Page 48 of A Wish for Jinnie
‘Your friend is happy, yes?’
Jinnie grinned. ‘She’s over the moon. That's another way of saying she’s really, really happy. Just in case you think Angela’s zapping around in space, because I know you don’t always understand what people are on about.’
Dhassim gave a little bow. God, she’d miss him, even when he was driving her up the wall with his pet names and petty gripes.
Jinnie took a deep breath, and asked Dhassim to sit down. He draped the damp towel over his shoulders, and waited for her to speak.
‘I know I said before that I didn’t want to wish for Sam to … you know… But I’ve thought about it more, and —’
‘Now you are desperate?’ Dhassim raised an eyebrow and produced his WIFI. Jinnie added his dubious talent for calling a spade a spade to her list of minor irritants. ‘I fear this may be the final wish I can grant.’
He turned the screen to face Jinnie, revealing a digital clock on countdown. It appeared there were only six hours left. Did that mean Dhassim would slither back into his lamp? And what about the elusive Aaliyah? There was no guarantee that the second lamp housed Dhassim’s dearly beloved, and Jinnie hadn’t wanted to harp on about it to Sam.
‘No, I’m not desperate. Actually, I am. Put it this way, wouldn’t you wish to be reunited with Aaliyah?’ The thought struck Jinnie that maybe her last wish should be just that, instead of using Dhassim’s powers to force feelings on Sam that weren’t real.
‘I believe in karma, Jinnie. When something is meant to be, it will happen.’Whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye.Wilma and Dhassim had a lot in common. Although Wilma wouldn’t be seen dead in jogging bottoms.
‘Karma aside, can we do this, please?’ Jinnie didn’t want to leave Cranley. In the short time she’d been here, she’d felt part of a community. Far more so than when she’d lived in Edinburgh, caught up in Mark’s superficial world. Ken and Mags; Ed and Angela; Jo; even Janette. All people she’d grown fond of, and knew she could rely on. And then there was Sam…
‘Your wish is my… OK, I think you know the drill by now.’ Dhassim held the WIFI aloft and Jinnie took a deep breath.
‘I wish … I wish for Sam to love me.’
She exhaled loudly, scared to look at the screen. The device emanated its familiar beeps and buzzes, then … silence.
Great. The bloody thing decides to give up the ghost on the home run. Jinnie suppressed a howl of despair, and resigned herself to the fact that —
‘Jinnie, please open your eyes.’ Jinnie obeyed, not realising they’d been tightly shut the whole time. ‘Read what it says.’
Instead of the clock display, a message scrolled across the screen like a news ticker.This wish cannot be granted. Object of wish concurs with desire of wishee.’
Hesitating only to wonder if ‘wishee’ was a real word, Jinnie blinked and read it again. Did it mean what she thought it meant? Her brain struggled for another explanation, but those little grey cells kept bouncing back to one thing.
‘I can’t grant that wish, Jinnie.’ Dhassim tossed the WIFI aside and gave a Cheshire Cat-like grin. ‘Sam already loves you.’
Chapter 43
Jinnie hurtledalong the high street, driving rain lashing her face and soaking her cheap furry boots. She hadn’t paused to change, but was oblivious to the curious glances she received as she pounded the pavement, calf muscles screaming in protest.
‘Nice outfit, love!’ hollered a passing van driver. For good measure, he tooted his horn and pulled closer to the kerb, sending an icy shower of water over Jinnie’s lower half. She gasped, gave him the finger, and kept on running.
I can’t grant that wish, Jinnie. Sam already loves you.Dhassim’s words replayed over and over in her head. But … she’d seen Sam with that other woman. Pulling her close, the look in his eyes unbearably tender as he’d kissed her on the forehead. OK, no tongues had been involved, but — but — it all pointed to him being involved with someone else. And that someone had been everything Jinnie wasn’t. Tall, elegant and unlikely to be seen dead in baggy trackie bottoms, a tartan pyjama top and squelchy fake Uggs.
Jinnie slowed as she approached Out of the Attic Antiques.She bent over and grasped her sodden thighs, wheezing painfully. She hadn’t run so fast since she was fifteen and being chased round the school building by Rodney Fleming. She’d made the mistake of snogging him at the half-term disco, and he’d been after a repeat performance.
The shutter was pulled down and the shop was closed, which was strange at 10 am on a weekday. Since Jinnie had handed in her notice, she’d tried not to dwell on how Sam would cope without her. Her answer,just fine,tickled her tear ducts and made her stomach ache with what could never be.
It was possible he’d gone on a stock-finding mission, but he normally did those in the afternoon or at weekends. Maybe he was ill? Jinnie pictured Sam in bed, burning up with a fever, delirious and calling out her name. Then the image changed to the mystery woman placing a cold compress on Sam’s brow, her beautiful features arranged in a look of devotion. Florence sodding Nightingale in designer gear, smelling of Chanel rather than disinfectant.
‘Sam! Sam! Are you in there?’ Jinnie hammered at the door with her fists. Her fingers were already turning blue from the damp and cold, and she’d lost all feeling in her feet.Might as well make use of that, she thought, and gave the door a hefty kick. ‘Please, Sam, I need to talk to you.’
Still no response. Jinnie fumbled for her phone, then remembered she’d left it at home on charge. He wasn’t there, the rain was coming down in buckets, and doubt dragged Jinnie’s heart into her sodden boots. What if Dhassim’s WIFI was knackered again? What if it had misinterpreted Sam’s feelings? Jinnie knew helikedher, but it was a massive leap from liking someone to loving them. She turned to leave, resigned to the fact that neither she nor her genie pal were destined for a happy ever after —
‘Jinnie?’ She whirled round at Sam’s voice. He stood in the doorway, arms folded and reading glasses perched on his head. A set of headphones dangled around his neck, and tinny music echoed from within.
‘Sam…’ Jinnie tried but failed to put one foot in front of the other. Her ability to speak seemed to have frozen up too. A sudden gust of wind knocked her off balance, and Sam rushed to her side.
‘God, you’re soaked through,’ he said. ‘Get inside and take off your wet things. I mean, your coat, that is.’ He blushed, and Jinnie nudged aside thoughts of doing a slow and soggy striptease. She wasn’t here to seduce Sam. She just needed to know his true feelings once and for all.
