Being Jazmine (Invisible Series Book 3) Read online

  Cecily Anne Paterson

  Being Jazmine

  Book 3 in the Invisible series for girls

  First published by Cecily Paterson in 2017

  Copyright © Cecily Anne Paterson, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Cecily Anne Paterson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Cecily Anne Paterson has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  Contents

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  Author's Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  More in the Invisible Series

  Acknowledgements

  Being Jazmine is in paperback

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by this Author

  A request from the author – leave a review?

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  Author's Note

  This book is set in Australia and is written in Australian English. Our spelling and use of words might be a little different from what you’re used to. We use ‘s’ where Americans use ‘z’ in lots of places, and ‘Mom’ is ‘Mum’. Other things are different too: for example, winter in Australia is from June to August.

  A lot of the conversation in this book takes place in Auslan, the sign language of the Australian Deaf Community. Of course, Auslan is not signed English: it’s a whole language with its own grammar and syntax. Body language and facial expressions are part of the language. Just as translating one language into an unrelated language has its challenges, translating Auslan into written text is tricky. Many expressions and nuances have no direct equivalents.

  For the ease of the reader and the flow of the text, I have tried to capture the spirit of the Auslan conversations on the page, using written Australian English.

  Chapter 1

  I said I was okay with it.

  It’s just there are a thousand different meanings of the word ‘okay’.

  Mum looks beautiful in her wedding dress. She’s fussing around, putting makeup on, which is weird to see, because she hardly ever wears it in real life. At least, she didn’t until Geoff came along, and then she was leaving lipstick and eyeliner out on the bathroom shelf every morning.

  “I still can’t believe it,” I say to her. It’s true. The front part of my brain is fine with it all. It nods and smiles and carries on all happy, but the back part of my brain is just confused. My mum? Marrying Geoff? How did this even happen?

  “I can’t believe it either,” says Mum. But the grin on her face says different. It says she totally can believe it. It says she’s as happy as she’s ever been. It says that finally, she has someone who loves her again.

  Someone who isn’t my Dad.

  I feel bad for feeling bad. I mean, it’s been over five years since Dad died. And Geoff’s the first boyfriend she had in all that time. Plus he’s really nice. I can’t pretend he isn’t.

  It’s just, I don’t know, really.

  It’s just not that simple.

  “You need some,” Mum says. She’s holding out an eyeliner to me. It’s a dark brown colour. It looks okay but I don’t know, really. I don’t wear a lot of makeup. Once or twice, when I’ve visited Gabby in the school holidays (at her new house down the coast) she’s tried to put stuff on my face. I’ve let her, and agreed with her that it looked good, but when I’ve got back to Grandma’s place, I’ve rubbed it all off again.

  “Let me,” Mum says. She comes up close to my face and makes me shut my eyes. She draws a line along my eyelid, first the right eye and then the left. I can feel her breath on my cheek, warm and familiar.

  “Nice.” I look in the mirror Mum holds up to me, and then back at her. Pretty. I make the sign for the word and she smiles back at me. Thank you, she signs.

  She’s pretty, too. Her dress is blue, a knee-length, tailored thing with a belt, from the most exclusive shop in town. We chose it together, and I nearly fell over when I saw the price. Expensive, I signed to her in the change rooms, so the shop assistant wouldn’t hear and be embarrassed. Mum went a bit pink and put her head to the side.

  “Geoff said to get anything I wanted. He’s paying.”

  I felt a jump in my stomach, but I tried to push it down. Mum and I had never been able to get anything we wanted. The first question for anything we wanted was always: how much does it cost?

  I didn’t let her buy a dress for me in that shop. It came from somewhere a lot cheaper, at the big mall an hour’s drive away. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t handle the thought of Geoff spending hundreds of dollars on a dress for me as well.

  “You look great,” says Mum. She’s looking at me now, her head tilted and her grin still wide. “I knew that dress would look good, but it’s even prettier than I remember.”

  I smooth it over my legs. It’s mostly white lace, with short sleeves, and ending just above my knees. I’ve got on my new tan sandals with the ankle straps that we bought on the same shopping trip. I loved those so much that I ignored the price tag and my scruples of conscience about expensive things and let Mum buy them anyway.

  The last touch is a silver bracelet with charms on it. “A gift from Geoff and me,” Mum tells me when she gives it to me. “To say thank you for being the bridesmaid.”

  It’s gorgeous, and I love silver, so I put it on right away, and it goes perfectly.

