Page 64 of A Wish For Wilma
‘Poor Sam doesn’t know if he’s coming or going, what with the whole half-Djinn thing, Dahlia’s early arrival and a looming book deadline. Not to mention the future of Out of the Attic Antiques.’
‘You said before that he might sell the shop or rent it out,’ said Jo. ‘It’d be a real shame to see it go.’
‘He hardly spends any time there these days,’ retorted Jinnie. ‘I think he’s hanging on to it for nostalgic reasons. If I hadn’t gone there on the off-chance of a job, we might never have met.’
‘I wonder…’ Jo looked lost in thought for a few seconds, then shook her head. ‘A vague notion came to me, but it’ll keep.’
Finishing her tea, Jinnie allowed Jo one last cuddle with Dahlia before strapping her securely into her car seat. ‘I’d best get back and feed this little guzzler and letyouget on with feeding the locals. Congratulations again, Jo. Make sure you tell Harvey he’s a very lucky man to have you as his future bride.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll remind him on a daily basis.’ Jo chuckled. ‘Keep me posted on the genie front.’ At the door, she hugged Jinnie. ‘Obviously I’m no expert, but if Sam is a half-Djinn, could he command them to return to their lamps?’
‘That’s the million dollar question. I’ll ask the terrible trio — not that I’m hopeful of getting a sensible answer.’
With the car seat digging painfully into her arm, Jinnie trudged home. Why hadn’t she used the accompanying frame on wheels — a gift from her mum and dad? So many contraptions to deal with, every one as alien as the next. Shona and the gang had ordered a baby bouncer, complete with dangly toys for Dahlia to swipe at. It remained in its box, as did the breast pump. The very idea of milking herself like a cow…
Jinnie halted by the shiny front door. Beyond it was Sam, her wonderful partner and father of the precious human currently stirring in the heavy car seat. Yet something else stirred within Jinnie: a sadness that they’d never formalised their relationship.
‘It’s not a big deal,’ Jinnie told herself, turning the key in the lock. ‘Sam loves you — loves both of us — and that’s enough.’
But was it?
CHAPTER37
Gus,Gus, Gus.
Stop!Wilma clutched her crystals. She tried a tea-leaf reading. She even tried knitting again. Nothing worked. Nothing mattered, except the fact that he’d disappeared. Yes, she’d ignored his messages and calls, but now he was floating out there somewhere, incommunicado. All calls and messages had ceased.
‘Closure,’ she muttered. ‘That’s what we need, in today’s stupid parlance. A line drawn under this silly mess. Just tell me that you and Shirley are back together and I’ll move on.’
If you could hate a word — want to slap a word till it shrivelled up and died—closure would be at the top of Wilma’s list, closely followed by the expression ‘reach out’. What was that all about? You got in touch with someone, plain and simple. The only ones who could get away with it were The Four Tops.
Wilma wished she had a few friends to talk to. She kept in touch sporadically with a couple of old dears — OK, women of a similar age — whom she’d met when Eric was still alive. But Betsy lived a good two hours away and had a gammy leg and a dodgy ticker. Elspeth lived closer — Hawick, in the Scottish borders — but the last Wilma had heard, she was going into residential care. Neither had embraced new technology, so they were as likely to fly to the moon as take part in a FaceTime chat.
Are you just a sad, lonely woman who clung to Gus because he brought some much-needed excitement to your life?Wilma pondered the question. It had an element of truth, but not the whole truth. What they had had surely gone beyond friendship. She had memories of kisses and cuddles to prove it, although now they felt more painful than pleasurable.
Maybe I should tell DJ I’ll have the wish and get him to conjure up some chums. Preferably with mobile phones and decent health.
With Gus off the scene, Wilma had no reason not to welcome DJ back. He’d be company for her until he and his parents somehow vaporised, or whatever genies did when they moved on. She’d never meant to burden Jinnie and Sam with him for so long. ‘Too up your own backside to think of them dealing with a newborn and three squatters,’ she told herself grimly.
No time like the present.Wilma removed her phone from its charger and brought up Jinnie’s number. It rang once, twice, three times, then—
‘Gran! How are you? Oops, hang on a minute.’ Wilma heard rustling, an anguished cry and a distinct swear word, then a lot of shushing and ‘there, there.’
Jinnie came back on the line. ‘Sorry. Changing Dahlia’s nappy while talking on the phone isn’t what you’d call an ideal situation. Aaliyah refuses to help, Dhassim ducks for cover and DJ heads to his room when the air smells of poo.’
‘What about Sam? Doesn’t he step up to the plate — or rather, the nappy?’
‘Of course he does. Sam’s amazing with Dahlia. I’m just not sure… I don’t know… Oh Gran, excuse my hormones. I don’t know what I’m saying or thinking, except I want to marry Sam and I don’t think he wants to marry me. He did once, but I’ve messed everything up. Waited too long, and now—’ A low wail followed.
‘Pet, you’ve had a lot to deal with. Youstillhave a lot to deal with. Sam proposed to you and you decided to wait. No biggie. Then along comes a few genies and a baby. No wonder you’re in a state.’
Much sniffling ensued. Wilma waited patiently, scratching a patch of eczema on her hand. It flared up whenever she was stressed. If her whole body erupted in scaly patches, she wouldn’t be surprised. Lizard lady, she’d be.How attractive.
‘I know I’m being silly, but Jo just got engaged to Harvey. Like,properlyengaged. Full-on bling-ring engaged. What if Sam’s lost interest and I end up as a single mum living on benefits, while he runs off with another woman?’
Wilma had always encouraged creativity in her granddaughter. She’d been happy to spend time with her, writing a story or splodging paint on a canvas that Jackson Pollock might well have approved of. Now, though, she wanted to reach down the phone and give her over-active imagination a good shake. ‘Stop with this nonsense, Jinnie. If you want to marry Sam, tell him! He might be embroiled in the whole genie thing, but he isn’t psychic. Don’t waste another moment. Life really is too short.’
The sniffling subsided. ‘Have I ever told you that you are incredibly smart and that I love you? And if you ever dare to leave’ — the sniffling increased — ‘I will be bereft. And that’s not a word I use often. I absolutely love you, Gran.’
