Page 30 of A Wish for Jinnie
‘I was wondering…’ continued Dhassim, sneaking a toffee finger from the leftover box of Christmas chocolates.
This sounds ominous, thought Jinnie.
‘If you can’t think of anything — and there’s no rush, I’m not going anywhere — maaaybe you could grant a little wish for me.’ He fluttered his enviably long eyelashes at Jinnie. Hers were stumpy little things, reliant on liberal coatings of mascara to lengthen them. Should she wish for better eyelashes? No, that definitely came into the category of frivolous.
‘And what would that be?’ she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. Perhaps Dhassim was pining for love himself, although she wasn’t prepared to upload his profile to Tinder. Mind you, he’d probably adore posing for a shirtless shot and giving a come-hither look. And how would he describe himself?Mythological, manic and prone to hissy fits?Jinnie wasn’t even sure if he preferred men or women, or if genies were permitted to have relationships beyond the master/servant double act.
‘Well, I don’t get out much, as you know, and I’ve been on my ownio a lot recently…’ This remark was accompanied by a look befitting a puppy scolded for chewing a slipper.
Sheesh, if I don’t get my jim-jams on soon, I’ll be nose-down in my lunch. ‘Look, can we discuss this properly after I’ve been to see my folks? I am knackered, and I need some serious shut-eye.’
Dhassim strode from the kitchen, harem pants flapping in harmony with his peeved mood. Come to think of it, they hadn’t been washed since he’d emerged from the lamp, which probably accounted for their slightly crispy appearance. Jinnie could offer to wash them, but doubted Cranley’s only boutique offered much in the way of replacement. She couldn’t see Dhassim taking kindly to polyester pantaloons in day-glo orange.
‘Night night,’ she called.
There was no reply: just the sound of the TV volume being cranked up, the maniacal cackles of the leprechaun following Jinnie upstairs.
* * *
‘Wilma’s not doing too well.’Jinnie’s mum ushered her into the kitchen, where the table was already set for lunch. ‘Your dad popped round to see her last night, and found her passed out on the living room floor.’
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ Jinnie felt shocked to the core. ‘Where is she now, in hospital?’
‘No sweetheart, I’m right here, and there’s nowt wrong with me.’ Her gran stood in the doorway, hands on hips, face a picture of defiance. ‘I just took a wee tumble, that’s all. I wisnae passed out, just took me a while to get my bearings.’
Jinnie rushed over and hugged her gran tightly. She inhaled her familiar scent, laced with something not so familiar —
‘Gran, how come you smell of bubblegum?’ Jinnie sniffed again; there was definitely a hint of the chewy confection.
Wilma produced something from the pocket of her cardigan. ‘Your father decided that I should trythis’ — she waggled what Jinnie realised was an e-cigarette — ‘to get me to kick the fags. And he very thoughtfully bought two different flavours for me to try. Lemon cheesecake, and this one.’ Wilma sucked hard on the device, and emitted a fragrant plume of steam. ‘Absolutely disgusting.’ She made a face. ‘Right, I’m off out the back for a proper smoke.’
With a sigh of resignation, Kath began serving up pot roast and vegetables. ‘Stubborn as a mule. Honestly, Jinnie, she was grey as can be when your dad brought her here. Point blank refused to see the doctor, but at least she agreed to stay the night.’ She shouted to Rob and Archie to come and eat, then took Jinnie’s hands, smiling wanly. ‘Happy New Year, darling. How was your evening?’
Jinnie gave a short recap of the Hogmanay events at the pub, and how nice it had been to be part of the local celebrations.
They were laughing together at Janette’s tape-measure swords when Rob and Archie appeared. ‘Happy New Year.’ Rob pulled Jinnie in for a cuddle.
Archie bumped shoulders with her and helped himself to a beer from the fridge. ‘Hope it’s a good one, sis. Looking pretty epic for me, if I say so myself.’
When they were all seated round the table, Archie piled his plate high and smirked. No one paid any attention, so he stood up, tapped his glass with a fork, and waited.
‘What’s up?’ Rob asked. ‘Do you want us to say the Lord’s Prayer?’
‘Is your jock itch still causing you grief?’ added Jinnie.
‘Can we not just get stuck in? My stomach thinks my throat’s cut,’ said Wilma, reaching for the wine bottle.
‘Well, ye of little faith, I just wanted to announce that a certainbig name’ — Archie did finger waggle quote marks — ‘has been following my music. And he’s very interested in collaborating with me on some pretty amazing stuff.’
Silence followed; apart from Wilma coughing with gusto, and Kath leaping to her feet to fetch the forgotten gravy.
‘Do tell, darling brother.’ Jinnie was deeply cynical about Archie achieving anything that involved effort on his part. So much so that she wouldn’t be surprised if their mum had given Will.i.am a call. She was a huge fan of ‘The Voice’, even if she hadn’t a clue what he was on about.
‘It’s Über Jean, and he’s massive right now. Everyone wants to work with him. And he contactedme!’Archie looked more animated than Jinnie had ever seen him.
‘Why would someone call themselves after a vegetable?’ Kath plonked down the gravy boat. ‘Nasty slimy things. Tried to make a moussaka once, but couldn’t stomach them. They were horrible, weren’t they Rob?’
As her dad muttered in agreement, Jinnie gave a high five to Archie. She’d actually heard of Über Jean; his collaborations with famous artists had pushed his profile sky-high. If, somehow, he saw something of value in Archie’s work, good on him.
