Page 20 of A Wish For Jo
Really? Jo looked at Aaliyah, unsure whether she understood anything about actual fairy tales. But her expression remained neutral, verging on bored, as usual.
'Yeah. Got me a wish-granting gig for a prince who was so up his own back passage he could probably have counted his internal organs. Shame the one between his ears didn't function too well. As for the one between his legs…' Aaliyah guffawed, holding her thumb and second finger close together.
‘I'm not sure I want to hear any more,' said Jo, flicking the TV off. 'Right, I've some admin to deal with, so if you'll excuse me—'
Aaliyah blocked Jo's escape, arms folded and biceps bulging alarmingly. 'Not so fast, pet. Is this thing on your wish list, or not? Time's a-ticking.' She whipped out her WIFI and it gave a despondent beep.
'I don't know!' Jo squared up to Aaliyah, in no doubt of who'd win if they embarked on an arm-wrestling contest. 'It seems a bit … fatuous, I suppose. I should just apply again and hope I get picked before I collect my pension.'
'Nah. I know you're knocking on a bit, but why wait another five years when yours truly can have you icing your way to national glory in a jiffy?'
Five years? Jo gritted her teeth so hard that she feared they'd snap. Did Aaliyah really think Jo was a stone's throw from her sixties? 'As I said, I have paperwork to sort and I'm feeling a bit…' Jo massaged her temples, a headache tip-tapping its way into her skull. 'It can wait another day, can't it?'
Unprompted, Aaliyah rummaged in a drawer, pulled out a pack of paracetamol, and handed Jo two with a glass of water. Her behaviour confused Jo: one minute the prickly, self-opinionated, self-absorbed woman she'd become accustomed to, the next a mixture of domestic goddess and Florence Nightingale. Would the real Aaliyah please step forward?
'Sleep on it, Jo. Me WIFI can wait. Just not sure if our true master can, though. Buggered if I know who that is, mind.'
Jo took the stairs slowly, waiting for the painkillers to work their magic.Their true master.She assumed Aaliyah meant the boss of both her and Dhassim… A thought flitted through her clouded mind. Something Jinnie had said; something that made no sense. Something to do with Sam…
CHAPTER22
'Gran, meet Jo,’said Jinnie. ‘Jo, this is my infamous gran, Wilma.'
Jo extended a hand to the older lady, who grasped it firmly, flipped it over and peered at Jo's palm. 'Good strong life line there,' she declared. 'Hmm, the heart line starts in the middle; that means you fall in love easily.'
'Gran, give Jo her hand back and stop with the palm-reading nonsense.'
'Ye of little faith, Jinnie. You weren't such a doubting Thomas when I predicted how you'd meet yer man. Hit the nail on the head then, didn't I?' Wilma gave a jubilant grin before heading to a free table, wheeling her tartan shopping trolley behind her.
'Give me strength,' muttered Jinnie, as Jo filled a teapot and slid two pieces of millionaire's shortbread on to plates. 'It was bad enough when she insisted on reading tea leaves, whether you wanted it or not. Now she's obsessed with palm readings, accosting total strangers in the supermarket and asking if they'd like to know their future. As if random lines mean anything.'
Jo dragged her thoughts back from Wilma's assertion that she fell in love easily. Total twaddle, of course. Looking back, she'd never been head over heels for her former fiancé, Graham, and as for Ken … better not to go there.
'So what did Wilma see in the leaves for you, Jinnie? A hunky antique-shop owner with a nice bum? Oops, sorry about that!'
Jinnie pulled a faux frown, then giggled. 'Nah, you're fine, Jo. Sam does have a very nice bum, not that other people should be noticing. And the shapes in the tea leaves are never that precise. Gran just saw a horse's head and said it signified love.'
Leaving Jo to ponder that correlation, Jinnie took the tray of tea and cake to her gran's table. Jo dealt with another customer, relieved that she'd given Aaliyah the morning off. Her genie pal had appeared for breakfast looking pale and complaining of exhaustion; perhaps her brief burst of domesticity the night before had sapped her energy. Jo had sent her back to bed with a bowl of muesli and a glass of orange juice.
'Gran! You can't do that it in here.' Jo glanced up to see Wilma blowing out a plume of smoke. The couple on the next table tutted loudly and glared at Jo. Jinnie shrugged helplessly and fanned the air with a rolled-up newspaper.
'Wilma, I'm really sorry, but you can't smoke in here.' Jo smiled apologetically, although the indoor smoking ban had been in effect for almost fifteen years. However, when she caught sight of the wording on Wilma's shopping trolley —You're a long time deid!—Jo decided Wilma had little truck with petty rules and regulations.
'It's disgusting,' said one half of the couple, a man in his mid to late-forties, his lips puckered in distaste. 'Do you realise the harm caused by passive smoking?'
Wilma swung around, eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘Aye, son, I do, which is why I've switched to this shite. What you see here' — she expelled another cloudy puff — 'is vaping. Stinky steam, but no’ the kind that clings to your clothes or makes twats like you hyperventilate. My father and his father and probably all the fathers down my dubious family tree smoked, but I'm trying to break the habit 'cos it costs a wee fortune and will probably kill me. Then again, something has to. Two things in life you cannae dodge: death and taxes.'
Wilma took a last, triumphant suck and tucked her vaping device away. Jinnie, meanwhile, put her face in her hands, not quite hiding the flush of colour in her cheeks.
'Well, OK. That's good. We're all good here now.' Mr Angry made a hasty exit with his partner as Wilma rubbed her nose and gave his back the middle finger.
'Gran! Can you please behave yourself for once?' Jinnie poured their tea, giving Jo a watery smile.
'No harm done,' said Jo. 'I've a couple of tables outside if you want to carry on vaping, Wilma.'
They turned towards the window and watched a passer-by struggle to keep their umbrella from turning inside out. In the past few minutes the rain had set in, and it was blowing a hoolie.
'Nah, you're all right.' Wilma took a bite of her cake, nodding approval at Jo. 'Lovely. Now, are you up for a wee tea-leaf reading, Jo? Fetch another cup, and—'
