“We’re not running a church outing here, Jasmine.”
“I know, but I won’t be long.” The problem with keeping someone’s confidences is that it minimises the severity to others. She can’t explain how necessary her absence might be, without disclosing some of Eleanor’s suffering. All Jasmine can do is argue how little it will affect him. “If you drop me at the station now, I’ll be back by lunch tomorrow. You can do the stand-up with the team first thing and Pamela can cover until I get back.”
He sighs. “You never could resist being someone’s saviour.” His words are grouchy but his tone is soft, and when he pulls the car to a halt in front of the train station, she takes it as his assent.
Jasmine spends the journey making arrangements and dealing with her emails. Mercifully, Pamela agrees to cover her diary without a murmur. Jacob is waiting for her at Bridgetown, the nearest railway station to Larkford. They sit in comfortable silence. Jacob has never been one to chatter and Jasmine is aware he has his own grief to process along with his concern for his wife. He parks outside Glebe Cottage, the little flint-and-brick home he shares with Eleanor.
It has the same footprint as Gillian’s house; the Victorians had a handful of boilerplate designs which they rolled out across the nation in different sizes. It must have been quite an adjustment for Eleanor after the grandeur of Larkford Hall but whenever Jasmine talks to her sister, she seems happy enough. Jasmine thinks Eleanor would probably accept a kitchen cupboard if she had Jacob Winter to share it with.
Eleanor is in the kitchen when they get in. Jasmine cannot remember the last time she saw her sister looking a mess but here is the proof it can happen. Eleanor’s hair is uncombed and she is slumped in a chair still wearing her dressing gown. Jacob takes a casserole dish out of the oven and puts it on the table. A pasta bake with Mediterranean vegetables. Eleanor, who has always had a healthy appetite to power her dynamo personality, barely eats. Jacob clears her plate away with a frown but doesn’t say anything.
He chivvies the two of them into the front room while he clears up the dinner things.
“He told you?” Eleanor asks. Jasmine nods and Eleanor starts to cry.
Jasmine is shocked. She cannot ever remember seeing Eleanor in tears. She has always been the sensible older sister, the person who can be relied on to speak sense, to come up with scrupulously fair solutions for her warring siblings. For a second, Jasmine stands frozen, then she enfolds her sister into her arms and lets her sob into her jacket.
“He was my baby,” Eleanor cries and Jasmine lets the grief pour out without trying to hush her sister. It is every mother’s job to keep her baby safe, but the frightening thing is, it’s not always possible. It’s true from the very start until the very end.
It’s a while before Eleanor is calm enough to talk, but Jasmine waits patiently. Typically, Eleanor starts with, “I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up but I’m off my meds. After last time, I didn’t want to risk anything.”
“I didn’t mind,” Jasmine says. “Jacob is prettier.” It’s the mildest of comments but Eleanor responds earnestly.
“Yes, they say newborns look like their fathers. I was hoping it was true.” Another sob. “Jacob’s had to do so much. It’s not fair on him. He’s lost someone too. I’ve been trying not to dump my grief on him, to be strong.”
“But he doesn’t need you to be strong. This is a tragedy you both feel. It’s okay to feel it together.” Jasmine strokes down her sister’s back. “Look, Eleanor. Your hormones are all over the place at the moment. But you know me, I’ll always tell it to you straight. Take some time, give your body a rest. Focus on loving your husband and feeling his love in return. You’ve got a precious gift in him. Appreciate it.”
Eleanor dips her head in shame. “I know,” she mumbles.
“Take the pressure off. If something happens, it happens. But try not to invest in it until it is here. It’s just a group of cells until it’s not. With or without a child, Jacob will still love you. That’s a gift not everyone gets in their lifetime.”
“But what if I can’t love myself?”
“Don’t be stupid, Eleanor. Being a woman is more than just being a baby-making machine. Motherhood is not the be-all-and-end-all of a life. Look at Mother Theresa, Dolly Parton, and your favourite, Jane Austen. You’ve spent thirty years already finding joy in the world without a child. You’ve done it once; you can do it again.”
Eleanor’s voice is low. “But what if I can’t produce an heir?”
“Is that truly troubling you?” Jasmine draws a breath. It had never even occurred to her that Eleanor might be struggling under dynastic expectations. “You’ve got four sisters! And while I don’t hold out much hope for Anna or myself, Lily is most definitely going to want kids. There is going to be an heir somewhere. And if by some tiny chance none of the five of us manage to produce a single child, there is nothing wrong with the Estate going to one of Auntie Mary’s boys. I’ve always liked Robert.”
She stops and studies her sister. “This is a tragedy, but it’s not a catastrophe. Don’t make it one.” She pauses for a minute, wondering whether to continue. Then she says, “You will carry this little ball of grief your entire life. But other things will come and eventually, this will recede into the background. It will always be there, but it doesn’t need to define you.”
Eleanor lifts her head and looks across at her. “Is that how you feel about Petey?”
“Yes,” Jasmine says. Except it’s not a little ball. Eleanor takes her sister’s hand and squeezes it. And it is how Jacob finds them later, sitting together in silence on the sofa, still holding hands.
When he shoulders in, carrying two cups of tea, Jasmine takes it as her excuse to go to bed. She stops to wish them bothgoodnightbut sees Jacob crouch in front of his wife. His hands frame her head and he kisses her gently on the forehead. Eleanor collapses into him and his arms enfold her.
Jasmine holds her tongue and softly closes the door. She enters the guest room to find a towel and a soft man’s T-shirt waiting on the bed, a towelled dressing gown hanging on the back of the door. She detects Jake’s fingerprints. Even with his own grief and concern for his wife, he has noticed Jasmine came without a suitcase. She will have to reuse her clothes tomorrow but at least she doesn’t need to sleep in them or worry about trundling to the toilet in the night naked.
As she lies back in the bed and pulls up the duvet, she remembers when Eleanor first told her about him. A text from Eleanor had come out of nowhere and when Jasmine realised it was Jake Winter, Kate’s ex-boyfriend, her sister was talking about, she had nearly fallen off her chair in shock. Two more unlikely partners she couldn’t imagine. Her sister, clever, aloof, judgemental, oozing privilege with every perfectly enunciated vowel, and the cocky, kind hottie? But when she had seen them together, first at their wedding and now, today, each of them worried more for the other than themselves, their love is obvious. It makes them stronger.
Maybe it is why she and Ben hadn’t made it. He had underestimated her and she had overestimated him. There had never been genuine understanding. To endure, love has to be realistic. It’s no good loving a fantasy person. For the first time, she understands her relationship with Ben had just not been good enough.
Jasmine would have liked to spend some time with Gillian or Flora. She hasn’t seen either often over the years. She had lost herself in work. It made life meaningful. To be busy was an excuse not to grieve. Sadly, she still is too busy. She needs to get back to Hayburn. She has already answered several emails and texts when she goes downstairs. Eleanor and Jacob are already in the kitchen, both fully dressed. She declines their offer of breakfast with the excuse she will buy a sandwich on the train. While Jacob gets his car keys, she hugs her sister.
“Thank you,” Eleanor whispers. And Jasmine realises that for the first time they are parting as equals. For years, Eleanor had protected Jasmine from the twins’ attacks when their mother had not noticed nor cared to. It had remained the dynamic as they grew older. But this marks a change in their relationship and Jasmine finds she is buoyed by Eleanor’s recognition.
When she gets off the train in Hayburn, she realises she is minutely, imperceptibly but irrevocably changed.
