Jasmine in Paris

Chapter 1-3

Waiting for the film to start again, she asked herself how, if she were fortunate enough to get a place at the Beaux-Arts, she would ever get over her shyness enough to make friends, let alone contribute to any discussions in classes. Somehow, that crowd of people in the foyer, who all seemed to know each other, made her want to shrink away and hide. It would have been bad enough had they all been speaking English, but among all those French people she felt an absolute outsider. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t heard from the Beaux-Arts selection committee. Maybe it was time to find another occupation.

After the film was over, Jasmine had intended to walk to Arthur’s office for a lift home, but to her surprise and delight, his car was waiting for her outside when she left the building. She realised it was already after six o’clock, so absorbed in Les Enfants du Paradis had she been.

‘You’re finished early,’ she said.

Arthur shrugged. ‘For once.’

On the short journey home, she enthused about the drama of the film and how it was like no other she had seen.

‘There was a cultural attaché from the French embassy who gave a short talk afterwards about all the challenges of making the film during the German occupation. And I actually understood most of what he was saying. I concentrated so hard during the film I stopped noticing it was in French!’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Obviously there were parts of the dialogue I couldn’t understand but mostly it was easier than I expected.’

‘Total immersion,’ said Arthur. ‘I told you your French is better than you give yourself credit for.’

When they came through the door of the house, all thoughts of the film left Jasmine. Evie was waiting in the hallway, a large envelope in her hands. ‘I thought you’d never get home!’

Jasmine glanced at Arthur. ‘That’s why you came to pick me up, isn’t it?’ She rushed over and took the envelope from Evie. ‘My hands are shaking. I don’t think I can bear to open it.’

‘Don’t be silly, darling. If it was a No, there’d only be a single piece of paper. This is a big fat envelope. It can only mean one thing.’

Jasmine tore it open and read, frowning. ‘It’s all formal flowery language. I can’t take in what it means.’ Jasmine passed the package to Arthur. ‘Please put me out of my misery.’

Arthur scanned the covering letter, glanced at the rest of the contents, put them back into the envelope and returned it to Jasmine. ‘This calls for a celebration. You, clever girl, have won a place at the art school, provided you fulfil two conditions.’

Jasmine’s face fell. ‘What conditions?’

‘Firstly, you have to be interviewed in French by someone at the French embassy here. If he judges your command of the language is insufficient, you must enrol in a recognised course prior to coming to Paris.’ He winked at her. ‘But you’re planning to do that anyway, aren’t you? Secondly, one of the entrance requirements is a series of drawings of classical sculptures. The committee observes that your portfolio does not contain this.’

Jasmine let out a groan.

‘Hold your horses! Let me finish.’ Arthur accepted the Scotch and soda Evie handed him. ‘The admissions committee is prepared to make an exception in your case based on the talent your work demonstrates and the fact that living in Kenya and Malaya without access to museums and art galleries has limited your access to classical sculpture. They’ve accepted you, on condition you undertake to complete a series of classical drawings before the September term begins and reach a sufficient standard to justify your inclusion in the course.’

Jasmine was lost for words.

‘Come on. Let’s sit on the veranda. We’ve got half an hour before supper. Gichinga has had a bottle of champagne chilling on ice since the letter arrived this afternoon.’ Evie wrapped her arms around her daughter. ‘I couldn’t be prouder of you, my darling girl. But, gosh, I’m going to miss you so much.’

Jasmine couldn’t wait to set off for Paris, but the following three months flew by too quickly for Evie. Her offer to accompany Jasmine on the voyage to France was politely rebuffed. Jasmine wanted to undertake the journey alone.

‘Once I’m in Paris, I’ll have to fend for myself, Mummy, so I may as well begin now.’

‘But travelling all that way alone on a ship ...’

‘I travelled back from Penang on my own. Besides, Arthur and Hugh need you here.’

Evie stroked her daughter’s hair, overwhelmed with tenderness tinged with sadness. For the first time, she felt her own increasing age, the irresistible pull of time. Having a nine-year-old son helped her to feel youthful, but a daughter grown up enough to travel unescorted across the world and embark on a new life in a foreign city terrified Evie and made her feel prematurely old. Then she remembered she’d done the same thing herself. Ten years ago she had accepted an offer to marry Jasmine’s father, after meeting him only once. She’d grabbed the offer with both hands and left England for a new life in Malaya. What an adventure those last ten years had proved to be. What a tangle of emotions. A melange of the deepest despair and grief with the unbridled joy of having a new family and eventually finding true love with Arthur. She shivered despite the heat of the afternoon, wondering what lay ahead for Jasmine. But her daughter had to make her own mistakes, enjoy her own triumphs, face inevitable setbacks and unexpected joys. Evie must let her go; set her free to find her path. But that didn’t stop her sorrow at the prospect of a long separation.

In early July, the family of four drove together to Mombasa, the back of Arthur’s shooting-brake heavy with Jasmine’s luggage and art materials. Arthur had arranged for some old Colonial Office colleagues, now posted in Paris, to put Jasmine up for a couple of weeks until she found a place of her own to stay. She’d have plenty of time to look before the influx of students for the new term as Paris would be quiet during the summer vacation.

When they reached the port, the family saw Jasmine safely installed in her cabin before she dismissed them.

‘There’s no need for you to worry about me. I’m going to miss you all dreadfully but I promise to write every week.’

Arthur raised an eyebrow sceptically. ‘We won’t hold you to that, Jazz. Once the charms of Paris get to you the desire to write to us will be inversely related to the amount of fun you’re having.’

‘Don’t have too much fun,’ said Evie, smiling. ‘That’s guaranteed to get me worrying.’

Arthur put his arm round his wife. ‘Jasmine’s a sensible girl. She’s not going to do anything we wouldn’t approve of. Having fun is one thing I hope she won’t stint on.’

‘Well, I think going to live in a big ugly city will be very, very boring.’ Hugh folded his arms. ‘Beats me why anyone would want to do that when we have lions and monkeys and zebras here. Who wants to look at a load of old buildings?’

They all laughed, and Arthur tousled Hugh’s hair. The realisation that Jasmine did not know when she’d see her parents and little brother again pierced her heart. Suddenly she wanted them gone. Prolonging the pain of separation was unbearable.

‘Please don’t wait till we sail. It makes it harder. Let’s say goodbye now,’ she said, lip trembling. Evie frowned but understood. She gathered Jasmine into her arms and kissed her. Evie waited while the others said goodbye before, fighting back tears, she led Hugh and Arthur down the gangway and off the ship.