“We’re done. Are you good to go?”
Jasmine places her bag in the crate labelled “CHILD” and follows Ben as they leave the building, accompanied by as many smiles and nods as when they entered. She moves to walk beside him as they make their way towards the brighter, nosier streets of the city centre.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks.
“Actually, I did.” Jasmine zips up her jacket against the cold.
“My mother says it’s always good for the soul to do something. She says when you spend years fighting to make things better and there is still so far to go, it is disheartening. Then you spend two hours doing something that makes a small amount of difference and suddenly it feels like it is all worthwhile.”
“Your mother is a very wise woman.”
“Yes. I won’t pretend it’s easy being her son, but she has her moments.”
“Is she difficult, then?” Jasmine is genuinely curious. Ben’s mother is a crusader. It does not take a genius to see it might cause issues for her family, especially if the cause comes first.
“She’s got a quick tongue and she likes to have the last word.” Ben pushes open the door to an Italian chain restaurant and they take their seats at a table for two. “But she’s more pragmatic than people think. Labour isn’t in power, so if she wants to get anything done, she has to work with the other side.”
“The Dark Lords?”
“Exactly. What’s your mum like?” he asks.
“A bit of a pushover for anyone in the family except me. She can’t saynoto any of my sisters, but she says it to me all the time.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Four.”
“Four? Are you Catholic?”
“Really?” she challenges the stereotyping, but Ben just shrugs. “No,” she answers his question. “They just kept trying for a boy and kept getting girls. Although, to give them their due, my younger sisters are twins.”
“There is so much to unpack in that statement.” Ben leans back in his chair. “First, why was it so important to have a boy? Second, does that make you the difficult middle child?”
“I told you before, my parents are traditional. If they’d had a boy, the focus would have been on him. He would have been sent to Eton.” Jasmine bites her tongue. She is too relaxed with Ben. She needs to be more guarded to stop words slipping out.
Ben laughs. “You needn’t look so worried. The moment you opened your mouth, I knew you were posh.” Jasmine is silent, wondering if now is the time to tell him quite how posh she is. Then he says, “So are you?”
“Am I what?”
“The difficult middle child?”
“I don’t think I am.” She looks down at her hands. “But I would guess my parents would say I am.”
“Ouch. So, what does that make your home life?”
“Non-existent.” She shakes her head. “I’m not going home when I finish.”
“Oh? Where will you go?”
“London, probably. Once I get a job, I’ll never go back.”
“Wow! Are they really that bad?”
“They aren’t bad, precisely. It’s just, I feel like a changeling – like I don’t belong in the family. Take hair, for example. They’ve all got silky, straight hair and I’ve got these horrible wiry things.” Jasmine pulls at a curly strand that has come loose and is bouncing around her chin.
“I like your curls,” Ben says. “I think they are cute.”
“Cute?” Jasmine frowns. “There you go with the patronising sexism again.”
