Jake Mutant - Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 

Jake woke to the sound of bleating sheep, the sensation of Bristol’s wet tongue on his face and the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs. He pulled back the curtains, a large spindly spider had made its web in the corner of the window, he named it Barbara and quickly threw on clothes and went downstairs. Bristol cleared the last four stairs in a single jump.

 

‘Ah, just in time, sit down Jake.’ Grandad placed a plate of bacon, baked beans and toast in front of the boy, then a large glass of orange juice. ‘I almost forgot you were in the house. Bristol reminded me. You’re as quiet as a mouse.’ He paused. ‘I expect you’re a thinker like me.’

 

‘There’s an awful lot to think about,’ said Jake.

 

Grandad laughed. ‘Yes!’ he said, ‘I don’t know how people find the time to speak.’

 

‘Some thoughts are….well they make my head hurt.’ Jake took a long drink of juice, he hadn’t realised how thirsty he was.

 

‘Oh yes, you need something to take your mind of it. I’ve got my woodwork of course. Bristol’s got his pebbles. What do you like doing these days Jake?’

 

Jake shrugged. ‘Nothing really.’

 

‘Nothing?’

 

‘Sometimes I avoid things - sometimes I count things,’ he said casually.

 

Grandad leaned forward across the table and frowned. ‘Oh, avoiding things I can understand but what is it that you count?’

 

‘Anything and everything. Last night before bed it was just light enough to count the sheep. There’s ninety nine you know. That number didn’t feel right. I think there's one hiding. I couldn’t sleep for a bit.’

 

‘So - counting sleep doesn’t send you to sleep after all. Funny thing to do, count Jake, just for the sake of it.’

 

Jake stared down at his beans, it was tempting but he decided not to count them. Instead he moved them quickly with his fork and consumed a great mouthful, then said, ‘I multiply too. Sometimes I have to, just to stop my thoughts.’

 

Grandad clasped his hands together. ‘Oh - well not all thoughts are welcome but they’re only thoughts Jake.’ He stared at his grandson for a few seconds, then said, ‘There’s a gate between thoughts and actions and you don’t have to go through it.’

 

Jake liked this idea, he felt a bit calmer and finished his breakfast. ‘Thanks Grandad.’

 

‘You’re very welcome.’ Grandad put a little bowl of bacon down for Bristol who made it vanish in the blink of an eye without even moving his jaw.

 

‘Have you seen your father lately Jake?’

 

‘I saw him at Easter,' Jake said very quickly. 'We went fishing but I didn’t want the fish to die so we unhooked them and put them all back in.’

 

‘Oh - you didn’t have fish for tea then,’ Grandad laughed. ‘I’ve got a few little fish in the brook down in the wood, you could go down and see them.’

 

Jake’s eyes lit up. ‘Can I go down into the wood now, on my own?’

 

Grandad nodded, ‘Well you’re eleven aren’t you?’

 

Jake got up, wiped his hands on the front of his trousers. ‘Come on Bristol!’ Grandad smiled and shook his head as he watched them go off across the yard, oh what it is to be young, he thought. Jake observed the bonfire pile which had grown since his last visit and rose up now like a huge pyramid. He traipsed over the long, wet grass, the moisture seeped through the mesh on the top of his trainers, wetting his socks. They went past the large patch of mint which filled the air with fresh, tingly scent and Bristol paused to cock a leg. At the end of the garden was a partly tumbled down stone wall which they both leapt over.

 

Immediately Jake felt different, his senses came fully alive, the past and future disappeared along with all his fears and worries. Flying insects buzzed around in sunny glades between tall trees, birds sang in the branches above his head and the ground beneath his feet squirmed with thousands of life forms, from crawling woodlice to microscopic bacteria. All this is going on at the end of Grandad’s garden, Jake thought, it seemed amazing and also comforting.

 

The forest floor was littered with sticks of all different shapes, sizes and colours, some coated in bright green moss, some smooth and full of little worm holes. He walked slowly, stepping gently and quietly like the Red Indians he’d read about. Bristol skimmed the ground, sniffing here and there, spinning and occasionally rolling on his back.  The wood wasn’t as big as it had seemed to Jake when he was younger, coming in to help his Grandad chop wood. It opened up to the left where it bordered the neighbouring house, here Jake could see daylight and the faint outline of a football goal. On the right it thickened and was very dark, here it was overgrown with holly and quite impassable without tools to hack it down.

