, which Ben thought was understandable after ten years with Maggie. She was shooting her husband meaningful glances, a fixed, desperate smile on her face.

Colin didn't seem aware of that either. He drained his glass and silently refil ed it. Ben thought that was a good idea and did the same. The woman droned on.

'Our entire society's too soft, that's the trouble. And it isn't just the prison system. There's no discipline in schools any more, so it's hardly surprising we're turning out generation after generation of uneducated louts. And as for this new vogue for parents not smacking their own children, wel , I ask you!' She laughed at the absurdity of it. I'm sorry, but children need to be taught right from wrong. That's why we're getting so much crime amongst youngsters, because there's no discipline and no respect for authority. It needs to be drummed into them.' Ben had been drinking steadily since he had arrived. He'd had a couple of beers before he went out, partly because it was Saturday night and partly because he'd been to Maggie and Colin's parties before and knew what to expect. But it wasn't until his muttered 'Hang 'em al ' came out louder than he'd intended that it occurred to him that he was drunk.

Oh shit, he thought as everyone turned to look at him.

The woman regarded him as if she'd only just realised he was there. She wore a faintly condescending smile, but her eyes were bright as spikes.

'I know common sense isn't very popular these days. It's much easier to mock than actual y do anything about it. Perhaps you'd like to tel us what you think should be done.' Ben didn't want an argument He wasn't even sure how much he disagreed anyway. It was just the woman herself he didn't like. He felt every glass of wine conspire to make his tongue lie thick and heavy in his mouth. 'Not real y.'

'No?' The woman looked around at the other guests, clearly considering herself to be their spokesperson. Ben felt his anger rise and tried to ignore it, knowing he'd had too much to drink.

'Do you have any children yourself?' she asked.

'Only by marriage.'

'Er, shal we-' Maggie began, but the woman wasn't going to be diverted.

'And do you smack them when they misbehave, or let them run riot?'

'Since he's autistic he wouldn't understand why you were hitting him, so there wouldn't be much point,' Ben said. 'Unless you think I should beat him anyway as a matter of principle.'

The woman's cheeks flooded with colour. She turned her head away sharply. The room was dreadful y silent. Wel , that's one way to kil a party, he thought, and then Maggie was lurching to her feet.

'Coffee, anyone?' she asked with a cheerfulness that was almost hysterical. Ben saw the quiver in her smile and felt ashamed of himself. As relieved conversation began to spread once more, he left the dinner table and went upstairs to the bathroom.

He urinated, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. Time to go home. He hadn't been in a party mood before, and he was even less so now. Apart from his guilt at making a scene, the mention of Jacob had stirred up al sorts of emotional silt. Which was his own fault, but that didn't make it any better. He would quietly make his excuses and leave, he decided.

He didn't think he'd be missed.

He opened the bathroom door and found Colin waiting outside. 'I hoped it was you in there/ he said, straightening.

'Look, I'm sorry about what happened, I know I should have kept my mouth shut,' Ben began, but Colin wasn't listening.

'I need to talk.' His voice was low and urgent. He took hold of Ben's arm and led him away from the stairs. He opened the door to his study and turned on the light. Maggie's heavy hand was apparent even in here, unless Colin's taste in colours ran to mauve. The new computer monitor on the leather-topped desk seemed both anachronistical y modern and honest in comparison to the expensive but chintzy reproduction furniture Colin closed the door. His eyes had a glazed look, and with surprise Ben saw that his friend was drunk. 'What's the matter?' Beneath the alcohol blush his friend's face was drawn. He glanced nervously at the door. I'm having an affair.' The attempt at sounding casual failed. He gave a weak smile at Ben's expression. 'I know. I can't believe it either.' Ben had the feeling that there must be a sort of etiquette for this kind of conversation, but he had no idea what it was.

Who is she?'

Colin ran his hand along the edge of his computer keyboard, checking for non-existent dust. 'She works for a management company. They represent one of our bands.' There was a peculiar relief that at least it wasn't anyone more glamorous. 'How long has it being going on for?'

