Page 11 of A Wish for Jinnie
‘Rough night?’ asked Sam.
Jinnie nodded as she tried and failed to stifle another mega-yawn. ‘You could say that. Bad dreams. I probably shouldn’t have eaten cheese before bedtime,’ she replied. Much as she’d like to confide in someone, Jinnie felt sure Sam would call the men in white coats if she revealed what was happening. When she’d woken up that morning, feeling headachy and nauseous, she’d half-expected — hoped, even — that it had been a nightmare. But no, there Dhassim was, busting some yoga moves and looking completely at home. ‘That lamp you gave me … have you really no idea where it came from?’
Sam put down a notepad he’d been scribbling in, and gave Jinnie a questioning look. ‘Sorry, I can’t honestly say, although… Let me check something.’ Sam wandered into the back room, reappearing with a box of index cards. ‘I know, not very twenty-first century.’ He laughed. ‘I’ve just never got the hang of spreadsheets and all that malarkey. My computer’s for writing, researching and online shopping. I hate going shopping, unless it’s stuff for here. Especially clothes.’
Wherever Sam sourced his wardrobe from, he did a good job. Today’s ensemble was a V-neck plum-coloured jumper (possibly cashmere, Jinnie thought), and dark cords. With his reading glasses and distracted air as he rifled through the cards, he reminded Jinnie of Clark Kent. Mild-mannered gent by day, all-conquering superhero by night. Not that she had a cluewhatSam got up to in the evenings. And it probably didn’t involve Lycra and phone boxes.Focus, woman!
‘I don’t keep track of everything I purchase or pick up, but I have a vague recollection that this was an unusual one.’ Sam paused, then produced a card with a flourish. ‘Got it! It was a couple of years ago, from a house clearance in Mussselburgh. An elderly lady whose husband had died, and she was downsizing.’
‘Why was it unusual?’ asked Jinnie, peering over his shoulder. His handwriting was appalling, like a spider dipped in ink tap-dancing across the card.
‘They’d spent some time living in the Middle East, and they’d accumulated quite a collection of artefacts. Most of it was of little value, although there were a couple of carpets worth a fair bit. I pointed her in the direction of a reputable dealer to sell those.’
A man of integrity! Jinnie’s respect for Sam went up another notch. Not that it couldgomuch higher, but even so…
‘I’d completely forgotten, but she was desperate to get rid of the lamp. Practically thrust it into my arms when I arrived.’ Sam’s brow furrowed, memories clearly pushing their way to the fore.
‘Why?’ demanded Jinnie. Had Dhassim materialised in front of the poor old dear too? She couldn’t imagine some widowed pensioner coping well with a genie interrupting her denture-cleaning routine. Not that she necessarilyhaddentures. Her gran still had most of her own teeth, even if they were on the yellow side.
‘She said she hadn’t seen it for years.’ Sam shrugged. ‘It was in a box in the garage with other junk. When she took it out, she claimed it — moved.’ His expression was one of good-natured disbelief.
Jinnie assembled her features in a suitably shocked fashion. ‘What did she mean? It’s a lamp, for goodness sake! Did she drop it, or something?’ That might account for the dents, at least.
‘No, she was adamant that it vibrated in her hands. That gave her a real fright, so she threw it back in the box.’ Sam grinned, clearly convinced that the old lady had imagined it. ‘Why are you interested? Don’t tell me it’s spooked you, too!’
Jinnie buried her head in a box of old books Sam had picked up on his latest mission. She didn’t want him to see the telltale flush rising from her neck to her cheeks. She wasn’t good at fibbing, never had been. Her stammered excuses for missing homework had got her into more trouble at school, while her friends’ creative fabrications had left her in awe. It was the same with Archie. He could lie through his teeth to their parents, his angelic countenance in contrast to Jinnie’s scarlet hue.
Clutching a dusty tome that weighed a ton, she stood up. ‘Of course not. I just thought it might be valuable after all. It, erm, polished up a treat.’ Feeling another rush of heat, Jinnie mumbled something about needing the loo. Sam turned away as a customer entered and she beat a hasty retreat.
Sitting on the toilet, the ancient book balanced on the basin, Jinnie was thankful she didn’t actually need to perform. If she had, tearing pages fromThe Cook’s Oraclefor wiping purposes would have been necessary, since as per bloody usual the toilet roll was conspicuous by its absence. Didn’t men notice these things? Even Mr Perfect Pants Mark had been guilty of using the last sheet and leaving Jinnie to put a new one on the holder.
‘We’re out of loo roll,’ she announced, as she came back in.
Sam pulled a ‘bad me’ face and left the customer browsing through a pile of old prints. ‘Sorry. It was on my to-do list, along with getting some decent biscuits for break time. Give me five minutes, then I’ll pop round to Janette’s.’
He looked so contrite, like a scolded puppy caught weeing on the carpet, that Jinnie pulled her best martyr face and grabbed her bag. ‘No worries, I’ll go. Chocolate digestives or fig rolls? Budget, or quilted for extra softness?’ As if Janette’s emporium offered anything so luxurious. The digestives would be chocolate-free and the loo roll one step removed from sandpaper.
Sam peeled a tenner from his wallet and handed it to Jinnie. ‘You might want to swing by the pub too, and have a word with Ken.’ He gave her a significant look. ‘I know he’d appreciate a bit of extra help.’
Did he indeed? Jinnie had the distinct feeling she’d been the topic of conversation between the two men. Not that it mattered. She needed more money, and a way to escape from her unexpected house guest.
‘OK, I won’t be long. Anything else you need?’
Sam shook his head, watching the customer approach the counter with a sepia print of Edinburgh Castle.
Jinnie grabbed her bag and headed for the door. As she pushed it open, Sam called out after her. ‘Make sure Ken offers you a decent hourly rate! And I just remembered — there were two of them.’
‘Two of what?’Jinnie turned around, clueless as to what Sam was talking about.
‘The lamps,’ he replied, rolling the print up with care. ‘When I got the box back here, I found a second one.’ He frowned. ‘Not sure where I put it, though.’
Jinnie wandered along the main road, her mind whirring at hyper-speed. There wasanotherlamp? What did that mean? Perhaps nothing or maybe — oh God — maybe there was another Dhassim…
Chapter 15
‘Can I no’tempt ye tae some Tunnock’s teacakes, hen?’ said Janette, ringing up Jinnie’s other purchases. ‘I happen to know Sam’s partial to them. Even if ye cannae dunk them in your tea like the digestives!’
Jinnie nodded, and Janette added a pack of the iconic chocolate-coated treats to the bag.
