Page 4 of A Wish for Jinnie
Jinnie’s bottom lip had quivered perilously as she scrutinised the contents and realised he’d overpaid her. By quite a lot.
Before she could speak, Sam held up his index finger and touched it lightly to her lips. ‘Trains cost money, and I suspect your night out might involve a few drinks and a kebab or two.’ He smiled. ‘Enjoy, but not so much that you decide to abandon me.’
Sam had also waved aside Jinnie’s offer to pay for a few things she’d taken a shine to: an Indonesian tapestry wall hanging, a chipped ceramic bowl, and a battered old oil lamp with blackened stones around its circumference. ‘They’ve been kicking around here for ages,’ he said, ‘and I can’t even remember where they came from. Probably a car boot sale. Don’t let it slip, but that’s one of my favourite scavenging grounds.’
Back at the cottage, Jinnie tossed her toiletries in a bag and paused. The little black dress swung forlornly on its hook, back and forth like a pendulum of misery. It had been an impulse buy, a desperate attempt to cheer herself up after Mark’s heartless dumping. The day he’d announced they were over. His actual words being: ‘Sorry, but I just don’t find you attractive anymore.’ They remained seared on her heart, whispered in her ear all the long nights she’d struggled to sleep in the aftermath. The stupid dress hadn’t helped. All it had achieved was to further empty her dwindling bank account. Still, she’d bought it and hadn’t a clue where the receipt was, so…
Jinnie folded the dress and placed it at the top of her holdall. She’d wear it out tonight with the girls, as they were hitting up a new bar in the West End and Hannah had texted to say the dress code was ‘smart’. All she needed were her best pair of black suede heels and a statement necklace to add some bling. Opening her jewellery box, Jinnie pushed aside several necklaces until she found the right one — a thick, twisted silver rope. She lifted it up and —
There it was. Dazzling, beautiful and a heartbreaking reminder of what would never be. Her engagement ring, a cushion-cut solitaire diamond set in a platinum band. Mark had, surprisingly, not demanded it back, and Jinnie had ripped it from her finger the day he told her it was over. She’d briefly considered tossing it into the Water of Leith in dramatic, spurned-fiancée fashion, but common sense had prevailed. She didn’t knowexactlyhow much it had cost, but several zeros were involved. Perhaps she could sell or pawn it, if her financial situation got worse.
With fifteen minutes before she needed to leave to catch her train, Jinnie unpacked her bag of swag from the shop. She’d hang the tapestry over her bed when she got back. The bowl would look nice on the coffee table, filled with potpourri to mask the damp pong that no amount of window-opening or air-freshener-squirting seemed to eradicate. As for the lamp … it was a sad-looking thing, with several dents in the lid and a layer of filth that would need some serious elbow grease. Why had she taken it? Maybe because its downtrodden, unloved appearance mirrored her own life. All it needed — allsheneeded — was a good old rub-down. A stripping-away of all that was tarnished and tainted. She’d party her socks off tonight, but onherterms. If a man came on to her, Jinnie would laugh and chat, but she’d go home alone. Well, back to Hannah’s lumpy sofa bed.
Jinnie pulled on her old, comfortable jacket. Mark had called it her ‘bin man coat’, which had wounded at the time. Now, she didn’t care. If she told herself that often enough, she might start to believe it.
She picked up the lamp, and gave it a swift once-over with her sleeve. Then she looked at her watch. ‘Oh my!’ she exclaimed, picked up her bag, and ran for her train.
Seconds later, a strangethump-thump-thumpnoise echoed around the room…
Chapter 7
‘Jinnnnnnnie!’
Hannah’s greeting could have shattered glasses several streets away, and her hug threatened to crush a few ribs too. Clearly, she and her pals had already been imbibing. Through the hallway Jinnie could see a kitchen table cluttered with bottles, and Pink pulsated through the audio system.
Jinnie shrugged off her jacket and accepted a tumbler of something frothy and yellow.What the hell is this?She took a sip, grimaced, and headed to the kitchen. A Diet Coke or glass of water was what she needed. At least, for now.
‘So, hun, how’s life in Hicksville?’ hiccupped Hannah. She giggled and pulled mutual friend Shona in for a cuddle. There were five of them hitting the town — Jinnie, Hannah, Shona, Shalini and Jacqui. All were dressed to the nines, bar Jinnie who’d travelled in jeans, T-shirt and Converse boots.
