Page 57 of A Wish For Wilma
Accept things for what they are. Move on. You’re too old to be playing games. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me… Listen to yourself.
Sadness settled on Wilma’s aching shoulders. Another silly childhood song played in her head:One’s a wish, two’s a kiss, three’s a disappointment.And she’d had them all. Time to focus on the stuff that mattered most. Binning the wish — and Gus – made the most sense.
She’s lying.
And you’re lying to yourself if you think happy-ever-after is just around the corner.
Wilma put her phone on silent and pottered, straightening things that didn’t need straightening. She heated up a macaroni-cheese ready meal and dumped it in the bin after two mouthfuls. Nothing felt right: her stomach ached and her heart thumped.Bam-bam-bam.If she died tonight it would be a right pain in the arse. Nobody wanted to die at Christmas: it would spoil the day for ever. Look at Sadiq. ‘My mother died on Christmas Day and it will always be a mixed bag of emotions.’
Poor man.Wilma wrapped her arms around herself although she wasn’t cold. Only her heart felt chilled, frozen by the doubts snaking through her body.
‘Boil the kettle, fill the hot-water bottle and get to bed!’ Wilma chided herself. She checked her phone for new messages — none — and made sure it was on silent.Silent night, holy night.
She’d sleep on it. Much could be sorted after a good night’s sleep — even if a good night’s sleep seemed as likely as a heatwave in January.
She’s lying.
Wilma tossed and turned, flipping the fleecy hot-water bottle with her toes from one side of the bed to the other. She imagined Gus on the other side of the wall, doing the same thing. Hardly the stuff of erotic fantasies, but she kept those contained in the silly books she read. The ones that made Jinnie cringe when she caught a glimpse.
Switching on the bedside lamp, Wilma fumbled for a crystal. Something solid to hold on to. Pink, blue, black, whatever: she no longer cared. A sob accompanied her fumbling. Her hand seized a solid piece, perhaps tourmaline. Reduces fear and builds self-confidence.
‘Gus, I want to believe in you. I really do. But I’m too decrepit and tired to faff around. It’s almost Christmas, and I’ve a baby to welcome and a genie to deal with. So it ends here.’
As the hot-water bottle cooled, Wilma’s mind calmed. The local church clock chimed midnight.
Ding dong.Decision made.
CHAPTER34
With gifts bundledinto her shopper and a tinsel halo adorning her hair, Wilma waited for the taxi. Not to go to Rob and Kath’s, but to pay an important visit to Jinnie and Sam. She needed to get something off her chest, otherwise it would hover over her like Marley’s ghost.
‘Are you OK, Gran?’ Jinnie had said when Wilma called just after eight on Christmas morning. ‘It seems a bit, well, mad to come here instead of going straight to Mum and Dad’s.’
Wilma had assured Jinnie that she hadn’t gone doolally overnight. ‘I just want to give DJ a wee present, so he knows I’m thinking about him.’ But what she planned to give him was more a bombshell than a gift…
Two weeks had passed since Shirley’s message. Two weeks of constant calls and texts from Gus. She hadn’t answered the calls, simply sent a curt message asking him not to contact her again as she was busy with family matters. That was partly true. In the countdown to the baby’s birth, Wilma had accompanied Jinnie on shopping trips for essentials and helped decorate the nursery. Not wielding a paintbrush — she left that to Sam — but applying cute animal wall stickers and filling shelves with bundles of newborn outfits and blankets. Soothing tasks, which helped steer her mind away from the man she couldn’t have. Was she being unfair on Gus? Possibly, but she couldn’t dodge the feeling that she was too old for him. And even if they got together, he’d end up bored and back with his ex-wife.
‘I’m so sorry, Gran,’ Jinnie repeated constantly when Wilma told her about what had happened, until Wilma asked her not to speak his name again.
* * *
‘What do you mean?’
‘That’s breaking the rules!’
‘No one’s ever refused before!’
Wilma stood her ground. ‘I am exercising my fundamental right to decline an offer I have no need for.’Like cheap double glazing or funeral plans. I mean, who signs up for a funeral plan at my age, especially when the freebie is a poxy pen?
‘But Wilma, there must besomethingyou could wish for?’ Dhassim gave her a beseeching look. Meanwhile, Aaliyah fiddled with her latest hair creation and DJ typed furiously on his WIFI. He currently resembled Marlon Brando, having apparently watchedThe Godfatheron a loop.
‘Get it into your thick heads — no offence, but I’ve purchased brighter lightbulbs — that Ido not want a wish. Carpaccio?’ OK, possibly the wrong word, but close enough.
With Sam upstairs — probably hiding — and Jinnie already at her mum and dad’s, Wilma needed to shut down this conversation. The three of them could figure out the logistics of a wish-recipient giving the wish back, unwanted, unused and available to anyone else who might require it.
‘In the relatively short time I’ve been acquainted with you, cocking things up has been a bit of a habit. You got it hopelessly wrong about Sam being an almighty Djinn, and I’m sure there are other examples.’ Wilma instantly regretted her harsh words. It wasn’t fair to direct her frustration at the genies.
DJ raised his eyes from the device and did a passable Don Corleone impression. ‘We should make you an offer you can’t refuse. Wish to fix things with Gus, or’ — he snapped his fingers in a menacing manner — ‘make that other woman disappear for good.’
