Page 23 of A Wish For Jo
Back at the cottage, he unpacked his supplies and popped a few rashers of bacon under the grill, then stowed the whisky away and made himself a coffee. As the bacon sizzled and popped, he opened his laptop and clicked on the screenplay-in-progress. Not that he'dmademuch progress in recent days. His head was too full of other things, not least Jo and their approaching date. Was it a date? If two people agreed to meet in a pub, did that constitute a progression in a relationship?
Harvey had only dated two other women before he’d met Lindsey. Shy in his late teens and early twenties, he got tongue-tied around the opposite sex. Ironic that he'd fallen into acting, but he preferred pretending to be someone else. His fragile confidence grew when he stepped into the shoes of a fictional character. Drama school had been the making of him.
Did you line the grill tray with tinfoil? It'll be a bugger to clean otherwise.
Harvey laughed. He hadn't, of course. Lindsey always had the answers, no matter how complicated the questions were.
She'd approached him after a performance of a play based loosely on the life of Scottish poet Robert Burns. Three years out of drama school and still fumbling his way around, he'd played the role of the bard to an average of twenty people a night. No one usually hung around at the end, so he was surprised to see a petite brunette hovering in the foyer of the tiny theatre.
'Erm, can I help you?' Harvey approached her, raising his voice over the vacuum cleaner being wielded by a sour-faced man. The other three cast members had legged it the minute the curtain came down.
'Nice wig,' said the woman, who looked around the same age as him. 'Or is it all your own?'
Harvey fingered one of the poorly glued-on sideburns and laughed. 'I'm actually as bald as a coot, but thanks for the compliment. Are you waiting for a taxi?'
The woman, eyes dancing with mischief, shook her head. 'I was waiting for you, actually. I'm a sucker for a poet, even a dead one. Fancy going for a drink?'
And that was how it had started. One drink led to two, then a dodgy curry down a side alley. They shared stale poppadoms and watery chicken vindaloo and tried to outdo one another with literary quotes. Lindsey trounced him every time, her knowledge far superior to Harvey’s. 'I have what you might call a memory for the useless,' she'd said. 'Song lyrics and famous film lines all lodge themselves in my brain. Ask me to remember what I had for breakfast, though, and I'm a no-hoper.'
'Well, I hope you don't forget about me.' Harvey half-sang the sentence, in homage to the band Simple Minds, and immediately wished he could stuff the remainder of the poppadoms in his mouth.
But Lindsey reached over, touched his hand and sent shivers through his body. 'Not bloody likely. In the words of George Sand, "Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved." That's my philosophy, Harvey: I believe things happen for a reason. I was given a ticket for your show and I had no intention of coming. But I did, and I'm glad I did.'
Harvey rubbed at the remaining glue on his cheek, unable to believe that someone so beautiful, so eloquent, saw something in him. Or did she just have a fetish for Rabbie Burns lookalikes?'I'm glad you did, too.' He'd never believed in love at first sight, but now the evidence suggested it existed, even in grotty venues and grottier restaurants. 'That's a beautiful quote. George Sand isn't a name I recognise, but he’s clearly a very talented man.'
'Hewas a she,' said Lindsey.
‘Oh,' said Harvey.
CHAPTER25
'So,you've got a date with lover boy on Saturday?' Aaliyah perched on the edge of the sofa, an old towel at her feet and a foot file in her hand. Jo watched as shards of dead skin floated down like snowflakes. They weren't particularly attractive snowflakes. In fact, they reminded Jo of Parmesan shavings, which meant pasta was off tonight's menu.
'As I keep telling you, Harvey is just a friend. And I wish you'd do that in the bathroom or your bedroom.'
Aaliyah grunted and grabbed a pot of Jo's hand cream. 'It's more comfy here, pet. If you like, I'll give your tootsies a once-over too. Haven't seen hooves like that since me and Dhassim once hung out with a couple of old donkeys. It’s a bit of a long story, but that's the last time I ever kip in a barn. Bloody straw everywhere, and who knew that donkeys made so much noise when they—'
'Too much information,' said Jo. 'And my feet aren'tthatbad.' She glanced down at the aforementioned feet, currently clad in her favourite Birkenstock sandals. OK, she wouldn't be signed up as a foot model any time soon, but head-to-toe maintenance wasn't high on Jo's agenda. Keep it simple, don't frighten the horses (or donkeys), and focus on more important stuff. Like the upcoming date — that absolutely wasn't a date — and… Maybe a wee pedicure wouldn't do any harm.
Minutes later, Jo had her feet in a basin of warm, soapy water. Aaliyah laid out an array of implements with the zeal of a surgeon about to carve into a sedated patient. Clippers: check. Scissors: check. Nail file: check. Some random instrument of torture Jo had never seen before: check. Jo hoped she'd still have some skin and nails left when Aaliyah had finished.
'Jeez, your big toenails are as tough as rhino hide,' whinged Aaliyah, attacking them with distaste.
Jo flinched as the clippers nicked a piece of flesh. 'Ouch! Go easy, Aaliyah. And, by the way, while my nails might be as tough as a rhino, my feelings are a little more delicate. You can be very cruel, you know. Maybe try to be a little more … thoughtful … when you open your mouth.'
'Moi? I am the epitome of thoughtful. Well, Dhassim sometimes told me off for being too direct, but what does he know about anything? I say it as it is, right? The thing is, Jo…' Aaliyah resumed her clipping, pausing now and again to spritz Jo's feet with a cooling spray. Or a can of WD40, perhaps.
'What's the thing?' Jo winced as another slice of skin fell victim to Aaliyah's trimming.
‘You're spending your life sitting on the fence. I think that’s the right expression. And when you sit on the fence, all you get are dents in your buttocks. Not cellulite: you've already got that. Oops, I've offended you again. Sorry.'
Aaliyah didn't look remotely sorry. She carried on with the job in hand, thankfully moving on to massaging and filing. 'You have a second wish you're too scared to ask for, and a man you want to get to know better, but you're pretending you don't. I'm a genie, pet, but I don't just grant wishes. I can sense things, and I sense you're holding back. Give me something to work with, and we can move forward.'
Jo closed her eyes and leant back on the sofa. She let Aaliyah's firm but soothing caress wash over her, and tried to focus on what she wanted. What shereally, reallywanted. Seeing her parents again had been so special, but now she needed something lighter. Something fluffier, that would give her ego a much-needed boost. Yes, she did want to get to know Harvey better, but that man couldn't be described as 'fluffy'. He was pricklier than a hedgehog, with the occasional flash of marshmallow. Damn it! All she could think of now was cake. Light, fluffy cake, baked to perfection and drawing gasps of admiration from an appreciative audience of sugar-lovers. A place onAll Rise,where Jo could demonstrate her skills in front of devoted viewers up and down the country.
'You're thinking about that show again,' said Aaliyah, tutting as Jo wriggled free of her grasp.
'Sorry. I've got cramp in my leg.' Jo hopped up and down until the pain eased. 'Yes, I am, but it's a totally daft wish. You pretty much said so yourself. And how would it work, anyway? Wouldn't people I know see me on screen and wonder what the heck is going on?'
