Free Jasmine Skies by Sita Brahmachari

thought of that before, but just the idea that it might not be forever makes me feel odd.
    ‘Let’s Skype him and I’ll interview him! See if he’s good enough for you,’ she jokes.
    ‘We can’t. Not for nearly two weeks anyway. He’s gone on this Geography field trip to the Alps. And they’re not allowed to take mobiles or laptops. He gets back a week
before me, so you’ll have to wait till then!’ I say.
    ‘Shame! But what’s that saying? “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”’ she teases, her eyes pirouetting around their sockets in a suggestive ‘You know what I
mean’ dance! But suddenly I can’t bring myself to laugh any more because the image of Jidé’s lost love note floating somewhere between here and London fills my mind and
right now I would do anything just to hear his voice.
    Priya must sense that I’m close to tears because she squeezes my hand and changes the subject.
    ‘So what’s your favourite song right now?’
    ‘This one. I was listening to it before I fell asleep.’ I hand her my iPod and shuffle to ‘Summer Breeze’. I’ve only just heard it, but somehow the fact that
Jidé chose it for me makes me feel closer to him.
    Priya takes one earphone and hands the other to me and we listen to the track together. She closes her eyes and her body sways. When she listens to music, she seems to slip away somewhere else.
She starts to sing along and I join in. It’s a while before I realize that she’s taken out her earphone and is listening to me.
    ‘You didn’t tell me you can sing!’ She smiles. ‘My ma said Uma had a great voice too.’
    ‘I don’t know. I’m not that sure about it yet. I only started singing lessons last year,’ I tell her. ‘But what I like best is writing my own stuff.’
    ‘Take it from me, you can sing!’ She laughs, standing on her tiptoes, reaching out through the window and plucking a tiny cluster of white flowers from a vine, which she hands to
me.
    ‘Jasmine, just like in the song . . . smell that!’ she orders. ‘Janu grows it on the balcony upstairs.’
    So that’s the sweet smell that’s been wafting through the window.
    ‘You know sooner or later you’re going to have to sing for me, like it or not. I want you to write me something with that sort of beat. I could use it . . . Give me a few days to
experiment, then I’ll record you and mix it all up. I think it could work. The drop could come right . . . here. Let me just listen a few more times.’
    ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been recorded before,’ I mumble, but my words are lost on Priya because she’s already plugged herself back in. I watch her sink into her
pillows, close her eyes and roll on to her side. After a while I think she’s fallen asleep.
    There’s a gentle knock at the door and Anjali walks in. I feel as if guilt is written all over my face.
    ‘That bed’s supposed to be for you! Typical of Priya – she’ll go on and on and then suddenly she’s out like a light!’ Anjali whispers. ‘It’s all
the dancing she’s doing, it wears her out.’
    ‘I’m fine sleeping on the roll-up bed,’ I whisper back.
    ‘I Skyped Uma for you earlier, because you were fast asleep. She was happy to hear you’ve arrived safely. She wanted to know if you’ve got her ‘sorry’? She said
you’d understand.’
    I put my hands up to feel my earrings still in place. I smile and nod at Anjali. At least I don’t have to face Mum tonight.
    ‘Want anything to eat or drink?’ Anjali asks me.
    ‘No, thank you.’
    ‘Well, sweet dreams then!’
    It’s midnight and the whole neighbourhood is quiet now. I watch Priya sleeping on her bed. I don’t know if it’s just because we’re family that I already like her so much.
Maybe when someone is family, even when you come from different worlds, you’re just not so scared to give a bit more of what’s really inside you. That’s how I already feel about
Priya, and I would hate not to know her from now on. Mum