Saving Jazz (12 page)

‘Well then,' she said finally.

‘Well then, what?' I asked.

‘I don't like being wrong,' she said, ‘Rob will attest to that. But, honey, I've got to admit, this tastes as good as Chicco coffee. If I didn't know better I'd have to say it was of a higher quality. There is a hint of vanilla in this that I've never tasted before, not even in Chicco coffee. So I guess that's it. You're right. Skinny Cow is the best latte on the strip.'

I looked at her in horror. That wasn't meant to happen. ‘Oh,' I said.

‘Oh?' Aunty Jane smiled, ‘in this house it's okay to gloat. You were right. This is the best coffee. I'm converted. I'm never going back into Chicco, despite the cute barista.'

‘Frank,' I said.

Aunty Jane nodded and then frowned. ‘Yes, Frank — how do you know him?'

I told her of my trick, I told her about Frank and the job offer and proposal. She laughed hysterically. ‘Oh Jazz, this is absolutely priceless! So I am right about the coffee! And you've got yourself a job. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.'

‘Yes, but I'm not going back there,' I stated firmly.

‘Oh yes you are,' Aunty Jane said nodding, ‘let's call it your punishment for trying to deceive your frail old aunt.'

‘Seriously?'

‘Seriously.'

The next day I ventured back into Chicco. If I was going to change who I had been, that meant taking chances, and making different, better decisions. If Aunty Jane thought this was a good
thing for me — ‘You get to meet people who know nothing about you, who see you as that beautiful girl from the coffee shop' — then I had to believe it was.

‘My Shiraz,' Frank signalled me as I walked in the doorway. ‘Come to start work?'

I nodded, he beamed. ‘Excellent, tie this on and let me show you how we can make magic together.' I took the apron and tied it around my waist, pulled my hair back and rolled up my sleeves.

Time kept us all moving forward. Me, Tommy and Jack towards our judgement, and Annie towards her death. She had been on life support for about three months when the decision was made to turn it off. At the risk of the haters twisting this around (don't worry, I know pretty much who you are), several things ran through my mind: Why? Would turning it off mean she would die? If she died, how would that impact upon our court cases next week? Forgive me, dear reader, if this is all too callous for you — it sounds a lot more callous than it really was. I was terrified of Annie's death. I desperately didn't want her to die, because I didn't want her death on my conscience — it's true. But it was much more than that. I didn't want her not to be anymore. I loved the
world that had Annie in it, and though I knew there would be no place for Jazz Lovely in her life if she survived, I didn't care. I wanted there to be a world in which Annie lived, met people, fell in love, could be the Annie she wanted to be. And I knew Death was not that place.

But they were going to switch life support off.

This I learnt through Facebook. It would be hard for anyone over thirty to understand what it meant to a fifteen-year-old to watch the world go by and have no voice in it. But that was my exile. While I awaited judgement I had to retain ‘full radio silence' — and so I did, but it didn't mean I couldn't be a silent spectator. Which I was. The updates arrived daily about switching Annie off. Annie — the ho, slut, whore, the one who got what she asked for — was suddenly the poster girl for the whole generation. Her greatest haters became her fiercest supporters — ‘Save Our Annie!'. It was truly sickening. But of course no one knew why they were pulling the plug. The Townshends had no public profile. Information was trickled through family and friends, so no one went to any lengths to explain why they were doing it. Any comment about ‘pulling the
plug' on Annie was countered with sympathy and condolences and hang-in-there icons. The whole thing made me sick to my stomach.

I had my day in court. Aunty Jane and Uncle Rob drove me.

‘We'll be there the whole time,' Aunty Jane said on the way, squeezing my hand. As I faced the judge and the charges were read, in that moment when I had reached the lowest point of my relatively shallow existence, I looked across to see Aunty Jane and Uncle Rob sitting there smiling supportively at me, and next to them was my mum, and next to her was my dad.

