Page 29 of A Box of Wishes
And that hurt.
“Goodness! How many people are you planning to feed?” Alastair stood on the landing. “Give this here.” He took the bag from Ryan’s arms and vanished into the flat, leaving Ryan to kick off his boots and follow.
“Mm, pork pies with relish, my favourites.” Alastair rifled through the bag.
“You could have had them yesterday, fresh from the oven.”
“But then I would have had to share. Or defend myself against accusations of gluttony.” He flashed the old, familiar grin and stuffed half a pork pie into his mouth. “Now I don’t have to,” he mumbled around his mouthful. “And I can—” He pulled a paper bag from a cabinet, fished out a black pork pie hat, decorated with holly leaves, and slapped it on his head. “Enjoy your delicious pork pies wearing the proper attire.”
He struck a pose and Ryan laughed as he remembered the previous year’s Christmas, when a horde of children had demanded pork pies after spending an hour in a corner of the room fashioning hats from crepe paper.
“We missed you,” he said, bending to unpack the second bag.
“You missed the pork pie hat.”
“We missed you. And the pork pie hat.”
Alastair ignored his comment. He was good at ignoring anything requiring honest emotion, except for when it mattered—and didn’t directly concern him. Like it had mattered on the day Ryan had found the Box of Wishes and hadn’t had enough money to take it home with him. Alastair’s casual generosity could be breath-taking. His tendency to sidestep and avoid… not so much.
Ryan took a breath. Time. Alastair needed time. And for Ryan to back off and not push.
He set all his treats out on the kitchen counter. “How about this, then? Pork pies, spiced beef, baked ham, smoked salmon… and all the trimmings.”
“Sweets?”
“As if I’d forget. I even brought booze, though I’m not sure you need more of that. Let’s eat while you tell me about Singapore.”
They let deeds follow words, and Ryan heard about five-minute rainstorms and Alastair getting his jeep stuck in the mud on the way to a plantation.
“They had to come and tow me out. Not the impression I wanted to make. But they laughed it off, so I followed along.”
“Did they sell to you in the end?”
“They did. But we agreed that they’d deliver the produce to the port where we would pick it up.” Alastair grinned. “I’ve never been called a crap driver in quite such polite terms.”
Ryan tried to picture the jungle, the people Alastair interacted with, the strange dinners he attended… all for the sake of spices Ryan took for granted. “I’d love to visit all the places you go to,” he said.
“You wouldn’t be able to cope.”
“What?”
“I’m serious. Life’s so very different in Asia or the Caribbean. Some plantations… they look dilapidated. Backward. They’d make you itch to fix things. Only people out there think nothing needs fixing.”
“Are you calling me an interfering busybody?”
“Not at all. But Ryan, you get off on looking after people. Even if they don’t need or want looking after.” He waved a hand over the multitude of dishes. “Case in point.”
“You didn’t want me here?” Ryan found it hard to swallow, harder to breathe.
“I didn’tneedyou here, which isn’t the same thing. I enjoy your company, just as I enjoy having the family around, but sometimes I prefer to be by myself.”
“I know that. Remember our trip to Ireland? You’d drag me to some place with music and crowds, and then you’d just sit in a corner, watching. Not talking, not even drinking most nights. As if you could find peace in a crowded room.”
Alastair relaxed. “Not in a crowded room, kiddo. I find quiet spaces in my head. My own worlds, just as I like them. It’s how I handle all the travelling without blowing a gasket. It’s a talent.”
“That I’m disrupting with my need to look after you?”
“Sometimes. I’m… not good at saying no. Or with talking about things that bother me.”
