Page 5 of A Wish for Jinnie
Shalini returned with another round of drinks, jubilant that she’d caught the end of happy hour. Jinnie had watched her crawl through several pairs of legs to get to the bar, and admired her determination. ‘Right, ladies, do we hang around after these, or head to Shenanigans?’ she asked. ‘I’m not feeling the love for this place, and at least there the cocktails won’t bankrupt us.’
Not so sure about that, Jinnie thought. She needed to spin out her meagre salary as long as possible, and the train journey to see her parents on Sunday would swallow up another chunk.
Before she could reply, a group of suited men strode past them. Bringing up the rear was an all-too-familiar figure, tie pulled down and white shirt open at the collar. Mark, looking as handsome as ever. Praying he wouldn’t see her, Jinnie slid under the table.
‘What are youdoing?’ hissed Hannah, leaning down and nearly tipping her Bay Breeze over Jinnie’s head.
‘Mark’s just walked in and I really, really don’t want him to see me,’ Jinnie hissed back. Even now, Jinnie would look at her reflection and wince at every perceived imperfection. The last thing she needed was to face Mark again and know that he was probably thinking:Phew, that was a lucky escape! Imagine how ugly our kids would be if her genes won out!
Popping up like a submariner’s periscope, Jinnie was relieved to see that Mark and his mates were at the far side of the bar. Time to make an escape…
‘Listen, girls, I don’t want to be a party pooper but I think I’ll head off. I mean, back to Cranley.’ Suddenly Jinnieneededto be back in her own poky little place. It might not be big-city swanky, but it was home. And somehow — weirdly — she couldn’t wait until morning.
With wails of ‘Don’t go!’ and ‘We barely got to chat!’ ringing in her ears, Jinnie bolted for the door. She had a spare key for Hannah’s place, so she could grab her stuff and catch a late train.
A little over an hour later, Jinnie flopped down on her bed. Kicking off her heels, she fought back a wave of tears. She’d so wanted to have a fun evening out. Just hanging with the girls, having a laugh and putting her sad, financially challenged life in a box markedOpen When Ready.Would she ever be?
Ready for bed, with a used facial wipe clutched in her hand, Jinnie looked at the oil lamp. It definitely needed a bit of TLC.Bit like me, she thought, smiled, and gave it a quick buff with the wipe.Marginally better.
Sleep wasn’t long in coming. Jinnie drifted off, dreaming of being carried away by a semi-clad hunk with a wicked glint in his eye. As she rolled on to her back, her gentle snores synchronised with the rhythmic throbbing emanating from the bedside table.
Chapter 8
‘Pass the spuds, lad.’Rob Cooper ladled gravy over his roast beef. Jinnie’s brother, Archie, was, predictably, hogging the roast potatoes, and had already topped up his wine glass for the second time.
Jinnie suppressed a sigh of irritation. They both knew that their parents weren’t rolling in it, but they always made a big effort for Sunday lunch — roast beef or chicken with all the trimmings, and a couple of bottles of whatever was on special at the supermarket. Jinnie had brought pudding, an apple crumble she’d picked up from A Bit of Crumpet at a knockdown price, because Jo had insisted it was past its sell-by-date. Which was pretty much how Jinnie felt after Friday night’s disaster.
‘Chill, Dad,’ grumbled Archie, handing over the prized potatoes. ‘Mum’s made enough to feed the five thousand and still have leftovers.’ He added a couple of Yorkshire puddings to his plate, belching loudly as he did so.
‘Manners, Archie!’ reprimanded Kath, although in a gentle rather than a shocked tone. Jinnie’s brother was her miracle child, the one she never thought would happen. Nine years after Jinnie was born, Kath realised her tightening waistband wasn’t just down to a love of chocolate and chips. She’d been thirty when she had Jinnie, almost forty when Archie’s presence was confirmed during an incredulous trip to the doctor. He was still their blue-eyed boy, even if he treated their home like a free hotel.
‘Better out than in!’ retorted Archie. He grinned at Jinnie, who rolled her eyes in disgust.
‘How’s the music going?’ she enquired sweetly. ‘Is Kanye West quaking in his Yeezys yet?’
Archie’s response was another prolonged belch, which once upon a time would have earned him a stern rebuke from their dad. Nowadays, though, Rob’s hearing was a bit dodgy, and he rarely bothered to put his hearing aids in.
‘Maybe you could record your most attractive burps and release that?’ Jinnie smiled. ‘With a few techno beats, it might be a whole new genre.’
‘At least I’m doing something creative, sis, instead of — what is it now? Working in a scabby old junk shop. Mind you, it’s kind of appropriate for an old crock like you!’ Archie reached for the wine bottle just as Jinnie flicked a forkful of peas in his direction.
‘Right, you two, enough with the sniping! Why can’t we just have a nice family meal? Your gran would bang your heads together if she saw you fighting.’ Kath sighed. ‘It’s a shame her gout’s been giving her gyp again.’ Then she brightened. ‘Maybe you could pop in and say hello later, Jinnie. I know she’d love to see you.’
Jinnie and Archie’s gran — Rob’s mother, Wilma — lived in a tiny bungalow a couple of streets away. She was eighty-six and fit as a fiddle, gout notwithstanding, and a familiar sight in town, wheeling her tartan shopping trolley withYou’re a long time deid!embroidered on the side. She was regarded as a bit eccentric, chiefly because she smoked roll-ups and offered anyone who entered her home a tea-leaf reading.
‘Will do, Mum. I’ll take her some crumble if there’s any left over.’ Said crumble was now warming in the oven, and Jinnie would ensure that Archie didn’t lick the dish clean.
Before pudding, Jinnie helped her mum to load the dishwasher and put the pots and pans in to soak. Archie, predictably, had sloped off to his old bedroom, from which the melancholic twanging of a guitar could be heard. Rob was in the living room, checking that all the TV shows he and Kath watched were being recorded. Soaps, crime thrillers, wildlife documentaries and game shows — they watched them all, and were frequently confused by the more intricate plot lines. ‘No, that’s not the one where they found the body stuffed in the chest freezer. You’re mixing it up with thatotherone when the scorned husband pours bleach into the wife’s fish tank,’ they’d squabble, between trying to beat each other on theCountdownconundrum.
Jinnie didn’t even have a TV. She couldn't justify the £150 licence fee, and she didn’t want the licence-dodger people hammering on her door and hitting her with a fine. A pile of second-hand books and her old but reliable Kindle kept her entertained in the evenings, since diving into the pages of someone else’s life helped to distract her from her own.
‘How are you coping, love? You know … since Mark?’
Kath’s hesitant question brought tears to Jinnie’s eyes. Seeing him again on Friday evening had ripped away a flimsy layer of the protective shell she’d tried to build up since he’d trodden on her heart.
‘I’m fine, Mum, honestly,’ Jinnie replied in her brightest voice, swiping a damp cloth over the counter top. ‘I know the job isn’t ideal, but I like my boss, and I’m going to ask if I can do a few shifts at the local pub. Just till I get back on my feet.’ It hadn’t dawned on her before, but Jinnie wondered if Ken could do with an extra pair of hands. She still felt guilty for judging him harshly, so perhaps she could offer some help.
Kath tucked the tea towel over the handle of the oven door, and pulled Jinnie in for a hug. ‘Listen, love, if you need some cash to tide you over, you know Dad and I will always see you right. We’ve got a little put aside for a rainy day, but making sure you and Archie are OK … that’s our priority.’
