Page 17 of A Wish For Wilma
‘We’re nesting now, counting down until this one appears.’ Jinnie patted her bump and returned the smile. When she’d first arrived in Cranley she’d been convinced that Ken was a grumpy old git missing the bonhomie gene. Then she’d learned of his wife Mags’s Alzheimer’s, and witnessed her decline.
‘Aren’t you and Angela due around the same date?’ Ken poured their drinks just as his son, Ed, approached with a platter of olives, hummus and flatbreads.
‘Within a week or so. It’s baby-boom time in Cranley!’
Sam grimaced. Wilma didn’t live in Cranley, but he and Jinnie were heading to her place after a spot of lunch. They’d decided that arriving unannounced was the best strategy. They might have it all wrong, but Wilma’s parting words after the birthday party suggested otherwise.
‘Speaking of co-ordinated bumps, here’s the gorgeous girl who’s going to make me a grandad. Not that I’m anywhere near old enough for that title.’
‘Get over yourself, Dad,’ said Ed, having delivered the Middle Eastern platter to a group in the corner. ‘You’re staring down the barrel of sixty. Well, squinting down it, as you won’t admit your eyes need checking.’
Ed pulled his pregnant girlfriend in for a hug. Angela hugged him back, then stood next to Jinnie. ‘Ooh, we’re like two peas in a pod. Almost the same size and position.’
‘More like Tweedledum and Tweedledee,’ joked Ed, earning a punch in the arm from Angela.
Placing their orders — a ploughman’s sandwich for Sam and a tuna salad for Jinnie — they made their way to a quiet spot. Jinnie waved to Mags, who’d appeared behind the bar. Mags waved back, a blank look on her face.
‘Angela told me recently that Mags is on some new medication,’ said Jinnie. ‘It seems to help a bit, but her short-term memory is getting worse. Ken’s had to put Post-It notes all around the place because she can’t remember where things are.’
‘That’s so tough,’ said Sam. ‘Wilma’s lucky to still be as sharp as a tack and have decent health.’
‘As long as her health doesn’t deteriorate because of an unexpected visitor. And I don’t mean Gus!’
With full stomachs, Jinnie and Sam headed for Wilma’s. The drive didn’t take long, and soon they pulled up outside her bungalow. ‘No sign of Gus’s van and the lights are on in the lounge,’ said Sam.
‘That means nothing,’ grumbled Jinnie. ‘Gran leaves lights on at all hours of the day and night. Who knows what her electricity bills are like?’
Jinnie rang the doorbell and waited impatiently for a response. Maybe her gran was out gallivanting with Gus, and the pilfered lamp remained untouched. And maybe she’d just spotted a pig flapping across the darkening sky…
‘Jinnie!’ Wilma stood in the doorway, arms folded, a mixture of curiosity and devilment on her face. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised to see you, seeing as we have rather a pressing matter to discuss. Not one to be raised on the phone or during my birthday celebration.’
Sam and Jinnie followed Wilma towards the lounge. Before they could go in, Wilma told them to close their eyes. ‘What you’re about to see might not be a total shock, but it certainly tested my bladder control, I’ll tell ye!’
Obeying Wilma’s instructions, they closed their eyes and she nudged them forward. Jinnie fumbled for Sam’s hand and held it in a vice-like grip.
‘Right, you can look now.’
They opened their eyes and gasped in unison. Sitting on the sofa, looking completely at home, was a mini version of Dhassim with a hint of Aaliyah. Except…
‘Isn’t he meant to be a baby?’ Sam moved closer to the genie, who eyed them with suspicion.
‘Aye — a baby that looks like he’s been inflated with a bicycle pump.’ Wilma guffawed at her joke. Neither Jinnie nor Sam joined in, and the ‘baby’ blew a dismissive raspberry.
‘DJ, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter Jinnie and her fiancé, Sam. I believe they’re well acquainted with your mama and papa, who should be reported to social services for wilful abandonment. Although that might be a tricky conversation, given DJ’s unusual origins.’
Jinnie, still squeezing Sam’s fingers, mumbled ‘Hello’, then rebuked herself for her stupidity. He was a baby, albeit a large one, and babies didn’t—
‘Pleased to meet you.’ The baby waved a pudgy hand in greeting. ‘Have you brought me something to eat?’
‘He can talk!’ Jinnie released Sam’s hand and collapsed onto the sofa next to DJ. ‘I guess DJ stands for Dhassim Junior?’
Both Wilma and DJ nodded. ‘Dhassim Junior’s too much of a mouthful for me,’ said Wilma, ‘and the lad disnae like the other daft name they had for him. Speaking of mouthfuls, he’s eating me out of house and home. I’ve been buying so much food from Sadiq at the corner shop, he probably thinks I’ve got a tapeworm.’
Sam sat down on the other side of DJ. Wilma remained standing, arms folded, facing the three of them. ‘So, are you going to explain exactly how this whole genie madness began? I cannae get my head round it and it’s giving me sleepless nights. That, and Junior here being a demanding wee sod.’
‘Excuse me, butyou’rethe one who brought me here,’ piped up DJ. ‘I was snug as a bug in my lamp, waiting to be with Mama and Papa, until you interfered.’
‘Gran, I’m so sorry.’ Tears filled Jinnie’s eyes and she jumped up to hug Wilma. ‘Never in a million years did we imagine this would happen. It all started when Sam gave me a lamp from his shop. Out popped Dhassim, who granted me a bunch of wishes, then vanished.’
