Jake Mutant - Chapter Six

After a few days the cloud and the accompanying rain thinned out, the sky lightened and birds began to tweet again. Almost the very moment Jake noticed that the rain had stopped there was a loud knock on the front door.  He was just deciding what to do with his last full day, many options were filling his head and they all involved being alone with Bristol who was now racing downstairs enthusiastically. Immediately his heart sank as he heard the voice of Toby Gordon downstairs and more worryingly the desperation in the boy’s voice. ‘Is Jakus maximus here? He hasn’t gone home yet has he?’

 

Grandad spoke calmly. ‘If you mean Jake Massey yes he’s upstairs. Shall I check if he is free to see you?’

 

This sentence seemed to confuse Toby and he was silent for a few seconds then said, ‘We’ve planned a trip to the beach.’

 

Jake listened from the safety of his bed, briefly he considered sliding underneath it and zoning into himself until Toby gave up and went home but then he remembered the possibility of seeing dolphins and the beach did seem like a very good idea. Grandad began fussing over the Bassett Hound, commenting on the dog’s ‘sad face’ then he walked upstairs with heavy feet, knocked on the open door and peered round it. He had a look on his face that suggested there was some secret knowledge between the two of them. ‘Jake, there’s somebody downstairs, he says you’re going to the beach today.’

 

‘It’s alright Grandad,’ Jake whispered, ‘I want to go.’

 

Bristol had been going stir crazy stuck in the house and when Jake clipped on the dog’s lead he leapt up and down on the spot like a mad thing. They walked along the road in single file with Toby and Sorry in front. He chatted away as usual but Jake couldn’t hear a word of what he was saying, the wind swallowed most of his voice and there seemed little point in asking him to repeat anything. There were ripe blackberries growing in the hedges, Jake pulled one off, it collapsed in his fingers and he flicked the bits into the road. They reached the bollards and both dogs stopped to cock their legs and cover them in pee.

 

The grass in the fields looked even thicker and greener than before and the sheep seemed in a tremendous hurry to shorten it. One of them stood up very straight and stared at the boys as they walked by, Jake studied it, noting the strange horizontal pupils of its eyes. There was a sort of stand off and Bristol jumped at the wire fence.

 

‘That’s the ram,’ said Toby, ‘see it’s horns.’

 

The ram took a few steps closer to the fence and lifted its head higher. Even though the creature couldn’t get to them there was something very threatening about the way it stood not removing the beam of its gaze from them and close up it was much larger than Jake had realised. They hurried past and onwards towards the railway bridge.

 

‘I’m starting my new school next week Jake. It’s the best school in Wales, well one of the best, the P.E. teacher used to be a rugby player. I can’t wait. I’m turning twelve as well, I might be the eldest in my year, I probably will be. It’s a comprehensive. I did take the eleven plus and I passed it too but my mum says it’s too far away, you know, the grammar school, it’s a train and bus ride. Did you sit for the grammar school Jake, did you pass, I passed, bet they were sorry not to get me. Did you pass?’

 

‘I….’ Jake felt that serrated spoon stirring him inside now but he didn’t get a chance to respond. Toby carried on speaking about himself, this time about his trumpet exam.

 

Jake drifted into himself, he was thinking, is it possible that Toby Gordon is more intelligent than me? It seemed unlikely but it was a more complicated question than it seemed. Jake had indeed taken the eleven plus and it was a bit of a sore subject. He had failed but he had known that would be the outcome ever since his mother had put his name down for it, ever since she’d said to him, ‘It’s black and white Jake, you either pass or you don’t.’ Indeed, the exam papers were black and white, the ticking clock on the wall in the examination hall was black and white, his candidate number on the table was black and white, the invigilator who walked up and down between the rows of concentrating boys was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt. If only Jake had been able to concentrate, to process, to avoid internal and external distractions.

