Owning Jacob - SA (28 page)

'Don't ever get in my way again.'

He limped back into the garden. Sandra Kale wiped her cheek and stared at the blood smeared on her hand.

.. "You al right, Sandra?' asked the older man.

She didn't look at him. What do you think?' Unsteadily, she pushed herself off the fence and fol owed her husband.

There was a whoop from the smal man. Tucking hel ! Eh? Fucking heVl' His eyes were feverish as they fixed on Ben. 'Bet you won't fucking come round here again, cunt, wil you?'

He came forwards, fists bal ed. Ben tried to push himself to his feet.

'Leave him, Mick.' The smal man turned in surprise. 'Why? Come on, Bri-'

'I said rucking leave him!' He walked over to Ben and took a large handkerchief from his pocket. He held it out

'I didn't know this was going to happen.' Ben knocked his hand away. He felt like crying. "What the fuck did you think he was going to do?' The man stood there for a moment, then put the handkerchief away and went to the edge of the track. He gave a sharp whistle. 'Bess!' There was a rustling in the bushes further up the trade The Jack Russel emerged and ran towards him, tongue flapping in a dog grin. It trotted at his heels as he began walking back down the track. The smal man fol owed sul enly a few steps behind.

For the first time Ben noticed the faces peering over fences and wal s along the line of houses. One by one they disappeared, absolving themselves of any involvement. He climbed to his feet. He felt sick and weak. He leaned against the fence.

His mouth and nose were swol en. Several teeth were loose.

He probed them, testing them with his tongue, rubbing his bruised stomach. He turned to spit blood, and saw he wasn't alone after al .

The bul terrier was watching from the other side of the track

Ben looked around for something to defend himself with

- a stick, anything. There was nothing. He risked a glance at the dog again. A low rumbling came from its throat. Slowly, he pushed himself off the fence, not making eye contact with it. He took a hesitant step.

It came for him.

He fel back against the fence, lashing out with his feet in an attempt to keep it away from his groin and body. The bul terrier made a noise like an unoiled buzz-saw as it caught his foot in its mouth and shook it. Ben gripped the wire mesh to keep from fal ing, arms spread out across it in a posture of crucifixion. His foot felt as if it were in a vice. The dog's teeth pierced the thick leather of his boot. It let go of his foot when he stamped at its head, but slashed its teeth across his calf, tearing cloth and muscle. He heard shouts and saw the two men running back towards him. The Jack Russel bitch raced ahead of them. It ran up to the fence, barking excitedly, and the bul terrier rounded on it. The smal er dog yelped as it was bowled on to its back.

'Get off, you bastard!' the older man yel ed as he pounded up. He tried to kick die dog away as the Jack Russel 's screams grew more hysterical. Then Kale was there. He pushed the other man to one side and grabbed hold of the bul terrier's studded col ar. It gave a hacking cough as he yanked it back, holding it so only its hind feet were on the floor. It made another lunge for the smal er dog but he cuffed it across its head and gave it a single, violent shake. Gasping, it subsided, its muzzle shiny and wet

'Oh, Christ, oh, Christ,' the older man moaned, going down on his knees. The little dog was spasming on the floor, its white coat matted from the blood that pumped from its throat and stomach. 'Oh, look at her, look at her!' He slid his hands under it and held it to his chest.

It twitched spastical y, smearing his coat as he tried to staunch the wounds with the same handkerchief he'd offered I Ben. Tour fucking dog, John! I'l kil it! I'l fucking kil it!' Kale stil held the bul terrier by its col ar. It wheezed for breath, but the frenzy had gone out of it. He looked without expression at the Jack Russel , then turned and thrust his dog towards the gate.

In.

The dog ran into the garden, stubby tail wagging. Kale fol owed it.

The Jack Russel 's spasms were dying down. Its owner was crying. 'Did you hear what I said?' he shouted into the garden. 'I'l have it! I'l fucking-!' The explosion sent a cloud of birds clattering into the air. Ben and the two men froze, stunned, as its echoes died away. The smal man, no longer smiling, ran to the fence and stared inside.

'Oh fuck! Oh fucking hel !' Ben hobbled over, desperately trying to see over the scrap.

