Page 28 of A Wish for Jinnie
Two hours togo till midnight, and The Jekyll and Hyde was crammed to capacity. Everyone was dressed to the nines, with many of the men in kilts and the women sporting tartan accessories. Ken had enlisted the services of an old schoolfriend to play the bagpipes when the bells signalled the start of the New Year. He was currently performing a few practice tunes which suggested he hadn’t picked up the instrument for some time.
Jinnie had been working flat out since seven, alongside Rose, Ken and Jamie. At times the queue at the bar had been four deep, the whole of Cranley out in force to celebrate ‘The Bells’, as Hogmanay was also known.
‘I hope he improves before “Auld Lang Syne,”’ yelled Rose over the hubbub. ‘Right now it sounds like he’s squeezing an asthmatic donkey.’
Jinnie skimmed the head off a pint and giggled. She needed a few laughs; her mood was distinctly on the dark side. She still hadn’t shaken off the mortification of Sam rejecting her advances. How had she got it so terribly wrong? And there was still no sign of Ed tonight. Her feelings for the two men flipped around constantly.Maybe I should leave Cranley, she thought.Bunk up with Hannah again, and put some distance between the pair of them. But that would involve taking Dhassim with her, and Jinnie knew that wasn’t an option.
‘Crikey, Janette’s pulling out all the stops,’ said Ken. He was oozing bonhomie, but beneath the ‘host with the most’ exterior, his face betrayed his inner turmoil. Mags was resting upstairs. She’d been down earlier, completely confused by the Hogmanay celebrations and convinced that they were about to enter the millennium. ‘Everything’s going to crash, they say,’ she’d whispered to Jinnie. ‘I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds bad.’
Janette had produced a couple of tape measures and criss-crossed them on the floor like Highland swords. She was jigging merrily over them, arms aloft and pseudo-kilt flapping alarmingly. Luckily, unlike the menfolk — who according to tradition should wear nothing under their kilts — Janette was sporting a pair of Bridget Jones-style pants which were visible each time she twirled and whooped.
‘Ooh, Sam’s arrived.’ Rose’s eyelashes went into full-on flutter mode. She was only twenty-one, but it seemed every woman with a pulse went a bit wobbly when the antiques man paid a visit. Jinnie’s pulse quickened too, because she didn’t know how to deal with him.
‘Hi, Jinnie.’ Sam reached the bar, the regulars parting like the Red Sea in his wake. Was he really that important? In a tiny community like Cranley, he probably was. A big fish in a small pond. And Jinnie had been reeled in by his presence; caught hook, line and sinker by his easy charm and kind words, which she now realised were not exclusive to her.What an idiot I’ve been.
‘Hi, Sam.’ Her voice was heavy with unspoken meaning. What she really wanted to say was:Hi, Sam. Thanks for leading me up the garden path with a kiss that meant nothing to you, but sent me into a tailspin. Thanks for rebuffing me, and making me feel as important as an amoeba. But … you’re one of the nicest men I’ve ever met, and now I don’t know how to act around you.
‘It’s, erm, pretty lively,’ said Sam, gesturing around him. The inhabitants of the tiny village were going hell for leather: some joining in with Janette’s improvised jig, others joining arms and singing about old acquaintances being forgotten, or remembered. A bit early, perhaps, but they were fuelled with alcohol and a desire to turn the next page.
‘Have you eaten?’ Sam eyed the blackboard. On it was chalked traditional fare for the evening: Cock-a-Leekie soup, venison pie and Tipsy Laird trifle.
Jinnie shook her head. She’d been starving a few minutes before, but Sam’s arrival had created a tight bubble of anxiety in her stomach. ‘Not hungry,’ she replied. ‘And I’m kind of busy, so…’
Ignoring Sam’s hurt expression, Jinnie dashed to the other end of the bar. Kylie and her posse were loitering there, wearing even less clothing than they had in the cocktail-making episode. To Jinnie’s relief they’d already been served by Jamie, and each was supping a lethal-looking dark-green concoction. She didn’t know if her cocktail skills still existed, but making gin and tonics and pouring beers was good enough right now.