Will Sanderson defended me strongly. He played up my strengths, he expressed my remorse, he elucidated carefully my pristine track record. He appealed to the judge for her greatest leniency. And might I tell you, dear reader, at this point I
wasn't worried about my sentence, whether I'd be incarcerated, how much community service or whatever punishment was to be meted out to me. All I could think was
At least I have a chance.
At least this isn't it for me. They were pulling the plug on Annie and I was receiving my judgement — but I knew mine wasn't final.

I stood nervously before the judge. Though I had always hated the judgement of others, this was unavoidable. This was, in a sense, right. I had done something terrible and I was to be judged for those actions.

She looked at me and a small smile played across her lips. ‘Jasmine Lovely, you have pleaded guilty to the charge of indecent assault and so I have no other recourse but to impose a sentence against you.

‘Before I do, I would like to acknowledge the qualities and attributes expressed by Mr Sanderson, that until now you had never found yourself in court, nor even the principal's office. To say these actions were the result of a lapse of reason, caused by excessive consumption of alcohol, would be fair. I understand that the world you live in is a fast and evolving one, bolstered by the ever-increasing
technology at your fingertips. It makes for an exciting and brave new world, doesn't it?' the judge paused to smile again.

‘With every brave new world we face brave new challenges. Among them is learning to adjust a teenage mentality and capability to the access of images hitherto not readily accessible.

‘I understand that your generation is, on the surface, far more experienced and worldly than previous generations. As digital natives, born with a mobile phone in one hand and a mouse in the other, your generation has never known a world where technology like this didn't exist. This is the culture you have inherited by birthright.

‘But, it would be fair to add, your generation is only seemingly worldly. Young and impressionable minds are exposed incessantly to sexualised images of women and, increasingly, to pornography. This creates a false reality, where young girls believe this is how women act. And, at the risk of widening the generation gap further, it saddens me.

‘There is nothing to be done to halt this technological revolution; there is only, as always, education. Unfortunately for you, Miss Lovely, your
education has come at a great cost. I am imposing ten hours of community service, to be served at a women's shelter. As you are fifteen years old, and provided there are no further charges or convictions against your name, you can be assured this will be erased from your record when you reach eighteen years.' The judge stood and left the room.

I stood next to Will, shaking and trembling with relief, fear, humiliation. I was in a whirl of emotions. Ten hours with women who had been victims of sexual abuse and violence. I saw the judge's reasoning, but the idea was frightening.

Facing my parents after the sentence was handed down was almost as terrifying as facing the judge. Aunty Jane hugged me tightly. ‘It'll be alright,' she whispered in my hair, and I wasn't sure if she meant my punishment or seeing my parents.

I looked at my mother and made towards her. She opened her arms and I stepped into them woodenly. She gave me her stiff hug. When I pulled back her face looked a little uncomposed. My father nodded at me and then dropped his eyes. I didn't venture towards him — his body language was clear.

In the restaurant we sat in awkward silence while Aunty Jane filled the conversation with what the two sets of twins were doing, and how I was going with my study and work. Uncle Rob dropped in a few comments, but for the most part he watched his brother studiously ignore me.

‘You have a job at a coffee shop?' my mother asked, her nose wrinkling slightly.

‘Yes,' I murmured, ‘I work Saturdays and Sundays and I'm saving my money for … well I'm not sure yet, something.' I couldn't look either one of them in the eyes. It was easy with Dad, as his gaze never fell on me, but every now and again Mum's would.

‘That's good,' Mum said, although it sounded like she thought it was a terrible idea. ‘We've sold the winery,' she added finally.

‘For serious?' I exclaimed. I'd had no idea. ‘Why?'

‘Why?' My dad's voice jolted me and I stared at him. His blue eyes were cold as they finally met with mine. ‘Because you made it impossible for us to stay there, Jasmine. The public ridicule of Greenhead. The things people think about your mother and me, the way we raised you to act in such a depraved and perverted way.' His hatred of me was palpable. ‘We
couldn't live there. We're moving to South Australia. We've bought a winery in the Barossa Valley. We leave in two months. A new beginning.'