 

He continued forward where the ground began to slope down into a brook. Here it was more beautiful than ever, there were lush ferns and large grey rocks with smooth edges. Jake crouched at the edge of the water, it bubbled over pebbles as it flowed, sparkling in the sunlight. He reached in with his hands and felt the water flow through his fingers, it was freezing cold. Bristol plopped in and dipped his head to retrieve a pebble. Jake read the dog’s mind.

 

‘No Bristol stay!’

 

The dog paused and looked guilty for a second then turned on his heels and legged it back towards the house, clutching his prize gently but firmly in his jaws. Jake felt suddenly very alone. There were no fish in the brook, not now anyway. There were dragonflies which came and went, flying fast, changing direction, dipping and diving. A blackbird rummaged in the leaves on the ground, flicking them aside with his orange beak, collecting a clutch of helpless bugs.

 

The brook was two to three meters wide, on the other side was a band of rowan trees opening up into a farmer’s field. Jake considered crossing to the other side but there weren’t enough large stones to step onto and he didn’t want to disturb the water. He closed his eyes and listened; the sounds of the wood seemed to increase in volume, they filled the inside of his head like a symphony, pushing out all the things that worried him.

 

Some minutes passed before a cracking sound disturbed him. He opened his eyes, somewhere on the left, beyond the neighbour’s fence something was moving. Slowly Jake raised himself up on his stiff legs and peered over to the source of the noise, it seemed to sense him and stopped abruptly. He strained his eyes, it was about four feet tall and he thought he saw brown fur but he wasn’t sure, a deer perhaps, he thought. The sounds of the wood seemed to vanish now and he became very aware of his own heartbeat and the volume of his breathing. The atmosphere inside the wood had changed. He turned and walked casually back towards the house, not wanting to show fear, increasing his pace as he went.

 

Grandad was inside his workshop carving wood. He looked different with his glasses on, even more square. Bristol was sitting next to him with the pebble at his feet.

 

‘Did your friend abandon you? He does that, does it to me too, he’s not the most obedient of dogs.’

 

‘Are there deer in the wood Grandad?’

 

‘Deer?’ Grandad looked up and coughed hard. ‘Yes but you’ll be lucky to see one. I’ve seen once or twice in the autumn, they seem to be on the move then. You usually smell them before you see them.’

 

Jake sniffed the air, he wondered what the deer would smell like. ‘What are you making?’

 

‘This is a box for Grandma’s things. I started it before we lost her. She used to carry her treasures around in a plastic bag, photos, postcards and things, as well as some brooches, little things that she loved. She sometimes liked to take them with her on walks. I expect your mum mentioned that they were lost. Probably all mashed up in a ditch somewhere, what with all the weather we’ve had since she…’

 

Grandad’s voice trailed away. Jake took a step closer to see what the man was doing. He appeared to be carving decorations into the lid of the box; ivy leaves, birds and butterflies. His hands were wide and strong, they always seemed to have a light coating of soil on them. They reminded Jake of potatoes. Grandad has potato hands, he thought, then said in a whisper, ‘That looks...quite good.’

 

Grandad was dismissive. ‘Ah! Well it’s taking an age!’ he said, ‘It’s all about patience Jake. I’m no artist but if you concentrate and don’t rush you can achieve something, something that looks good and impressive.’ Jake nodded, it was indeed impressive. ‘Your Grandma loved nature, that’s why we moved here. We were going to make a beautiful garden out there where the lawn is, we had a list of trees and plants to buy, borders to dig, a pond with Koi Carp, ha, ha,’ he laughed, ‘Then one day she just said...’ He shrugged now and shook his head, ‘She said, no, let’s just leave it just as it is, it’s perfect. She was like that, she’d change her mind all of a sudden. It used to drive me mad at times but she had thought about it and decided that God had made this land quite beautiful already and we shouldn’t interfere with it too much.’

 

Jake looked around puzzled. There was a lot of mess around the yard, milk crates and bits of wood with nails poking out. ‘Mmmm,’ he said, not really agreeing.

