Jacob

Ben is ten. He likes that this rhymes with his name, and that it is double digits, meaning his grandmother has now replaced his old title of ‘growing boy’ with the far superior ‘young man’. He is staying with her for the summer, while the school holidays dance past and his Mum goes to work. It is one of his favourite times of the year. Gran has been looking after him every summer since he can remember, plastering up his cuts and feeding him treats he’s not allowed at home. She is his summer escape - the queen of the forest outside and champion of avoiding lava on the living room floor. This holiday has whirled past, and already next week he is expected back at school.

Ben, ten, sits in front of his grandmother’s washing machine, watching the orange jumpsuit spin around. It doesn’t belong to him, or Gran, but to Jacob, the mystery man who has been living in his grandmother’s barn. Ben has never seen Jacob, but he knows he likes to wear orange clothes because they make him feel safe. ‘Familiar’ was the word his grandmother used, and he likes it because it sounds like family. Him and Gran aren’t blood family, but that doesn’t matter to the two of them - they are as thick as thieves all the same and keep each other’s secrets. Gran hasn’t told a soul about him accidentally breaking his Mum’s shoelaces in a catapult contraption last year, and Ben is now keeping her secret about Jacob in the barn. Gran was a close friend of his Mum’s from work, but she’s at least two decades older than his Mum and given Ben doesn’t have a real grandmother she is just as good, if not better than the grandmothers he sees at the school gates. The jumpsuit twists in the machine and sometimes Ben can make out the letters on the back - ‘INMATE’ they spell out, but he’s not sure what it means. Jacob’s only been in the barn a couple of days, but Ben wonders if he will become part of their family soon. Gran seems to glow when she talks about him, sort of like when she talks about Ben, but differently. His family used to be small without Gran, and now it might become large, with Mum, and Gran, and Ben, and Jacob with orange clothes.

Gran walks up to the back door. Her face is flushed beneath the wrinkles and her usual neat hair has come flying loose from its bun. It sometimes looks like that when she comes back from the barn, but Ben was told off when he asked about it.

“Hello, young man!” She smiles, “Have you seen the magic portal in the washing machine? Better be careful in case it swoops you up!” Ben giggles. Gran is always in a good mood, but she has been particularly chirpy since Jacob arrived. Ben is desperate to meet him.

He was so eager to find out more about the barn's inhabitant, he risked breaking Gran's trust and asked Mum about him when she came for dinner last night.

“Have you met Gran’s friend Jacob?” he’d said.

Mum had frowned slightly, “Who was talking about Jacob?” It was not the response he’d expected. Ben knew Mum answered his questions with another question when she didn’t want to answer.

“I just heard the name,” he’d replied, not wanting to betray Gran. There was a pause, and Ben had wished he hadn’t asked.

“He’s not around anymore,” Mum had finally said, “you don’t need to worry about him.” Ben wasn’t worried, just puzzled at why Mum thought he might be, but he’d known better than to probe further.

He thinks about this as Gran puts Jacob’s lunch plate in the sink and flicks the kettle on. She must be waiting for Mum coming tomorrow to surprise her with Jacob’s arrival.

As the kettle comes to a boil, there’s a sharp rap at the door. Gran looks surprised, and then bustles down the hall to answer it, leaving Ben hovering at the entrance of the kitchen. He can see the outline of a blue uniform, with a meaty hand resting on a belt that’s a little too tight.

“Good afternoon Ma’am,” an assertive voice says. “We’ve got some questions about an old friend of yours. Can we come in?”

“Oh,” Gran pauses, “Actually, I’ve got my grandson staying with me at the moment. It’s his last night tonight - would it be alright if you came back tomorrow?”

“Of course,” the man says, still hidden behind Gran, “We’ll be back tomorrow, but in the meantime if you hear anything from Jacob Brown call us immediately - he is missing from custody.”

“How awful,” Gran says very quickly, and then, “If I hear anything I’ll let you know.” There is an odd silence next, where Gran is very still and seems to be staring at the visitor. Ben wonders what it means.

“We’ll be back first thing tomorrow,” the response comes finally. The beast of a man turns and slowly walks away down the path. Still Gran does not move from the door, not until Jacob hears a car engine start up and then fade outside.

She shuts and locks it - unusual for her. Ben’s Mum always locks their front door, but here he has never seen Gran bother. She looks a little pale when she turns and spots him lingering at the end of the hall, but the worry is quickly wiped from her face.

“Come on Ben,” his grandmother smiles. “Shall we go and pick our desert for tonight?”

Not long later they sit amongst the strawberries, picking the reddest and juiciest for their collection. Ben can’t help but sneak a few in now.

Gran spots this and lets out a tinkling laugh, “You’ve got more smeared round your face than in your basket!”

He grins, and puts another one in his stained mouth - a kaleidoscope of taste on his tongue. They are so much better than the ones Mum buys in the supermarket.

The fruit patch is just outside the back of the house, overlooked by the weather-beaten barn. It was once a light shade of green, but years of dirt make it look a grey colour, with chipped paint and windowless planked walls. The doors are ginormous, at least twice the height of Ben, and inside there is a wooden platform with a rickety ladder that Gran says is too rotten to climb, but Ben does anyway. He’s created a den up there for him and his imaginary comrades, ready to sleep after a long day of fighting shadows in the nearby forest. Since Jacob arrived, Ben has not been allowed in the barn. He wonders why the man at the door was looking for him.

Their baskets full, the pair wander back to the house. They are busy pulling their trainers off when the phone rings. Ben can’t quite hear the strained voice at the other end of the line, but it sounds worried. Gran doesn’t say much, nodding along and adding an “Of course,” “yes,” “absolutely”.

He makes out the word “lies” and then “dangerous”, and then a word he doesn’t recognise - “pee-doe-file” it sounds like, but he’s never heard it before. The syllables were smashed into one, rushed as if the person was embarrassed. Ben wonders how to spell it, and makes a note to ask Gran later.

Distraction dealt with, Gran bundles Ben into the kitchen and tasks him with washing their harvest. He finishes the job with practised speed and ambles back outside while he waits for dinner.

He sits not far from the back door and admires the green trees stretching out as far as he can see. On the right is the barn absorbing the low sun, and it catches his attention as the only building for miles. Ben wonders if Gran would notice if he quickly went to check on his den one last time. He’s ten now; he doesn’t need to follow all of the rules - young men often don’t, he hears Gran tutting at the radio sometimes. And maybe it’s because it’s his last night, or maybe because there’s a final mystery he wants to solve, Ben crosses the grass, pushes open the barn door, and slips inside.