When the village Town Hall concludes, the team adjourns to the village pub for a little refreshment before they head home. Jasmine doesn’t stay long. Not overly fond of real ales and hoppy beer, the pub’s claim to fame, she is happy to leave everyone to it. She is feeling satisfied as she picks up her tote bag. Looking around at her team, she realises how far they have come since they first started knocking on doors, how anyone of them can answer even the most contentious questions with ease. They are all chatting excitedly. They know it went well, they can feel the campaign gaining momentum. She should let Ben know she is heading home but he is nowhere to be seen. She briefly considers waiting for him, but she is tired and is longing for her bed. It’s been a physical and emotional rollercoaster. She will text him when she gets in.
She heads out of the pub, crosses the street, and sets off up the road to where she left Sean’s car. Knowing she was likely to leave before the others, who would either be drowning sorrows or celebrating, she’d asked for yet another favour. In an old village like this, there is no street lighting. It makes progress tricky and Jasmine keeps her head down, focusing on her footing on the uneven paving. But there are occasional pools of light from uncurtained windows or porch lights left on to welcome home their absent owners.
At one point, she looks up and stops dead. Two people are standing, a stone’s throw away, leaning against a car, pressed together, lips, hips, legs. They are bathed in silver from a security light. Jasmine’s breath catches as her stomach clenches and she feels sick. Her heart feels like it is breaking inside her chest. Oblivious to the world, lost in his lust, Ben is kissing Lou, hard. Jasmine stands still in shock, watching until hurt fuels anger, enough so she lifts her phone, turns the flash off, and takes the shot, even as her hands shake.
She sees them part, Ben opening the car door for Lou. Another kiss as if they are tearing themselves apart, then Lou slides into the driver’s seat. Ben closes the door and walks off across the street, heading back to the pub. Lou, meanwhile, slowly manoeuvres out of the space and drives away. Still, Jasmine stands, fighting for control of her thoughts, blinking back tears. It is minutes before she feels her legs are solid enough to carry on walking. When she reaches the car, she clambers in and puts her head on the steering wheel. It is one thing to know he doesn’t love her anymore, another thing entirely to witness it so clearly.
She feels foolish for loving him still. How could she ever have become this thing? This weak woman who pines over a man who doesn’t want her. She is disappointed in herself, but despite everything, she cannot seem to switch those feelings off. When the turmoil has subsided enough to drive safely, she switches on the ignition and heads back to Hayburn. She drops the car back to Sean’s, his home dark and lifeless, and pushes the key through the letterbox. Then she calls a taxi and returns to her cold, empty rental.
Somewhere along the way, Jasmine manages to suppress the distressed lover sufficiently to function as a campaign manager. As the taxi pulls into her carpark of her building, she sends a text.
I need to see you at seven tomorrow morning. We have to talk.
The following morning, Jasmine wonders why she bothered going to bed, for she has had little sleep. She tossed and turned, alternating between anger and wretchedness. Some time around midnight, tears overwhelmed her and after, although she felt hollowed out, she was calmer emotionally. Enough to sleep. But sleep itself was troublesome. Time after time, she dreamt. And each time, the path of the dream was the same, although the background varied. A holiday and a beach. A home and a shower. A hilltop and a sunset. Each time she was about to kiss Ben, a moment full of desire and sultry promise. Her lips hovering a millimetre above his, lust pulsing through her body. And each time, she woke. Her mind still full of longing, her body throbbing with need.
Eventually, she gives up. Further sleep is pointless if it is not restful, and she has to get control of her thoughts before she tackles Ben later. She cannot afford to dwell on her heartache; she has to focus on her work. Ben has been nothing short of reckless. All her hard work, all the work of the volunteers, could be for nothing if word of Ben’s behaviour gets out. Her future, Pamela’s future, Hayburn’s future lost because Ben wants to play Lothario. There is only one emotion she is allowed to have today, and that is fury.
She is tight-lipped as she opens the door to the campaign office. It is unlocked, so she knows Ben is there before her. She finds him in his office, his laptop open, eyes down as he types. He looks up, smiling, as he hears her approach. Then he notices her expression.
“What’s up?” he asks cautiously. “I thought it went quite well yesterday.”
Jasmine drops her bag on a chair. She opens her phone.
“It did,” she says. “The problem is this.” She hands the phone over, the photo zoomed in and enlarged, to show a grainy Ben and a shadowed Lou.
Ben studies the picture for a minute, then he says, “Have you been spying on me?”
“Don’t!” Jasmine can barely control her voice, but her anger is clear. “Don’t even try it! I know every trick in the political book. Offense is the best defence? When has that ever worked on a professional?”
He drops his eyes again. “Can’t I have any private life?”
If Jasmine ever doubted Ben was a political animal, the doubt would have been destroyed now. But she is immune to the guilt trip. “You had one thing, one thing, you absolutely had to do.” Jasmine waves her index finger at him. “And that was to stay away from any scandal. Just for three weeks. Three. Weeks. She’s an intern, for God’s sake! What were you thinking? Have you forgotten Monica Lewinsky?” She draws a breath. “And you’re no Bill Clinton. You’re fighting a seat in a constituency already rocked by a sex scandal and here you have a young girl pinned up against a car while you stick your tongue down her throat!” Jasmine is almost growling.
Ben at least has the sense to look abashed.
“In the street, Ben! What the hell? Private lives are only private if you damned well keep them that way. If it had been anyone else, this photo would not have been on my phone; it would have been on the front page of the local press this morning! In fact, this is so salacious, it would make the nationals. And the Tory tabloids would rip you to shreds. You’d be lucky to keep your deposit after they finished.”
“It was just a kiss!”
“You’re a candidate. She’s an intern. Do you not get this?” Jasmine would really like to throw her phone at him.
“It was entirely consensual,” he protests. “She’s been chasing me.”
“Of course she has! You’re the handsome, powerful, soon-to-be MP and she’s not long out of school. Of course she’s chasing you. But you aren’t supposed to respond.” She taps his desk to empathise each word.
“Now if you think she’s The One, she’s your Happy Ever After, then okay. We’ll stand her beside you in all the photos. We’ll have her meet your mother. The PR will be amazing – how you met the love of your life on the campaign trail in Hayburn.”
Ben blanches and Jasmine sees it. She has him. Whatever is going on between him and Lou, it isn’t that. Yet.
“But if you hurt her and she goes to the press, we are done. There is no amount of spin that could get you out of the mess.”
Jasmine picks up her bag and turns to leave. She’s made her point. “Think about that, Ben.”
How to Win
Jasmine avoids Ben all day. If only his physical absence were enough to remove him from her mind as well. Sitting at a desk in the main office, with her laptop open in front of her, she replays the argument in her head. Each time she gets to the part when Ben reacts to the prospect of a lifetime with Lou, it seems less significant. After all, Ben is an intelligent and sensible man. He wouldn’t place this incredible opportunity at risk for anything other than the most powerful of emotions. She can see no other explanation than love, and that depresses her beyond belief.
She cannot understand why that is. Even if she is idiotic enough to persist in loving Ben when he no longer loves her, still she should want what makes him happy. And if it is Lou who makes him happy, then she should wish them well. But when she tries to put her own feelings to one side and look at the situation dispassionately, she cannot see how they fit together. She accepts the unlikeliest partners can find happiness together. Her own sister and Jake are illustrative of that. But Lou is young and unformed and, in Jasmine’s admittedly biased opinion, slightly superficial. Lou thrives on the drama of a campaign rather than the deep political commitment which motivates both Ben and Jasmine.
