But Jasmine is clever enough to realise that next time may not look the same. She knows left to herself, she would have sat on her hands waiting for fear of appearing foolish, all while Petey got sicker and sicker. She resolves in future to trust her intuition. If something is not right, better to act.
Petey only spends a couple of days in hospital. He is young and for all that he has terminal cancer, his body is resilient. After that first day, Jasmine does not visit him. Free from the normal routine, she takes the opportunity to focus on her dissertation and makes rapid progress without the usual interruptions. By the time Gillian brings her son back home, Jasmine is almost finished. If she were at university, she would refine it further, but here, she does not have the luxury of time. She deems itgoodenoughand submits.
When Petey shambles in and smiles at her, his grey eyes alighting with good humour and his zest for life, her heart lifts. The slight lingering fear she might lose him too soon evaporates. He gives her a hug but the little strength he has can barely make an impression. It is more the warmth of his arms and a sense of enclosure. It is enough. It is good to have him home.
Amazingly, a week later, Petey’s bloodwork is sufficiently robust to start the next round of chemo. But this time, Petey is noticeably weaker. Jasmine realises the cumulative effect is taking its toll. Concerned, she mentions her fears to Gillian.
“Do you think he’s going to be strong enough to cope with the car journey to the holiday cottage?”
Petey’s mother continues stirring the pan of rice on the stove, her back to Jasmine. “We’ll make him a nest of quilts in the back. He can sleep. It will be fine.”
“But if you cancel, you might get your money back.”
“It’s too late. Besides, he wants to go and it will be our last ever holiday together.” Gillian’s voice is flat, emotionless, but Jasmine can tell those words have cost her. Whatever the toll, it is a price both mother and son are prepared to pay. And it is such a modest wish. They aren’t looking to fly to an exotic island, or see the sights of some far-flung city. All they want is to revisit a place that already has many happy memories and Jasmine decides she will do whatever she can to make it happen.
When the day comes, Jasmine helps Petey in to the back seat of Gillian’s car, together with quilts, cushions, a neck pillow, and a sick bowl. Jasmine and Gillian have kept their packing to a minimum but even so, the trunk of the car is overflowing. They set off early, hoping to avoid the worst of any traffic, and make such good time they arrive before the cottage is ready. Gillian finds a spot to park on the seafront and Jasmine nips out to buy chips. Despite the overcast day and the blustery wind coming off the sea, they bundle into coats and sit on a bench to eat. Petey’s eyes are shining as he unlaces his trainers and rolls up his jeans to paddle in the edge of the waves.
“Jesus, that’s cold!” he says, but he doesn’t retreat. Jasmine takes pictures with her phone, avoiding the thought these are for the memory bank, before she kicks off her shoes and they dance together in the freezing water. They warm up in a café and although Petey cannot face a cream tea, he’s happy to watch them scoff big, craggy scones topped with mounds of thick, red jam.
Finally, they head off to the cottage, which, despite Jasmine’s doubts, looks as cute in real life as it did in the photos. True, the leaves on the roses around the door are only just beginning to unfurl, but the path to the door is lined with showy tulips and fragrant grape hyacinth. A weary Petey makes his way straight to the ground-floor bedroom and is asleep, fully-clothed, in minutes.
Despite the long drive, Jasmine sleeps only fitfully. Her system reacts poorly to change and the first night in a new bed is always alien to her. When she hears a noise below, she gets up to investigate. The sky is lightening to the grey-blue that precedes dawn, allowing her to move around safely. She finds Petey unlocking a side door and hurries to help.
“I wanted to watch the sunrise,” he explains and Jasmine nods. There is a little breakfast patio with painted cast-iron furniture and she drags two chairs around to face the east. The first rays of a golden sun are peaking above the horizon. They sit for a while in comfortable silence and then Petey takes her hand. The old thrill she used to feel at his touch is gone, but the sense of warmth and love still abides.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. And Jasmine knows, without being told, the magnitude of emotion he is trying to convey. She doesn’t attempt to deprecate or joke; she merely nods. They watch the sunrise together until the light is strong enough to glitter off the tiny waves in the bay.
“I don’t want to die.”
“I know.” She gently tightens her fingers on his. There is nothing more she can offer.
All Change
On the last day of the holiday, Jasmine can see Petey is struggling. He complains of a headache, not a new symptom but his energy levels seem lower too. Jasmine is worried. No one voices their concern but there is relief in the air as they start to pack up. Perhaps, she thinks, it is a good thing about holidays. They make you appreciate home. Jasmine has never been so pleased to see the soft lilac walls and twinkling fairy lights of Kate’s room.
She has another reason for wanting to get back. Her exams are looming. She needs to study and a return to their regular routines will help. She has been troubled about her exams for a while. Petey is due to start another cycle of chemotherapy and the accompanying fatigue will likely wipe him out for days. She finally gives in and tells her tutor of her concerns.
“I’m not sure coming back will be possible,” she says. “And the distance is too great to commute. Maybe this was a mistake?”
But her tutor doesn’t seem surprised. “I wondered if it might come to this. Leave it with me.”
The next time they meet on a video call, he has an answer. “I’ve spoken to the Head of Department. We are prepared to support you. We can arrange for you to sit your exams at a local exam centre. In this case, I have spoken to the Bridgetown Sixth Form. You are an alumnus, I think? I hope so, because I told them you were and explained our problem. There may be a slight charge, but they will permit you to sit our exams in their centre.”
Jasmine sits back in relief. She can only imagine how many thanks she owes to her tutor. He must have really gone to bat on her behalf. “Yes,” she says. “I went to Bridgetown.” Never did she anticipate when she lobbied her father to be allowed to attend the local sixth form how important it might be. “I’m happy to pay the charge.” She reckons it will probably be cheaper than her train fare, anyway. “And thank you,” she says as they close off the call. “For everything.”
“De nada,” he responds, and Jasmine smiles.
The next day, she takes Petey for his chemo. They are on their way up the steps from the car park when Petey stops. He looks ashen and he seems to waver, swaying slightly. Jasmine lowers him until he is sitting on the step. “Wait here,” she orders, pushing his head down between his knees. She sprints up the remaining steps, grabs a wheelchair from the entranceway, and rolls it back to Petey. She positions it at right angles to the bottom step and locks on the brake. Standing below him, a hand under each armpit, she leans back and uses her weight to pull him upright. He staggers down the step, breathing heavily, and she pivots him to line up with the chair.
But by the time they get to the clinic, Petey seems to have recovered. He insists on walking in to see the doctor. Still, Jasmine is terrified this odd turn may indicate his bloodwork will be too poorly for chemo.
“Your tumour markers are high,” the doctor remarks.
“Does that mean he’s too ill for chemo?” she asks. “Will the treatment go ahead?”
“I think we’ll do this one and see how it goes,” he says, giving no outward sign of assurance.
Despite Petey’s assertion he is fine, Jasmine makes him sit in the wheelchair on their way out. She pushes him along the paths, ignoring his protests until they get to the car. As soon as she locks the brake, Petey stands unaided. “See,” he says pointedly as he opens the door and clambers into the passenger seat.
