Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
‘I don’t want you to leave!’
Beth sobbed as Gigi shimmered in front of them. Like a badly pixellated film, he faded in and out of view.
‘But it’s time, Bethikins. Wishes almost granted, happy-ever-afters cooking like gas, and all that jazz.’
Sam stepped forward. ‘Do I need to perform some ritual? Please say no.’
Jinnie tugged at Sam’s arm. ‘I think this time, Gigi gets to do his own thing. Right, Gigi?’
‘Does this mean he’ll be shacking up with Dhassim, Aaliyah and DJ?’ Wilma cackled. ‘Rather him than me, although I do sometimes miss the lad.’
‘I do not know where I am destined to go,’ said Gigi, cheeks wobbling with emotion.‘Maybe a lava lamp, Beth?’
Beth choked back a soggy giggle. Kieran squeezed her hand.
‘Ach, the auras are all over the shop tonight,’ Wilma said to Jo, who shrugged. ‘Purple, pink, grey, a touch of orange. That’s a new one. Have you been dipping into the fake tan, Gigi?’
The madness of it all threatened to derail Beth. She’d moved to Cranley with a broken heart, met a genie, been granted three wishes and found Kieran. Sweet, lovely, honest Kieran, who’d put her back together. Like a reverse Humpty Dumpty.
‘So, what happens next?’ asked Kieran.
Jo finally spoke. ‘Shouldn’t you play one last time, Beth?’
No one replied, but the room thrummed with pulsating energy. The pinball machine appeared, as solid as the first time she’d seen it. Right there, in Sam and Jinnie’s living room.
‘Can I, Gigi?’
All eyes turned to Beth. She opened her hand, showing a gold coin in her palm. Their mutual gaze shifted to an ethereal butterfly, fluttering above her head.
‘Of course.’ Gigi settled cross-legged on top of the pinball machine. The epitome of calm, albeit calm with a sense of closure.
Beth played like she’d never played before. Fingers flying, flippers working at warp speed. Ball bouncing, ricocheting, rebounding, score mounting.
‘Go, girl!’
She didn’t register the final tally: she only heard a cacophony of beeps, jingles and music. Voices, whoops, everything was a blur as she fell to her knees.
‘Beth.’ Kieran knelt beside her. Through a mist of tears, she took in his lovely face. ‘It’s going to be OK,’ he whispered. ‘You, me, whatever the future has in store. We’ll deal with it, one step at a time.’
As stifled sobs echoed around the room, Gigi gestured for quiet. ‘I think we’re forgetting one little thing.’
‘That genies don’t exist and we’re in the middle of a herd hallucination?’ Kieran’s words were laced with residual disbelief. He helped Beth to her feet, and she blinked at Gigi.
‘Your third wish, darlin’. That one nearly slipped by. Close your eyes and say it.’
Beth paused. Gigi’s words from before played through her mind. Healing. The messy, complicated, gut-wrenching, wonderful kind.
‘Is it really that simple?’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t I wish for something more … I don’t know, meaningful? That makes other people happy? Thanks to Kieran, thanks to you, Gigi, I’m already healing.’
Gigi smiled. ‘Of course you are. And that’s how it should be. But wishes can spread further. They can fly, like your gossamer-winged friend.’
‘What in the name of the wee man is he talking about?’ Wilma frowned at Jinnie, who shook her head.
‘I think Gigi’s saying that Beth’s wish – wishes – go further than ours did.’ Jo looked at Sam. ‘Does that make sense to you?’
‘Absolutely nothing in Cranley makes sense. Right?’
Heads nodded in agreement.
‘But we each got a set of wishes. OK, some got more than others, some wishes were completely off the wall. And we accepted them. Why is it different now?’
Gigi did the pixellation thing again. There one minute, barely visible the next. ‘I could bore you all to death with the FBI, CHUG and the silly WIFI thing, but here’s the rub.’
They waited. Prom strode in, tail in the air, attitude through the roof.
‘How the…’ Kieran stuttered. ‘I locked all the doors and windows. I know I did.’
