‘Gone. My parents died in my twenties and I have no siblings. Maybe that’s why… When I married Luke, I wanted a child so badly. Children. Two, three—’ She bit the rest back.
Gigi dabbed at the corner of one amber eye with a kaftan sleeve. ‘That is sad. Perhaps you could wish, like Jo did. One last time with your parents.’
‘Like Jo?’ Beth stared. ‘What do you mean, like Jo? Who else in Cranley has met … someone like you?’
‘Oh, sweetling.’ Gigi brightened, as if he’d been waiting for the question all his life. He rearranged himself on the glass, sequins rattling. ‘You’d be surprised. Little Cranley is a hotspot. Jinnie, Jo, Wilma: three very different encounters. And Sam.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Well, that’s a story with bells on.’
‘Jinnie? Wilma?’ Beth blinked. ‘They seem … normal. What do you mean by “encounters”?’
‘Jinnie met a wish-giver with a taste for theatrics. Not like me. Too fond of hissy fits and an abominable disregard for the rules. Ever noticed her hair?’ He waggled his brows.
Beth frowned. Jinnie’s hair was always immaculate. ‘She didn’t wish for?—’
‘Multiple wishes, darling. A magic carpet may have been involved. And love, naturally. Italwaysturns up on the wish list.’ He tapped the side of his nose.
‘Now, Jo,’ he went on, ‘she had a handful. Her genie was a self-absorbed nightmare. It’s a marvel she didn’t cram her back in her lamp. Then Jo’s genie and Jinnie’s genie… Let’s just say there was chemistry. Poor boundaries. Soap-opera stuff.’
Beth’s head felt as if it might come off. ‘And Wilma?’
‘Wilma got more than she bargained for,’ Gigi said, eyes twinkling. ‘An itsy-bitsy baby genie with growth spurts. Imagine changing an elephant’s nappy. There you go.’
A cold ribbon slid down Beth’s spine. She felt she’d reached a whole new level of insanity.
‘It’s random,’ Gigi said, palms out in mock innocence. ‘Different strokes for different folks. I’m not like them: I’m me. Mischief with a conscience, wrapped up in a glorious bubble of gorgeousness.’
‘So genies have been here before,’ Beth reflected, refraining from mentioning Gigi’s lack of modesty. ‘Why us? Why now? And what about Sam?’
At Sam’s name, Gigi’s brows knitted. ‘Ah. That’sthe interesting bit. Sam is … special. Sensitive to our kind. Which means he has a sort of … leverage. A way of noticing that tugs at our threads.’
‘Does he have power over you?’
‘Hmm.’ Gigi tilted his head. ‘I don’t know. He’s not the key – not yet. He’s more like a bell someone might ring without knowing what it does. Perception can be as dangerous as a wish.’
Beth remembered Sam at the quiz, shock flaring across his face when Ed asked about Disney’s genie. Wilma, Jinnie and Jo.All of them had been on alert, like dogs hearing a frequency no one else could.
‘And my part?’ she asked, surprised by how small her voice sounded.
Gigi’s expression softened. ‘You, Beth, must remember that people are complicated. You don’t treat wishes as cures; you treat them as pathways. You can play when you want to play. You will find the answers, even if right now you’re not sure of the questions. Love burns inside you. Never extinguish the flame.’
Beth exhaled. The words didn’t make a lot of sense, but they settled her muddled mind. ‘I need to draw a line under my marriage,’ she said, aware of how final it sounded. ‘Luke isn’t a bookmark I can slide back into place. I loved him. I probably always will, in the way you love someone who once made you whole. But I can’t live waiting to mend what’s broken. I need tolive.’
‘Delicious,’ Gigi said, half cheer, half sigh. ‘New beginnings are a joy to behold.’
Beth thought of Kieran. The way he listened, his gentle humour. The way she’d wanted to tell him everything and nothing. ‘There’s someone else,’ she admitted, as if naming it might shrink it to a manageable size. ‘Kieran. He’s … kind. I like him. More than like. I don’t know what to call it.’
For once, Gigi was grave. ‘Then be careful. People who listen are rare. They can be challenging, too, because they make you see yourself clearly. Are you sure you’re done with waiting for the past to surprise you?’
‘I think so,’ Beth said, a quiver in her voice.
Gigi touched two fingers to his forehead in an oddly courtly gesture. ‘All right. For now, I’ll smooth out the crease. Simples. He won’t remember a voice calling from the basement, won’t come sniffing around because of me. His life will be as it was; yours will follow its natural pace.’
Gratitude rose so fast that Beth had to sit down. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t mention it. Consider it my good deed of the day.’ His grin turned wicked. ‘I shall keep a few slivers of mischief in reserve. Life is very dull without it.’
The pinball machine chimed, a bright, pleased jangle. It sounded, ridiculously, as if the basement itself was applauding ordinary human bravery.
‘One promise,’ Gigi added, softer now. ‘If you’re tempted to make a wish you don’t understand, come and find me.’
