Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
The pub was never truly silent. Even at two in the morning, when Ed and Angela had long gone upstairs and the beer taps gleamed in the half-dark, The Jekyll and Hyde retained a heartbeat. Old beams settled, pipes creaked. The ghost of a thousand conversations clung to the walls like mist.
Beth tiptoed across the wooden floor, her footsteps careful, as though she might wake the building itself. The only light came from the green glow of the emergency-exit sign, casting long shadows that made the room look bigger, or emptier. She wasn’t sure which.
Her gaze drifted to the pinball machine. The Wish Master, although Beth hadn’t mastered the art of making wishes. She still couldn’t believe that Gigi’s own wish, to be centre stage in the pub, had been granted.
Now, in the hush of near darkness, the machine looked dormant, the brass trim catching faint glimmers of light. The genie on the back glass looked half-mocking, half-inviting.
Beth swallowed. ‘I must be mad,’ she whispered.
‘You say that as if it’s a bad thing.’
Gigi’s voice floated out of the shadows moments before he shimmered into existence, perched cross-legged on top of the machine like a disco Buddha. Tonight, his waistcoat was magenta sequins, his trousers a violent electric blue. He sparkled like a feverish dream.
‘Sweetheart,’ he said, ‘you could at least knock.’
‘I wasn’t expecting you’ – Beth gestured helplessly at him – ‘to appear when it’s unplugged.’
‘Unplugged?’ Gigi scoffed. ‘Please. Don’t you remember our early encounters? Anyway, technology is a suggestion, not a boundary.’
She sighed, rubbing her temples. ‘I can’t sleep.’
‘Oh, lucky me.’ Gigi fluttered his eyelashes. ‘Tell Uncle Gigi everything.’
‘I’m not calling you Uncle anything,’ Beth muttered. ‘And I’m not here for therapy.’
‘Darling, I’m the only therapist you can see at two in the morning without an appointment and a three-month wait. Start talking.’
Beth took a seat at one of the empty tables. The silence pressed in around her, heavy and familiar. She steadied her breathing. ‘I think I’m falling for someone,’ she said. The words felt foreign and frightening in her mouth.
Gigi’s eyes widened. ‘Oh my. Progress. Character development!’
‘Don’t start.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ He pretended to zip his lips, then immediately unzipped them. ‘Actually, I absolutely would, but continue.’
Beth’s heart kicked against her ribs. ‘It’s Kieran.’
Gigi clutched his chest. ‘The techie with the soulful eyes and tragic wallpaper? Thought so. Continue.’
‘No. This is serious.’
‘So am I. Occasionally.’ He softened. ‘What’s the problem, sweetheart?’
Beth stared at the floor. ‘I can’t let this happen.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’ll break him. Or he’ll break me. And I can’t handle any more … loss.’ Her voice thinned around the last word.
Gigi nodded, his expression gentler than she’d ever seen. ‘Luke.’
The name sat between them like a ghost.
Beth’s throat tightened. ‘We tried so hard. Everything we did – the routines, the diets, the appointments, the endless injections and scans and hopes – it all fell apart. And he walked away. He walked away because he couldn’t cope and… I can’t blame him. I couldn’t cope, either.’
Gigi hopped down from the machine with unexpected grace. He settled beside her, sequins dimming slightly, as though he could read the room.
‘You didn’t fail because you didn’t love enough,’ he said softly. ‘You didn’t fail at all. Bodies are messy. Life is unfair. None of that makes you less.’
Her eyes burned. ‘I can’t give Kieran a family. Not the way most people mean.’
‘And who told you he wants that?’
‘I don’t know!’ Beth’s voice cracked. ‘But if he does … if I let him in … and then I have to explain that I’m not capable … that I’m broken…’
‘Stop that.’ Gigi tapped her forehead lightly. ‘Not broken: bruised. There’s a difference. And bruises heal faster than you think.’
Beth let out a shaky breath.
He gave her a sidelong look. ‘Besides, you’ve got two wishes left.’
Beth snorted. ‘I don’t even know if the first one counted.’
‘It counted, trust me. Poorly executed, very emotionally charged, zero strategic planning. A classic first wish.’ He ticked imaginary boxes. ‘But wishes two and three? Those could be something else entirely.’
‘Like what?’
‘Wish two,’ he said, raising a finger theatrically, ‘could be for courage. To tell someone how you feel. To believe you deserve happiness. To stop sprinting away from babies like they’re wailing, pooping monstrosities.
Which most of them are. And – correct me if I’m wrong, which I never am – haven’t you warmed to Dahlia and Ruairi? ’
Beth nodded. ‘But that doesn’t mean everything’s OK.’
‘Noted. And wish three … ahhh.’ He twirled, medallion flashing. ‘Wish three could be what you truly need. Not what you think you need. There’s a difference.’
‘And what do I truly need?’
‘Healing,’ he said simply. ‘The messy, complicated, gut-wrenching, wonderful kind.’
The words hit her with unexpected force. She blinked rapidly, willing the sting behind her eyes to recede.
Gigi smiled gently. ‘Also, a decent night’s sleep. But that might be beyond my magical remit.’
Beth gave a weak laugh. ‘You’re insufferable.’
‘I know.’ He winked. ‘But I’m completely fabulous.’
A soft creak sounded above them. Footsteps. Someone moving quietly across the landing.
Beth froze.
Gigi put his head on one side. ‘Well, are you going to wish for courage? It’s time, Beth. Carpe diem.’
The footsteps paused near the top of the stairs.
Beth’s pulse surged. She rose to her feet, wiping her damp palms on her jeans.
‘Go on,’ Gigi murmured, fading into a shimmer of sapphire smoke. ‘Say it.’
Beth drew a breath. ‘Don’t I have to play first?’
Above, a familiar voice called softly, hesitant in the dark. ‘Beth? Is everything OK?’
And the moment was lost.
For now.