Ordinary Miracles Read Online Free Page A

we’re photocopying fliers, or gumming down envelopes, we get to talking about all sorts of things. We’re not in the least bit romantically interested in each other, which really helps.
    ‘You can have camomile, rosehip, fennel, mango and peach or just plain tea,’ Charlie calls out from the kitchen.
    ‘Just plain tea please,’ Susan and I answer loudly.
    ‘Gosh, he’s into aromatherapy too,’ says Susan, who’s looking at the burner on the mantelpiece. ‘I thought I smelt something when I came in.’
    ‘Ylang-ylang with a drop of geranium,’ Charlie calls out.
    ‘And what does that do?’ she asks.
    ‘It’s uplifting and balancing.’
    Susan looks at the incense holder and the postcard of Buddha. ‘Are you a Buddhist?’ she asks going into the kitchen to help him bring out the tray.
    ‘Sort of,’ says Charlie.
    ‘The same as me,’ Susan smiles.
    Once everyone is seated I get a grilling. I’m feeling very sheepish because I haven’t had an outburst like this in years. Quiet desperation is more my sort of thing.
    ‘How do you know Bruce is having an affair?’ asks Susan.
    ‘Because he kept giving her funny looks at dinner – and they were kissing in the kitchen.’
    ‘Did you see them?’ asks Charlie.
    ‘No, but Cait’s lipstick was smudged when she came back with the cloth.’
    ‘The cloth – what cloth?’ asks Susan. And then I have to go into detail.
    ‘So you’re not absolutely sure?’ says Charlie after two fennel teas, four oatmeal cookies and a Bewley’s bun.
    ‘No – I suppose I’m not – it’s just a feeling.’ I’m looking out the window into the rambling garden where Rosie is snuffling around her large fenced pen. ‘I’m sorry to have made such a fuss, but I do feel better,’ I add. ‘It’s been sort of building up inside. It’s not just Bruce, it’s other things too.’
    ‘What other things?’ asks Susan. ‘Go on Jasmine, you know you can tell us.’
    ‘Well, I’m not sure I can really,’ I say pulling at a tassel on one of Charlie’s Indian cushions. ‘A lot of it’s hard to put into words.’
    ‘Go on,’ says Susan whose persistence earned her every Girl Guide badge known to man. ‘Just give us some examples.’
    And then, because truth along with ylang-ylang, geranium and now pine incense pervade the room, I tell them about Mell Nichols.
    ‘So you see it’s all rather pathetic really.’ I laugh feebly when I’ve given them the details about my ten-year passion, apart from the fantasies about wild sex in stalled lifts. ‘I looked into his eyes for just a moment, and then he turned back to the reception desk in a bored sort of way. That was the extent of it.’
    ‘So you now realise you and Mell may never be an item.’ Charlie is smiling at me kindly.
    ‘I always knew that but I wish it hadn’t been rubbed in.’ I’m smiling a bit myself now.
    ‘Everyone has fantasies, Jasmine.’ Susan is leaning forward earnestly. ‘I, for example, keep having these incredibly vivid dreams about Daniel Day-Lewis.’
    ‘Really?’ This is cheering news.
    ‘Yes. I find myself with him in this huge country house and I’m sure he’s going to seduce me, only it turns out he thinks I’m there to French polish the mahogany dining table.’
    ‘The mahogany dining table…’ repeats Charlie, eyebrows raised.
    ‘Yes. It’s not very satisfactory.’
    ‘I’m tired of dreaming.’ I’m stroking Charlie’s cat, Satchmo. ‘I’m tired of having to drift off into some place in my head every time I want to feel happy – every time I want to feel loved. It just doesn’t seem right somehow.’
    Charlie pats my arm as he gets up and goes to the window. He stands there, shoulders squared. ‘She’s my role model’ – he’s pointing to the garden.
    ‘Who?’ Susan asks.
    ‘Rosie.’
    ‘Come off it, Charlie.’ I go over and stand beside him. Rosie’s scratching her right buttock against the fence – a look of deep contentment on her face.
    ‘See