He and his wife, Rachel, had done it all for the right reasons, at the time. They had come to the conclusion the year before, that going along with Jasmine being a virgin, despite her protests later on, would have been safer for her in the long run. It was vital that Erica believed Jaz had miscarried. They’d prayed when the manipulative witch showed up that she’d believe it all.
John had convinced the doctor with a generous bribe to tell Jasmine that she had miscarried just so she'd never learn the truth about what had happened. He'd also pushed the doctor to say that she was unable to have children. He hadn't been able to look in the mirror ever since. Though it sounded the complete opposite, it had been done for Jasmine's protection, at least until they were ready to tell her the truth. But it was too late now.
On top of all the things John regretted doing, or not doing, he'd also had to hand out more money to make sure the doctor kept to his story in case anyone came asking.
Rachel had not been happy about it but he was sure that would be all the proof Erica would need to see that Jasmine wasn’t the one ‘they’ were looking for.
‘They’ were the group of people he wished never to meet and had feared the moment they would show up. He’d hoped that day would never come, but Erica smashed that to pieces the moment he realized who she was. She’d been following Jasmine around like flies to dung ever since. And she hadn’t believed the doctor either.
It took all his willpower not to look at Erica with the burning venom simmering just beneath the surface of his very thin mask. Instead, he kept his mask in place, continuing to smile at his daughter who he feared he’d never see again. He was more convincing than his wife whose smile was sunken at the sides. A weak, pained smile Jasmine was quick to notice.
Jaz had always had a sharp eye for unravelling the hidden emotions just beneath the surface by studying people’s faces carefully. It was trying to figure out why they were there in the first place that was the hard part. She thought it was all down to her mother's distress of not being with her. Her mother hadn’t made any sign that she wanted to join Jaz and Erica, even though it was impossible with her busy schedule. Jaz didn’t blame her for that but it still upset her that she’d never done anything like this with her mum. A spa day was a mother-daughter thing to do. Not that she was ungrateful to her aunt. It was just that the sadness behind her mother’s eyes upset her. She flashed her mum a genuine smile; all traces of bitter resentment vanished as if disintegrated. The smile was only visible to her parents for a few seconds before the car pulled away.
She looked back at them and gave a small wave as she watched them standing on the road. They didn’t wave back. She found that odd.
She felt a pang of guilt for all the times she’d been cold or difficult towards them, especially today. I’ll make it up to them, she thought resolutely. Though she didn’t know how long it would take before she could finally forgive them. She promised herself she’d try at least.
*
For the first half hour, Jaz remained silent.
Her thoughts shifted back and forth through time but the monotonous drone of the motorway mostly kept her in a quiet, semi-comatose state.
Occasionally her aunt –who was sitting next to her in the back- leaned forward to the seat in front, to mumble inaudible chops of conversations to her husband. Uncle Bo would intermittently respond in his soft, alto voice. It was almost the same tone as the engine so instead of trying to understand what they were saying, Jaz ignored them, preferring to look at the blurred objects flying past the window.
Green, grey, yellow, blue and white all mixed in together like a watercolour, flashing across her eyes as she stared out through the glass. She leant the side of her head against the window, allowing the vibrations buzzing through her skull to send her off into a daydream.
She thought back to a happier time three years ago when she and her parents had travelled to Brighton for a long weekend. They had sat down on the beach for a picnic on the first day. The sun was out, bursting through the thin cover of clouds, roasting her ivory skin. At the end of the day her face glowed lobster red. Her cheeks suffered the worst of it and peeled, leaving unpleasant patches of raw skin on her face. Her shoulders and the front of her legs didn’t escape the attack of lobster red either.
She smiled remembering how embarrassed she’d been when she saw her face in the mirror. Her mortification on that day was amusing to her now.
The sun from the present touched her face with its warming hands. She slowly opened her eyes, gazing down at the lines on the road. The car zoomed along, causing the lines to become one long white line marking the tarmac. She sensed they were going way over the speed limit. She glanced either side of her out the windows and saw that they were roaring past the other cars, though the motorway wasn’t busy. She figured Driver was making the most of the free space.
She felt him pump down more on the gas pedal and discreetly peered round his seat to look at the MPH gauge. Nearly a hundred miles per hour and increasing. Her eyes widened.