Ben moves in on Natasha’s other side and dips down, too. “Have you had breakfast?”
She shakes her head.
Ben goes to the door, opens it and looks around for a minute before calling, “Lou?”
Jasmine wonders if he chose Lou because of their closeness or because she is less threatening to Natasha than the burly Dave. Then she tells herself to stop being silly.
When Lou arrives, she looks down at the distraught woman and Jasmine can see the instant kindness and sympathy on her face. Perhaps Ben’s taste in women is not so bad after all.
“Lou, can you take Natasha and her children to the kitchen and get them some breakfast? I think I saw some pastries from Pamela on the counter. And maybe hot chocolate?”
At the mention of the word “chocolate” the little boy’s eyes light up and when Lou offers him her hand, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. Natasha also struggles to her feet. Lou encircles her body with one arm and helps her to rise. Then, chattering all the time about the yumminess of custard pastries versus jam ones, she leads the little group away.
Jasmine drops back into her seat as Ben shuts the door and blows out his breath.
“He’s an inspector of police,” she echoes numbly.
“He’ll have friends in the force, a network of power and influence,” he says.
“And she has no one. She won’t be safe anywhere in the county! If she’s in a refuge, he’ll find it.” At Ben’s silence, she reminds him, “He’s threatened to kill the children.”
“I still think that’s unlikely.” Ben shakes his head. “Plenty of people threaten; few actually do anything.”
“He hunted her down at my place. He’d put a tracker on them. Now, he’s traced her to the refuge.”
“He came to yours?” Ben casts an angry look at her. “You didn’t tell me that!”
Jasmine shakes her head. This is a diversion. “Sean led him away. It was fine.”
“Yes, but if I’d known earlier, I would have suggested she get a restraining order.”
Jasmine throws up her hands. “And who enforces a restraining order? The police. Why won’t you trust me on this? She’s in danger.”
“Look …” Ben scratches his head. “I said I thought it unlikely he would kill his own children, but I didn’t say the risk is zero. Because the consequences of getting it wrong are so drastic, I do think something needs to be done.”
“So you agree? She won’t be safe anywhere in the county? So, how do we help her?”
“Well, she needs a job, a home, and a community somewhere far away from here.”
“Exactly!” Jasmine cries, glad Ben finally seems to accept there is an issue.
“And let me think. Do we know anyone who might own an entire village, employ hundreds of people and have a few houses to spare?”
Jasmine freezes as the realisation comes crashing down. She has become so used to thinking of herself as an independent entity, not reliant on her family, their money or their connections, she has entirely forgotten that being a Mortimer, a scion of the British aristocracy, comes with advantages. She would be the first to maintain the state should look after its citizens and protect women like Natasha. But she is also a pragmatist; whenever the situation becomes complex, the state and its many rules tends to fall down. This is often the role of charities – to make up for the state’s limitations. But she is reminded of the old adage, charity begins at home. The solution to Natasha Smith’s problems may be in her own hands, if Jasmine can find it in herself to go on bended knee to her family.
She remembers a tiny hand slipping into hers, trust freely given that Jasmine will keep him safe from harm. And she knows she cannot fail the little family.
Without a word, she picks up her laptop and exits Ben’s office. She dimly hears him call, “Bye, Jasmine”, in a tone laced with sarcasm, but her mind has long since shuttled him to the rear. Instead, it is tackling a new problem. If she is to make the approach, whom should she call?
Without doubt, Jake owes her a favour, but he is not really in a position to dole out houses and jobs. She briefly considers Eleanor, but their relationship is newly rebalanced and she doesn’t want to revert back to the childhood roles of supplicant and protector.
Really, truly, in the end, there is only one person who can sort this. But it feels like the ultimate capitulation. Her head tips back and she closes her eyes.
She is going to have to call her father.
Jasmine takes some minutes to mentally rehearse the call, to prepare the ground leading up to her big ask. Then she picks up her phone and exits the building. She does not want this call overheard by anyone else. When she considers the etiquette, she realises if she is asking for everything she needs for Natasha, she has to do it to face-to-face. She makes a video call.
Her father picks up immediately. “Jasmine?” he says. His face shows his surprise for just an instant before it settles into his usual affable demeanour.