The bul terrier lay in the centre of the garden. Most of its head was blown away. One of its legs twitched, then was stil .

Kale stood over it with a shotgun.

'Fucking hel , John, you shouldn't have just shot him!' The smal man sounded appal ed.

Kale cracked open the shotgun and let a shel fal from one of its chambers. 'It's my dog. I'l do what I like.' He looked at Ben as he spoke. Then he snapped the gun closed and limped back towards the house.

'Bastard,' die older man said, weeping over the motionless dog in his arms. He was covered in blood and shit.

'Bastard.' The smal er man took his arm. 'Come on, Brian.' They set off down die track. Ben waited until they were wel ahead before he fol owed them.

The solicitor took her time going through the photographs.

Her eyebrows dipped into a frown when she saw the ones showing Kale lifting the engine above Jacob's head, rose for those of Sandra Kale and the man in the bedroom. She gave Ben a quick glance before moving on.

He waited silently until she had finished, resisting the urge to try to make himself more comfortable. The chair was wel upholstered, but even after a week his lower back was stil painful. The swel ing around his nose and mouth had mostly gone, and he hadn't lost any teeth, but the flesh under his eyes remained discoloured. His calf itched unbearably as the chunk the dog had taken out of it slowly mended.

Usherwood came to the end of the photographs. She lay them on the desk in front of her, absently straightening the edges. "Wel …' She drew a deep breath, cleared her throat.

'I can see why you're concerned.' He waited for her to say something else. She looked down at the photographs again, chewing one corner of her mouth in thought 'How long have you been watching the house?' she asked without looking at him.

Ben felt himself colouring. 'Quite a while.' He didn't let himself elaborate or make excuses.

She gave a smal smile. 'Perhaps it's as wel there aren't stricter privacy laws.'

'I wouldn't have cared if there were.' It came out more emphatical y than he intended. The solicitor looked again at the photograph on top of the pile, as though it could tel her something it hadn't already. Her fingers lightly touched the images of torn metal, as though they stil possessed the power to cut her. 'So what exactly are you asking me?'

'I want to know how to get Jacob back.' She pushed the photographs to one side with a sigh. 'I'm afraid it isn't that simple. Courts are very loath to take a child away from his or her parents - or parent in this case.

And in Jacob's case it's compounded because he's already had the trauma of being moved from one home environment. It's extremely unlikely that anyone would want to submit him to another upheaval unless it was felt there was absolutely no other alternative.'

"What alternative is there? Leaving him in a dump ful of scrap metal, with a stepmother who whores around and a father who's a f--' He stopped himself. '-a maniac?' I'm not saying nothing would be done, but taking a child from its parents is seen as a last resort. It would have to be felt that there was a real risk to Jacob in remaining where he is.'

'Kale dangles half a hundredweight of metal over his head.

Isn't that risk enough?'

"But you admit yourself that he hasn't been physical y harmed. I'm only pointing out what the situation is, Mr Murray.'

'I know, I know. I'm sorry.' He made an effort to calm down. 'What wil they do?' Usherwood sat bade 'Once you've voiced your concerns to the local authority they'l hold a case conference to decide what, if anything, needs to be done. If it was thought there was enough of a risk of harm to Jacob - either physical or emotional I

- they might put him on the Child Protection Register. If the risk is considered significant, then an application for a care order can be made through the courts, and the child placed with a foster family. But that's only in very extreme cases.

Which this isn't.'

'So there's no chance of them letting me have him,' he said, flatly.

A rare look of sympathy crossed her face. 'I'm sorry. You could make a residence application anyway. But for Jacob to be permanently taken from his father it would have to be felt that the situation was so bad there was absolutely no way he could ever safely live with him. And, to be blunt, that isn't likely to happen.'

'What about the photos? Don't they count for anything?' She picked them up again, but she was shaking her head as she fanned them out. 'The fact that his wife's having an affair - or affairs,' she added, with a quirk of her mouth, 'isn't going to be seen as significant one way or another, whether she's accepting payment for it or not. Even prostitutes are al owed to have children. As for Kale himself…' She leafed through the photographs until she found one of him holding the block of metal above Jacob. The polarising filter had thrown out the exposure, but Ben had been happy to come out with anything at al . "Yes, these show he's put his son at risk On one occasion.