  We look at ourselves together in the small mirror in Mum’s room, almost the only thing that isn’t packed up in boxes, ready for the move to the new place. Geoff’s put an offer on a house for us all, and the move details will get sorted out after Mum and him get back from their fortnight’s honeymoon at the end of these scho
ol holidays. Mum planned the wedding for the first weekend of the holidays, so I wouldn’t have to miss any school.

  “I guess I shouldn’t wear this,” says Mum. She fiddles with an old bracelet on her wrist that she hasn’t taken off yet. It’s the one she wears all the time: a leather strap with three green beads and a silver token attached to it. “It doesn’t really go.” I help her take it off and put it on the dressing table. She reaches over for it, and places it on the top shelf of her closet, like she’s putting it away. Dad gave it to her, I think to myself.

  “Lots of changes,” says Mum. She grasps my hand and squeezes it tightly. A sudden tightness chokes my throat. I take a deep breath in and let it out again.

  “Are you going to be okay?” she asks.

  “Are you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I am too,” I say. What else can I say? She’s my mum. I want her to be happy.

  “It’s not going to change us, you know,” she says.

  “I know,” I say, but I don’t really know.

  “I’m still your Mum. You’re still my Jazmine.” She lets go of my hand and puts her arm around my shoulder. “You’re still my baby. Even if you’re getting taller than me.”

  My voice lets me laugh. “Ha ha. Finally.”

  “I know.” She puts her head on my shoulder. “You belong here with me, my darling. Okay? This is where you belong. You always remember that.”

  I hear every word she says, because her voice is always just the right volume for my hearing aid, and she always talks with her face in just the right place so I can read her lips if I have to, and I nod in reply, because the choking feeling is coming up again. And then I hug her properly, with both arms, and my head on her shoulder, not worrying about the dress or the eyeliner or any of the unimportant stuff.

  My mum is getting married today.

  And then Mum pulls away. It’s time to leave.

  The wedding is in the Botanic Gardens of our town, about ten minutes away in the car. Mum drives both of us. “I don’t want a big fuss,” she said to Geoff when he was talking about limousines and bouquets and all the other things that people apparently do at weddings. “Just you and me and Jaz. A few other people. Nothing big.”

  She got her way. When we arrive at the Gardens, under sunshine and blue sky - a perfect autumn day - there are about twenty people gathered under the pergola, waiting for us. We walk up. I wave to Grandma who’s standing on the edge of the group, and smile, and then Geoff comes out towards us. His face is glowing with happiness, and I can see he loves my mum so much that my bad feelings go away.

  “Jaz,” he says, and hugs me gently. “Thank you.”

  I want to ask him what for, but I can feel the lump in my throat getting bigger so I ignore the question, and then he takes Mum’s hand and I follow them both through the people and up to the front where the celebrant is waiting for them. Mum grabs my hand and pulls me to stand next to her, but it’s a bit of a squash and I end up perching myself against the balustrade of the pergola. I can see Geoff’s face, but not Mum’s because she’s turned away from me towards Geoff. I can half see the celebrant’s face, but her hat is blocking a lot of it, and when she starts to talk, I can only catch every second or third word.

  “Friends, …. Gathered… today to see these … love and cherish… vows.”

  My hair is being picked up by a breeze and tossed around my ears. It’s making a rustling noise in my ears. In the gathering, there’s some movement. A lady, one of Mum’s workmates, I think, has brought her two-year old with her. He looks cute, in a blue shirt and little bow tie, but he’s getting bored and starting to cry and she’s trying to jostle her way out of the pergola so as not to disturb everyone else.

  The celebrant turns to Mum but her hat tips onto an angle that completely blocks Mum’s face. I assume the celebrant’s asking her a question, but I’m not sure. And with Mum turned away from me, and the wind in my ears, I can’t catch anything of what Mum’s saying. Everyone smiles, though. I’m guessing she said, “I do.” The celebrant’s hat turns to face Geoff. I still can’t see her face, and now I can’t see Geoff’s mouth either. There’s some nodding and talking by the celebrant and I hear a tiny bit of Geoff’s words. “I do.” There are more smiles from the crowd, so I smile too, and I clap a little when they all start clapping. Without any warning, Geoff leans in and kisses Mum, and then the celebrant says a little bit more and then they start to walk out of the pergola, hand in hand.

  I scramble off my perch and try to find my way out, but everyone’s turned to head out after them, and it’s crowded. I can’t find my way through. For a second I consider hopping over the balustrade and jumping to the grass, but then I remember I’m in a dress — a short dress, and the idea doesn’t seem quite so good after all.