A new beginning that didn't include me. I was mortally wounded. My father hated his only child enough to leave her and move to another city, where people wouldn't know of his shame and embarrassment. And as for my mother — was she so weak and pathetic, so totally dependent on him, that she'd do whatever he said? They made me sick to my core.

‘Of course,' I almost whispered, using the pre-Greenheadgate voice I'd always reserved for discussions with my parents. I found myself sliding back into that Jasmine. The one who tried to be quiet and good and go unnoticed.

‘Hey, that's a little harsh, Paul,' Aunty Jane said angrily.

Uncle Rob levelled my father. ‘When are you going to be the parent and accept your kid made a mistake that she's sorry for? When are you going to stop bullying her? Because if you apply your usual hard and cold logic to this, Paul, bullying is what got her in this position.' He crossed his arms.

‘Rob, I don't need any advice from a tree-hugging, left-wing do-gooder on how to raise a child,' Dad snapped. ‘Nor do I need a lecture on what constitutes bullying. In this instance it is Jasmine, and not me, who committed the crimes.'

‘No, you're right,' Uncle Rob stood and held his hands up in surrender, ‘let's just pretend none of this is happening, surely that'll fix it? As for crimes, jeez, seriously, Paul — the kid made a mistake. She's no criminal.'

‘That's not what the legal system believes,' Dad said righteously. Rob sighed, defeated by Dad's black-and-white approach to life.

Aunty Jane rose, signalling for me to leave with them. ‘I'm grateful for this, believe me, otherwise I'd never have got the daughter I always longed for. So for that and your uptight ways I thank you from the bottom of my heart.'

Mum rose as I did. I didn't know what to do. My fiercely loyal aunty and uncle were waiting for me, and my mother teetered between whatever maternal feelings she had and my overbearing father. I looked at Aunty Jane and Uncle Rob and I knew they'd want me to do whatever I felt was right.

‘Bye, Mum,' I said, kissing her cheek lightly. And then I grabbed hold of my aunty's hand, the woman who wanted to be my mother, the one who had just claimed me as her daughter, and I actually felt okay as I walked away with them.

‘I'm sorry,' Aunty Jane said as we got in the car. She had tears in her eyes.

‘What for?' I asked. I was in turmoil. Feelings of abandonment and relief rushed through me, alternating, everything being tempered by these people who had stood up for me. Who were truly the loveliest people in the world. Aunty Jane, who had married a name, but really owned it properly.

‘Speaking to your father like that,' Aunty Jane said. ‘Truthfully I've never gotten on with him. So different to my Rob. Often I wondered if Rob would one day turn out to be like Paul. I lived in fear — until I realised that Rob was a world and a culture away from his brother. That siblings don't necessarily behave the same way. But that aside, he is your father and I'm sorry.'

‘I'm not,' Uncle Rob said. ‘He should have been told a few truths a long time ago.'

I still couldn't believe anyone had spoken to my father like that. Dr Paul Lovely. He would be horrified. ‘It's okay. He's made it clear what he wants in this world. And I know it would be harder if I didn't have you and Uncle Rob, but I do. So I'm okay.'

‘I know you are,' Aunty Jane said. ‘You are doing better than okay.'

After the court hearing everything hit me big-time and I could feel myself sliding into a dark funk. I hated myself so much it was a struggle to get out of bed. I'd do my classes in the morning and my homework in the evening. I had no social life and no real contact from anyone in Greenhead. Initially Sim and Lily and the girls had sent messages, but when I failed to reply they'd given up. I saw photos on Facebook from the river cruise. I had been so looking forward to it — it was a huge night for our year group. Scrolling through them made me feel so nostalgic and even homesick — though I knew there was no home there for me anymore.

I still couldn't find out any details on Annie. Her death hung over me. Karan increased our
appointments, as I was having such a hard time coming to terms with what we'd done. I know I was found guilty of indecent assault, but to my mind that was a question of semantics. According to the Sexual Assault Resource Centre rape is any unwanted sexual act or behaviour which a person did not consent to — and that was what we had done. Tommy was a rapist. Jack was a rapist. And I couldn't deny it to myself — I was a rapist, too.