“But I thought you really liked him?”
It says a lot about her friend that she assumes it was Jasmine who ended it.
“I did, but he didn’t see the point of a relationship if I was going to be up here.” Jasmine fudges the truth of the break-up, mostly because she is yet to process it all herself and has no wish to examine it here in a station car park.
“I’m sorry.” Flora’s hand covers Jasmine’s.
“So what’s been happening?” Jasmine asks. “And don’t try to sanitise it. I want the full truth.”
Flora finally starts the engine and fills Jasmine in on life since the summer as she steers her little car along the familiar streets of Jasmine’s home town and out into the countryside. Open fields tinged green with short fronds of winter wheat give way to bands of skeletal trees. Then the village cricket pitch appears on the right and Flora slows as they pass the local pub. The Blue Lion was once the centre of Jasmine’s social life. She would meet up with Petey and Flora and the other sixth formers almost every weekend. Like her, most of them have left for university. Petey and Flora were the only two village kids who stayed. Finally, Flora indicates and pulls onto Petey’s drive, parking neatly beside Gillian’s old runabout.
For all of Flora’s non-stop chatter, she hasn’t given Jasmine much more information than Petey had. Jasmine has a better understanding of the timeline – Petey had been given a terminal diagnosis after the scan had shown a brain-stem tumour. But it wasn’t until the biopsy results the previous Friday that the timescale had been shortened. Until that point, everyone had believed he would have years. Not the decades he should have had like any other youngster but at least five years, maybe longer. On the weekend, he had announced he wanted to see Jasmine. He had threatened to go to alone by train if no one would drive him and so Kate had capitulated despite her mother’s resistance.
Given the speed of Petey’s illness and the holiday period, very few of their friends were fully aware of it and Petey apparently wasn’t keen on telling anyone. Jasmine doesn’t think it can be long though before news leaks out – this is a small village, after all. Someone’s sister, aunt, or cousin would spot him at the hospital or in the doctor’s surgery and intrusive questions will be asked which Petey’s family would be unable to dodge. Frankly, she thinks, when he starts treatment, one proper look at Petey would probably be sufficient for someone to realise something is very wrong.
Flora extracts the bags from the car as Jasmine rings the doorbell. It opens almost immediately. Gillian has aged immeasurably in the last few months. Her hair is now more grey than brown and her face is lined with worry, but her eyes light up in hope when she sees Jasmine on the doorstep. Jasmine is relieved. When Flora said Gillian hadn’t wanted Petey to come to her, she feared Petey’s mother still hadn’t forgiven her for ending their relationship.
“Dear girl!” Gillian says as her eyes tear up. Then her arms reach out to pull Jasmine in for a massive hug. “Thank you for coming,” she whispers. She pulls Jasmine along the hall into the kitchen, and Flora follows with the suitcases.
“He’s upstairs sleeping,” Gillian explains as she fills the kettle. “Took a lot out of him going to see you but he wouldn’t be stopped.” She sniffs and breathes deeply. “But you’re here now, so I guess it was worth it.” She reaches out a hand to clasp Jasmine’s briefly before she turns back to the tea-making.
Flora takes the opportunity to make her excuses. “None for me, Gillian. I’ve got to get back. My boiler’s on the blink and my brother said he might stop by after work to check it out.” She gives Jasmine a hug with a promise to message later.
“She’s a good lass, that one,” Gillian says as the front door closes. “Here, love. I made your favourite brownies.” She proffers the cake tin.
“No one makes them like you.” The ghost of a smile crosses the older woman’s face as Jasmine gives the compliment. Jasmine appreciates what Gillian has done, making the time to bake between working and looking after her son. It can’t have been easy.
“I’ve put you in Kate’s room.” Gillian sets the tea mugs down on the table. “She’s got a couple of nights left before she has to return to her unit, but she’ll stay at the Winters’, with Jacob.”
Jasmine might have felt guilty at taking Kate’s room, except she doesn’t think it much of a hardship to share Jacob Winter’s bed. He is one fine-looking man. Kind too, from what she has heard Kate say on previous visits.
“How’ve you been?” she asks gently.
Gillian gulps. “It’s been tough, you know. It was so hard watching him go to rack and ruin after you left.” She grabs Jasmine’s hand again, almost spilling the scalding tea. “I don’t blame you, mind. You did what you felt was right and I can’t say in my heart it was wrong. Kate’s happy traipsing the world, but Petey’s like me. He’s a homebody. I always thought he’d stay in the village, raise my grandchildren right here. And I knew you wanted a different life.” She pats Jasmine’s hand. “Well, that dream is over now.
“The day he collapsed. Well, I’ve never rung for an ambulance before in my life, but I knew immediately he needed one. And I knew, I knew it was bad.” Gillian takes a tattered tissue from her pocket and dabs at her eyes. “I could feel it in my bones. When that doctor came and told us what the scan showed, I just caved. But my brother said to me, ‘You can cry all you like when your boy is gone, Gill. But don’t bury him before he is dead. Until that day, you have to be strong.’ And that’s what I’m trying to do now. Be strong.” She dabs at her eyes again. “But it’s hard. No mother should have to bury her son.”
A New Normal
Jasmine goes to wake Petey at dinner time that evening. She halts a moment before her hand lands on his shoulder, and takes time to really look at him. Skin the colour of a plastic orchid, shadows lurking under shuttered eyelids, she looks for signs of his illness. He is curled on his side and for the first time she can see the shaved back of his head where they did the biopsy. She wants to run her fingers over it, feel the softness of the tiny hairs re-growing, but she resists. She does not want to hurt him.
Petey stirs, as if he can sense her closeness. His eyes open, and if Jasmine thought he looked tired before, it is nothing to how weary he seems when she looks into his soul. But there is no mistaking the joy when he realises who is standing beside him. “Jas!” he breathes and struggles to sit up. “You’re here!”
If she had ever had any doubts as to the necessity of her decision, they disappear immediately at his obvious joy in her presence. She smiles. “Flora brought me. She sends her love but she had to get off home – something about a dodgy boiler.”
“No worries,” he says. “You’re looking well.”
Unable to return the compliment, Jasmine says, “I’ve been sent to get you for dinner.” She watches as he swings his legs out of the bed and reaches for his jeans. There is no stirring of lust, no hint of arousal. She finds it incredible how quickly her body has adapted to reacting to Ben’s long, strong form and olive skin. In just a few short months, her feelings for Petey have altered from desire to sexual indifference, while her fondness for him is unchanged.
When they sit at the kitchen table, Gillian puts the pots of spaghetti and lentil bolognese on two trivets and everyone helps themselves. Jasmine doesn’t want to eat in silence, but she is unable to think of anything to say.
Petey saves her. “How was your trip?” he asks.
So, Jasmine fills the room with chatter – the little old woman who tried to share her ham sandwiches with Jasmine on the train up to London, the horrendous experience of riding the underground at the start of rush hour with bodies packed so tightly she could scarcely breathe, the cocky little schoolgirl who attempted to half-inch Jasmine’s phone.
She is amazed by how much Petey eats. She had some idea cancer patients go off food, but Petey takes seconds, placing a dollop of spaghetti on his plate, ending up with a massive ball, as the strands have congealed as they cooled. Pulling them apart with his fingers, he tops it off with a slightly smaller portion of bolognese and proceeds to eat it all.
Claiming tiredness, he excuses himself to go and lie on the sofa as soon as dinner is finished. Jasmine waits as Gillian sits across from her.
