It was dark when Jasmine drove down the main street of the village and pulled up at the gate. She turned off the engine and sat there, looking up at the house. It stood on an incline with imposing views of the village and the sea beyond. The lights glowed through the windows and she could nearly feel the warmth of the logs burning in the fireplace, smell whatever mouth-watering food her mother had cooked for supper. But she couldn’t bring herself to go inside. She gripped the steering wheel and tried to breathe slowly, in and out; tried to slow her heartbeat and gather up enough courage to get out of the car and walk up the path to the front door and open it, but found she couldn’t move.
It had been cold in Cork when she drove off the ferry from Brittany, but here the winds were soft and balmy, as spring came early to this part of the west coast of Ireland. Jasmine knew that the rhododendron and camellia bushes in the back garden would be in bloom and that even the daffodils her grandmother had planted along the path up to the house would be showing their yellow heads. She had been here a long time ago, when her grandmother was still alive, but only for short visits. She had a sketchy memory of her grandmother sitting on a blanket on the beach watching Jasmine build sandcastles. Sandy Cove had become a distant place in Jasmine’s mind, somewhere she would visit again when she had the time. And now she found herself with all the time in the world, feeling that she needed somewhere safe and peaceful to rest and heal. Sandy Cove, with childhood memories of being cared for and loved, seemed the perfect place to run to.
Jasmine had been longing to step into the warm, bright living room and into the welcoming arms of her mother, sit at the kitchen table and tuck into a plate of something delicious, but now that she had arrived, she felt suddenly paralysed. How would her mother react when they met again? Would she be hurt that Jasmine hadn’t been in touch for nearly a year? Or would Sally be so happy to see her daughter she’d brush away the past and forget all the bad times? Most of which were Jasmine’s fault and not her mother’s. It was all so complicated, she thought while she sat there trying to gather up the courage to go inside the house.
A year ago, she had decided to distance herself from her mother’s concerns and fussing about what she was doing and the choices she was making. She wanted to prove she could manage by herself and be a success through her own efforts without her mother constantly asking questions and passing comments, warning her about taking risks. She had finally told Sally that she needed some space and that she would be in touch when she felt she was ready. Sally had said she understood and promised not to meddle any more. The silence after that had been deafening and Jasmine felt deep down that her mother wasn’t happy about their separation.
She had wanted to prove that she had succeeded before she saw her mother again and she had been nearly there, all the boxes ticked, all the chips falling into place and her life a glorious success. At the age of thirty-three, she had finally achieved what she’d dreamed without help from anyone. That was before it all came crashing down.
No, she couldn’t bear thinking about it. She was here and this had to be home for the next few months, even if she had to beg. The last few days in Paris had been traumatic to the point of unbearable and now Jasmine found herself sitting here wondering if recent events had really happened. It all seemed like a bad dream. Things like that only happened to other people, not to her, Jasmine Delon with the perfect job, the perfect soon-to-be husband and the perfect apartment in the best part of Paris.
She glanced in the rear-view mirror but in the darkness only saw a white face and huge frightened eyes. Her poker-straight brown hair perfectly cut at Salon Carita gleamed when she moved her head and that gave her a tiny dart of confidence. ‘There is never an excuse for a lady not to be well-groomed,’ her French grandmother had always said, and that had resonated with Jasmine ever since she was in her early teens. Looking good at all times sent the right signals and provided her with an armour, a sense of power, of confidence. But that was the glossy surface that hid her insecurities, her desire to be loved and the rootlessness Jasmine struggled with every day of her life. Nobody knew who she really was. She wasn’t even sure she knew that herself.
There was a movement in the back seat. Jasmine straightened up and turned. ‘We can’t sit here all night, can we?’ she said. ‘And you need a pee and a bowl of something tasty, I’m sure.’
The white fluffy dog sat up and yawned. Then he wagged his tail and whimpered softly.
Jasmine sighed and patted the little terrier on the head. ‘Okay, Milou. We’ll get out. Mam will be happy to see you, at least.’
Jasmine got out, opened the door to the back seat and the little dog jumped out and stretched. Then she opened the gate, and with the dog trotting beside her walked up the garden path.
After having stopped while the dog sniffed something behind a bush, Jasmine arrived outside the front door of the house. The garden was dark and silent, but she could hear a strange noise from inside the house – an eerie humming sound. She could also see that the light coming through the glass panel beside the front door had a blue hue and was flickering on and off. That, combined with the humming sound, sent shivers up her spine. Something strange was going on in there – but what?
Jasmine took a deep breath and pushed the door open, Milou pressing himself against her leg, shivering. She walked through the hall and stepped into the living room where she stopped and gasped, staring at the figure sitting on a cushion in the middle of the floor. She peered through the dim bluish light at the woman who was sitting in the lotus position, her eyes closed, humming loudly.
