Page 13 of A Wish For Jo
They paused as several expletives emanated from the kitchen. A customer tutted and headed for the door.
'I didn't really know Aaliyah,' Jinnie continued. 'She only appeared right at the end, when Dhassim was getting ready to move on.' Jinnie wiped away a tear with the soggy, tea-soaked napkin. 'He drove me nuts, but his heart was in the right place.'
'Well, Aaliyah is a piece of work,' huffed Jo. 'She has no respect for privacy or property, and she looks down her nose at any task she feels is beneath her. And she has a Geordie accent, although that's veering towards Scottish now.'
Jinnie nodded. 'When we met, I figured she'd be a tricky one. Not that Dhassim was easy, but we muddled along.'
'Sounds like you got the better deal,' said Jo. 'So, how did the three wishes thing go?'
Jinnie gave a derisive snort. 'Three wishes my arse! Dhassim said that was so passé. He was adamant that things had changed — evolved, I think he said. He even insisted that the term genie was outdated. He preferredpersonal wish-fulfilment assistant, would you believe.'
A familiar figure appeared at the front window. Harvey, if Jo wasn't mistaken. He lingered for a second, then disappeared. Ah well, it wasn't like they were besties. And she had more to worry about than a gruff stranger with an attitude problem.
'Jo, are you listening?' Jinnie tapped a teaspoon on her cup. 'I got more than three wishes, and some of them were completely random. I can list them for you, if you like—'
Aaliyah swooped into the café, eyes glittering with annoyance. 'That black-bean mix looks like something you'd fertilise roses with. Not that I'm a gardening expert, mind…' She halted, taking in the sight of Jo and Jinnie huddled over their cooling cups of tea. 'Wait a minute. Don't I know you from somewhere?' Aaliyah stared at Jinnie, who stared back. Who would crack first? They reminded Jo of a couple of cowboys: guns at the ready, but neither quite prepared to take the first shot.
'Bingo!' Aaliyah punched the air in jubilation. 'You were Dhassim's mistress, right? Well, not in the sexual sense.’ She grinned. ‘As if he'd have the hots for you when he had little old me to play with. Who wants a burger when you can have a steak, if you catch my drift.’ Leaving Jinnie gaping like a landed fish — and Jo gobsmacked by her cheek — Aaliyah turned and stomped off.
‘Wow, you’ve really got your work cut out with that one.' Jinnie's face said it all. Two lamps meant a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. Or almost right.
'I know.’ Jo sighed. ‘If she was made of chocolate, she'd eat herself.’
CHAPTER15
The trainto Edinburgh rattled along as Harvey stared at a crossword puzzle on his phone. He tutted at a seven-letter clue:Not solid or liquid. Nothing came to mind, except that his diet recently had been more liquid than solid.
Already jaded with the scant charms of Cranley, he'd figured a trip to Auld Reekie might inject some much-needed excitement into his life. The capital's nickname, a throwback to its days of smoke pollution and sewage smells, brought to mind Harvey's need for new bedlinen. Not to mention a supply of decent coffee, a selection of ready meals and perhaps a couple of shirts. His pathetic wardrobe could do with something new, not that he was out to impress anyone. Lindsey would turn in her grave if she saw his day-to-day attire. Less shabby chic, more two steps away from vagrant.
As the train pulled into the station, Harvey switched off his phone and tucked it into his pocket. An elegant woman who looked vaguely familiar sidled past him, a fleecy-coated dog trotting at her heels. The unmistakable sound of a fart emanated from either the woman or her pet. Harvey coughed, his money on the pooch.
The woman smiled apologetically and hurried to the door. Harvey's nostrils twitched at the lingering odour, and the crossword answer came to him in a flash.Gaseous.
Born and bred on the West coast, Harvey's heart belonged to Glasgow, but he grudgingly admitted that Edinburgh's architecture and history were impressive. Its smoky, gothic buildings grafted on to the shoulder of an extinct volcano. Its castle looming large, the Edinburgh Tattoo centrepiece to the annual festival with all its glorious military pageantry. Harvey had only been once, many years ago. The heavens had opened, and umbrellas were not allowed.
Edinburgh was famous for many things, including its weather, but not for the right reasons. He recalled a dour taxi driver who had picked him up after a Fringe production, where he'd played Macbeth in a modernised version of the Shakespeare play. Set in a council estate, the three witches had been a trio of home-brewing harpies, and Banquo a ghostly drug dealer with a penchant for profanity. 'Another typical Edinburgh night,' the taxi driver had moaned, the windscreen wipers thrashing back and forth. 'Wet, windy and grey, and this is supposed to be summer.'
Today, the skies were gentler. Harvey strode along Princes Street, dodging the tourists high on tartan overkill and all things Scottish, and the locals seeking out lunches to go or a quiet pint in one of the hundreds of pubs that populated the city. Tempted though he was, Harvey kept going, smiling at a lone piper entertaining a crowd.
His first port of call was the iconic department store, Jenners. Nestled on a street corner, its rooftop boasted a collection of caryatids — sculpted female figures — acting as pillars. Holding things up, as women so often did. Lindsey had loved Jenners, though they'd only visited it a handful of times during their relationship.
Stepping through the doors, Harvey wished with all his heart that Lindsey was by his side. But she was, of course, and always would be. Death might have parted them, but she'd still give him a flea in the ear if he chose an unflattering shirt or failed to acknowledge a helpful shop assistant's attempts to steer him in the right direction.
The menswear department boasted an array of designer clothing, as well as more budget-friendly items. Since the acting roles had dried up, Harvey relied on his savings and the money from Lindsey's life-insurance policy. He located a rail of reasonably priced cotton shirts and grabbed three. He'd never been a fan of upmarket labels emblazoned with logos: they should payhimfor advertising.
The next stop was a boutique coffee shop, where Harvey picked up enough quality java to keep him going for a couple of months. The cheerful owner persuaded him to try a new blend, enthusiastically proclaiming it a 'rich and nutty combination of beans from Colombia, Costa Rica, Brazil and Ethiopia.' As Harvey doubted he'd visit any of those countries, he added a bag to his collection.
Torn between Primark and Marks and Spencer for new bedding, he opted for the latter. Heading for the homeware section, he checked the scrap of paper in his pocket for the dimensions. Double, he reckoned, although he'd measured the mattress just in case. Ten minutes later, he had selected a cream fitted sheet and a geometric-patterned duvet cover with matching pillowcases.
Right, time to hit the food hall. Descending into the basement, Harvey drooled at the thought of a meal deal for a tenner. A main, side dish and dessert, requiring minimum effort, and a huge step up from his recent culinary attempts.
Awkwardly wrestling a basket from the pile, his shopping bags now cutting into his arm, Harvey located the meal-deal section. What to choose? Perhaps roast duck à l'orange, or prawn and chargrilled chicken paella. Mind you, the steak and ale pie sounded tempting, with a side of truffled cauliflower cheese.
As he eyed the selection, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he came face to face with Jo from the café, her basket piled high with all manner of M&S goodies. 'I thought it was you!' she said. 'Now I'm busted, buying pre-cooked meals when I should be chained to the stove making everything from scratch.'
'No reason why you should,' replied Harvey. 'It's good to have a break when you spend most of your time baking stuff. Not that I mean you don't do other things; I just don't know what they are. And why would I? After all, your business is your own.'
Harvey wished he could pull a cork out of one of the wine bottles and ram it into his garrulous gob. He didn't mean to be rude to this woman every time they met, but somehow she brought out the worst in him.