Angela materialised at the bar. Wearing a fitted teal-blue dress and light make-up, she looked fresher and more relaxed than usual. ‘Hi, Jinnie, good to see you. I’m looking forward to our trip into town.’ She smiled, and Jinnie realised just how pretty she was.Perhaps Angela’s the reason why Sam isn’t interested in me in that way.
‘Me too!’ Jinnie hoped her enthusiastic response didn’t sound as fake as it felt. If Sam was attracted to someone else, there was nothing she could do about it. Hadn’t she told herself repeatedly that the last thing she needed was the complication of a man in her life? It was just a shame that the briefest of kisses had persuaded her otherwise.
At just after eleven Ken hustled her over to a table and plonked down a steaming bowl of soup and a basket of bread. ‘Can’t have you keeling over before the magic hour,’ he chided, returning a moment later with a large glass of wine. ‘Now get that lot down you. I’m off to check on Mags, but Rose and Jamie can hold the fort for a wee while.’
As he headed off Jinnie spied Jo, huddled in a corner with a group of people. They waved at each other, Jo giving a subtle eye-roll suggesting she was desperate to escape. Jinnie took a piece of bread, tore a chunk off, and dunked it in the soup. It tasted divine; just right to settle her wobbly stomach. She was just raising a spoonful to her lips when —
‘Do you mind if I join you?’ Sam stood before her, pint in hand, with an apprehensive look on his face.
Jinnie’s instinct was to say,Yes, I do mind. Please take your annoying good looks and charm somewhere else.But that would sound churlish, and for now, he was still her boss.
‘Sure. Knock yourself out.’ That didn’t soundremotelychurlish, did it?
Jinnie slurped her soup noisily, and contemplated throwing in an Archie-style burp for good measure. Then again, she didn’t need to make herself seem unattractive. Sam couldn’t have made it clearer the other day that he didn’t fancy her. He’d literallyduckedwhen she’d got too close (not that she’d been aiming for another kiss, absolutely not), holding her at arm’s-length and mumbling about getting back to do some writing.
‘Jinnie.’ Sam sat down — clearly he had a hide like a rhino — and looked directly at her. Jinnie stared back, remembering the staring competitions she’d had with Archie when they were younger. She’d always won, since Archie couldn't focus for more than twenty seconds. She wasn’t going to blink, or give the slightest hint that this was an awkward encounter. Yes, her eyes were watering and her brain was shrieking ‘I’m a nonentity, get me out of here!’, but she would stand her ground.
‘Listen, I’m so sorry about what happened. I mean the kiss.’
I know what you mean. I’m not totally stupid. And please don’t make this more awkward than it is.
‘It’s not you, it’s me.’OK, cliché klaxon on full red alert.
‘I like you, Jinnie. I really, really like you, but it’s not that easy. I’m a divorced man with a difficult ex-wife, and a son I adore but worry about constantly. You’re a young woman with the world at your feet, and I just don’t want to —’
‘How are two of my favourite people in the cosy enclave of Cranley getting on?’ Jo looked flushed and a tiny bit sozzled. She pulled up a chair, sat down, and regarded them both with slightly glassy eyes.
‘We’re just tickety-boo,’ answered Jinnie. Now she was morphing into a creature from a bygone era. Was it the flapper period?The Great Gatsby,complete with swinging pearls and headbands? Glancing at her watch, she realised they were moments from the Bells. And still no sign of Ed.So what? Is he my back-up plan? The fall guy if the main man doesn’t step up to the plate?
Jinnie looked at her rapidly congealing bowl of soup and pushed it aside. She saw Ken, circulating with a tray of fizz. ‘Need to go and help with the champers,’ she announced, and got up.
The countdown began, the whole pub watching the screen as Edinburgh prepared to welcome in the New Year. That irritating woman from Scottish TV was screeching above the roar of the crowds and the fireworks, and Janette was snuggling up to the bagpipe man.
