There was still no reply, but we both heard a shuffling from inside and then the door edged open and Jaz edged around it. “What?”
“We’ve just been speaking to Jacqueline from next door,” Oliver said, in his best firm-but-fair voice, “and she told us that you’d thrown Colin into a wheelie bin. Is that true?”
Jaz said nothing.
“Is that true?” Oliver repeated.
Jaz folded her arms.
Oliver looked down at Jaz with the kind of compassion I really doubted she’d appreciate. “You’re not helping yourself. This is your opportunity to give your side of the story.”
My brain couldn’t quite help hearing that asYou may harm your defence if you fail to mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. I suspected that Jaz’s brain was similar.
“He had it coming,” said Jaz at last. And with a tremendous effort of will, I didn’t say,See?
Oliver gave an understanding nod, which only went down well if you thought he actually understood. “However you might have been provoked, we don’t solve our problems with violence.”
“Youdon’t,” Jaz replied, suddenly sounding almost passionate. “I’mtraumatised, remember?”
Taking a deep, centring breath, Oliver got as far as “Jasmine, that’s—” before Jaz cut him off with “My shitty headcase mum didn’t bring me up right, so I haveinappropriate strategies. Ilash outand makebad decisions.”
I knew Oliver wasn’t immune to sarcasm. But he seemed to have developed a hell of a resistance to it where Jaz was concerned. “And what’s important,” he said fatally, “is that we help you change that.”
With an exasperated “Fuck off,” Jaz turned around and vanished into her room, slamming the door behind her.
“Jasmine?” Oliver called after her.
I put my hand on his arm and whispered, “We need to give her space, remember?” but he seemed to feel the giving-people-space rule was currently less important than the letting-people-know-they’ve-done-a-bad-thing rule.
“Jasmine,” he went on, “you will need to apologise to Jacqueline and Richard.”
Silence.
“You can do it in person, or you can write them a letter.”
Silence.
“Jasmine, you need to make a decision on this.”
“Fuck off.”
Oliver stood very still, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I’m going to come into your room now, because I’m going to need you to speak to me face to face.”
I wasn’t sure why he waited after that. Like he thought he was going to get anOkay, that seems reasonable, thank you for informing me in advanceor something. Funnily enough, he didn’t get one.
He opened the door, and we went into Jaz’s room to find her lying on her bed radiating surliness and staring fixedly at her phone. “Jasmine,” Oliver said, “which is it going to be?”
Jaz didn’t even acknowledge our presence. Through the open door, Spud nosed his way in and hopped up beside her.
“Jasmine,” repeated Oliver. I got that he felt that using her full name helped maintain boundaries, but I thought he might have been overdoing it just the scoochiest of scooches. “I’m asking you a question. I want an answer.”
With a sense of timing I almost envied, Jaz let that hang for a moment, then just said, “No.”
“Pardon?” asked Oliver, incredulous.
“No. I’m not apologising.”
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