‘I’ll just pop upstairs and get changed, OK?’ she murmured to Hannah, grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge. A few thirsty gulps later, she was stripping off amidst the chaos that was Hannah’s bedroom. For a woman who took such care of her appearance, her room resembled a crime scene. One in which a gang of thugs took delight in emptying every cupboard and drawer on the floor, then paused to eat several bowls of Rice Krispies and apply every item of make-up at their disposal before strewing face powder, eyeshadow and blusher across the dressing table. Even the bedding was more crumpled than a paper bag. If Hannah owned an iron, she only used it for clothing.
The black dress looked great, the chunky necklace complementing its simplicity. Sheer black tights and heels completed the look. Jinnie touched up her lipstick, checked she had her purse and went back downstairs. Hannah wolf-whistled, and gave Jinnie a double thumbs-up.
The new bar, Diablo, was a fifteen-minute walk from Hannah’s flat. On the way they passed the Scott Monument, and Jinnie’s thoughts turned to Sam. What would he be doing on a Friday night? Typing furiously on his computer? Slobbing in front of the TV? Or wining and dining some gorgeous woman? Damn, she still hadn’t looked him up online, or quizzed Jo on his background. Not that it was any of her business, but…
‘Any talent in Cranley?’ asked Hannah as they queued at the bar for a round of drinks. The place was packed, and the other three were circling like sequinned sharks in search of a table. ‘You mentioned your new boss, what’s he like?’
A barman waved at them, and Jinnie yelled out their order over the din of the crowd. They’d agreed on a kitty, each putting twenty pounds towards the drinks. As it was happy hour the drinks were half price, but she hoped they’d sip them rather than down them.
Hannah nudged her. ‘Come on, spill!’
Jinnie sighed. ‘He’s lovely, but I’m not looking for a man right now, Hannah. I need to heal myself before I can let someone else into my heart.’ Yuck, where hadthatcome from?
Luckily, Hannah had already tottered off towards the girls, who’d squeezed in with a group of twenty-something guys — all frayed jeans, checked shirts and man buns, clutching pints and looking bemused at their new companions. Shalini was telling a joke, already creased up before the punchline.
Shona and Jacqui eagerly snatched their drinks from Hannah. Jinnie, behind her, gulped as they, well,gulpeddown half the contents.
‘Budge up!’ screeched Hannah at the lumberjack posse. How they’d ended up in this place, surely a far cry from their usual post-student haunts, was anyone’s guess. Probably the lure of cheap beer, the froth of which adhered to their chins. These were shrouded in beards, or covered in a smattering of wispy hairs which Jinnie’s mum would have dismissed as bum fluff.
‘Hi,’ said Jinnie, for want of something better to say to her hirsute companion. ‘I … erm … like your hair. I mean on your head, not the beard. Not that I’ve anything against beards. They’re useful, aren’t they?’ Oh, for fuck’s sake, what was she babbling on about? Useful for what? Hiding toast crumbs? Disguising receding jawlines?
Jinnie wiggled closer, not because she fancied him but because one butt cheek was hanging uncomfortably off the bench. Then she decided to examine his man bun further. Amazing how emboldened one could be after a mere mouthful of a Sex on the Beach. Well, you had to have a cocktail during happy hour. It looked nice and shiny, but — eurgh! — smelt of stale smoke and unwashed socks.
Jinnie retreated, figuring she could perch for a while. Either Mr Stinky caught the look of distaste on her face, or realised the beer prices were about to double, but he and his hairy mates departed minutes later.
‘Slim pickings in here, eh Shona?’ Hannah scanned the room, wrinkling her nose up at the male specimens dotted around. They were either huddled in groups or paired up with partners or wives. Nothing new there, and no different to themselves. Out hunting in a pack, although Shalini and Jacqui both had boyfriends.
Hannah rarely stuck with the same man for more than a few months. They either wanted to get serious too quickly, or Hannah would nitpick flaws that even Sherlock Holmes with a supersized magnifying glass would be hard-pressed to find. ‘He has a weird belly button!’ she complained about one poor soul. ‘It looks like a wodge of old chewing gum.’ Another had been given the heave-ho because he always hung the toilet roll the wrong way round. ‘Anyone who thinks you should access the roll frombelowis not a keeper,’ Hannah had declared, arms folded in defiance.
