Jasmine loved baby-sitting for the
Taylors.
They always had little Gregory tucked up in his cot when she arrived
so all she had to do was listen for him crying and check on him every
so often.
This meant that she could spend some time studying for her GCSEs away
from her little toad of a brother, Jack who made it almost impossible
to get any work done at home. If he wasn't pulling her hair or
shouting childish insults in her ear, he was running around the house
playing noisy war games or screaming at imaginary ghosts, both of
which seemed to require the slamming of doors.
She was sure that she had never made such a racket at his age.
It was amazing how much progress she could make in the peace of the
Taylor’s house and sometimes she even did so well that she had time to
put her books away and watch telly until they got home. It was one of
those wide-screen TVs with speakers around the lounge that let you
hear noises from all directions so you would think they were real, not
part of the programme you were watching. Jasmine thought it was cool.
On top of all this was the fact that every time she watched Gregory,
she received five whole pounds. Mum was taking them to Disneyland next
summer and Jasmine was saving these earnings towards spending money.
Every so often she would count her savings and work out how many
Dollars she would get. Because of the exchange rate, she always had
more dollars than pounds which made her feel richer than she actually
was.
Jasmine ended her homework essay on a Rupert Brookes poem by trying to
write something clever about irony but she wasn't convinced that she
fully understood the concept.
"It’ll just have to do.” she decided with a resigned frown. “I’ll
probably forget to take it with me tomorrow, anyway.”
She closed her folder, laid it on the carpet beside the settee and
switched the TV on. It crackled and then glowed drama across the room.
The large cushions folded around her as she settled back to watch her
favourite medical serial, full of jargon and stethoscopes and she
pretended, just for a moment, that this was her home.
She imagined living here, free of little brothers and worrying
parents. She wouldn’t be confined to a single room as she was now
because she’d have a lounge to watch telly, a kitchen to cook, a
dining room for dinner parties and a bedroom that she’d use just for
sleeping. She might even have a husband to share all this with
although she wasn’t quite decided on that yet.
‘I can’t wait to get my own house.” she thought, with a smile. ‘When I
do, I’ll make sure it has at least two bedrooms so that I can have a
baby.’
Jasmine loved babies. She had once admitted to Mrs Taylor that she
would like a baby of her own to which Mrs Taylor had replied with a
weary smile ‘No you wouldn’t.”
She was half sure that Mrs Taylor had been joking but still, she
frowned at the memory. What was it her Mum was always saying, ‘Half
jest, whole earnest”?
She wondered if Mrs Taylor really wished she hadn’t had Gregory.
Surely not because he was really brilliant; she loved the way he
toddled about and laughed whenever she saw him and he looked so cute
when he was sleeping.
The thought of her charge reminded Jasmine to check on him, so she
made her way upstairs, thinking about old people like the Taylors and
her Mum, as she climbed.
She would never understand some of the things they said and the way
they acted and she hoped that she wouldn’t look as tired as Mrs Taylor
when she got old. Perhaps if Gregory’s mum tried to be less tired,
maybe got to bed a bit earlier at night, she would like her son more.
Jasmine made a mental note to never get tired if she ever had a baby.
Gregory’s room was dark but cosily warm. The hall light allowed her to
reach his cot without stepping on anything that squeaked or played an
annoyingly jolly electronic tune. She bent close to his head to make
sure he was breathing okay as Mrs Taylor had shown her, which he was,
and then looked down at him in the gloom, bottom in the air and dummy
hanging precariously between his lips. He was so beautiful and she
made herself creep out to stop her stroking his soft, sandy hair.
Downstairs, she settled back into the settee and, almost immediately,
heard a cry. She instinctively jumped up and trotted back to Gregory’s
room but he was sleeping as before. Perhaps he had a bad dream, she
wondered and returned again to the settee.
A few minutes passed and then Jasmine heard another cry, high pitched
and needy. She tensed and held herself still, not sure of the
direction of the sound. Again it came and Jasmine turned her head in
sharp jerks, trying to identify a source.
“It must be Gregory”, she whispered and went to check on him once more
but he was still sleeping and in the same position as on her first
check.
She plodded down the stairs slowly, her brow furrowed with
consternation. If it wasn’t Gregory, then what was making that sound?
She stood in the centre of the lounge and heard it again. Then again.
As she turned, trying to focus on the noise, her eyes came to rest on
the television and a knowing smile formed on her lips.
Of course! It was the telly speakers! Jasmine snatched the remote
control from the settee and pointed it at the prime suspect. The
doctor on the screen turned into a mime and Jasmine stood motionless
in the silence, waiting for another sound. As the minutes passed she
smiled at her own ingenuity but her presumption was proved wrong by
another cry.
Jasmine’s mind began to work through her confusion and she remembered
her brother’s imaginary ghosts. She hugged herself tightly against the
cry and felt her heart pound against her forearms. A sudden acute
sense of vulnerability gripped her and she glanced toward the front
door, trying to remember if it was locked. The cry seemed to circle
her and she looked into the darkness upstairs, fearful of what might
be lurking there and guilty for not going up to check on Gregory.
Then there was a loud click and Jasmine span towards the door. It was
opening but she breathed relief when she saw the Taylors enter the
hall.
Mrs Taylor was instantly concerned.
“What’s wrong Jasmine?” she asked with serious eyes, “Is Greg okay.”
Jasmine nodded but she almost wanted to cry. Mr Taylor took position
beside his wife and listened while she told them about the noise. As
she spoke, they all heard it again.
“There!” she cried. “Did you hear it?”
Now it was Mrs Taylor’s turn to puff a sigh of relief and Mr Taylor
grinned sympathetically. Jasmine raised an eyebrow and watched him go
into the dining room. She heard the patio door open and then Mr Taylor
returned stroking their cat, Robin.
Mrs Taylor went upstairs to check on Gregory while Mr Taylor scalded
Robin for scaring his baby-sitter.
“He just wanted in for a bit of a heat!” he explained. Jasmine blushed
and wished she hadn’t been so silly.
That night she went home with ten pounds instead of five. Mr Taylor
called it danger money.
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