 

In stressful situations some people’s brains operated like a straight roller coaster, okay there might be a few humps and dips here and there but mostly the information went forward and during a time-pressured exam it had to move fast. Jake saw his own brain as a super-fast roller coaster but with a vast number of loop-the-loops at differing heights, in short he had a dangerous brain. The exam had made him dizzy, he’d been fixated on all the black and white; a complex question about dominoes had sent his grey matter into a throbbing, irrevocable spasm of confusion.

 

He shook his head from side to side and said, ‘What are our chances of spotting dolphins today Toby?’

 

‘Dolphins? Well I’ve never seen them personally, except in Portugal but people up on the campsite down the coast see them most years. I think you need to be higher up, looking over the sea to get a glimpse of them or on a boat.’

 

The golf course was once again deserted, perhaps the golfers had surrendered it entirely, to the rabbits and persistent crosswind. As soon as they entered the little path which took them through a gap in the dunes towards the sea roaring waves could be heard. The tide was just starting to go out and the sea was rough. The dogs rushed ahead and Bristol began barking uncontrollably. There was nobody else on the beach except for a young man in the far distance with what appeared to be a metal detector.

 

On the smooth sand which the waves had just washed there was a large number of strange lumps. Toby and Jake jogged forward to get a closer look, the wet sand was harder than it looked. ‘Jellyfish!’ Toby shouted, ‘Oh there must be a hundred of them.’

 

There were sort of whitish but transparent, some were as large as two feet in diameter and they were heaped together all across the sand in a great, long line. It was a relief to Jake that it would have been impossible to count them for they were piled together, tentacle among tentacle. The dogs sniffed them, Bristol let out a single bark in confusion.

 

‘These are barrell jellyfish,’ said Toby in an authoritative tone of voice.

 

Maybe he is more intelligent than me, thought Jake as he crouched down to get a close look at the creatures. Suddenly a large pebble was flung in his direction, smashing into the jellyfish that he was studying. Jake shouted, ‘Ah! Stop that Toby.’

 

‘Why, they’re dead, they’re not moving are they!’’

 

No, thought Jake, he’s really not that clever. ‘How can they move on the sand….. I don’t think they’re dead yet, the tide might save them when it comes back in.’ Another pebble collided with one of the poor creatures. ‘Stop it you’re…..breaking them!’

 

Toby had run halfway up into the tall dunes now and was looking around for more pebbles to throw. Jake ran up after him, to put an end to it he raced past him up to the top, grabbing the coarse grasses to heave himself up the steepest bits. Toby quickly caught him up and they stood there catching their breath as grains of sand on the wind stung their faces. On the other side the small church could be seen. Jake was keen to go and visit the graves again, he didn’t understand why but he liked reading the names and dates of the deceased and wondering about the sort of lives they’d had. The dogs charged after them, even Sorry broke into a trot; he was livelier now and seemed to be enjoying himself a bit more.

 

‘Look Jake,’ Toby called out. He was pointing at the large wooden door to the chapel which had previously been banked up with sand. Rainwater spouting from the gutter above it had pushed much of the sand away. Toby used his foot to slide what remained from the base of the door and Bristol helped, moving his forelegs in a frenzied manner to dig it away.

 

The door stuck to begin with but Toby gave it a few hard tugs and it opened wide enough for the boys to slip through. The silence inside made them stop and take in the surroundings; stone walls, a slate floor, shiny and uneven from wear, wooden pews and hand-embroidered cushions all gave a sort of warmth to the place. Jake tingled all over like he was absorbing something, some kind of force. It was as if the building had built up a store of energy during the months it had been all shut up but it was a peaceful energy, a kind of magic. He shivered but he wasn’t afraid. I’m glad we came here, he thought. The boys tiptoed and spoke in whispers as they wandered around the tiny chapel, there were just twelve small pews, six on each side. ‘I’ve got loads of sand inside my socks,’ said Toby. Suddenly there was a scraping sound at the door, someone else was trying to enter the chapel.

