Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘You’ve been ignoring me.’
‘No I haven’t. I’ve been busy, that’s all.’
‘Pah.’
A sulky ripple of light skittered across the pinball glass. Gigi materialised in ruffled cuffs and a velvet waistcoat the colour of a bruised plum.
‘You’ve not so much as looked at me in three days. Three! Do you know what that’s like in genie years?’
Beth folded her arms. ‘No, and I don’t care. I’ve enough on my plate without pandering to a supernatural ego trapped in a seventies arcade relic.’
‘You wound me, Beth.’ His voice deepened theatrically and he clasped his hands together, protruding from the Austin Powers-worthy frilly sleeves.
‘Do you remember when you used to confide in me? All those nights when you’d come down here with a cup of tea and tell me about your tragic little marriage. ’
‘I did not!’
‘And now you’ve replaced me with Kieran.’
Beth’s cheeks burned. ‘I haven’t replaced you with anyone. Kieran’s just…’
‘Handsome?’ Gigi supplied. ‘Brooding? With a voice that makes you go all squidgy around the edges?’
She glared at him. ‘Kieran is my friend.’
‘He’s your crush,’ Gigi corrected, smugly. ‘And I may have, you know, helped him along a bit.’
Beth’s stomach churned. ‘Helped him how?’
The lights flickered. Gigi lowered his voice. ‘I’ve been talking to him, in his head. Little nudges: a whisper here, a thought there. “Beth looks nice today,” that sort of thing. Nothing harmful.’
‘What?!’ Beth’s voice shot up an octave. ‘You’ve been in his head? Gigi, that’s – that’s—Oh my God, that’s violating!’
‘Oh, don’t be such a drama llama. It’s not like I’ve been rummaging around in his memories. I’m just … curating the atmosphere. Encouraging positive feelings.’
‘You’re manipulating him!’
‘Manipulating is such an ugly word. Think of it as … matchmaking.’
Gigi sighed, the glitter dimming slightly. ‘Relax, Beth. I can’t make anyone love anyone. I can only amplify what’s already there.’
Beth covered her face. ‘Gigi, you can’t just go around playing Cupid with real people. Kieran’s been through enough without you mucking about in his brain.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Gigi said brightly.
‘You’re unbelievable.’
‘Thank you.’
Beth was still fuming when she bumped into Ed, cheeks slightly flushed, a towel slung over his shoulder.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked, glancing past her to the pinball machine. ‘You look like you’re about to throttle something.’
‘Just … having a word with the electrics,’ said Beth, shooting the pinball machine a murderous look.
‘Want me to take a peek?’
‘No!’ She checked herself. ‘I mean, it’s fine. Honestly. How’s the beer line?’ They’d had problems earlier, with punters complaining about having to drink from poncy bottles.
‘Flowing like a dream.’ He grinned. ‘I still think we should get that beauty upstairs. Maybe a jukebox, too.’
Beth bit her lip to avoid screaming.
‘They’re here!’ Angela called, from above.
Ed pulled a wry face. ‘Sorry, I meant to say that my folks are visiting for a couple of days. Dad’s grand, Mum is too, but…’
‘She has dementia,’ Beth said softly. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She patted Ed’s shoulder.
He gave a small, tired shrug. ‘It is what it is.’
They climbed to the bar. Ken – an older, handsomer version of Ed – folded his son into a hug, then Angela. As he stepped back Mags clung to his arm, eyes skittering around the room.
‘Well, this is lovely,’ Ken said. ‘Isn’t it, love? You remember The Jekyll and Hyde, don’t you?’
Mags smiled vaguely. ‘It’s very nice. Oh, is that your friend? The one from the caravan park?’
Ed blinked. ‘No, Mum, that’s Angela. My partner. You’ve met her before, remember?’
‘Have I? Oh, that’s nice. Hello, Alice.’
‘Close enough,’ Ed said gently.
Beth’s chest tightened. She had grieved for babies that never were; this was grief for a person dissolving in front of you. Different pains, both sharp.
‘Come and sit down,’ she said, guiding Mags to a table. ‘I’ll get you a cuppa.’
‘She’s worse,’ Ed murmured as Beth passed him. ‘Dad says she’s started wandering at night. Keeps packing to go “home”.’
Beth squeezed his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’
When she brought the tea, Mags brightened at the biscuits. ‘Ooh, shortbread! I used to make these, didn’t I, Ken?’
‘You did, love,’ Ken said, smiling. ‘Best in the village. Jo always said she didn’t know how you got them so buttery.’
Mags beamed, then frowned. ‘Who’s Jo? Is he the awful plumber who never cleaned up? I don’t remember.’
Ken took her hand. ‘That’s all right. I remember enough for both of us.’
Beth blinked hard and turned away to polish a glass that didn’t need polishing.
Later, after Ken had coaxed Mags upstairs for a lie-down, Ed slumped at the bar with a whisky.
‘She didn’t even recognise the pub at first,’ he said. ‘They ran this place for years. She used to belt out karaoke on Fridays. Now she doesn’t know what “Dancing Queen” is.’
Beth poured herself a splash of wine and sat beside him. ‘She knows she’s safe with you. That’s what matters.’
He smiled, faint and grateful. ‘You’re kind, Beth.’
‘Remind me to have that engraved on my headstone.’
They both huffed a laugh.
Her phone pinged. She glanced down, expecting Diana’s meme of the day. Instead, a message from Luke:
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Beth’s heart stuttered. Weeks of silence, then that. She shoved the phone into her pocket.
‘All right?’ Ed asked.
‘Yeah,’ she lied.
‘If you need to talk—’
‘I don’t.’ It came too fast. She softened. ‘Thank you. Not tonight.’
He nodded and drifted to the snug, where Ken was swapping stories with Jimmy.
Beth retreated to the kitchen, stacked plates, wiped a clean surface. Eventually, inevitably, she went downstairs.
Gigi hovered above the playfield, his lights dim. The machine gave a small, mournful ping.
‘You’re quiet,’ she said. ‘Or are you busy meddling in someone else’s skull?’
‘Even I know when to keep schtum,’ he replied, surprisingly gentle. ‘That message rattled you.’
‘It didn’t.’ She frowned. ‘It was nothing.’
‘Luke,’ he said, as if tasting the name. ‘He wants back in your head.’
‘You stay out of mine.’
‘No need. You’re radiating “conflicted woman seeks closure” in pink and gold neon lights.’
Beth let out a long breath. ‘He says he can’t stop thinking about me. Which is funny, because he had no trouble not thinking about me when he left.’
‘People are idiots,’ Gigi said. ‘Present company excepted.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Maybe he’s genuine,’ he added softly. ‘Maybe he’s realised what he’s lost.’
‘And maybe I’ve realised I’m better off without him.’ Her voice went for resolute; her heart refused to cooperate.
Gigi drifted closer. ‘You deserve happiness, Beth. Whether that’s with Kieran, alone, or … elsewhere.’
She half-smiled. ‘That’s oddly kind. I thought genies just granted wishes. Not that we’ve been stellar on that front.’
‘I am a delectable law unto myself.’
She laughed, despite herself. For a moment, the basement felt still. A bit like the quiet before stormy weather rolled in.
Her phone buzzed again. She hesitated, then looked.
Please, can we talk? I’m outside.
Beth’s breath snagged. She stepped to the tiny window, peered up at the wet street.
He was there. Hands shoved in pockets, looking up.
‘Well,’ Gigi murmured. ‘Things just got interesting.’
Beth didn’t move. Her heart thudded in her chest, torn between a past that had just reappeared and a future she didn’t know how to navigate.
Luke gave a tentative wave and entered the pub.