Page 43 of A Wish for Jinnie
Jinnie hastily put down her phone. Sam approached, his handsome face tired and drawn.What’s he on about?Surely he didn’t know she’d been thinking about men, and just about to check out images and ponder whether any sock-stuffing had been involved? Ha, Jinnie would have tochasea man with a stick at this rate… Oh, Sam meantcustomers.
‘Ha ha. Nope, it’s been super quiet. Erm, are you OK?’ He looked exhausted, as if he’d been up all night researching gruesome ways to commit a murder. For his books, obviously. Or maybe there was another reason for his jaw-dislocating yawn.
‘I’m fine. Didn’t sleep too well, that’s all.’ Sam collapsed into a chair, long legs stretched out and arms folded behind his head. ‘Stuff going on, but I won’t bore you with the details.’
Please do. Jinnie wanted to get into Sam’s headspace. Figure out what made him tick. Even if his tick was out of synch with her tock.
‘Go home, Jinnie.’ Sam yawned again. ‘Do something nice with the rest of the day. I’ll stay here and catch up with some paperwork.’
Jinnie didn’t want to go home. No doubt Dhassim would still be fiddling with his WIFI and expect her to rustle up some food. She’d left him a can of tomato soup and half a loaf of bread, which would have to do.
‘If you’re sure. Or I could treat you to lunch at the Jekyll and Hyde?’ Liz’s legendary Lancashire hotpot was a Friday favourite. Jinnie drooled at the thought of those juicy chunks of lamb, smothered in crispy potato —
‘Sounds lovely, Jinnie, but I don’t think I’d be good company today. See you Monday?’ Sam’s phone buzzed and he frowned at the screen.
‘OK, have a nice weekend.’ Jinnie gathered up her stuff and left, pausing to look back as she opened the door. Sam didn’t look up, and she swallowed the bitter taste of rejection.
Aware that she was perilously close to busting her meagre monthly budget, Jinnie decided to swing by A Bit of Crumpet.A Scotch pie would suffice, and she could have a natter with Jo. However, on entering she spotted Angela behind the counter, ladling soup into bowls. Jinnie waited her turn while the couple in front of her debated whether to have scones or doughnuts with their tea.
‘Hiya,’ said Angela, when Jinnie reached the counter. ‘What can I get you?’ She looked better than when they’d bumped into each other in Edinburgh, but only marginally.
‘A Scotch pie, please, and a coffee to go.’ Jinnie pulled out her purse, but Angela shook her head and produced a handful of change from her apron pocket.
‘This one’s on me. You treated me last time, remember?’ She counted the coins into the till before bagging the pie and fitting a lid on the coffee cup.
‘Jo not around?’
‘Nah, she’s off touting for business for her new venture. Outside catering. Already got a couple of bookings on the back of this.’ Angela pointed at a small pile of flyers on the counter. ‘They don’t look too brilliant at the moment, but Ed’s going to work his design magic on them.’
At the mention of Ed, Angela’s face changed from glum to glowing.Alrighty, thought Jinnie. Definitely interest there. Whether it was reciprocated, though, was another matter.
‘That’s good news then,’ she replied, unable to resist taking a bite of pie. Sod the calories, Jo’s pies were a little slice of heaven. ‘More business means more money, right?’
Angela shrugged as she filled milk jugs for another order. ‘Unless Jo bags a deal to feed the Scottish Parliament, it won’t change my situation.’ She looked past Jinnie. ‘Sorry, was that two cappuccinos and one tea?’
Back on the high street, Jinnie dithered about what to do next. She could visit her family, but her dad would be at work and her mum often volunteered at the local charity shop on Fridays. Wilma would be around, but Jinnie didn’t feel up to another tea-reading session. She’d go and see them next week.
Dismissing the idea of popping into the pub for a cheeky drink, Jinnie reluctantly decided that an afternoon with her genie pal would have to do. Dragging her heels, she shuffled back to Brae Cottage. Her route took her past Sam’s place, also a cottage, but on a considerably grander scale. Its sandstone façade spoke of a genteel past, the front door a discreet powder blue complete with polished lion’s-head knocker. Jinnie had never been inside — why would she? — but she was curious about the kind of home a man like Sam would have. She imagined a full-length wall of bookcases, an enormous squishy sofa, a tidy but dated kitchen well-stocked with fine wine but lacking in cupboard essentials. As for his bedroom —
Eek! Jinnie’s thoughts of a super king-size bed made up with masculine grey linen were replaced with horror as the front door opened a fraction. She scurried across the road and into an alley, half-mortified that Sam might think she had stalker tendencies, half-wondering why he was already home. Unless … unless he’d been burgled, and said thieving bastards were about to emerge with armfuls of swag.
Heart thumping, Jinnie pressed herself against the alley wall. Whichever scenario it turned out to be, she didn’t want to be clocked by either Sam or some wild-eyed chancer wielding a kitchen knife. Eventually curiosity won the day, and she peered around the corner. No stocking-over-the-head felon. Instead, an immaculately-groomed female who might well be wearing stockings, but on her impossibly long legs. Auburn hair, piled up in one of those buns designed to look effortless but requiring piles of pins and manual dexterity. She had a large holdall slung over her shoulder, and for a moment Jinnie thought she might be Sam’s cleaner. Until Sam appeared behind her, and she turned and rested her head on his chest.Probably not his cleaner, then.
Jinnie felt sick, willing herself to look away. But like a rubbernecker passing a road accident, she couldn’t help but watch. Sam raised the woman's chin with one finger, then kissed her on the forehead.
Unable to stomach any more, Jinnie took off at a gallop as a taxi pulled up outside Sam’s place. All she wanted was to lock herself in her bedroom and reflect on what an idiot she was.As if Sam could ever be interested in someone like me. Dull, dumped and woefully unambitious.She worked for Sam, and he’d been kind to her. End of story. One misjudged kiss, and she’d built it up into something that could never be.
Chapter 40
‘You are sad, Jinnie.’
Ten out of ten for observation.Was the pile of sodden tissues crumpled all around her the giveaway? Or the fact that she’d stormed into the cottage, thundered upstairs and wailed, ‘I am never coming out of this room, ever!’ at the top of her voice? That in itself should have warned Dhassim to keep his distance. But no. Her genie possessed many skills, but recognising when someone really wanted to be alone wasn’t one of them.
‘Yes, I’m sad. And there’s nothing you can do about it.’ Jinnie honked into another tissue. Granted, he’d let her be for a couple of hours before barging into the bedroom with a peanut-butter sandwich in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. She’d tried to snooze, but the sound of Johnny Cash singing ‘Ring of Fire’ as he wooed June (Reese) had kept her awake. Now Jinnie’s nose was aflame, and her mind kept snapping back to the image of Sam with another woman.
‘My WIFI is working.’ Dhassim nudged the sandwich closer. ‘Please eat, Jinnie.’
Jinnie took an unenthusiastic bite, then nearly spat it back onto the plate. Who, in the name of the wee man, mixed mayonnaise with peanut butter?