'Nearly a month. I've known her for longer than that, but not… it's always been in a professional context before. Then a (tw weeks ago there was a party to celebrate the band's new album release, and we got talking, and … it sort of happened.'

'Have you seen her since?'

'About half a dozen times. She doesn't live far from the office, so we go to her flat at lunch-time. And once or twice I've told Maggie I've been working late.' He gave a humourless laugh. 'That old chestnut.' He sat down. 'I just can't believe it's happened. I never thought I was the affair type.' Neither had Ben, but he didn't say that 'Does Maggie know?'

'Oh, Christ, no!' Colin looked horrified. 'She's no idea. No, no one knows. I wasn't even going to tel you, but…' He ran a hand through his hair, leaving one thin strand sticking up. 'I just feel such a fucking shit. She wanted me to make a speech tonight.'

'So are you going to finish it? With the girl, I mean?' Colin took a moment to answer. 'I don't think I can.' He sounded miserable.

'What about her? The girl. What does she think?' We haven't real y talked about it' He gave Ben a peculiar look. 'She's only twenty-two.' It was almost a boast, and Ben found himself on the verge of a grin, an automatic slide into male col usion. But both of them seemed to draw away from it at the same time. Ben thought of Maggie and her frumpy dresses, in competition without realising it with a girl ten years younger, and felt an unexpected pity for her.

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"What are you going to do?' he asked.

'I haven't a fucking clue.' There was a silence in which Ben wished he could think of something constructive to say. Colin stood up.

Wel , I suppose we'd better go back to the party.' Ben stayed til the end. Not just for Colin's sake, but also for Maggie's. He felt that leaving early would be a slap in the face for her.

One she might not actual y notice, he admitted, but he stil couldn't bring himself to do it. As the two of them came to the door to say goodnight he wished Colin hadn't told him about the affair. He didn't want to feel sorry for Maggie but he couldn't help it

'Thanks, it's been great,' he lied, leaning into the aura of her flowery, unerotic perfume to kiss an over-powdered cheek.

'Glad you've enjoyed it. Thank you for coming,' she said, and for a second, as they looked at each other, social smiles firmly in place, he felt that the insincerity was openly exposed between them. His smile became stiff as he broke the contact and said goodnight to Colin, trying to make it seem as natural as he could. Feeling shoddy and two-faced, he hurried down the steps to the waiting taxi before he gave anything else away.

He shared the cab with a couple from the party who lived on the same side of town. The polite conversation petered out before the first mile, and they rode in the silence of people who have nothing in common, masking the awkwardness by staring through the windows. After they had been dropped off, Ben spread himself out on the taxi seat and realised that he didn't feel remotely tired. Or drunk. Since his brief clash with the woman and Colin's revelation, he had stuck to coffee.

The cab trol ed through the dark streets, the meter clicking softly in the background. He couldn't make up his mind whether the affair showed that Colin wasn't as staid as he was beginning to look, or if it was part of a premature mid-life

crisis, a last kick against the social and family shackles that were tightening around him. Ben felt relieved that he wasn't in that situation, until the barrenness of his own came back to him. What the fuck did he have to feel smug about? He tried tel ing himself that at least he and Sarah had had a good relationship, that they'd been faithful to each other, but the irony was too obvious for him to draw any comfort. Looked at in another way, their entire marriage had been a sham, built around the il usion that Jacob was Sarah's real son.

He knew that wasn't true, but the guilt he felt for thinking it fed his growing mood of self-disgust. And self-pity, if he was going to be honest. He stared morosely through the window.

The taxi was coming to a commercial area, darkened shops with neon signs, and pubs with the last of the night's customers stil spil ing from them. He looked at his watch. It wasn't even midnight. It just felt as if the evening had gone on for ever.

The cab turned down a side street It was quieter than the main road and badly lit Two girls were standing under one of the few working streetlamps. They were heavily made up, with short, tight dresses showing fleshy thighs. One of them gave Ben a smile as they watched the taxi go past It was a professional invitation, but in his loneliness even that seemed to offer comfort There was a hot constriction in the pit of his stomach. He leaned forward to tel the driver to stop, then sank back in his seat without speaking.