There's no proof that he'l continue to do so.' She held her hand up to forestal Ben's protest. 'He has a garden ful of scrap metal - he'l be told to get rid of it.

He's been reckless when he's weight-training - he'l be told to be more careful in future. The most serious charge against him is that he's been deliberately keeping Jacob away from school, but provided he starts toeing the line there, then even that won't weigh too heavily against him. I know you say he's unbalanced and dangerous, but there's nothing at present to actual y prove it Or to justify insisting he has a psychological itssessment.'

Ben tasted a bitterness in his throat. 'How about beating me to a pulp and blowing his dog's brains out?'

'Didn't you say you tried to hit him first? And in front of witnesses?' He looked down at his hands. 'What about the dog?'

'I'm afraid if the police aren't going to take action there's nothing we can do.' Ben tiredly rubbed his face, accepting the truth of what she said. After he had retrieved his equipment from the woods he had driven - slowly - to the local police station in Tunford.

The desk sergeant had perked up when he'd limped in, battered and bloodstained, but that had changed when he'd realised who he was talking to.

Ben wondered if there was anyone in the town who didn't regard him as lower than something they'd scrape off the bottom of their shoe.

What exactly were you doing in the woods behind the house, sir?' the sergeant had asked.

Walking, Ben had told him, and held his stare while the policeman waited in silence for him to elaborate. He had tried to hold his anger in check as the questions became almost taunting in their bias. 'Sounds to me like he was defending himself, sir,' the policeman commented at one stage, with insulting courtesy. 'If I were you I'd think myself lucky to have got off so lightly.' Ben knew then he was wasting his time, but he stil tried.

'He shot his dog, for Christ's sake!'

'Perhaps he was just being public-spirited, sir. If it had attacked you, like you claim, it'd have to be destroyed anyway.'

'So it's okay for him to go around firing off a shotgun when he's got a child in the house?' Provided he's got a certificate for it, and I expect he has.

He's a responsible man, sir. Not like some. He knows how to handle firearms.' The sergeant gave a supercilious smile.

'Besides, you get a lot of vermin in those woods.'

Ben had given up. He hurt al over, and reaction had left him weak and exhausted. He needed to have the bite dressed and his smashed nose looked at.

More than anything, he needed to get away from that town.

'Drive careful y, sir/ die sergeant had said as he left. You look a bit worse for wear. You don't want to get arrested.' Usherwood was looking at Ben with concern. 'I know none of this is what you want to hear, but I can only tel you what would probably happen. There are very definite rules laid down in situations like this.' Ben managed a smile. 'I didn't think there were any other situations like this.' The solicitor looked down at the photographs. 'Can I keep these?' He nodded. He'd printed several sets of the best ones. Al the others, including those of Sandra Kale, naked and clothed, he'd burned.

I'm not saying the local authority wil ignore the evidence.

If nothing else it should make them apply pressure to ensure Kale al ows you your contact to Jacob,' Usherwood said, with the air of offering an unconvincing consolation prize.

'And what happens if he stil refuses?' When. 'Wil they take Jacob off him then?'

'No, but you've a legal entitlement. He's got to let you see him eventual y.' Ben gently kneaded the bridge of his nose. It was stil tender. 'You've met him. Did he strike you as the sort of man who's got to do anything?' He stood up while she was stil considering that.

Til be in touch.'

There were too many hours in the day now that he wasn't travel ing up to the woods behind Kale's house. He didn't know what to do with the free time, and so he fil ed it by working. Zoe was dearly relieved that he was reliable again, seeing it as a sign that things were returning to normal. But Ben couldn't even remember what 'normal' was any more. It was something that had stopped, perhaps for good, when Sarah had died. If anything he felt more out of synch with himself than ever. He seemed to be functioning on a purely surface level, going through the motions of talking, eating, going out, but without any of it making any impression on him. He couldn't even say he felt depressed, because he wasn't real y feeling anything. It was as though he were using only a single room of a large house. Sometimes he was aware of the rest of the rooms waiting for him to retenant them, but he felt no urge to leave his emotional bed-sit That would involve asking himself what his next step was going to be.