 

Instinctively they rushed to the front of the building, up the single step to the altar, where there was a lectern to the left and a tiny wooden door to the right, five feet or so high. He tried the handle, it was open and they ducked inside, beckoning the dogs to follow and gently shutting it behind them. The room was very cold, it contained two spare pews, a broom, some trestles and a cardboard box full of tinsel. The boys stayed still and listened; footsteps could be heard, female footsteps, light and quick. Toby put his head on the floor and peered through the small gap underneath it. ‘It’s the lady who does the flowers,’ he whispered.

 

They heard her walking up and down, she spent some time up at the front of the church, shuffling around, stepping here and there, pouring water into a vase. Every sound she made caused an echo.

 

Jake sniffed the air and screwed up his face, ‘What’s that smell?’ he mouthed. Toby shrugged   and lifted his hand up to his ear. ‘The smell?’ Jake repeated, ‘What’s the smell?’

 

‘Sorry.’

 

‘Do you need to go to the toilet?’ Jake whispered, placing his fingers over his nostrils.

 

Toby shook his head, ‘No….it’s Sorry!’

 

Jake pulled his top up over his nose and crouched in silence but sitting still was an impossibility for Toby and he began to move around in a circle on the floor, knuckle walking like an ape upon the stone flags. Bristol too was now being disruptive, pawing at something underneath one the pews. Jake became stressed about getting caught, he pulled the dog by the collar and cradled it to him, feeling its rough fur against his neck. The movements inside the church had become faster, more purposeful; the flower lady gathered her things and strode towards the other end of the church, the echoes of her footsteps overlapping each other. There was some shuffling and the door shut with a bang. ‘I think she’s gone,’ whispered Jake.

 

Toby had pulled something out from between the pews, a bag made from faded green cotton. ‘That’s my neighbour!’ he said, holding a shabby photograph. ‘It’s your grandad...and Nellie,’ he stared into Jake’s eyes, ‘Your grandma...’

 

Jake put his hands up to his mouth, ‘Grandma’s things!’ he gasped.

 

Toby handed him the bag. It wasn’t large, just a small floppy thing with long handles designed to be carried on the shoulder. Carefully Jake widened the opening and looked inside; there were two bundles of photographs each held together with elastic bands, some other loose photos, all very dog-eared, some pearl earrings in a box, a baby’s cardigan, some few letters, a blister-pack of pills and several Kitkat wrappers.

 

They left the little room in the church behind. Fresh flowers had been placed on the altar and there was now a piece of paper stuck on the door saying, ‘Open for service this Sunday’. Jake walked home at a pace, clutching the bag tight he arrived quite out of breath. Grandad was sitting on a tree stump just outside his workshop.

 

‘Where did you find that bag, the kitchen drawer? he said, ‘I couldn’t find that when I needed it.’

 

‘No, look, it’s the photos, Grandma’s things!’ Jake held the bag up.

 

Grandad was silent for a few seconds, he turned pale and frowned hard which made himself look ten years older then he seemed to dismiss the whole thing and just said, ‘Nice to have the sun back isn’t it.’

 

Jake stood still awhile before taking a seat next to him on the stump, he removed some of the photographs and showed them to his grandad. Gradually, piece by piece they went through the contents of the bag on Jake’s lap, shuffling through the pictures, examining the jewellery and straightening the crumpled Kitkat wrappers. Grandad didn’t want to read the letters, he appeared very drained and barely spoke. He went to the workshop and fetched the wooden box he’d been carving, it wasn’t quite finished but he put the bag inside and carried it to the house.

 

‘Tell me, where did you find it Jake?’

 

‘In the little church, the chapel in the dunes.’

 

‘The chapel in the dunes...’ he said weakly.

 

‘It was in a storeroom, Toby found it, well, Bristol found it first, he was pawing at something, it was underneath some pews, hidden.’

 

‘Well I never.’

 

Grandad went upstairs to the bathroom and locked the door. He ran the bath taps for a very long time. Jake could hear him speaking. The atmosphere in the house was sort of unsettling so he went outside with his binoculars and astronomy book. He found the summer triangle; the harp, the swan and the eagle, from there he escaped into the constellations and beyond, far, far away from the complications of humanity on planet earth.