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Authors: Samantha Tonge
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accidental bump as some kind of slight against him personally – he didn’t care about his wife. Dave picked up my bag and rolled his eyes.
‘You okay, Jasmine? Honestly, everyone is in such a hurry these days. At least he had the manners to mutter sorry.’
See, a voice said in my head, he’d never be anything like your dad.
‘So, what’ll it be?’ he said.
Stomach grumbling now, I gazed at the menu. ‘Hot chocolate to drink and just a peanut butter pancake please – with chocolate drizzled on top. Here…’ I opened my wallet. Without a job, Mum depended on Dad for everything. As a child, I swore I’d never find myself in that jail of domesticity. Good old Dave had never let his pride get in the way of understanding that and just took the money.
‘I’ll bring the food over if you bagsie a table,’ he said.
I found us two seats and watched as Dave chatted to the pancake-maker. In a way his proposal really had been bad timing, because lately, with New York looming, I’d thought more than usual about my parents.
‘Penny for them?’ said Dave as he sat down and passed me my pancake and drink.
I sipped the hot chocolate, instantly perked up by its creamy richness.
‘How much Mum loved the Hollywood movies.’ Pure escapism from her own life, no doubt. ‘Especially musicals. She harboured a life-long dream to visit New York. A particular favourite film set there was On The Town, starring Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly. Of course, married to Dad, there was no chance of foreign travel. Any spare cash got spent on whiskey.’
‘She always sounds like the most tolerant, brave woman in the world,’ he said gently.
‘Or stupid,’ I muttered. ‘I used to try to hate her, for not having the guts to stand up to him. My aunt got mad too. You should have heard her language when she discovered that Mum had forgiven him once again, falling for the same old promises.’
‘Why did she?’
I shrugged. ‘Goodness knows, I’ve thought about it enough over the years. I think she believed she could change him – turn him back into the man she married. Perhaps wrongly blamed herself for how he’d altered.’ I shook my head. A sick sensation rose up the back of my throat – a common feeling, caused by the conflict of love and resentment for my mother.
Briefly Dave squeezed my hand before going back to his meal. In silence we ate our food and watched the bustle of lunchtime shoppers. It’s the coolest thing ever, isn’t it, when you can sit with someone in pure, unadulterated comfortable silence? And going out with Dave up until this point had been comfortable – plus fun. Sexy. Funny. Everything, I suppose, a woman could want. So why hadn’t I ever thought about marrying him? Or was my recent love of bridal catalogues really my subconscious telling me that Dave… that Dave could in fact be The One?
‘Mmm. That was delicious.’ I wiped my mouth. ‘You know… some say cancer could be brought on by stress and unhappiness.’
‘Your mum?’
I nodded. ‘Ironically, in her last moments it made her happy. Cancer gave her the strength to stand up to Dad and have the teenage me sent to live with my aunt permanently.’ I sniffed and rummaged in my handbag for a few moments.
‘Whatever happens, Jasmine… I’m always here for a chat. Or on the end of the phone. You know that.’
I stared at him. Nodded again. His brow relaxed.
‘Right. Well your loss for not trying that chicken tikka pancake,’ he said, ‘because it was stupendous. It’s just a shame I ordered green tea instead of normal though.’
I chuckled at his look of disgust.
‘In fact I can’t finish it. And… I’d better get on with my shopping before getting back to the grindstone.’
We both stood up. Dave darted forward awkwardly and gave me a peck on the cheek, leaving me wanting more.
‘Oh. By the way. Saturday night…’ He turned up his coat collar. ‘I know you said you needed time to yourself, but you leave next
‘You okay, Jasmine? Honestly, everyone is in such a hurry these days. At least he had the manners to mutter sorry.’
See, a voice said in my head, he’d never be anything like your dad.
‘So, what’ll it be?’ he said.
Stomach grumbling now, I gazed at the menu. ‘Hot chocolate to drink and just a peanut butter pancake please – with chocolate drizzled on top. Here…’ I opened my wallet. Without a job, Mum depended on Dad for everything. As a child, I swore I’d never find myself in that jail of domesticity. Good old Dave had never let his pride get in the way of understanding that and just took the money.
‘I’ll bring the food over if you bagsie a table,’ he said.
I found us two seats and watched as Dave chatted to the pancake-maker. In a way his proposal really had been bad timing, because lately, with New York looming, I’d thought more than usual about my parents.
‘Penny for them?’ said Dave as he sat down and passed me my pancake and drink.
I sipped the hot chocolate, instantly perked up by its creamy richness.
‘How much Mum loved the Hollywood movies.’ Pure escapism from her own life, no doubt. ‘Especially musicals. She harboured a life-long dream to visit New York. A particular favourite film set there was On The Town, starring Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly. Of course, married to Dad, there was no chance of foreign travel. Any spare cash got spent on whiskey.’
‘She always sounds like the most tolerant, brave woman in the world,’ he said gently.
‘Or stupid,’ I muttered. ‘I used to try to hate her, for not having the guts to stand up to him. My aunt got mad too. You should have heard her language when she discovered that Mum had forgiven him once again, falling for the same old promises.’
‘Why did she?’
I shrugged. ‘Goodness knows, I’ve thought about it enough over the years. I think she believed she could change him – turn him back into the man she married. Perhaps wrongly blamed herself for how he’d altered.’ I shook my head. A sick sensation rose up the back of my throat – a common feeling, caused by the conflict of love and resentment for my mother.
Briefly Dave squeezed my hand before going back to his meal. In silence we ate our food and watched the bustle of lunchtime shoppers. It’s the coolest thing ever, isn’t it, when you can sit with someone in pure, unadulterated comfortable silence? And going out with Dave up until this point had been comfortable – plus fun. Sexy. Funny. Everything, I suppose, a woman could want. So why hadn’t I ever thought about marrying him? Or was my recent love of bridal catalogues really my subconscious telling me that Dave… that Dave could in fact be The One?
‘Mmm. That was delicious.’ I wiped my mouth. ‘You know… some say cancer could be brought on by stress and unhappiness.’
‘Your mum?’
I nodded. ‘Ironically, in her last moments it made her happy. Cancer gave her the strength to stand up to Dad and have the teenage me sent to live with my aunt permanently.’ I sniffed and rummaged in my handbag for a few moments.
‘Whatever happens, Jasmine… I’m always here for a chat. Or on the end of the phone. You know that.’
I stared at him. Nodded again. His brow relaxed.
‘Right. Well your loss for not trying that chicken tikka pancake,’ he said, ‘because it was stupendous. It’s just a shame I ordered green tea instead of normal though.’
I chuckled at his look of disgust.
‘In fact I can’t finish it. And… I’d better get on with my shopping before getting back to the grindstone.’
We both stood up. Dave darted forward awkwardly and gave me a peck on the cheek, leaving me wanting more.
‘Oh. By the way. Saturday night…’ He turned up his coat collar. ‘I know you said you needed time to yourself, but you leave next
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