Jasmine tilted her head to one side in contemplation. ‘I suppose so,’ she replied, remembering how nosey her mum had been about Robin, plus how quick her brother had been to introduce himself. It worked both ways, Jasmine conceded.
And so the evening had continued, with easy chat and banter. Robin couldn’t remember when he had last enjoyed himself so much. Usually he’d be sat in front of the TV, or working late. He was still reluctant to venture out on dates, despite Jack’s encouragement. Even he had stopped trying to coax his best mate into some sort of social life. It wasn’t that Robin didn’t want to enjoy himself, he really did, but the mere threat of encountering the stress he’d endured with his ex-fiancée left him cold. It had sapped him dry in every sense – emotionally, physically and financially – and his bad experience dampened any enthusiasm for future relationships. Until now.
Jasmine had a certain quality about her which Robin couldn’t define, finding it hard to put his finger on what made her different. He hardly knew her and yet his gut instinct told him he could trust her. Why? Was it because she, too, had been dealt a blow in life? Well, more than a blow, acknowledged Robin, considering what had happened to her late husband. Yet despite the horrific circumstances surrounding Jasmine, she was obviously a fighter, willing to carry on and start again.
Respect. That’s what he had for Jasmine; he admired and respected what she was doing, and you trusted those kinds of people, didn’t you?
In the meantime, Jasmine hadn’t slept well at all. The heavy head she’d gone to bed with had kept her awake most of the night. That, and the way her mind refused to stop spinning. A peculiar sensation was slowly breaking through, leaving her confused.
For the past eight months, all Jasmine had felt was bleak desolation – a sad, empty crater, refusing to be filled. She had dismissed the words people tried to comfort her with. ‘Time is a healer,’ seemed such a ridiculous platitude. But here she was, in a new house, in a stunning location, actuallylooking forwardto seeing her home fully renovated. A chink of light was starting to break through the bleakness.
But with it came other, difficult thoughts – should she be feeling this way? Should she have enjoyed the evening with Robin? It had been all too easy to unwind with a glass of wine and listen to his tales. He was interesting, entertaining and not threatening in any way.
A wave of guilt hit her. Instinctively her hand went up to the heart pendant on her neck, her default any time she thought of Tom, where she felt closest to him. She longed to hear his voice, ever convinced she had heard it that day, in this very room, telling her to put in an offer for the cottage. Jasmine had tossed and turned till the early hours, until she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
She woke the next morning tired and bleary-eyed. Deciding to have breakfast straight away, she took a couple of headache tablets with her tea. She had a busy day in front of her.
Jack entered the shop and Trish immediately turned in his direction from behind the counter. With a wry grin he braced himself, knowing what he was in for. Trish was a renowned gossip and it was common knowledge that the local shopkeeper was a friend and spy for Bunty Deville. It didn’t take too long for him to pick up the bread, butter, milk and cans of lager and head for the checkout. As predicted, Trish was on him straight away as she scanned the contents of his basket.
‘So, I hear Robin’s getting along nicely with his new neighbour,’ she said, glancing up at him.
He sent what he hoped was a neutral smile her way. ‘Yes.’
‘Has he finished working on the cottage next door?’ Trish eagerly asked.
‘Give him a chance,’ replied Jack with a laugh. ‘He’s good, but not that good.’
‘So where is he up to then?’
‘He’s about to start the kitchen I believe.’ Jack placed his items in a carrier bag.
Trish, desperate for more information before he left, halted and held the loaf of bread hostage.
‘Does he… you know…’ she faltered, keen to have at least some juicy morsel of tittle-tattle to give Bunty.
‘What?’ Jack asked, eyes wide and lips twitching.
‘You know… fancy her?’ she blurted out, startling herself.
‘Pardon?’ Jack laughed, causing Trish to blush.
‘Just asking. We all want to see Robin happy, that’s all. It’d be ideal if he got together with Jasmine. They’d make such a good couple,’ Trish was at pains to explain.
Jack shook his head in awe.
‘Trish, we all want Robin to find happiness,’ he said patiently, ‘but I’m not sure he’d thank you for inter—’ he quickly changed the word interfering, ‘taking an interest. Maybe just let nature take its course?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ mumbled Trish, disappointed not to have any feedback for Bunty. She finished scanning the bread and Jack paid. Just before stepping out of the shop, he turned.
‘And Trish?’
‘Yes?’ she answered sharply with anticipation.
‘You don’t always have to listen to Bunty.’ He smiled and closed the shop door.
Huh, thought Trish,easier said than done.
Meanwhile, Robin was indeed busy fitting Jasmine’s kitchen. Surrounded by empty cardboard boxes, he was putting together the base units.