Jasmine coughed as the smell of lavender hit her throat.
‘Mam?’ she said in a near whisper, her eyes glued to the woman. Was this really her mother? The woman looked like she was in some kind of trance. Her light brown hair, streaked with pink, blue and purple, hung down her back in loose curls and she was dressed in yoga pants and a soft blue sweater that slid off one shoulder. ‘Sally?’ Jasmine asked, remembering that her mother preferred to be called by her first name.
The woman’s eyes slowly opened while she let out a last ‘oooommmm’. She looked at Jasmine and smiled. ‘There you are.’
‘Yes,’ Jasmine said, rooted to the spot. She couldn’t believe what she saw. The change in her mother’s appearance was startling. Sally had always been an eccentric woman but this lithe ageless creature sitting with her legs crossed as if she was made of rubber, looked nothing like her mother. Her face was devoid of make-up and she looked so relaxed. What had happened to her?
‘I knew you’d come,’ Sally said without getting up.
‘Of course you knew. I told you when I called from the ferry.’
Sally’s laugh sounded like little bells. ‘I knew before that, my sweet girl. The stars told me. It’s in the plan of the Universe that you would come here. Mother Nature wanted it to happen.’
‘Mother – who?’ Jasmine sniffed the air. Was Sally smoking something? But all she could smell was the lavender that seemed to come from the smouldering logs in the fire. Essential oils, she thought.
‘But why are you standing there? And who is that little person hiding behind you?’ Sally jumped to her feet and stretched. ‘I have dinner ready, so we can eat whenever you’ve unloaded the car.’
‘Oh, lovely,’ Jasmine said, her stomach rumbling at the thought of Sally’s delicious home cooking. She picked up the dog. ‘This is Milou. My West Highland darling. Isn’t he lovely?’
‘He’s beautiful.’ Sally approached and patted Milou on the head. Then she kissed Jasmine on both cheeks. ‘Welcome, darling. I’m happy to see you. It’s been too long, don’t you think?’
‘My fault,’ Jasmine said with a dart of guilt. ‘I should have—’
‘Nobody’s fault,’ Sally interrupted. ‘Just life getting in the way. I was crowding you and not letting go. Bad karma here and there too. Kamal always says you have to be patient and wait for it to get better.’ She stepped back before Jasmine had a chance to ask who this Kamal was. ‘But look at you. So chic and polished.’ She touched Jasmine’s cheek. ‘But your eyes are sad and your cheeks pale. What’s happened?’
Jasmine pulled back. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I’m just a little stressed and tired. I’ve taken a sabbatical from work. I thought I’d come here and stay with you for a rest.’ And to lick my wounds and be taken care of, she thought but didn’t say out loud. She suddenly noticed a glimmer on the ring finger of her left hand. Oh, God, the ring. She had forgotten to give it back. Jasmine quickly took the ring off and stuffed it in her back pocket. She’d get it back to him somehow.
‘You’ve come to the right place,’ Sally said, looking pleased, not appearing to have noticed the ring. ‘This village is becoming the go-to place for the stressed and burnt-out. Kamal teaches them to find themselves again. He’s a wonderful teacher.’
‘Who’s Kamal?’ Jasmine asked, intrigued by the blissful look in Sally’s eyes.
‘Oh,’ Sally said airily as her face turned pink and her eyes sparkled. ‘He’s… a friend, a… soulmate. He’s changed my life in many ways. But you have to meet him to really understand.’ She clapped her hands, making Milou jump. ‘But hey, get your bag and settle in. We’ll talk over dinner. I want to know everything that’s been going on in your life since last year. And’ – she held up a hand – ‘no recriminations or accusations about not keeping in touch. You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We’ll move forward and not look back. Deal?’
‘Uh, yes,’ Jasmine replied, bewildered. What was all this forgiving and moving on? Jasmine had been anticipating the reunion with trepidation, ready to eat humble pie and take the blame. Sally had always been the one to ruminate over old hurts and never wanted to move on until she had expressed her feelings and they had had a good row about whatever it was they had fallen out about. But this new Sally was breezy and bright and all sweetness and light, talking about the Universe and Mother Nature. What on earth had happened to her mother during the year they’d been apart?
Jasmine blinked and shook off the thought. Whatever it was could be discussed later. She had to get her case and get settled, but most of all have something to eat. ‘I’ll go and get my bag,’ she announced.
‘Lovely,’ Sally said. ‘Are you staying for a week or so?’
‘I’m planning to stay for a bit longer,’ Jasmine replied, not daring to say it could be for a very long time as the memories of what had happened in Paris came back with a vengeance. Better to drip-feed her mother slowly with the facts.
