Page 34 of A Wish for Jinnie
Angela managed to look both incredulous and delighted. ‘Thank you! Thank you so much! I won’t let you down, I promise.’ And she hugged Jo tightly just as Jinnie appeared, toting another carrier bag.
‘What’s all this about?’ she asked. ‘Actually, don’t tell me. You can reveal all over afternoon tea. And just to be clear, the jam goes on first,thenthe cream. We can’t be friends otherwise!’
Chapter 32
‘I knowthis is going to sound a little strange, but —’ Jinnie undid the knot of her scarf, then retied it again.
Sam had texted her on New Year’s Day to say she didn’t need to come in until the afternoon of the fourth. Part of her hadn’t wanted to come in at all, but she wasn’t in a position to quit just yet. And in truth, the thought of not seeing Sam hurt a lot more than the knowledge that they could only be friends.
‘What’s up?’ Sam moved closer, so close she could see where he’d missed a bit shaving —I must buy a pack of cheap razors for Dhassim, she thought. She caught a whiff of his cologne, and noted a small hole on the sleeve of his jumper.He needs the love of a good woman, she thought, then gave herself the mental equivalent of a kick up the arse. Sam was an adult, capable of darning his own holes — did anyone actuallydothat nowadays? — and Jinnie needed to get a grip and say what needed to be said.
‘Well, I was just wondering … wanted to ask … if I could borrow some of your clothes?’There, she’d said it. And it didn’t sound remotely weird. Nope, a totally normal request.
‘Sorry, did you just say that you wanted to borrow my clothes?’ Sam looked himself up and down, then back at Jinnie with a bemused (or was it amused?) expression. Threadbare jumper aside, his attire was perfectly acceptable. Jinnie had already decided Sam was the stereotypical author; a little bit shabby, but he’d scrub up well when the occasion warranted it. She could imagine him at some swanky writers’ gathering, dressed in a tuxedo and waxing lyrical about his latest book with a martini in his hand. Oh, and Jinnie justhappenedto be next to him, all off-the-shoulder slinkiness and sequins, gazing adoringly at his chiselled jawline —
‘Jinnie?’ Suddenly Sam was perilously close, his mouth inches from her face. He’d clearly been chewing gum, a waft of mint tickling her nostrils. Memories ofthe kisscame flooding back, although their mutual breath had been more mulled wine than fragrant herb. ‘You were saying…’
‘Yes. Yes! It’s because of my, erm, cousin. Who’s just arrived unexpectedly. And … his bag got lost on the way so he doesn’t have a thing to wear.’Apart from harem pants or girlie joggers.
Sam carried on staring at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. Why, oh why hadn’t she prepared a spiel before she started this? Now she’d have to wing it and hope Sam didn’t see through her transparent lies (and glow-in-the-dark cheeks).
‘He’s notreallymy cousin, more of a second cousin twice — or maybe three times — removed. We’re friends on Facebook, and he messaged to say he’d like to come and visit me. In Scotland. Because he’s from… He’s from…’Hell’s bells and buckets of blood!Another favourite expression of Wilma’s. The woman should write a book:Miscellaneous Swearwords And Colloquialisms For All Occasions. ‘Jersey. He’s from Jersey.’
‘As in the Channel Islands?’
Jinnie wasn’t entirely sure. She had a vague recollection of her parents showing her re-runs of a TV show featuring a detective with a pretty cool car, but was that Jersey, or Guernsey? And wherewerethe Channel Islands exactly? Well, she’d started, so she'd better finish.
‘That's it. He’s only here for a couple of days and rather than have to buy new stuff, I thought he could borrow some of yours. Otherwise he’ll have to wear my gear, and he’s not too keen on that idea.’Although I might have to wrestle him out of my trackies.
‘If he’s only here for a couple of days, can’t he just wash his stuff?’ Sam took a step back, his brow still creased. ‘Not that I mind lending you some of my clothes, but I’d have to pop home first. Not a problem, if you can hold the fort for a little while.’
‘That’s fine.’ As customers were hardly beating down the door in search of collectable curiosities, Jinnie could probably hold the fort for a week without breaking a sweat. Ooh, there was an idea!
‘He — my sort-of cousin — is terribly sweaty. Honestly, you would notbelievethe damp patches under his arms when he arrived! And I don’t have a tumble drier, so I’d never be able to dry his stuff in time.’ For someone totally crap at lying, Jinnie felt she was doing pretty well. Even her scarlet cheeks had cooled down. Although as Sam touched her shoulder reassuringly, she felt a heat rising that had nothing to do with telling fibs.
‘I’ll grab a couple of pairs of trousers, T-shirts and a jumper or two,’ he said. ‘I might have an unopened pack of boxers and socks too, as I’m guessing your cousin wouldn’t be too happy wearing someone else’s underwear. Are we roughly the same size?’
Only if Dhassim grew an extra foot (height-wise, not adding another actual foot), and bulked up a bit. Still, genies can’t be choosers.
‘He’s smaller than you, but trouser legs can be rolled up and baggy is fine. He’ll be grateful for your help,’ said Jinnie. She drew the line at asking to borrow a pair of Sam’s shoes. Firstly because his feet — all two of them — were clearly several sizes bigger than Dhassim’s dainty ones. Secondly, because asking to wear someone else’s shoes was, well, a step too far. He couldn’t go out in his pointy slippers, so he’d have to wear Jinnie’s hiking boots or trainers. Both were in pristine condition, as Jinnie didn’t hike and certainly didn’t run. Not unless someone was chasing her.
Promising to be back in under an hour, Sam left. His parting words were: ‘Why don’t you drop the stuff at home when I get back, then bring your cousin to the shop? I’d love to meet … what did you say his name was?’
Caught on the hop again. A name like Dhassim might raise questions about his origins, as would his exotic appearance, but maybe Jinnie could persuade him to adopt a new persona. Perhaps something a little … French?
‘David. His name’s David, but pronounced the French way.Daaa-veed. I think his mum was French, or came from a French-speaking country.’
In the end Sam was back within forty-five minutes. Jinnie was wrapping up a cut-glass ashtray and decanter for a customer when he burst in.
‘Thanks. Have a good day!’ Jinnie trilled, glad that Sam had arrived while she was busy. Unlike ten minutes earlier, when she’d been scrolling through Facebook and sharing cute dog photos.
‘Here you go.’ Sam hefted a large carrier bag onto the counter. ‘Hopefully there’s everything David will need. I also stuck in some cologne and body wash I got for Christmas, which I’ll never use.’
Before she could protest, Sam hustled Jinnie out of the shop. ‘Bring your cousin back with you. We can have a brew here, then show him the Cranley highlights. Or at least treat him to a drink or two at the pub.’
Striding back to the cottage, Jinnie psyched herself up for what lay ahead. A crash course in a new identity, a quick change of clothing, then introducing Dhassim first to Sam, then the staff and customers of The Jekyll and Hyde. Really, it couldn’t bethatdifficult to pull it off. Could it?
Chapter 33
