Page 55 of A Wish For Wilma
‘Hello! Is anybody there?’ Feeling a tad unnerved by the lack of noise, Jinnie returned to the hallway. Gingerly, she opened the cupboard that housed the lamp collection. All were still in place. They hadn’t left. Jinnie found that unexpectedly reassuring.
‘Jinnie!’ Dhassim bounced down the stairs, welcoming her with all the enthusiasm of a rescue dog. With no chews to hand, Jinnie offered him a hug.
‘What’s everyone up to?’ She eyed Dhassim with suspicion, mainly because he kept bouncing.He’s like a rubber ball.Up and down, side to side, nervous energy exuding from every pore.
‘We have had a meeting. We meaning myself, Aaliyah and DJ. Not Sam, but our findings involve Sam. Oh yes, theydefinitelyinvolve your lush dreamboat!’
Jinnie could think of many ways to describe the man she loved, but a sailing vessel wasn’t one of them. Perhaps more of a safe harbour when the sea became rough. Which wasn’t a million miles from a boat, but—
‘We know the truth about Sam. I accept my error in not keeping abreast of technology, but I was not completely wrong. Only a teensy bit wrong. A minor mistake, in the grand scheme of things.’
Jinnie eyed Dhassim warily. They’d been down the road of Sam not being a Djinn and all the strangeness that entailed. The pieces of the puzzle didn’t add up. Why hadhebeen the one to send them packing last time? Hisname,for goodness’ sake, pointed to a genie connection. Sam Al Addin. Clear as day. Or mud.
‘Look, mon petit chou.’
Jinnie grudgingly looked at Dhassim’s WIFI. It flashed, beeped and finally hiccupped to a standstill. ‘What am I supposed to be seeing?’ Tiredness enveloped her: the bone-crushing kind that only a serious nap could conquer. The baby kicked. The nap might be a short one.
‘Samisa Djinn, but not a full-on one. His powers are reduced. Think of an eco-kettle, designed to boil with minimal water and only able to make one cup.’
From a boat to a kettle. How the not-so-mighty had fallen.
Aaliyah swept into the room, haughtiness oozing from her. ‘Yes, it seems that my partner is not as dumb as he looks. Sorry, my sweet,’ she purred, tickling Dhassim’s ear with her tongue.
‘Apology accepted, my angel delight.’
‘When you two have stopped making me feel sick, can you tell me what I’m meant to be looking at?’ The baby kicked again and Jinnie groaned.
‘We have unravelled the mystery of Sam’s true purpose,’ said Aaliyah. ‘He is a demi-Djinn, able to conjure us up and send us away. Well, wethinkhe can. And that’s about it.’ Aaliyah gave a triumphant grin and high-fived Dhassim.
‘Not such an idiot after all,’ crowed Dhassim. ‘TheDJ Innmessage simply confused us for a while.’
‘Dhassim, you are a half-wit, just as Sam is a glass half-empty kind of Djinn. So all’s well that ends well.’ Why Dhassim tolerated Aaliyah’s jibes bamboozled Jinnie. It must be love, but not the kind she ever wanted to experience.
‘I’m not sure we’ve reached the end yet,’ she said. ‘Not until my gran makes her wish.’
‘Indeed. Wilma needs to — how do you say — pull her finger out, or our stay will be prolonged. But we are one big happy family, are we not?’ Dhassim blew a kiss at Aaliyah, who returned the gesture.
Jinnie gave Dhassim a wan smile. ‘If you say so. Now, I need a siesta. If you need me… Well, justdon’tneed me, OK?’
Curled up on the bed, Jinnie craved a reassuring hug from Sam, but his study door remained closed and she didn’t want to disturb him. With her mind already disturbed by thoughts of non-weddings and hopes that Jo’s dreams didn’t crash and burn, she fell into an uneasy sleep.
CHAPTER33
‘Doyou fancy eggs Benedict or smoked salmon scrambled eggs for brekkie?’ asked Wilma.
‘I’ve a vague idea what eggs Benedict are, but toast and marmalade with plenty of strong coffee will do the job.’
Wilma pulled a few slices of bread from the bread bin. ‘Correct answer, as I’ve nae eggs and smoked salmon’s in short supply too.’
She watched Gus settle at the kitchen table, fresh from the shower and as handsome as ever. Wilma had levered herself out of bed earlier than usual to make something of her bird’s-nest hair and a face more rumpled than her duvet. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked, sniffing a jar of marmalade untouched for many months. It smelt OK, but a bit of mould needed scooping out.
‘Like the proverbial baby, Wilma.’ He laughed, a sound that would never fail to warm Wilma’s heart.
‘Aye, that’s an oxymoron if there was ever one.’
As Wilma made coffee, Gus’s brow creased. ‘You’re testing my vocabulary today. Not too keen on the moron bit. Care to elaborate?’
Wilma waited till the toast had browned sufficiently. Sometimes it took a twiddle of the knob to go from pale and uninteresting to ready for oodles of butter and the marmalade or jam of choice. ‘You never had children, yes?’
