Page 19 of A Wish For Wilma
‘Am I expected to go with them?’ DJ appeared, looking perplexed. ‘Will I get to see my Mama and Papa?’
Jinnie’s reservations melted faster than an ice cream on a scorching hot day. ‘Sweetheart, I don’t know, but we’ll take care of you until Gran’s ready … until you’re ready to do whatever comes next.’
DJ nodded solemnly. ‘We’re family, yes? So, I trust you. And I am excited to stay in my new home.’
Making their way outside, Jinnie stopped dead. ‘We don’t have a baby car seat yet! Isn’t that against the law?’
All of them gazed at DJ, now closer to a four or five-year-old than a newborn. Technically he was still an infant, but an infant with attitude — and a back story that defied belief.
‘We can strap him in the back seat, no problem.’ Jinnie tutted, and dashed back into the house. She reappeared with a cushion to act as a booster. Sam opened the car door and gestured for DJ to get in.
‘You could sling him in the boot instead,’ said Wilma. ‘Just joking. Bye bye, wee fella. Be good.’
CHAPTER15
‘How are you this fine morning?’Gus stood on Wilma’s doorstep, toolbox in one hand, bunch of flowers in the other.
‘All the better for seeing you,’ replied Wilma. ‘Are those for me, or are you off to meet a secret lover after you’ve tinkered with my Henry Hoover?’
Gus handed over the flowers. ‘I thought a beautiful lady deserved a wee treat. Now, let’s see what we can do about Henry and your droopy bits.’
‘Cheeky! I’ll stick the kettle on. Henry is sitting in the lounge, and you can have a look at my wonky wardrobe door after a brew.’
Spooning tea leaves into the pot, Wilma felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the unseasonably warm late-October day. Gus had called her beautiful: not a description often applied to an eighty-seven year old. She’d spent longer than usual putting on her make-up, not that she used much: a smidgeon of foundation, a touch of mascara and a pop of blusher on her cheeks. On a good day, she reckoned she scrubbed up pretty well for a woman of her age. On a bad day, she railed against the wrinkles and age spots. Getting old sucked, unlike Henry, who might need replacing after thirty years of loyal service.
‘The hose is blocked.’ Gus held up the aforementioned hose and peered into it. ‘Do you have a longish stick, or something I can poke it with?’
Wilma bustled into her tiny utility room and scanned the contents of the cupboard which housed miscellaneous cleaning tools and products. ‘Will this do?’ She held up a long-handled duster designed to tackle hard-to-reach places. She rarely bothered with it, figuring hard to reach equalled hard to see.
‘Perfect.’ Gus inserted the handle into the hose. Jiggling it around, he gave a triumphant whoop as a clump of material shot out from the other end.
‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ grumbled Wilma, opening the bin for Gus to deposit the clump.
Gus grinned. ‘If you didn’t have things that need fixing, I wouldn’t get to see you, would I?’
Wilma turned away, her cheeks flaming. She couldn’t put the rising heat down to the damned menopause that had plagued her for the best part of two decades. No: her libido had woken from a very long slumber and it was all down to this man. ‘Right. Let’s have our tea and you can tell me what’s on the menu tonight.’
When he’d messaged Wilma to tell her what time he was coming over, Gus had also invited her round for dinner. She’d accepted without hesitation, unsure how long DJ would be gone and keen to relish every genie-free moment.
‘Well, my freezer needed defrosting, and I found a nice fillet of pork that’s currently marinating in a soy, ginger, garlic and honey sauce.’
‘Ooh, get you!’ exclaimed Wilma. ‘I’m not usually one for fancy food, but that sounds rather tasty.’
Gus laughed. ‘I actually unearthed two pieces of pork but the other looked less appetising. I suspect it had been lurking in there a long time.’
‘Ha, Jurassic Pork!’ Wilma chuckled and fetched biscuits to go with their tea.
After giving Henry a test run and agreeing that he was good for a few more years, Wilma led Gus to her bedroom. She’d closed the door of the second bedroom, which contained various bits and pieces belonging to DJ. A pile of nappies might raise a few awkward questions.
It took minutes for Gus to unscrew the hinges of the wardrobe door, realign them, and fix it back in position. As he returned his screwdriver to the toolbox, his gaze fell on the wedding-day photo Wilma kept on her dressing table. ‘You were a good-looking couple,’ he said. ‘I know it’s been a long time, but do you still miss Eric? Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.’
Wilma picked up the photo and traced a finger across its surface. ‘We had a happy life together, Gus. It ended too soon, but I have wonderful memories to treasure and a family who looks after me. That’s more than many people my age can say.’
Assuring Wilma that he’d pick her up at six for dinner, Gus headed off to perform handyman duties elsewhere.
Left alone, the house seemed unnervingly quiet. In the short time DJ had been with her, Wilma had become used to his incessant chatter and the background noise of children’s TV shows.Don’t tell me I’m missing him already!Wilma shook her head and went to make a sandwich for her lunch.
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