Page 36 of A Wish for Jinnie
Jinnie didn’t want to rain on his parade, but while possible, she thought it unlikely. How could the two lamps turn upagainin the same place? But then who’d have believed a genie would come into her life? Now wasn’t the time to dwell on such matters, though. The lure of alcohol was stronger than ever.
‘Here you go.’ Sam handed the water to Dhassim, who gulped it down in one. ‘We could skip the pub if you’d rather go home and rest.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Jinnie declared. ‘David is fine — aren’t you, David? Something alcoholic will soon sort him out.’Or send him staggering around the room, based on his last encounter with booze.
Off they went, Sam striding ahead. Jinnie held back, not just to ogle his impressive rear view.
Dhassim shuffled along at her side, the sights of Cranley failing to inspire more than a random sigh. ‘Quite attractive, but rather old, no?’
For a second Jinnie thought he was talking about the appearance of the high street, which could do with a lick or two of paint. Then she twigged that Dhassim was referring to Sam. ‘He’s only in his forties,’ she replied indignantly. ‘And that’s rich, coming from someone older than Methuselah.’ Ignoring Dhassim’s blank look, she hustled him inside the pub, sending up a silent prayer that this outing wouldn’t end in disaster.
Chapter 34
Sam’s gazeflitted between Jinnie and David. They’d all ordered cheeseburgers and chips, with a glass of Pinot Noir for Sam and Jinnie, and a half-pint of lager for David. He was spooning the froth off the top with his fork, and had already broken his burger down into its individual components.Curiouser and curiouser.
There was something not quite right about the whole distant cousin/lost baggage/Jersey story. Perhaps David was actually Jinnie’s lover — but why the need to lie? And they didn’t strike Sam as a couple, more like a harassed mother dealing with a stroppy child. At one point, Jinnie rapped David on the knuckles when he took a bite of gherkin and spat it out on the plate. As she did so, she caught Sam’s eye and blushed.God, she’s pretty.He batted away the thought, remembering that they’d agreed to be friends. Anything else would be a mistake. Sam’s own baggage — difficult ex-wife, needy son and self-imposed solitude as a writer — couldn’t disappear as easily as someone’s belongings at an airport.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’ Ed appeared, and both Sam and Jinnie gawped at him open-mouthed.
‘You’ve shaved off your beard!’ cried Jinnie. Sam noted resentfully that he was better-looking without it. In his experience, men often grew beards to hide weak chins or sagging jawlines. Not Ed. He looked like he could moonlight as a male model in a hipster magazine.
‘Yeah.’ Ed stroked his chin, clearly not used to the lack of hair. ‘It started to freak Mum out, and she didn’t recognise me sometimes, so I decided it ought to go.’
After brief introductions Jinnie followed Ed to the bar, where they stood for several minutes, chatting. A sour-faced Jamie served customers, his manner grouchier than ever. Sam attempted to engage David in a discussion about his relationship with Jinnie, but got no more than their alleged contact on Facebook and this subsequent visit. He sank back in his chair, still aware of Jinnie and Ed talking at the bar, and being far more tactile than he liked.
Finally Jinnie returned, shiny hair bobbing as she sat down. ‘Sorry about that. Ed just wanted to put me in the picture about Mags. He’s really worried about her; that’s why he’s taken more time off work.’
She explained that Mags's short-term memory was worsening, and things she used to enjoy were slipping away. ‘Ed said she was always a huge reader. Now, she has piles of books that she can’t remember starting. Ken bought her a Kindle, but she threw it in the bin. It’s so sad, Sam. There’s my gran, still sharp as a tack at eighty-six, and Mags is maybe thirty years younger and losing her grip a bit more every day.’ Tears filled Jinnie’s eyes, and Sam wanted nothing more than to pull her close. But he didn’t. Hecouldn’t.
‘Can I get you something else to drink?’ Sam asked David, who’d devoured his burger and was now staring at his beer.
‘A soda water and lime would be good,’ said Jinnie. ‘And one for me too, if that’s OK.’
Standing at the bar, Sam caught Ed’s eye and placed the order. ‘Jinnie was telling me about your mum,’ Sam said, as Ed added slices of lime to the drinks. ‘That’s rough. And it can’t be easy for you, taking so much time off work to be here.’ Assuming that Edwaspurely around to help with Mags, and didn’t have an ulterior motive. Sam had noticed more than once how Ed looked at Jinnie. Heck, the way most men with a pulse and semi-decent eyesight looked at Jinnie.
‘To be honest, I’m planning on jacking in my job and finding something in Edinburgh. Then I can be closer to Mum and help Dad out more.’ Ed accepted Sam’s handful of coins and worked the till. ‘My boss has been understanding, but I’m thinking of setting myself up as freelance, which will give me more flexibility.’
Returning with the drinks, Sam overheard David mumbling to Jinnie about a lamp. Surely he wasn’t referring to the mysterious second lamp? Come to think of it, David’s funny turn in the shop had happened the moment he’d mentioned it. And if his memory served him correctly, Jinnie had also had a strange reaction when Sam remembered they’d come as a pair. But what could possibly connect them to a battered old lamp? Might they suffer from some rare phobia? Wait — Jinnie didn’t, as she’d happily taken the first one home with her.
On the pretext of visiting the bathroom, Sam took out his phone and did a quick Google search. Right, an irrational fear of lamps.Dadaphobia,orFaxmetus. The first sounded more like a fear of fathers, the other a rare medical condition. But the weirdest phobia, according to the website, wasanatidaephobia:the fear that somewhere in the world a duck is watching you. That made an aversion to lamps seem quite normal.
Chuckling to himself, Sam rejoined Jinnie and David. ‘When do you head home?’ he asked. ‘Jinnie said it was a short visit. Shame if you don’t have time to see Edinburgh.’
‘He leaves tomorrow,’ said Jinnie. ‘Work commitments, and all that.’
David nodded, otherwise engrossed in opening condiment sachets and squeezing the contents on to his fingers. ‘Eurgh!’ he exclaimed, after a mouthful of mustard. ‘That is almost as vile as those green things.’
‘David is a picky eater,’ continued Jinnie, handing him a wad of napkins from the dispenser. ‘He prefers sweet stuff.’
But he’s never tasted mustard before, and doesn’t know what a gherkin is?Sam was starting to wonder if David was from another planet, or had spent his life in some strange cult. ‘What do you do for a living?’ he enquired.
Jinnie had just taken a large mouthful of her drink, and proceeded to choke on it. Sam got up and slapped her on the back. Her face was puce, and she was gasping like a goldfish liberated from its bowl. ‘Breathe, Jinnie!’ he urged, aware that her distress was attracting attention around the pub.
‘Aah, aah, ooooh!’ Jinnie let out a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp. Sam resumed his seat. David looked completely uninterested, instead perusing the dessert section of the menu.
‘Sorry. About the choking and the … unattractive noises.’ Relative calm resumed, and Jinnie fluttered her hands around in a generalI’m fine, move on, folksgesture. Across the room, Ed gave a thumbs-up. Sam reciprocated, although a small, ridiculously petty part of him wanted to stick up two fingers.
‘No problem. Now, where were we?’ Sam was glad Jinnie had recovered. He was less glad to see Ed approaching, sleek jawline to the fore.
