“Does he usually sleep so much?” Jasmine asks, concerned it might be a bad sign.
“Not usually,” Gillian sighs. “He’s still not been sleeping at nights, you see. It’s been a lot for him to take in. Well, it’s been a lot for all of us to take in. And then there was the biopsy and the trip to see you. It’s a long way. Flora begged him to let her go in his place, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said if he was asking you to derail your life, he had to do it in person.”
Jasmine considers if her response would have been different if it had been Flora asking and accepts it might have been. Petey’s distress had been obvious when he was right in front of her, but her imagination would have struggled to overlay it on her memories of Petey, full of life and vitality.
“Well, it’s done now and you’re here.” Gillian reaches out to clasp Jasmine’s hand briefly before retreating to pick up her fork. “I wanted to check you’re okay with everything.” Gillian winds a stray bit of spaghetti into a ball. “Being here won’t be easy. I would understand if you changed your mind or if you found it too hard. Also, you don’t need to stay here. If you want to live up at the Hall, it will give you a bit of a break from it all.”
Jasmine reaches across the table and takes the older woman’s hand. “I would prefer to be here,” she says. “And I promise I will let you know if I am struggling.” She has absolutely no intention of following through with that promise, but Gillian doesn’t need to know it. She has enough to deal with. Jasmine will find a way through without dumping her problems on the older woman.
“Now, tell me what you want me to do?” she asks.
“I’ve spoken to work. They’re only a small company and they need someone to do my job but theyhavelet me go part-time. My boss is going to pick up the extra bits I can’t do. I told Petey, I would stop work and go on benefits to look after him but he is worried about me after he’s gone. They’re a good company and, by and large, they treat us well. It would be hard to find another job like them. And to be honest, we need the money. It’s not cheap having an invalid in the house – the heating on all day, the trips to the hospital. It all adds up.”
Jasmine understands Gillian is not griping, merely explaining the hard facts of her situation. They’ve gone from having two wages coming in, to less than one. She resolves to help out surreptitiously – paying for any shopping she does, filling the car with fuel, getting the occasional takeaway. She cannot think of a better use of the money she receives from the family trust, money accumulated by Mortimers in generations gone by, than to make things easier for her dying friend and his mother.
“So what I thought,” Gillian interrupts her dreams of benevolence, “is, if you can look after Petey Monday to Wednesday, then I will do the rest. It will be long days, mind. I’ll be doing condensed hours, working four days’ worth in three. Kate will be here tomorrow too, but after that she’s gone. If you want to watch me do his medications this weekend, then you’ll know what to do next week. And all the appointments I write up on the calendar.” She nods towards the planner hanging on a nail by the back door, a month of squares topped by an image of a cute cat. Jasmine notes how many squares have scribbles.
“No problem,” she says. And she means it. Four days free should leave her enough time to work on her studies, watch her recorded lectures, do her research and write the required essays.
Gillian takes a break to scrape the remnants of everyone’s meal onto one plate and then she returns to her topic. “I’ll put you on the insurance for the car. One of the other girls is going to give me a lift in the mornings and I’ll catch the bus back. I’d rather the car stays here, just in case.” Neither of them wants to dwell on thejust in case.
Jasmine continues sipping her drink, mainly in silence, only giving the oddmm hmmas Gillian interjects yet another instruction or item of information. She understands the older woman’s preoccupation.
“He starts radiation next week. We don’t know how it’s going to be yet but I’ve heard some horror stories at work. You know how people are. But I daresay it won’t be that bad.”
“At least he’s eating well,” Jasmine remarks.
“That’s the steroids they’ve got him on. He’s eating me out of house and home.” Gillian stacks the plates and gets up. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be doing the cooking every day.” Jasmine nods. Neither of them wants to eat anything she might cook.
Gillian pushes the food waste in the bin and slips the plates into the dishwasher. She puts the leftovers into a bowl, covers it with a plate, and stores them in the fridge. In five minutes the dishwasher is off, the table wiped, and the kitchen is looking pristine again.
“Why don’t you go up and unpack? Maybe have an early night?” Gillian suggests. “Me and Petey won’t be far behind.”
Jasmine is about to demur when she realises Gillian may have things she wants to say to her son. She thinks about this new arrangement of theirs. None of them are strangers but sometimes that makes it all the more difficult to ask for space. Jasmine nods and makes her way upstairs, stopping in at the lounge to let Petey know she’s going to bed. Her words are not necessary, for Petey is asleep in front of the television while some drama is played out in a police station.
When Jasmine is alone in Kate’s old bedroom, all pastel shades of lilac and grey and a plethora of fairy lights slowly accumulating dust, she drops onto the bed, genuinely exhausted. She is startled by the ping of her phone and the arrival of a message from Sean, giving an update on the gossip of his day. While she smiles at the thoughtfulness, she struggles to find any interest in the content and she realises her world has already shrunk to this house and the people within it. Nothing else matters.
The next morning, Jasmine comes down to find Kate in the kitchen, her mother already having left for work. Jasmine is glad she bothered to wash and dress before emerging when Kate’s boyfriend, Jacob Winter, greets her from a chair in the corner. As Jacob’s father is the Head Gardener on the Larkford Estate and his family live in one of the tied cottages, she has seen him around throughout her childhood. She cannot recall him ever speaking to her before, though. With a seven-year age gap, even with the advantage of rank, she would have been too terrified to have addressed him – dumpy, frumpy girls know better than to approach older, cool, good-looking lads, although the reverse is seldom true.
“Hi, Jas,” Kate greets her, while Jacob pushes a chair out from the table with his foot.
Jasmine grabs oat milk from the fridge, checks the teapot to see if it is still warm and pours herself a cup.
“Kate’s staying here today but I’m heading off in a bit. I’ll walk you up to the Hall, if you want?” Jacob offers.
Jasmine stares at her tea. “That depends.”
“On whether Granny is about?” he asks.
“Don’t let her hear you call her ‘Granny’,” she warns.
“Your grandmother wouldn’t set foot in a house like this.” Jacob sounds confident, but Jasmine notes he has dropped the informal term.
“She has spies everywhere.” Jasmine wishes she was joking. Normally, Jasmine admires strong women even if she disagrees with their political views, but her grandmother is reactionary in the extreme. The woman still believes in the divine right of kings, abhors the idea of equality, and blames women’s suffrage for the ills of the world. Left to herself, she would reinstate the British Empire, capital punishment, and feudalism. Every right-thinking person should detest her but there is a cohort of villagers who give her their loyalty.
“Dad tells me she’s still in residence,” Jacob offers. Jasmine’s grandmother doesn’t stay anywhere; she resides. “Apparently, she wants a new kitchen.”
“Whatever for? She doesn’t cook.” For the sake of his own family’s happiness, Jasmine’s father has been trying to encourage his mother to move into a house in town following the death of her husband. But progress has been slowed by the Dowager Baroness’s arbitrary demands: a sauna, his-and-hers sinks in the bathroom, a wine cellar – none of which is likely to be used. Even the wine store has steep steps her aged grandmother would find a challenge.
