Jannie’s Jamaican Courage

Monday, April 20 09

Jamaica the rag doll was sitting on Mrs Bennet’s lap, being held rather too tightly. Miss Bennet Number Two was perched on a doctor’s couch, grimacing as the doctor sapped her verruca with liquid nitrogen. As Miss Bennet winced, Mrs Bennet squeezed the doll, complete with its hospital tagged-wrist, which bore the date of her last hospital visit three years ago. Miss Emily had needed an operation and the doll had gone in with her for comfort. Mrs Bennet recalled the awful moment when she had to walk away from her anaesthetised daughter – leaving her on the operating table. It was why she was clutching the doll now. Not because her daughter was pained by the freezing treatment, but because at this very moment her own mum was being put to sleep ready for an operation for breast cancer. Jamaica – bought on holiday in the Caribbean – lived at Jannie’s house. She came out when she was needed to escort an anxious child to hospital or the doctor’s surgery to provide courage and comfort. It was Jannie who needed her the most today, and it was Jannie Mrs Bennet was thinking and praying about at each squirt of the liquid nitrogen.
But Jamaica was soothing Mrs Bennet the most at this moment. Looking at the perfect tropical blue sky outdoors, Mrs Bennet could quite easily imagine being in the “land of wood and water,” where waterfalls, springs, rivers and streams flowed to fertile plains from its forest-clad mountains. The thought of biting into a luscious tropical fruit with a weird and wonderful name or sniffing the tempting aroma of a world-famous Blue Mountain coffee was almost tangible. The latter would probably taste better than Mr Latte. Mrs Bennet had gone off him. He no longer hit the spot. There were issues here too emotional for him to soothe. He could make her feel better about living on a building site, but he couldn’t take away the scary and almost surreal journey her precious mum was now facing. If only a dose of hot frothy milk and a shot of caffeine could make it better. But it couldn’t. It was a long waiting game where there was no control. However Mrs Bennet knew if anyone could walk this new uncertain path with dignity, humour and strength, her mum could.
“Mummy, can I have Jamaica back now please?” asked the small patient leaping off the couch, quickly forgetting her painful toe and bouncing as she normally did in Tigger-like-fashion. This polite request relieved Mrs Bennet's knuckles of their clenching and snapped her back into mother mode.
Back at the almost finished bite-size Pemberley, the rest of the little Bennets were being looked after by friends. The Darcys in the Dirt had incidentally returned that morning, marking the start of the last chapter. They had originally planned to rip the kitchen out that morning, but due to the more pressing operation, had looked kindly on Mrs Bennet and gave her an extra week to pack the cupboard contents into boxes. Instead they were at the bottom of the garden insulating her office.
Now Jamaica’s job had been done, Mrs Bennet did contemplate taking her into hospital to sit at the bottom of her mum’s bed, but thought better of it. Instead she took a handful of home-made cards, the older Miss Bennets had insisted on making, to cheer the patient on. Looking as pale as her blond-streaked hair, Jannie managed a smile. Drained of colour, she was still the beautiful woman they all loved. Her inner strength and positive nature was shining through. And Mrs Bennet knew Jannie was everything Jamaica, the rag doll stood for – heart and courage.