But when Ben and Jacob had arrived at the house he’d found that Maggie wasn’t expecting them. Now she had the toothpaste smile of the self-martyred as she handed out the plates. “I just hope there’s enough to go around. Of course, it would have been nice if Colin had had the consideration to tell me he’d invited guests, but I suppose that would be asking too much. After all, that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? I don’t have anything better to do than stay at home all day while he goes off with his bands.”
Maggie seemed convinced that Colin’s work was mainly socialising because most of his clients were musicians. Ben hadn’t heard her complain about the money he earned, though.
“Don’t bother about me,” he told her. “I can eat later.”
“No, of course you won’t. If there isn’t enough Colin’ll just have to go without. Perhaps then he’ll make more of an effort to get home on time when I’ve gone to the trouble of cooking.”
The serving spoon rattled against china. “Scott, it’s rude to whisper to your brother at the dinner table.” Scott ignored her, whispering behind a cupped hand to Andrew. Although Ben couldn’t hear what was being said he could guess its subject by the way they were looking at Jacob, who was busily picking out the pieces of onion from the sauce and arranging them end to end around the rim of his plate.
Andrew giggled as his elder brother finally lowered his hand.
Scott glanced at Ben indifferently, still smirking. Ben stared back at him, fighting the desire to ram his fork up the little bastard’s nose.
He’s only a kid, for God’s sake. Don’t be so touchy.
He turned to Jacob. “Come on, Jacob. Eat your tea.”
Jacob looked up, blankly, at the sound of his voice, then went back to sifting out the onion.
Maggie finished dishing out the lasagne and sat down. For a while there was no noise except the scrape of cutlery.
“This is really nice,” said Ben, dutifully. To give Maggie her due, she was a good cook.
“Thank you. Nice to know someone appreciates me.”
Oh God.
Scott and Andrew were giggling and nudging each other.
“If you two boys don’t hurry up, you won’t get any dessert,” Maggie said with forced jocularity.
“That’s all right, because I don’t want any,” Scott told her.
“Well, perhaps we’ll let you go without all week, then, shall we?” The bright smile was set on her face now, as convincing as a party mask on a mugger. “Good.”
Maggie’s mouth twitched, and Ben hoped for a moment that she would resort to violence against her first-born. Instead she tore her eyes away and noticed Jacob, still arranging the onions in a line.
“Eat up, Jacob. Don’t play with your food when Auntie Maggie’s gone to the trouble of cooking it, dear.” Jacob didn’t even look up. “Did you hear Auntie Maggie, Jacob?” she persisted, “Be a good boy and do as you’re told.”
Because your brats certainly don’t. Ben gripped his cutlery. He had seen Maggie in her picky moods before. They ran off Jacob, and usually Ben took no notice. Right then, though, he wasn’t in a good mood himself.
“He’ll get round to it,” he said, as casually as he could manage. “No need to push him.”
Maggie’s smile glittered. “Was I pushing? I’m sorry, I’m sure I didn’t mean to. It’s just a little annoying when you see something you’ve cooked go to waste.”
Scott and Andrew had fallen silent and stopped eating, aware of the sudden tension between the adults. Only Jacob seemed unaware of it. Ben told himself to ease off. A scene wouldn’t do anyone any good, and Maggie had been helpful since — since Sarah died. The thought snuffed the heat out of him.
“It won’t be wasted. If the worst comes to the worst I’ll finish it myself,” he said, doing his best to smile naturally.
Maggie backed off a little herself. At least she seemed to.
There was an interval while she put green salad on the side of her plate. Then she asked, “Have you any idea yet what you’re going to do about Jacob?”
Ben felt the lasagne clog his mouth. He took a drink of water. I’m not with you.”
“About his school, I mean. Not that I mind running him backwards and forwards for you.” She smiled, saccharin again. “He’s such a treasure. But it isn’t always convenient, and I expect you’ll want to sort out something more... well, more permanent, won’t you?”
His relief was followed by irritation. Here it comes, he thought. First the favour, then the bill.
“Yes, I will.” He knew he wouldn’t ask her to collect Jacob again, no matter how difficult it became.
“I don’t want you to think there’s any hurry as far as I’m concerned,” she went on, back-pedalling now she had made the point. “I know it’s not easy for you, though, and I just wondered if you’d had chance to think about any other options.”
“What sort of options?” He could guess.
“Well, I don’t know, really. Perhaps some sort of...” She glanced at her two sons, who were no longer paying the slightest bit of attention, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “...of residential school. Of course, it’s only a thought. I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but with Jacob being a... a special little boy, and you being busy and all, well...” Her smile was failing against his silence. “You don’t mind my mentioning it, I hope?”
“Why should I?” He stood up. “Excuse me.” He left the table, knowing it was rude of him, but also knowing it was less rude than what he might have said if he’d stayed.
The bathroom was at the top of the stairs. Ben locked himself in. He hadn’t particularly wanted to urinate but now he was there he did anyway. It gave him something to do to take his mind off his anger.
When he had finished he put down the pink marble-effect seat and pressed down the gold-plated flush handle. The washbasin taps were even more ornate, a pair of stylised and vaguely Japanese-style dolphins. As he dried his hands on one of the soft pink towels he remembered what Colin’s room had been like when they had been students.
The decor hadn’t run beyond posters and empty bottles of Newcastle Brown. It didn’t take much guessing whose hand had been behind decorating the house.
He went back downstairs, cooler-headed than when he went up. It wasn’t worth falling out with Maggie, if only for Colin’s sake. And, after helping out with Jacob for the past three weeks, he supposed she had a right to ask what his plans were. It wasn’t her fault that he didn’t have any.
The thick oriental carpet silenced his footsteps as he returned to the dining room. He heard voices from it before he reached the doorway.
“...well, he is,” Scott was saying. “I don’t see why he’s got to come here!”
“I don’t care, I’ve told you not to call him that!” Maggie snapped, trying to whisper.
“Why not? He can’t understand.”
“That’s not the point! It isn’t a nice thing to say.”
“So what? He is a mong. And you don’t want him here either. I’ve heard you telling Dad.”
“You shouldn’t have been listening! I won’t tell you again—” She broke off as Ben came in. “Oh.” She hastily tried to assemble a smile. “We, er... we were just—”
“Yes, I heard.”
He went over to Jacob. The boy sat with his chin tucked on his chest, eyes downcast. Ben’s jaw muscles hurt to think of him sitting there as they talked about him. “Come on, Jacob, time to go home,” he said, taking his hand. He shot a glare at Scott, who was sullenly staring at the table. “Thanks for dinner, Maggie. Tell Colin I’ll talk to him later.”