And taxes
“You be careful and play nicely with the
other children today, even Diane and Greta,” her mother ordered firmly at
breakfast time.
Jasmine looked up form her plain sugared
rice pops – the cocoa crop having not yet recovered from the South American round
of the changes – and asked; “Why, Mummy? In junior school you always told me to
stick up for myself when people were mean to me.”
Her mother sighed theatrically; a safer
response by far than her honest reaction which would be to scream aloud and go
out to burn down certain buildings immediately. How to explain it, Alison? Better still, how to avoid the issue
altogether and keep the child safe by keeping the truth secret? Can’t hide it
all, and the best lie contains some truth. “Jas, it’s because it’ll help
Daddy if you’re nice to those girls.”
“But why?” Jasmine scowled, her twelve years
full of integrity and righteousness. “I don’t see why having my stuff stolen’s
okay. You always told me it’s wrong to steal.”
No
longer, dear; nowadays it’s actually just somebody else’s privilege. Careful, Annie. “You’re very lucky
because a letter we got today says you’ll be going to a new school.
Daddy
hasn’t read it yet because he’s working nights, but Diane’s mother just rang me
to say she’s going to the new one in Richmond, and I expect Greta will too
because her father works for the Government.” The cold-hearted sow had actually
phoned to gloat. “Our girls will still be together in September, Anne. Won’t that
be nice? They’re becoming fast friends and it’d be such as shame to split them
up.” “a pity if your mouse-like offspring
escapes my bitch Diane’s claws”, is what she truly meant. Collaborationist
tart. Not that we aren’t collaborating in our own way, too. The thought of
Jasmine having to go into Rational Education and risk ending up in a shunt shop
for the rest of her life was too much to bear. Better get it over with, Annie. Daughterly disillusion and hatred, here
we come. “Jas, it’s just that our kind of people have to stick together now
that things have changed. You won’t remember it much, but people used to be
allowed to visit whoever they liked and befriend anyone willy-nilly, even if it
wasn’t sensible. For your own sake you’re going to have to accept the way
things are. Not everyone will be allowed in the Academies and lots of your nice
friends will be going to the Richmond
“Like taxes, Flower,” said Brian stumbling
in through the kitchen door, red-eyed and weary from work.
He slung a briefcase onto the breakfast bar,
covering the Academy letter and hurried over to kiss Jasmine on the forehead
and wrapped his arms around Anne. They were silent and unmoving for long
moments as a stony-faced Jasmine glared at her mother. Then Brian pulled
himself away and reached into a cupboard above the breakfast bar. Moving aside
a block of ageing baked beans cans still priced in the old currency, he pulled
out two mobile phones – clunky and old-fashioned looking. “These are for you,
and I want you both to carry them all the time. Flower; pop yours in your
satchel now. Good lass. Always leave them on and please, never switch them to
mute. They’re from Uncle Keith. Now, here’s the important thing. You know Uncle
Keith travels a lot and we don’t get to see him very much, right?”
Jasmine nodded casually but Anne became very
still.
“So, when he’s in the village he hasn’t got
much time to visit us and I want you both to drop whatever you’re doing - no
matter how important it is - and go straight to his house. Let yourselves in
with the key he keeps behind the name plate.
If you’re at school Jasmine, just pretend
you’re feeling sick and ask them to call Mummy to fetch you (not to call me –
like as not I’ll be busy when Keith phones you), so we can all meet as soon as
possible. That’s why I don’t want you to set it to mute, Jasmine. Don’t worry
about it ringing during lessons. Mummy and I will sort that out with the
teachers before you go back.” He lifted Jasmine’s chin and gazed at her.
“Promise me you’ll do it, Flower. Uncle Keith is part of this family and it’s
important that we see him as soon as he lets us know he’s back. Okay?”
Anne nodded and Jasmine patted her father’s
slightly shaking hand. “Okay, Daddy. I’ll do that. This is a grown-up thing,
isn’t it?”
“Yes Flower, it is. You’ll understand when you get older.” If. He meant, but did not say, “if.”
“Yes Flower, it is. You’ll understand when you get older.” If. He meant, but did not say, “if.”
Jasmine pattered away to get her raincoat,
hat and ID.
“You’re thinking of sailing away in the Princess, Brian?” Anne asked, clutching
folded arms to her chest.
“Not the boat, love. But Keith will visit
soon. Perhaps even tonight or tomorrow morning. Do send him my love and go with
him. You’ll want to pack your bags today, just in case.”
“Brian, what’s it about? Don’t they trust
you at work anymore? Is it because of Professor Milner?”
“No, it’s not that, exactly. I think they
think I’m okay. But one way or another I might not be able to stay at work much
longer.”
His wife smiled. “Is it the taxes, Brian?
Is that why you want to get away? The rumour at work is that even for the
managerial caste, they’re going to increase them to a litre a month.”
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