Page 77 of A Box of Wishes
Ben had the feeling that Ryan’s words, while in answer to Tarbert’s question, were meant for him. They were the explanation Ben had demanded and not listened to.
Talking to Alastair had shown him there was more to Ryan. It had also reminded him that he was no different. He’d hidden behind layers of protections and had judged people by his past experiences instead of theirs. He needed to grow up, too.
“I’m happy to open the box myself, if you trust me to do so,” Ryan said into the lengthening silence. “If you need proof that I have no issue with it.”
To Ben’s surprise, Tarbert held out the key. Ryan took it and removed the padlock holding the box closed. That task completed, he stepped away from the desk and Tarbert reached out and lifted the lid off the Box of Wishes.
Ben had expected a spill of colour. Instead, he had to lean forward to see anything at all.
A long, narrow sheet of paper, a little grubby around the edges, lay on the bottom of the box. When Tarbert lifted it out, Ben saw that it was the only thing in there.
Not one coloured paper square.
Not a single wish.
Not even the one Ben had written and placed in the box himself.
“Where did they go? All the wishes people made? Where did they go?”
“Where they needed to be heard. I know it makes no sense, but it’s all the explanation I have. And as my da would say, as long as it works, don’t meddle with it.” He met Ben’s gaze while he spoke, and his tiny smile warmed Ben to his core. He returned the smile and was so busy watching Ryan that he jumped when Tarbert swore.
“Sir?”
Tarbert didn’t lift his eyes from the papers in his hand. He held three sheets of paper not one, Ben saw, covered in diagrams and tiny writing. “You had the right of it after all,” Tarbert said. “This is a recipe for synthesising MDMA. From the Buckingham lab would be my guess.”
Ben locked gazes with Ryan. “We have to let people know that we found these. Or you and your coffeehouse will never be safe again.”
“You think this is the reason for the break-ins?”
“They did demand a recipe. And we’ve never been able to think of any other reason for you becoming a target. Maybe now, when we question the two men who attacked you, we’ll get to the bottom of it all. You’ve been most helpful, Mr O’Shaughnessy. I really can’t thank you enough.”
Ryan’s face showed neither relief nor elation.
“If you want to talk about it,” Ben began and then caught himself. Yes, they needed to talk. But before they could start to discuss the peril Ryan had been in, they needed to have a different conversation. “I could come by when I’m done?”
Ryan’s lips curled at Ben’s carefully worded suggestion. “I’ll have tea waiting.”
Made from Hope and Dreams
Ben knocked on the backdoor of the coffeehouse, when—before their quarrel—he would have walked right in. His heart beat faster than it had all day and while he was pleased there would be no witnesses for the discussion he and Ryan had to have, a few customers providing a distraction might have been welcome.
And then Ryan stood in the door, eyebrows raised as if to ask what Ben was doing before he recollected himself.
“Come on in,” he said and turned back to the kitchen. “I’ll make tea.”
“Ryan. Wait.” Ben caught up to him with two steps. “How much more do you have to do? Only, I’d love to have dinner with you. Talk while we’re both sitting down. Do you think we could…?”
Ryan scanned his kitchen. “I’m done here. Just need to start the dishwasher and lock up.” He looked down at himself. “Though I’m hardly dressed for dinner out.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ben said. “I’m cooking.”
If Ryan was surprised, he didn’t let it show. He started the dishwasher, then took off his apron and hung it over its hook on the door. While Ben waited on the doorstep, Ryan turned off the lights and locked the coffeehouse.
He climbed into the passenger seat when Ben held the door for him, not commenting on the gesture. Ben breathed a sigh of relief. He’d expected Ryan to follow him home on his bike. That he didn’t gave Ben hope.
Traffic between Rothcote and Kingsmead was negligible, and Ben took full advantage, driving as fast as the narrow roads allowed.
It had been Tarbert who’d suggested that Ben should feed Ryan for a change. Ben had thought it an excellent idea. His kitchen repertory wasn’t large, but he’d decided to cook hot and sour soup, and follow it with rice and chilli beef. Just the thing for a cold February night.