‘Wonderful,’ Sally chanted from the kitchen. ‘Stay as long as you want, pet. And I love the dog.’
Jasmine put Milou on the floor and he immediately trotted toward the kitchen. ‘I’ll get his food, too,’ she said as she turned to walk back outside. As she went down the path, she tried to sort out her thoughts and make a plan.
Firstly she needed to get settled: have dinner and try to get used to her mother’s new behaviour. Then she needed to tell her a little about what happened, editing out the most horrible details. And lastly… Jasmine stopped. No, that was something she had to keep secret for a while, the real reason she was here.
Dinner was not what Jasmine had hoped for, nor was Sally. She had expected to find the mother that she’d said goodbye to over a year ago, a mother who was a little unconventional, outspoken and feisty, but her whole demeanour had changed. She seemed distant and serene in a way that unnerved Jasmine.
Jasmine sat at the kitchen table staring at the bowls of lettuce, chopped vegetables and nuts. ‘Is this the starter?’ she asked, hoping a casserole or an Irish stew might come out of the oven.
Sally laughed. ‘No, this is dinner,’ she said. ‘I’ve adopted the raw food diet. I started it six months ago, at the same time as yoga came into my life. I realised that what I put into my body had to be pure and clean and not cooked and covered in sauces. Much better for you. It’s very easy to do. The only thing that’s cooked is bread, but then it has to be sourdough. Olive oil instead of butter and no wine. It was hard at first, but now I love it. I’ve lost four kilos and sleep like a baby every night. And my blood pressure and cholesterol levels are down to normal, my doctor tells me.’ She smiled at Jasmine as she sliced a huge loaf of bread. ‘Go on, help yourself. Your body will thank you and your spirits will soar.’
‘I’m sure they will,’ Jasmine muttered as she picked at the carrot sticks and baby spinach on her plate. Her spirits felt more like a damp squid as she chewed her way through the dinner of raw food, her own heavily doused with olive oil that helped make it more palatable. At least the bread was delicious and she ate three big slices in order to fill her very empty stomach, washed down with elderflower cordial that Sally had made herself, she said proudly.
Jasmine sighed and thought with longing of the gourmet dishes and wonderful wines Sally used to serve. What was so wrong with a plate of coq au vin and a glass of Bordeaux? She glanced at her mother’s glowing face and had to agree that this new healthy living had rejuvenated her beyond what any cream or lotion could achieve. But there was still a flicker of sadness in her eyes at times, as Jasmine talked about Paris and her childhood home in that gorgeous apartment on the Left Bank.
‘So how is the shop going?’ Jasmine asked in an attempt to find the old Sally.
‘It was hard work to get it started,’ Sally replied, brightening as she talked about her shop. ‘But now it’s really going well. All thanks to Cordelia, who came here from America two years ago. She helped me start a whole new concept and that turned things around amazingly. She and her cousins, Maeve and Roisin, have been wonderful friends. And Nuala, of course. The salt of the earth.’
‘Maeve and Roisin McKenna?’ Jasmine asked. ‘The Willow House family?’
‘That’s right. Lovely girls. Younger than me, but true friendship has no age, does it?’
‘Not at all,’ Jasmine agreed.
‘You’ll love them too.’
‘I’m sure I will. And… yoga,’ Jasmine started. ‘It seems to have changed you a little.’
Sally smiled. ‘More than a little. Oh, God, I don’t know how to explain it. But it was as if Kamal was meant to come here to show us a different way of living. Yoga tunes you into your body and teaches you to look at yourself in a whole new way. It makes you accept yourself as you are and not how others want you to be.’
‘Oh,’ Jasmine said, startled by the light in Sally’s eyes. ‘That sounds difficult to achieve.’
‘It is. I’m not there yet. But I think the whole lifestyle suits me. The diet is hard at first, but once you get used to it, you begin to feel the benefits. Body and mind and all that, you know.’
‘Uh, great,’ Jasmine said. ‘Must be lovely.’
‘You should try it. At least come to yoga. It’s very calming.’
‘I’ll give it a go,’ Jasmine promised only to make Sally happy.
‘You should. It’ll help with all the stress you must be going through. I mean,’ Sally continued, ‘I’m guessing you’ve come for a bit of a rest?’
‘Yes,’ Jasmine mumbled. ‘Something like that.’
‘Your job must be very stressful.’
‘Uh, yes. Sometimes.’ In order to avoid more questions, Jasmine changed the subject to something more neutral and they kept chatting as they ate, talking about this and that and reminiscing about the old days. There was no mention of Jasmine’s father, Matthieu, but Jasmine felt his presence all the same as the conversation touched on family matters.