A collective mutter of ‘don’t you get it yet’ rumbled round the room.
‘Kieran,’ said Jinnie, in the manner of a mother addressing a toddler. ‘We’re in the presence of a genie. I don’t think Prom going walkabout is relevant.’
‘Ah, what an intelligent cat.’ Gigi stroked Prom, who purred appreciatively.
‘Yep, he’s a regular Einstein,’ deadpanned Kieran.
The butterfly hovered over everyone’s heads, showering them with gold glitter.
‘Just like the open mic night.’
‘We all knew something magical was in the air.’
‘We just didn’t realise who or what it was.’
Gigi chuckled as they chatted among themselves, but even his voice sounded diminished. Shrunken, as if he was no longer the confident, often arrogant genie Beth had grown to love. Love? It came in all shapes and sizes. Lesson learned.
‘Erm, can we wrap this up soon?’ said Sam. ‘I’ve a book signing in Edinburgh later.’
Jinnie raised her eyebrows at Sam. ‘Darling, you’re off the demi-Djinn hook and we’re all emotional wrecks. Scrawling your name on a few paperbacks can wait.’
Sam looked put out. Perhaps the ‘few’ had stung.
‘Beth,’ said Gigi.
She reached out, grasping Gigi’s hands. ‘You’re d-disappearing,’ she stuttered. ‘What happens – I mean, what do we do with the pinball machine when you’re gone?’
‘Keep it, store it, bin it. It doesn’t matter. Once the Wish Master has gone, it is a mere relic of a bygone era.’
‘Sounds like me,’ said Wilma.
‘Shush, Gran,’ said Jinnie.
‘It is almost time.’ Gigi smiled, but tears glistened in his eyes.
Tears matched by those in Beth’s. No, now her tears cascaded down her cheeks.
She felt a sharp pang of loss. Not like the loss of her precious babies: nothing would ever match that.
This … this felt like losing a dear friend. A pal, and a confidante.
‘But is it really the end?’ said Jo.
As she spoke, the butterfly zapped around the room, its iridescent shimmer dimming, glitter tumbling from its wings. It landed lightly on everyone’s head, finally resting on Gigi. A second later, it was gone.
‘Does this mean no more genies in Cranley?’ Sam gave a helpless shrug before pulling Jinnie into his arms.
‘Will we ever see anyone like you again?’ asked Wilma. ‘Or is that top-secret, hush-hush stuff?’
Gigi puffed out a breath. It vaporised as if the air was ice cold. ‘Mortals get endings: I just reset. But you, Beth – you grew.’
The words lingered, heavier than the glitter still drifting lazily to the floor. Gigi’s outline softened, his edges blurring like breath on glass.
‘You can’t just reset,’ Beth said, clinging to him. ‘And I hate goodbyes.’
‘So do I, although I’ve been practising for centuries.’ He winked, though the wink juddered. ‘Besides, magic never really leaves. It lingers.’
Wilma snorted. ‘Like a bad smell, which reminds me of DJ.’
Gigi laughed, the sound thinning. ‘Cranley’s a funny little place. It has a constant electricity, like a plug socket that’s never switched off. You lot did that. Community, kindness, chaos. My favourite cocktail.’
The pinball machine flickered. The lights dimmed. One final, triumphant jangle rang out, then silence.
‘Beth,’ Gigi said softly, ‘it has been a pleasure to serve you.’
He pressed a kiss to Beth’s forehead. It felt warm. Solid. Real.
Then he was mist. Then sparkle. Then nothing at all.
The pinball machine sat inert, its dull glass reflecting a group of stunned villagers and a disgruntled cat.
‘Well,’ Sam said eventually, ‘that’s another moment to add to the Cranley craziness collection.’
Kieran laughed shakily and wrapped Beth close. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Outside, a sound like a volley of fireworks disturbed the silence, then ceased.
‘Did anyone else hear that?’ Jo asked.
Wilma smiled. ‘Aye. Cranley’s got magic left in it yet.’
Beth squeezed Kieran’s hand. ‘I hope so,’ she said, with a smile.