“Jasmine, isn’t it? Petey’s friend?”
Jasmine recognised the girl from the morning bus, a pretty blonde who always wore multi-coloured leggings. Jasmine nodded, brimming over with pride to be labelledPetey’s friend.
“I’m Flora.” The girl hesitated. “I think we were at Infants together. In Larkford?”
Jasmine froze. Did this girl know who she was? Would she remember from all those years ago? How many five-year-olds took any notice of the adult world?
“I remember you, too,” she answered, hoping the time lag would be put down to searching her memory banks.
“I’m doing Child Development. I want to be a nanny. I’m going to fall in love with one of those single dads whose wife died tragically early of cancer and who’s struggling to raise his lovable brood unaided.” Jasmine thought it far more likely Flora would work for a single mother struggling to manage three unruly children and a full-time job, but she held her tongue. Flora shuffled along behind her, then reached in front to grab a ready-wrapped sandwich. “The last egg salad. I hope you don’t mind. I’m vegetarian. It drives me nuts when all the meat-eaters eat our sandwiches. It’s always the ham or chicken salad left over.”
Jasmine shook her head. “I’m vegan,” she replied, and then put in her order for a bowl of French fries.
“Vegan! You’re brave. I tried being vegan but Mum said it was too difficult. She said she was happy to do me an egg or a quiche or stuff like that instead of chops or steaks, but she wasn’t making an entirely different meal for me every night. Your mum must be a star! Doesn’t she mind?”
“She doesn’t do much cooking,” Jasmine said evasively, startled Flora had just sat down at a table with her.
“Ready meals, huh?” Flora was sympathetic, and Jasmine did not bother to correct her.
It was that simple. Jasmine had made another friend because Petey had acknowledged her.
The next Monday evening, when they were alone on the top deck of the bus – time Jasmine had begun to think of as her dates with Petey – things took a step beyond her wildest dreams.
“You do maths, right?” he asked. “Could you help me? Only I’m not very good. Shite teachers. I didn’t really make the grades to do the apprenticeship, but my uncle works for the company and put in a good word for me. But if I can’t pass the coursework, I’ll get kicked out.”
“No problem.” Jasmine managed to sound sensible but inside she was exulting. Petey had askedherfor help. “When do you want to do it?”
“Maybe come over one night after college?” He added hastily, “Not Fridays, obviously. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you going out.”
Jasmine would have let him have Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays if he’d asked, but eventually, they resolved on Wednesdays. And that was the first time she found herself walking the paths from her home to his.
Opening the little gate marking the edge of her family’s land on this rainy day, she can still recall the hope mingled with nervousness. She had not dared to believe he might reciprocate her feelings in the slightest, but it sufficed to be included in the magical circle that surrounded him.
Thereafter, every Wednesday evening, Jasmine walked over to Petey’s house, and the two of them sat together up in his room as Jasmine ran through his assignments with him. Petey’s teachers must have been shite indeed, because the maths wasn’t hard. Sometimes they talked about other things: his dad, who no longer even sent a card for a birthday or Christmas; his sister, Kate, who had joined the army; his uncle in Bridgetown, who looked out for him despite having hordes of kids of his own. He seemed to accept without question Jasmine’s vague, evasive replies when it was her turn to reciprocate.
Every tutoring session, Petey’s mum, Gillian, would have baked cake for them to share, usually vegan brownies after the first embarrassing evening. As the nights drew in, it became increasingly difficult to evade Petey’s offer to walk her home or his mother’s offer to drop her. And then one of those evenings, Petey had kissed her, his mouth tasting of chocolate, and she had kissed him back and that was the first time a boy had ever kissed her and it was just as magical as all the books suggested. The next Monday morning, when she turned up at the bus stop, Petey draped his arm around her, claiming her for all to see, and her world was complete.
It was at the start of the Christmas holiday that Petey finally mentioned going around to hers. Jasmine had realised she could not avoid it any longer, but she managed to put him off for a few days. After all, she still hadn’t told her family she had a boyfriend.
In the end, she bottled out of using the wordboyfriendand merely asked her parents if she could bring a friend along to lunch. Her mother, who had never received such a request from Jasmine before, had barely stuttered out her shocked agreement before Jasmine had disappeared. She had arranged to meet Petey at the grand entrance to the drive, and when they turned in together, his hand in hers, he remarked, “I never knew you lived in the Park.”
Jasmine didn’t have the courage to take Petey in through the great porticoed front door of Larkford Hall, so they slipped in one of the side entrances, Petey appearing increasingly agitated they would be caught. She led him along stone-paved corridors, past heavy oak doors. When she opened the door to the dining room, she saw her entire family gathered. Even Anna, who just that term had started medical school in London, seemed to have made it back in time.
Petey’s eyes were wide in alarm. Jasmine made sure to tighten her grip on his hand as she made the introductions. “My mother, Lady Larkford. My father, Lord Larkford. My sisters, Eleanor, Anna, Lily, and Phoebe.” Then, with a streak of cruelty she hadn’t known she possessed, she pulled Petey forward into the spotlight of their intense curiosity. “This is my friend, Petey.”
It was a dreadful lunch. Her father had politely asked Petey what he did.
“I’m an apprentice electrician with Baker and Soames,” he had replied, and Jasmine heard the sniggers from her twin sisters, Lily and Phoebe.
“They’re a good company,” Lord Larkford commented. “With a solid reputation. You’re very lucky to have a place with them.”
“My uncle works for them,” said Petey modestly. “He put in a good word for me.”
“Don’t let Jasmine hear that,” exclaimed Anna. “She hates nepotism.”
Jasmine squirmed because she did hate it. Nepotism blocked social mobility, and because it tended to be a patriarchal issue, it hindered the advancement of women, a cause dear to her heart. From then on, her family took turns in inspecting Petey, prying into his life, his aspirations, even his politics. It was awful. She feared she had lost her boyfriend, but she underestimated Petey. But he was, quite justifiably, angry with her.
“You could have warned me!” he accused. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