 

‘It was all a little bit tidier back then Jake. Anyway I don’t think I believe in God, not in the way she did.’

 

They had lunch in silence, big thick sandwiches with cheese and pickle and some lemonade. Jake wasn’t allowed fizzy drinks at home and wasn’t convinced that they were a good idea, all the bubbles went up his nose and made his eyes water.

 

In the afternoon they went to the village for food supplies. There was just a handful of shops, a mini-market, a butchers which looked like it hadn’t changed for fifty years, post-office, a pottery shop which was never open and a pub called The Feathers. They bumped into to Mrs Gordon, Grandad’s neighbour who suggested Jake should come over and spend time with her son Toby. Jake nodded, not sure whether he was keen or not. Toby was alright, they’d met a few times before but it had been clear to Jake that the boy was very lonely and bored, he’d been a bit full on and overly talkative. ‘Only if you want to,’ Mrs Gordon had said smiling with her eyes closed as if she’d seen something she didn’t like, perhaps the resistance in Jake’s eyes.

 

‘I’ll send him down when he gets bored,’ said Grandad. He stared at Mrs Gordon and his eyes twinkled as he waved her off down the road.

 

I’m not planning to get bored, Jake thought, even if I stare out of the window for ten days I won’t be bored.

 

They had lamb chops for dinner with potatoes and homemade mint sauce; Jake remembered how Bristol had cocked his leg on the mint, he scraped some of it off, then decided it wasn’t worth worrying about.

 

‘So….what about popping down to see Toby Gordon tomorrow?’

 

Jake twisted his lips to the side, ‘Maybe,’ he shrugged.

 

‘You know, his father has been ill, he had to give up work.’

 

‘Oh, is he in bed then?’

 

‘No Jake. He’s been ill here, inside his head.’ Grandad tapped the top of his head and continued, ‘The poor man isn’t himself and with Mrs Gordon out at work all day now, he’s stuck with the kids. It would be very helpful if you could keep Toby company you know. His dad needs a bit of peace, I know Toby can be….an energetic boy.’

 

Grandad washed up and went back to his workshop, Jake finished drying up, put away the dishes then went up to his room. He felt happy, dreamy even, like anything was possible. There were no rules here, no strict bedtimes, he hadn’t felt any desire to watch television however he did suddenly remember his phone and delved in his rucksack to get it. The thing was dead, no charge and no charger, never mind the signal wasn’t great anyway and all he was missing out on was pictures of his friends jumping into swimming pools in Spain.

 

Barbara had disappeared from the corner of the window. He looked about the ceiling for her then shrugged, I must give her her freedom, he thought. The sun was low in the sky but not touching  the top of the mountain yet, beyond the mountain was the sea. Sadly there was no glimpse of it from the window but the very idea that it was there excited Jake. Dolphins had been spotted off the coast last August. Perhaps I can get persuade Grandad to take me, he thought but he didn’t get his hopes up. Grandad wasn’t too keen on the sea these days, they’d been a few times before since Grandma had died, ‘Those sad waves,’ he would say and then suggest they go home.

 

Jake removed an astronomy book from his bag and studied the pictures. He convinced himself to stay away from the window until the sky was dark then he could avoid the urge to count the sheep again. Grandad returned indoors banging the door shut and Bristol ran upstairs and hurled himself onto the  bed. His paws were damp with dew and he looked tired. Jake decided he would get all ready for bed then spend some time watching the night sky.

 

The large bathroom was drafty and sparse. There was pale blue bath, toilet and sink with a bar of orange soap, a plastic container with the word Vim on it and some very thin, fraying towels. He washed quickly and returned to the window with his binoculars, there was still a glow of pink light behind the mountain but it was fading quickly. Venus appeared first then several twinkling stars. Jake knelt and watched, he could make out The Plough and he strained his eyes as more and more stars appeared. The window sill was low and deep, it was rather difficult to get a good view so he opened up the window and leant out. As the remaining sunlight vanished the whole sky filled steadily up with stars, two more then five more then another, it reminded Jake of people taking up their seats in a vast theatre. He wondered what they had come to watch, a thought came into his mind that they had come to see him and that they might be disappointed.