Page 3 of The Wish
‘Great!’ Amy replies before glancing guiltily at Jesse. ‘I mean, you know, OK I guess, Mrs Morgan.’
Sam hasn’t responded to Amy’s greeting and is still gazing at his feet. Jesse quickly looks from her mother to Sam, then grabs the video game Amy had thrown on the bed.
‘What’re you playing?’
Before Amy can answer, Jesse switches the game on.
‘This is kids’ stuff, come on, I’ll beat your arse.’
‘Jesse. Language,’ Mandy says automatically.
‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘Bring it on,’ Amy yells as she knocks the console from Jesse’s hands, ending the game Jesse started. ‘My turn.’
Mandy places the suitcase on Jesse’s bed and begins emptying its contents into the drawers nearby, placing the most recent family photo on top of the bedside table. Sam curls up on Jesse’s bed.
‘When will Dad be here?’ he says sullenly.
‘He’ll be here soon, he had to go to work,’ Mandy tells her son, ruffling his hair.
‘He always has to go to work,’ Sam snaps back. He snuggles down on the bed, watching the girls playing, his eyes slowly softening and lighting up as they laugh and jostle one another.
CHAPTER 3
‘Inspire a Wish.’ A hand slaps Alex Daniels on the shoulder with phoney bonhomie.
Alex is hunched over his console at his workstation, screens surrounding him. On each screen are panes of code, animated sequences competing with timelines running at the bottom. To the side are panels of reference documentation and system notes, all needing to be considered, added or deleted. To the untrained eye, what Alex is working on would be incomprehensible. In this windowless room, Alex sits every day with several other men and women, each engaged in the quest to bring a virtual world onto the screens and into the headsets and homes of families across the world.
Alex chooses to ignore the words of his boss and shakes the hand from his shoulder, continuing to stare at his screen. He will turn thirty next birthday but looks much younger. He doesn’t know where he got his six-foot-two frame from but he knows it wasn’t from his mother: in the handful of photos he has of the two of them together, she appears as a petite woman, slight of frame. Judging by the photos, he did inherit his olive complexion and unruly dark hair from her. His wavy hair refuses to be groomed and generally stands on end after a day at his desk, as it is now. Alex’s vague memories of his mum calling him her Alexander the Great suggests to him that he has a strong link with Greece. Other than that, his origins are a mystery, just like the father he never knew.
‘Inspire a Wish, Alex, did you hear me?’
‘I wish you would go back into your office and let me get on with what you pay me to do. Inspirational enough for you?’
Ian Williams, the son-in-law of the owner of TriOptic Studios, your basic nepo-baby, swivels Alex’s chair around and leans down, his face too close.
‘The organisation, stupid. Inspire a Wish, you know? They help sick kids get a trip to Disneyland or meet their favourite footballer, whatever it is that will brighten their day. That’s what I’m talking about.’
‘OK? But I’m not sure what you’re after and I’d better get back to it.’ Alex swivels his chair firmly back around. With his mouse, he moves an animated sequence into a live character playing the same game, watching as the timeline stretches on one screen, decreases on the other.
Looking around Alex’s workspace, Ian whistles, playing to the others in the room, all of whom are listening intently while pretending not to and continuing to stare at their screens.
‘To be honest, Alex, it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t know about such a worthy institution. Look at you, all wrapped up in yourself. No photos, nothing personal . . . You really are a loner, aren’t you? Either that or you have a dark secret . . .’
Losing his concentration, Alex looks around at his colleagues’ workspaces. He’s been introduced, via photo, to all their partners and children, he’s responded appropriately when one of them has proudly shown off the artwork his four-year-old produced at nursery: ‘Yeah, for sure another Picasso there, Steve, should put him in art classes.’ He contributed generously to the wedding present bought for Sarah when she married Claire a couple of months ago. Alex has no such occasions to mark. He doesn’t think people would appreciate buying a gift for his dog – his only companion at home.
Ian knows this – he’s needling Alex by pointing it out to the whole team. Alex clenches his fists, his jaw. But he’s not going to give Ian the satisfaction of knowing how much he’s affected him. Alex breathes deeply, centring himself, before inching his chair forwards as far as he can to put some space between him and his overbearing boss. He could stand and face him eye to eye – in fact, he’d be looking down on Ian’s bald head. But he’s feeling a bit more generous today, so he makes do with reclaiming some personal space by extending his long legs, causing Ian to take a step back and stumble slightly. He might be the boss, but everyone knows it’s only because he married Frank’s daughter.
‘Ian, what do you want? I’m right in the middle of combining the animated sequences with the live action in the final cut ofStingrays Rule the Ocean.’
‘I’ve got a really important job for you. A bit of enthusiasm and appreciation wouldn’t hurt.’
‘Ian, I told you I’m busy.’
‘That’s not the attitude, Alex. Regardless of what I ask you to do I expect “Thank you, Ian, how can I help? Tell me more”.’
‘OK. Thank you, Ian, how can I help? Tell me more.’
