“See,” Roger says with a smile and a proud look in his eye as he nods towards Jasmine. “She’s formidable.”
Jasmine blanches and Ben flushes at Roger’s inadvertent use of the word Ben himself had once applied to Jasmine. Roger is oblivious, already swinging away to point Ben at the next activist. Ben leans forward, picking the laptop and charger up from her desk, his body uncomfortably close to hers. She feels the warmth of him, the intervening years dropping away with the innate familiarity. Then he is gone, moving on.
Jasmine drops into her chair, poleaxed. In all her deliberations yesterday, she had forgotten to factor in the very presence of the man. She had thought she was well-prepared for this meeting, but a few seconds had blown that illusion apart. She puts her hands on her keyboard so it seems as if she is working, but they are trembling too much to type and she quickly drops them back to her lap.
She can feel him moving about behind her, greeting the entire team, spending a few moments with everyone, turning his gorgeous warm eyes on them, making each feel seen and understood. All except her. There had been no warmth, no acceptance, no understanding for her.
Her ears seem attuned to the murmur of his voice, the occasional eruption of his laugh, above all other background noises. And he certainly seems to be enjoying himself. He is winning them over, one by one. Jasmine can see it – she will be the only one left outside his clan. She takes a deep breath. She has a job to do and will do it to the best of her ability. When it is over, she will leave. Hayburn is not her home – she is not actually sure where home is – but there are plenty of jobs in plenty of other places. If the Labour Party do not honour their promise of a job with a minister, her years of working for a Member of Parliament, even one as tarnished as the Right Honourable Richard Exmore must count in her favour. She is no longer an inexperienced graduate with an average degree. Surely, any lobbying company worth its salt would take her in an eye blink? She is not without options.
In the meantime, it is her job to get her candidate elected, no matter who that candidate is. It would help if they liked each other, but that will not be an option. And where it is missing, mutual respect for competence will do. If she will need to demonstrate her competence, she had better get back to work. She pulls her hands out of her lap and checks they are steady enough before she opens up the next email in the list to compose her reply.
Ben does not stay at the campaign headquarters much longer; a new candidate has a host of people to meet. Roger whisks him away to meet the local councillors. When Jasmine feels it is safe, she stands to make herself a much-needed cup of tea, but when she ventures into the tiny kitchenette, it is already occupied by two student activists, Lou and Hattie. They make way for Jasmine, but do not pause their conversation.
“You’re meeting him for a drink?” Hattie’s eyebrows disappear into her hair. Jasmine ignores their gossiping and flicks the kettle on.
“Yep!” Lou’s reply is smug.
“He asked you out?” Hattie’s voice is so high it’s almost a screech.
“Don’t be silly,” Lou tells her friend. “I asked him! What are you? Some sort of Regency heroine who needs to wait around for a bloke to work out what you want?”
“No!” But it comes out wavering between question and denial.
“He’s so hot, he could bake my potato whenever he wants. There are going to be women chucking their undies at him left, right, and centre. I just got in first.” She shrugs. “Snoozers are losers.”
“But you don’t even know if he’s got a girlfriend!”
“Duh! He wouldn’t be accepting a date with me if he had!”
Jasmine chokes back a snort as she pours hot water into her mug. If Lou thinks that holds for all men, she is unbelievably naïve. But Jasmine’s superiority doesn’t last long.
“Uh, Jasmine? You knew Ben at university?” Lou ventures. “What about a heads-up?”
Ben? She was talking about Ben? Lou has askedherBen out? But she could not call him that. Why had she not anticipated this? Steeled herself for it. She puts down the oat milk before her cup overflows and turns to look at the girl properly. She is pretty, the antithesis of Jasmine. Smooth, silky blonde hair pulled gently back into a low ponytail. A few loose strands framing her face. Big blue eyes which stare at Jasmine hopefully. A tailored white shirt over size-small skinny jeans. Effortless chic even on a student budget.
Jasmine wants to say,He will break your heart. But she doesn’t answer. Ben has obviously told people they were students together, but she doubts he added more. She cannot think Lou would be crass enough to ask Ben’s ex for dating advice. She extracts the teabag and she says, “I think he’s vegetarian.”
“Oh! Thanks. Good one. I was going to suggest we get burgers at that new place.”
Hattie sniggers. “He wasn’t very polite about you, Jasmine. Lou asked him if you had changed much since uni and he said he thought you were frumpier.” Lou elbows her friend and glares at her.
Perhaps Hattie’s unkindness is caused by jealousy of her mate’s good fortune. But more likely, her meanness is to cure her own discontent by making someone else unhappy. Jasmine makes a mental note to assign the woman the most boring tasks she can think of over the next week. More immediately, she cannot afford to let these giddy girls think she is overly affected by his remark. As the campaign manager, she needs everyone to do as she says, even the candidate.
“For my part,” she responds as she reaches for a cookie, “I thought he was much the same. But perhaps he’s got meaner.”
“Ooh!” says Lou, shaking her fingers. “Burn!”
And Jasmine escapes their tête-à-tête, carrying her tea back to her desk. She wants to find an empty room and cry, but the office is full of people.Frumpier? Her mind zeroes in on the word. Frumpier – implying she was always frumpy but now is even more so. Is that what he thought back then? Was that all she had been? A pity shag?
No. He had been inundated with offers, but he had chosen her. He had taken her home to meet his family. That wasn’t the action of someone who thought her frumpy. She looks down at her loose grey dress. While it is comfortable to work in when pulling fifteen-hour days, it isn’t the most flattering of outfits. This morning, knowing Ben was due, Jasmine had determined not to dress up. Perhaps she had gone too far. As a teenager she had always scorned the superficiality of judging someone by what they wore, but five years in Westminster has taught her that others don’t and looks matter. She has a wardrobe full of smart business wear, all carefully sourced as most sustainable fashion brands seem to think life is spent on the beach.Frumpier! She will show him!
But deep inside, she knows the anger is a front. His words have made one thing absolutely clear. All the evidence from this morning’s visit indicates Ben no longer loves her, although she is still very much in love with him.
Business As Usual
Jasmine has until after lunch to subdue her devastation. Much as she would like to have scheduled a one-to-one with Ben several weeks into the future, the unavoidable fact is she is the campaign manager and he is the candidate for an election in just over three weeks. Unless she wants to forgo her best chance for a political career after the stain of working for Richard Exmore, she needs to put her hurt feelings to one side and focus on the job. And the job is to get Ben Khan elected as the member for Hayburn.
The morning was to introduce Ben to the people who would campaign on his behalf, the people who would deliver leaflets, knock on doors, call on phones. Lunch was a chance to meet the Labour Party committee. Jasmine was happy to skip it. She has met all of them before and has a fairly low opinion of their usefulness. As a vegan, she would be lucky to get anything to eat beyond a handful of crisps and would spend her time dodging people who were determined their latest bugbear should be the centre-point of her campaign.
