about him like he’s dead.’
Max turned to look at his son. His tired eyes narrowed and they were suddenly piercing. ‘He probably is dead.’
‘Why?’
Max’s cigarette had burned to a stub. He awkwardly waved it in the air, not knowing where to extinguish it. Sam took it from his father’s shaking hands, stubbed it on the bottom of his shoe and threw it into the waste paper bin. ‘Why do you think Jacob’s dead, Dad?’
Max’s thin face hardened. ‘You know what those bastards are like,’ he replied cryptically. ‘Jacob was an embarrassment to them. We both know how easy it is to get rid of people who are an embarrassment.’
Sam closed his eyes. ‘Come on, Dad,’ he said softly. ‘Why would they bother? Jacob took the rap. He wasn’t going to blurt anything to anyone. None of us were.’ He paused. ‘You hurt him, Dad. You and mum. More than you think. When they kicked him out of the Regiment you refused to even see him.’
‘Shut up, Sam. You don’t know what you’re talking about. So we argued. Happens all the time. We’re arguing now – doesn’t mean you’ll never come and see me again.’ His breathing was weak and shaky. ‘If your brother was still alive, what’s the one thing he’d do if he knew I was cooped up in this shit hole, pissing into a pipe and wasting away to a fucking skeleton? What’s the one thing he’d do?’
Sam looked at the floor. He knew the answer, of course – argument or no argument, Jacob would come to his father’s bedside. Nothing would stop him. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it, because then he’d have to come to the same conclusion Max had arrived at. The conclusion which, in his darkest hours, had always nagged at the edge of his mind. Jacob dead? That didn’t bear thinking about. It would leave a hole in their life too big to be endured.
The silence was strained and uncomfortable. Max stared at the photograph in his hands and for a moment Sam felt as though his father had forgotten he was there.
‘I’d better be going, Dad,’ he muttered quietly. ‘I’m back for a bit. I’ll come again soon.’
Max didn’t answer. He was still looking at the photograph as Sam left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
THREE
‘You never talk about your family.’
Kelly was fired up, ready for an argument. She’d been acting it out in her head all the way home on the Tube and before that – ever since lunch with Elaine. Ask him all the questions she wanted answers to and if he got shirty, confront him about the missing money from her purse.
‘Nothing to say.’
Jamie was sitting in his preferred position, lounging on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table. The TV was on with the sound down and he was fiddling with his iPod.
‘For God’s sake, Jamie, there must be something to say.’ Kelly stood in the kitchenette area of the room throwing together some supper. She wasn’t a very good cook, but Jamie didn’t appear to mind. He ate anything. ‘What about your mum and dad? Am I ever going to meet them?’
‘Might be a bit difficult, that.’ Jamie avoided her gaze. She noticed, though, that his eyes twitched slightly.
‘Why?’
‘They’re dead.’
He said it quietly, his attention firmly on the screen of his iPod. To Kelly, he looked like someone who was doing his best not to let his emotions show. She let the salad servers fall to the side and hurried over to the sofa where she sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. This wasn’t what she had expected – all of a sudden the road plan of her argument had taken a turn for the worse. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
Jamie shrugged.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Told you. Nothing to say.’
They sat there in silence for a moment. Kelly felt a creeping sense of guilt about the light-hearted conversation she’d had that lunchtime. She had the urge to be more sensitive now. ‘What did they die of ?’ she asked quietly.
‘Mum,
Max turned to look at his son. His tired eyes narrowed and they were suddenly piercing. ‘He probably is dead.’
‘Why?’
Max’s cigarette had burned to a stub. He awkwardly waved it in the air, not knowing where to extinguish it. Sam took it from his father’s shaking hands, stubbed it on the bottom of his shoe and threw it into the waste paper bin. ‘Why do you think Jacob’s dead, Dad?’
Max’s thin face hardened. ‘You know what those bastards are like,’ he replied cryptically. ‘Jacob was an embarrassment to them. We both know how easy it is to get rid of people who are an embarrassment.’
Sam closed his eyes. ‘Come on, Dad,’ he said softly. ‘Why would they bother? Jacob took the rap. He wasn’t going to blurt anything to anyone. None of us were.’ He paused. ‘You hurt him, Dad. You and mum. More than you think. When they kicked him out of the Regiment you refused to even see him.’
‘Shut up, Sam. You don’t know what you’re talking about. So we argued. Happens all the time. We’re arguing now – doesn’t mean you’ll never come and see me again.’ His breathing was weak and shaky. ‘If your brother was still alive, what’s the one thing he’d do if he knew I was cooped up in this shit hole, pissing into a pipe and wasting away to a fucking skeleton? What’s the one thing he’d do?’
Sam looked at the floor. He knew the answer, of course – argument or no argument, Jacob would come to his father’s bedside. Nothing would stop him. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it, because then he’d have to come to the same conclusion Max had arrived at. The conclusion which, in his darkest hours, had always nagged at the edge of his mind. Jacob dead? That didn’t bear thinking about. It would leave a hole in their life too big to be endured.
The silence was strained and uncomfortable. Max stared at the photograph in his hands and for a moment Sam felt as though his father had forgotten he was there.
‘I’d better be going, Dad,’ he muttered quietly. ‘I’m back for a bit. I’ll come again soon.’
Max didn’t answer. He was still looking at the photograph as Sam left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
THREE
‘You never talk about your family.’
Kelly was fired up, ready for an argument. She’d been acting it out in her head all the way home on the Tube and before that – ever since lunch with Elaine. Ask him all the questions she wanted answers to and if he got shirty, confront him about the missing money from her purse.
‘Nothing to say.’
Jamie was sitting in his preferred position, lounging on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table. The TV was on with the sound down and he was fiddling with his iPod.
‘For God’s sake, Jamie, there must be something to say.’ Kelly stood in the kitchenette area of the room throwing together some supper. She wasn’t a very good cook, but Jamie didn’t appear to mind. He ate anything. ‘What about your mum and dad? Am I ever going to meet them?’
‘Might be a bit difficult, that.’ Jamie avoided her gaze. She noticed, though, that his eyes twitched slightly.
‘Why?’
‘They’re dead.’
He said it quietly, his attention firmly on the screen of his iPod. To Kelly, he looked like someone who was doing his best not to let his emotions show. She let the salad servers fall to the side and hurried over to the sofa where she sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. This wasn’t what she had expected – all of a sudden the road plan of her argument had taken a turn for the worse. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
Jamie shrugged.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Told you. Nothing to say.’
They sat there in silence for a moment. Kelly felt a creeping sense of guilt about the light-hearted conversation she’d had that lunchtime. She had the urge to be more sensitive now. ‘What did they die of ?’ she asked quietly.
‘Mum,
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