Page 15 of A Wish for Jinnie
‘Hmm. Well, you did say you were a fast learner, but that was pretty incredible.’
Before Jinnie could say any more, Ray appeared carrying two plates of pie with a side of buttery mash. ‘Get that down your necks,’ he said. ‘Heard a lot of whooping and cheering through here. Did we miss something?’
Jinnie and Ed looked at each other, and Jinnie shook her head slightly. She’d had enough embarrassment for one night. Quick on the uptake, Ed simply said Jinnie had showed remarkable dexterity with a cocktail shaker.
‘Huh, she wasn’tthatgood,’ huffed Blonde Girl, who’d drained her drink and was scrolling through the list with a glittery pink talon.
After devouring the pie and mash and serving a steady stream of customers, Jinnie glanced at the clock. Almost eleven and the end of her shift. She’d enjoyed trading banter and, most of all, chatting to Ed. Working with Sam was fun, but his clientele rarely paused for a natter. Ed was easy-going, open — he’d talked about his mum and how hard he found her condition — and attractive. He was the complete opposite of Mark, but perhaps that was a good thing.
‘See you Sunday?’ he asked.
Jinnie shrugged on her coat, buttoning it up to face the bitter cold that awaited her. ‘See you Sunday,’ she replied.
Digging her hands deep into her pockets, Jinnie strode towards home. Time to confront Dhassim, and figure out where her life was going.
Chapter 18
Sam was makingsnail-like progress with his latest book. Sometimes the words flowed, but this evening was like wading through wet cement. He took another sip of whisky, hoping it might lubricate his stagnant brain cells.
Things hadn’t got off to a great start with a call earlier from his ex-wife. She’d been on a rant about their son, Sean, following a visit to see him at his shared digs in Stirling.
‘He’s living in total squalor!’ Lucy shrieked down the phone. ‘I went to use the bathroom and I have never seen anything more revolting in my life. Hairs everywhere, and the toilet was a health hazard. I had to hover in case I caught something. And the kitchen… Well, the concept of washing up must be alien to them. Dishes stacked high, and encrusted with God knows what.’ She paused before delivering the punchline. ‘You need totalkto him, Sam!’
Mother and son had a strained relationship. Growing up, Sean had been a bit of a daydreamer and struggled academically. His passion was writing — like father, like son — while other subjects such as maths and science went over his head. Lucy was something of a tiger mum, relentless in her quest to push Sean to greater heights. She questioned his teachers’ abilities at parents’ evenings, poor Sean squirming beside her. Sam tried to get along when he could to play good cop, but he felt helpless in the face of her ferocity. Instead, he focused on spending as much time as he could with Sean of an evening, when Lucy was out wining and dining clients or honing her physique at the gym. They’d work through past papers and online exercises, Sam reassuring his son that straight As and a degree didn’t guarantee a happy life. What mattered was finding something you loved doing, and following your dreams.
The little differences between he and his wife, which seemed insignificant in the early, heady days of their relationship, gradually developed into unbreachable chasms. Lucy accused Sam of being too soft with Sean, obsessed with his books, and uninterested in her. He pleaded guilty as charged, and they agreed to separate. Sean chose to stay with Sam for his final year of school, knuckled down in the run-up to his Advanced Highers, and secured a place at Stirling to study English. Lucy moved back to her home town of Dumfries, and was now in a relationship with a fellow financial advisor.
Sam had managed to appease her by promising to have a word with Sean. When he’d visited Sean, the flat hadn’t beenthatbad. It wouldn’t win any health and hygiene awards, but they were students with better things to do than clean loos or soak grimy saucepans. Sam suspected, perhaps unfairly, that Sean had deliberately left the place in chaos to wind his mum up to the max. He was good at pushing her buttons: payback for all the years she’d pushed his.
The whisky glass was empty. He topped it up, and ate the last cheese-topped cracker that constituted his supper. Sam typed another sentence, read it back, and deleted it. The cursor blinked at him mockingly.Give up, loser.With a sigh, he saved the file and closed the computer down. What he needed was some company: an escape from the rambling old house that was too big for one person, and echoed with the ghosts of happier times.
Wrapped up in his favourite tweed coat and heavy scarf, Sam headed to The Jekyll and Hyde. Frost sparkled on the pavement, and his breath condensed in front of him. He wondered if Jinnie would be working. The thought that she might brought an unexpected glow to his frozen cheeks. She was a lovely girl — woman — whose presence in the shop had made a big impact on Sam’s life. Going to work, knowing he’d see Jinnie several times a week, made him happier than he’d realised. He enjoyed her company and good humour, and she was undoubtedly very attractive. Since splitting with Lucy, and Sean’s departure for uni, he’d convinced himself that being on his own was what he wanted. Lucy had loved hosting lavish dinner parties, filling the house with loud, opinionated people who talked over one another and oohed and aahed over the food. Little did they know that his ex-wife could barely boil an egg, hiring caterers to prepare everything in advance.
Yes, Sam had believed that a solitary existence — the lonely life of a writer —was right for him. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
The warmth of the pub enveloped him like a blanket as he pushed open the door. A tantalising smell hung in the air: meaty and mouth-watering, with a hint of spice, reminding Sam of his pathetic snack earlier. His good spirits drooped a little when he saw who was behind the bar. Young Jamie, dour as ever, and, surprisingly, Mags.
‘How are you, my lovely?’ she chirruped as he approached. ‘And how’s Lesley? Haven’t seen her in ages.’
Sam knew who she meant. He assured her that Lesley was fine and fumbled for his wallet. Damn it! In his haste to escape, he’d left it on the hall table. ‘Sorry, Mags. I seem to have come out empty-handed. Would it be OK if…’
Mags smiled and waved away his attempt to explain. ‘Tell me what you’d like and square up next time you’re passing. You’ll be having something to eat? The menu this evening is on the … on the…’ A look of frustration crossed her face as she pointed at the blackboard. ‘It’s on that black thing.’
Sam ordered Thai green curry and a pint of lager. He glanced around the room, recognising a few faces, including Jamie’s mum, Angela. He didn’t know her really. They’d exchanged hellos and she’d called into the shop once or twice, looking for knickknacks. He was aware of the rumours surrounding her. Alcohol problems, mental health issues, the usual fodder for a village that thrived on idle gossip. She was on her own, gazing into a glass of clear liquid as if it held the answers to all the universe’s problems. Sam looked for a spare seat, but the pub was crowded and he didn’t fancy eating at the bar.
‘A penny for them?’ Sam dropped into a chair beside Angela, foaming pint in hand. Up close she looked tired. There were purple shadows under her eyes, and her hand trembled as she reached for her glass.
‘Oh, hi there.’ Her greeting was unenthusiastic, and Sam considered making his excuses and moving. Then Angela gave a watery smile, and raised her glass. It was half-empty, and a folded crisp packet lay in front of her.
‘Can I get you another?’ Sam asked. ‘And I’ve just ordered some food if you fancy joining me.’ He wouldn’t normally be so forward, but something about Angela’s solitude and sadness had touched a nerve.
‘That’s so kind of you. I’m not hungry, but another one of these would be lovely. It’s a soda water and lime, by the way.’ Angela’s expression —I know what you were thinking— made Sam flush with guilt. He hurried to the bar and ordered her drink from Jamie, just as Mags appeared with his plate of curry.
‘There you go,’ she said, setting it down. ‘Last serving, so it’s your lucky day.’
Sam returned to the table with the food, drink and an extra set of cutlery, just in case.
‘Thank you.’ Angela accepted the glass and they toasted each other. He took a mouthful — absolutely delicious — and gestured to the spare fork and knife.
