Page 19 of A Wish For Jo
‘If you shorten his first name, then say the whole thing together…’ prompted Jinnie.
At last the penny dropped. As did Jo's fork, which bounced on the table and clattered to the floor.
'Bingo! Al Addin. Say it quickly. It must mean something!' Jinnie's eyes glittered.
Jo retrieved the fork and gave it a wipe. 'Jinnie, Aladdin is a fictional character from a book hundreds of years old, if my memory doesn't fail me. Sam is a flesh-and-bone, down-to-earth human. I think you're getting carried away, which isn't surprising, considering how—'
The doors of The Jekyll and Hyde burst open and two familiar figures were greeted with whoops and cheers by both staff and customers.
'They're early!’ Ed, who'd swooped by on a mission to gather up empties, gave a lopsided grin.
'Hey, son.' Ken McCroarty slapped Ed heartily on the back. 'Did you miss us?'
Winking at Jo and Jinnie, Ed pulled a 'you must be joking' face. 'Like the proverbial hole in the head. That's you, not Mum, of course.'
Ed's mum Mags hovered nervously behind her husband, her tanned features creased with confusion. 'You didn't pay for the taxi, Ken. Where are we, and why are these people making so much noise? Can you please ask them to stop?'
Ed gathered his mum into a comforting embrace. She resisted for a moment, then succumbed as Ken gestured to everyone to get back to their business. 'It's OK, Mum. You're home.' Ed spoke quietly, but Jo heard the slight wobble in his voice.
Her eyes met Mags's as she peered around Ed's broad shoulder. A flicker of recognition passed across Mags's face, and Jo smiled. Whatever life had to throw at her, she prayed dementia wouldn't be on the list.
CHAPTER21
'One wish down, two to go.'Aaliyah twirled strands of spaghetti round her fork and devoured them with a noisy slurp.
Jo had never been able to cope with spaghetti, resorting to chopping it into bite-sized pieces. She scooped some up with a slice of garlic bread and shrugged. 'I don't know what to wish for, Aaliyah. You picked a no-hoper, I'm afraid.'
'Youpickedme, remember? Honestly, you humans don't know a good thing when it bites you on the bum. Ooh, I have three wishes and I don't know what to do with them. Ooh, I'll pretend I don't like Harley when I've clearly got the hots for him.'
'I do not have the hots for him! And his name — as you know — is Harvey. He's a man, not a bloody motorbike.' Jo bit into the garlic bread and cursed as a dollop of bolognaise sauce slithered down her front.
'Wind your neck in, Jo, I'm just having a laugh. Pop that off before the stain sets and I'll give it a soak.'
If Aaliyah had announced that she'd ditched make-up and intended to spend the rest of her life in trackie bottoms, Jo could not have been more surprised. Aaliyah didn't do laundry. Aaliyah didn't clean toilets. Aaliyah regarded domestic chores as things someone else did — that someone being Jo. Now she was making an impatient 'get it off' gesture, her hands flapping up and down. Jo didn't know what else to do but wrestle the blouse over her head and pass it over.
'Blimey, I hope Harley — sorry, Harvey — never cops a look at that monstrosity. Less Wonderbra, more Blunderbra. Jeez, they're like two bald guys fighting for headroom in a hammock!’
Jo looked down at her bra. Pinky and Perky, as her long-gone fiancé had once dubbed them, nestled uncomfortably in the cheap nylon fabric, seemingly plotting their escape in opposite directions. 'Fine. My underwear is a disaster. My love life is a disaster. I have a genie who reckons I'm as much use as a chocolate fireguard and I dribble pasta sauce like a toddler. Anything else you want to throw into the mix?' Jo grabbed the oven gloves and covered up her upper half.
Aaliyah scrunched up the blouse, stomped into the utility room and made a performance of running the taps and presumably adding a liberal dose of stain-removing product. Jo scampered upstairs, located a clean T-shirt and tugged it over her head. When would the madness stop?
The answer came with lightning speed.When you wish for two more things. Then she'll disappear, and life will be…
Life will be what? Jo had no idea. Probably the same old, same old: running the café, catering the occasional party and spending evenings flicking through Netflix. She needed a holiday, an escape from the humdrum, but there was a snowball's chance in hell of her leaving Aaliyah to run the ship for a week. She might suddenly have developed a passion for stain removal, but Jo didn't fancy the chances of A Bit of Crumpet staying afloat with Aaliyah at the helm. Maybe Harvey could take charge? As quickly as the notion entered her head, Jo shook it loose. Neither Aaliyah nor Harvey, she suspected, had professional catering qualifications. Yep, slobbing on a beach while the authorities ticked off a list of misdemeanours and shut her business down didn't exactly give her all the happy feels.
A fleeting image of herself and Harvey by a sparkling pool, sipping cocktails and basking in the sun, nudged its way into Jo's capricious brain. She shut that one down too and returned to the kitchen.
'All done? Or do you want to dribble more sauce down your front?' Aaliyah stretched like a cat, her plate well and truly licked clean. Jo shook her head and tipped the remains of her meal into the bin.
'Pet, you mentioned a TV show you liked. The cake one, right? Although why someone who spends their life baking would want to do it on live television in front of millions of people is beyond me. It's like taking bloody coals to Newcastle, if you catch my drift.'
Because just once, I'd like a wee taste of being in the spotlight. Not just Cranley Jo, purveyor of pasties and scones, sad singleton without the snarky wit of Janette, the fabulous wardrobe of Alison Gale or the youthful exuberance of Jinnie, Ed and co. Someone that people cheered on and applauded as she proudly accepted the winner's trophy.
Jo didn't say any of that, though. She ignored Aaliyah's questioning look and went into the lounge. Locating the TV remote under a pile of glossy magazines, she flicked through the saved programmes until she found the last series ofAll Rise. Jo scrolled through to the final, and the moment a disbelieving teenage victor sobbed all over the three judges as well as presenter Kelvin Brady, who made a show of mopping his shoulder with a tea towel.
'His winning cake was incredible,' Jo murmured. The camera panned in on a fairy-tale castle complete with intricate turrets, tiny detailed flags and a shimmering moat of blue fondant icing. He'd dedicated it to his wee sister, born with a rare degenerative illness, whose biggest dream was to meet a princess at Disneyland Paris. A short video clip showed the girl, all golden ringlets and hesitant smile, waving at her brother. Their parents were in the background, about to explode with pride.
'Not bad,' conceded Aaliyah. 'I stayed in something like that, once upon a time.'
