Angela checked her phone. ‘Jinnie’s going to team up with Sam, her gran Wilma and Gus. They’ll bring a travel cot so Dahlia can sleep in Ruairi’s room, and we’ll take turns checking on them. Janette, Alison, Peggy and Peggy’s niece Matilda are up for it. So are Jo, Harvey, Jo’s friend Carole and her husband, Austin. Plus whatever customers Janette has bullied into signing her sheet. So hopefully quite a few teams.’
‘I’ll be the quizmaster,’ added Ed, ‘and Angela will help Rose and Beth with keeping everyone fed and watered.’
‘Yep,’ muttered Beth. ‘I’ll be busy stuffing vol-au-vents and spearing hedgehogs.’
Rose shrieked.
‘Not real ones, sweetheart. Oh, I just remembered, I’ve an old recipe book of my mum’s that might provide more inspiration. I’ll see if I can lay hands on it.’
She slipped away while Ed and Angela debated whether the music round should include Bowie or Bananarama. Down the stairs to the basement once again. She hadn’t set foot in it since the other night. The rational side of her brain said that Gigi didn’t exist. That he was a figment of her imagination, brought on by stress and a bump to the head.
‘Well, lookie here!’
Nope. Not a figment of her imagination. Gigi sat cross-legged on top of the pinball machine. Or rather, hovered inches above it.
‘You cannot be real.’ Beth reached out her hand and he shooed her away.
‘No touchie, no feelie. Them’s the rules. Just gaze in awe at my wondrousness and know how privileged you are to be chosen.’
Privileged?Many words sprang to mind. Deranged,unhinged, off her rocker, a sandwich short of a picnic, but in no way, shape or form did Beth feel privileged.
‘Who, or ratherwhatare you?’ she stammered.
Gigi guffawed. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ He clutched his sizeable belly, which jiggled like a pink blancmange. ‘I am a genie. But no ordinary genie. Unlike others who have passed here before. I’m the wizard of bumpers and the sultan of spin, dig?’
Momentarily distracted by Gigi’s change of outfit – an unflattering combo of a glittery gold crop top and magenta velvet bellbottoms – Beth gasped. ‘You’re a genie? Not possible. Genies don’t exist, and— What do you mean by others?’
Gigi tapped the side of his bulbous nose. ‘That is for me to know and you to find out. Secrets lie beneath the surface of even the dullest of places. And Cranley is – how shall I put this politely? – duller than a silver platter that has remained unpolished in centuries.’
‘That’s very rude,’ countered Beth, then wondered why defending her new home trumped the realisation that a mythological being was levitating before her.
‘Pah. You will learn, eventually. For now, we have the small matter of wishes to deal with. Open your hand.’
Beth unclenched her fist. A gold coin, shiny and new, lay within. ‘How did that get there? Oh, never mind. Daft question. Am I supposed to?—?’
Gigi flicked his eyes upwards in theatrical despair. ‘Put the coin in the slot. Play the game. Make a wish. It’s not rocket science.’
Make a wish?Thoughts raced around Beth’s skull, vying for pole position. One streaked ahead: the wish she’d carried in her heart for so long. The one that had ultimately destroyed her marriage. She couldn’t wish for that.
‘Beth.’ Gigi’s voice softened. ‘I cannot grant a wish until you play the game and say it out loud. And you must score over 300,000 to win.’
Beth cracked her knuckles: a habit that used to drive Luke mad. But he wasn’t here, and probably never would be. ‘Game on!’ she yelled.
The flippers flipped, the lights flashed, the ball bounced, ting-ting-ting, hitting its target. Beth pushed the buttons with all her strength, her chest heaving and her heart racing. ‘Come on!’ she urged, watching the counter increase. 10,000. 50,000. 200,000.
A ball threatened to drop and she screamed in frustration. A close shave, but… Finally, the score passed 300,000 and her name blinked rapidly.
‘Winner winner, chicken dinner!’ Gigi clapped his hands in glee. ‘You had me going for a minute.’
‘I played to win.’ Beth bent over, exhausted yet exhilarated.
‘And win you did. Now – tah dah! – your wish is my command. Which is the cheesiest line ever. Why the Charter for Harmonious Upstanding Genies ever thought that slogan deserved historical status is beyond me.’ Gigi’s gaze spun in a tired circle of disbelief.
‘Why the who … what… I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Beth slumped on the floor. ‘But I need to make a wish. Right?’
‘Please. Because I need to shut down soon. Power levels are low.’
Beth watched Gigi fade in and out. The wish tugging at her heart wasn’t one she could say out loud. So instead?—