  Mum and Geoff are walking away from the pergola now, still holding hands, with the trail of people following them. The official part of the wedding was only ever going to be short, with afternoon tea following it in another part of the park. They must be going there straight away, I figure. I grab my purse and make my way out of the pergola.

  “Jaz.”

  The sound of my name right in my ear shocks me. I turn to see my Grandma’s grinning face by my shoulder.

  “You look beautiful,” she says. “And it was a beautiful ceremony. Don’t you think?”

  “Oh. Yes,” I say, and I hold her hand.

  “The gardens are lovely.”

  I nod, because for some reason, my voice has gone back to not working at all.

  “The camellias. Incredible, don’t you think? Where’s the afternoon tea now? Up this way?” She points to the path that everyone’s following and I nod again. She talks on about the garden and the plants, and the wedding, and I just let her, because it’s too exhausting to take part in any of it. I feel tired. So very tired. My eyelids are dropping. It might just be the eyeliner — Gabby told me once that it can make your eyelids feel heavy — but it seems like it’s more than that. My arms, and my chest, and my fingers and my brain. They’re all calling out for rest. Just sit down, they’re saying. Lie down. Sleep a little. But I have to tell them to be quiet. This is my mum’s wedding. I have to go and eat cake and smile at people and be happy. It’s a happy day. It’s a very happy day.

  Grandma and I make it to the greenhouse where the afternoon tea is laid out for everyone. The glass roof echoes a bit, and with everyone talking loudly in the space, it’s hard to catch everything people are saying to me.

  “What a lovely day, Jaz.”

  “You must be pleased for your mum, are you?”

  “When are you all moving? That’ll be exciting.”

  I smile a lot, and hope I’ve heard their question and given the right answer.

  “It sure is.”

  “I sure am.”

  “It sure will be.”

  The afternoon seems to race by and I’m not really ready for it to end. Mum whisks up beside me and grabs my arm. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. We just kept walking, and I’ve hardly had a chance to see you at all. I figured you’d be with Grandma?” The question in her voice needs reassurance, so I give it to her.

  “It’s fine. Yes, Grandma. Lovely food.”

  She goes from tight to relaxed in a half second. “Yes, it is, isn’t it. Geoff organised the catering.” She turns away from me, looking for someone — Geoff — in the gathering.

  “Mum —,” I say.

  She turns back to me. “Yes?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her eyes flicker for a second, and then she says, “Okay, well, I think in about five minutes, we’ll be going. You know what’s going on, right? You’re with Grandma, and I’ll — ” she corrected herself, “— we’ll see you in two weeks. Yes?”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “I love you, Jaz.”

  “I love you, Mum.”

  She hugs me, and I hug her back. Tight. Like I’ll never let her go. But of course I will, because I have to. There’s a wh
irl of activity and Geoff comes to gather Mum up. Everyone’s in a flurry of good-byes, and then they’re gone, running down the path, away from us, to the car park, where they’ll get into Geoff’s new car. Then they’ll drive to the airport and fly away to Fiji for two whole weeks. Together.

  The wedding is over.

  I feel happy. And I feel completely, totally lost.

  Chapter 2

  Grandma fumbles at the front door with the key Mum’s given her, until I take it from her hand, slot it into the lock, make the quick, specific turn it requires, and open the door.

  “It’s easy when you know how,” I say, and she laughs.

  “Isn’t that the truth.”

  Inside the house, everything looks the same, and different.

  It’s the same because it’s Mum’s and mine, and in every room I know the history and the reason the chairs are put the way they are, and where to hang the pictures so that the cracks in the wall are covered.

  But it’s different; smaller, somehow, with the packed boxes, and Geoff’s suitcases dumped in Mum’s bedroom. In fact, as soon as Geoff started coming around, the house felt smaller altogether. Maybe it’s his height. He’s over six foot three inches, Mum says, which is tall by anyone’s standards, apparently. I can’t say I’ve ever thought about what I’d judge tall to be, but Mum talks a lot about it. She seems to think it’s a good thing that he’s tall. And then his size. He’s not fat, but he’s big. He takes up space. And there isn’t a lot of space in here to begin with.

  I can hear Grandma saying something from the kitchen, but the words aren’t clear.

  “What?” I put my head around the door. “Sorry. I really can’t hear you unless we’re in the same room.”

  “I just said, did you already pack?” she asks. She’s boiling the kettle and looking in the cupboard.

  “There are biscuits in the one on the end,” I say. “Not homemade though.”

  She flashes a smile at me. “I’m being cheeky, just digging in like this.”

  “It’s fine.” I smile back. “Mostly packed, but just a few extra things to get. You have your cup of tea.”