The divorce of her parents when she was only six had affected Jasmine badly, turning her into an angry little girl who scowled at the world around her. Her relationship with her mother had always been strained as she grew up, but they had finally become closer and their relationship improved, even if Sally’s fussing was a bone of contention. The fact that they hadn’t been in touch for a whole year had little to do with the divorce. It was more because of Sally hovering over Jasmine at all times, handing out advice on everything – her career, her clothes, her choice of boyfriends. It had felt stifling and the year apart had made her feel free to do what she wanted. But after the shock of what had happened so recently, Jasmine’s first thought had been to run to her mother and hide from the big bad world. She smiled at Sally and felt suddenly that coming here had been a good move. Despite the raw food and the absence of wine, it was comforting to be with someone who cared about her and wanted only her best. Sally’s fussing had been irritating at times, but now it seemed silly to have stayed out of touch for a whole year.
‘Dessert,’ Sally said and placed a bowl of fruit in front of Jasmine. ‘And then bed, I think.’
‘Bed?’ Jasmine checked her watch. ‘But it’s only nine o’clock.’
‘Yes, but I get up early. An hour’s yoga before I go to the shop I’ve found to be so energising.’
‘Of course,’ Jasmine mumbled, looking at Milou, who had just got up from his place by her feet. ‘But you don’t mind if I stay up? I need to walk Milou and then I want to check some stuff on my laptop. You have broadband here, don’t you?’ she asked, hoping that hadn’t been ditched along with meat and wine as part of the healthy living plan.
‘Yes,’ Sally replied. ‘We got fibre last year, which was a huge relief. I’ll write down the password for you.’
‘Great. Thanks, Mam,’ Jasmine said without thinking. ‘Sorry, I mean Sally.’
Sally smiled. ‘I like you calling me Mam, actually. I know I used to hate it, but I have been released from all those negative thoughts and feelings. I have to embrace my whole being and go with the karma of the day, good or bad, whatever the gods send us.’
‘Oh, okay,’ Jasmine said, wondering if she’d be able to find a shop open at this time of the evening or if she could sneak into her mother’s stash of wine when she’d gone to sleep. She knew there were racks of it in the larder in the utility room off the kitchen.
‘I feel so free now,’ Sally said as she cleared the table. ‘Free from all the old hurts and concerns. You know, I sold all my wine to the new restaurant just the other day. It felt fantastic.’
Merde, Jasmine thought, why did she have to do that? ‘New restaurant?’ she said out loud. ‘What new restaurant?’
‘It’s a little gourmet place on the main street,’ Sally replied. ‘Opened by a young chef who’s been on television quite a bit. A kind of Irish-style Jamie Oliver. This village has become very trendy. Good for my business, too. The shop is doing very well.’
‘That sounds fun,’ Jasmine remarked. ‘I’ll have to check it out some day.’
‘Yes, you should. He’s around your age and I think he’s even lived in Paris at some stage. It’d be good for you to meet young people around here. I’ll introduce you to Cordelia tomorrow. She’s my business partner and about your age, too. You’d get on really well, I think.’
‘Is she into the yoga lifestyle, too?’ Jasmine asked.
‘She comes to yoga classes, but I don’t think she has embraced the lifestyle yet. I’m sure she will, though. Kamal is very persuasive and so charismatic. A lot of the people in the village follow his health plan. You’ll see how wonderful he is when you meet him.’
‘Can’t wait,’ Jasmine said with a fake smile. ‘I’ll go and walk Milou now. Could you give me a key so I won’t disturb you when I get back?’
Sally laughed and waved her hand. ‘You don’t need a key around here. Nobody locks their doors. I don’t think there has ever been a burglary in Sandy Cove. In any case, who’d dare break into an O’Rourke house?’
‘You mean because they were rebels in the eighteenth century? Haven’t they become respectable since then?’
‘Yes, but that rebel spirit is still there, and everyone knows it. It’s in you, too. You just need to find it.’
‘I could do with some of that,’ Jasmine said, wishing she had been able to conjure it up when everything exploded in her face.
That O’Rourke rebel spirit, she thought as she walked into the dark night, I wish…
Jasmine looked up at the velvety sky studded with glimmering stars and felt the salt-laden breeze on her face, suddenly happy she had come – and knowing this was the best place to recover from what had happened to her.
With Milou trotting beside her, Jasmine walked along the dark street, illuminated by old-fashioned street lights. The street was lined with a mishmash of old cottages and Victorian houses, many of which housed shops on their lower floors. She could see light through slits of curtains and hear televisions and music here and there. She walked past her mother’s shop and stopped to look into the window with its array of curiosa that Sally had collected from markets and artisan shops in all parts of Ireland and even France and Germany. It was such a lovely collection, she thought, admiring her mother’s sense of style and . . .
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