Page 69 of A Wish For Wilma
Sam said nothing. A whimper from the cot broke the silence.
‘She needs feeding. Go and talk to Dhassim and Aaliyah; I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t even know whatthisis.’
Sam kissed Jinnie distractedly, then reached into the cot, gathered up a squirming Dahlia and handed her over. ‘There you go.’ He hovered in the doorway, inscrutable and unbelievably handsome. ‘Jinnie, don’t ever doubt for a microsecond how much I love you.’
‘I try not to.’
‘Good.’
He left and Jinnie fumbled with the hideous nursing bra, wondering if she’d ever feel desirable again. Why had Sam completely dodged the DJ bullet that threatened to reduce her brain to mushy shards? Unless, as a demi-Djinn, he already knew how it played out.
She looked down at Dahlia. ‘Baby girl, one day you’ll be out there doing amazing things. Making mistakes, too, but you need to make mistakes to get it right. It’s all about learning, and having the confidence to realise that screwing up is in our nature. Even genies screw up. Not that I’ll ever share that with you.’
Dahlia sucked away. Jinnie closed her eyes and rested her head on the pillow. She felt hurt that Sam hadn’t shared the news about the antiques shop before, or even consulted her. Come to think of it, he’d snuck out the other day, mumbling something about an auction in Linlithgow. Why go to an antiques auction when you didn’t plan to keep the business?
CHAPTER40
‘That’s great, Gran.’
When sharing the news about her and Gus reuniting and Shirley being kicked into touch, Wilma hadn’t expected a marching brass band or a military flypast, just a smidgeon of enthusiasm. Instead she’d received a flat response from her granddaughter, who looked in dire need of sleep, judging by the dark smudges under her eyes.
‘Aye, well, I’m happy and off to Lisbon soon. You look like you need a holiday too.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing. Sorry, I’m just tired and worried about Sam and me and the whole genie thing.’ Jinnie filled Wilma in on DJ’s plotting. ‘It sounds scary. Dhassim seems fairly confident, but Aaliyah has her G-string in a knot.’
‘Having the equivalent of dental floss up your rear would make anyone twitchy. Big knickers all the way, that’s what I say.’
Wilma topped up their teas — not that Jinnie’s needed much topping up. She’d sipped a mouthful before tending to Dahlia, who was oblivious to the tension in the room. ‘Are you still stressing about Sam? Pet, stop doing this to yourself. I consulted the crystals earlier and I know… Well, it’s written in the stars. I mean the crystals. Haven’t I always told you that what will be will be? If it’s good enough for Doris Day, God rest her whip-crackin’ soul, it’s good enough for the rest of us.’
Jinnie huffed in exasperation. ‘Gran, sometimes you say things that make no sense. Then they make a little sense. And then I tear myself apart trying to figure out why I’m so useless. I don’t even know who Doris Day is.’
‘Doris Day? Sweetheart, one day, when life is more settled, we need to treat ourselves to a Doris binge. She was the epitome of wholesomeness and tenacity. She reached the age of ninety-seven, with a history that belied her on-screen persona.’
Jinnie put her head to one side. ‘Ninety-seven? That means—’
‘Aye.’ Wilma nodded sagely. ‘If my heart keeps pumping, I could match Doris’s innings in ten years. I’ll no’ be down the bookies putting odds on it, but who knows? And she released an album at eighty-nine. Do you think I’ve time to write a few love songs before I pop my clogs?’
Jinnie blinked furiously. ‘You’ve already found your love song. Well, love story. You don’t need an album: a one-off belter will do. I’ll buy it, and put it on Spotify.’
‘I’d better get the royalties if it goes viral and Ed Sheeran covers it. Or that skinny wee bloke, Harry something or other. Dresses like a woman with nae taste, but he seems nice enough.’
‘You're the complete opposite of politically correct, Gran, but that doesn’t matter.’ Jinnie hugged Wilma. ‘Sorry for being a grump. I’m so lucky to have you.’
‘And I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have you, sweetheart,’ said Wilma. ‘Now, give me a cuddle and put a wee smile on your face.’ They held each other, Wilma breathing in her granddaughter’s scent, perfume with a hint of baby.
‘You give the best cuddles, Gran,’ whispered Jinnie.
‘Aye, I’m always available for cuddles. Had quite a few from Gus, as it happens.’ Wilma felt relieved as Jinnie chuckled and wagged a finger.
‘What you two get up to is something your granddaughter doesn’t need to know about. Now, I need a wee, so can you mind Dahlia for a few minutes?’
‘Is the Pope Catholic? I’ll happily mind the wee bairn as often as you like. Well, as long as I’ve time off to spend with Gus.’
Wilma cradled Dahlia in her arms, rocking her gently as she sang an old Scottish lullaby.
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,
Angus is here with dreams to sell.
