The Wishing Box

by Blake Croft

  Diana plucked a grape off and popped it in her mouth. The buzzing noise intensified. Her teeth sank into the tender flesh of the fruit and it flooded her mouth with the sweetest juice she had ever tasted. She had another, and then another, gorging on the fruit till it was all gone.

  She wiped her sticky mouth with a tea towel, her eyes darting around the small kitchen furtively, making sure no one was watching. She glanced out the back door, then very diligently removed the box from the top shelf. She cleaned it with the hem of her skirt, not believing the wish had actually come true, but unable to risk parting with the box in case it had been.

  ***

  The table was straining under the weight of all the dishes Diana had laid out, the sugar cake taking center stage. Peter couldn’t help feeling happy that he had been the source of so much abundance and joy for his parents.

  Being away for so long, he felt like he was finally seeing them for the frail human beings they were. There were deep bags under Steven’s eyes, and his red hair was now a uniform grey. Diana was paler than usual, the deep lines in her cheek only accentuating her age. They were both bent, and stooped, and slower than before. Peter could see that they had missed him greatly.

  He had been the center of their lives for so long now it wasn’t surprising that they seemed a little lost without him.

  Even the house looked different when compared with the endless sea. Where before it was home, now it was a pokey old cottage with not enough room for a small family of three.

  “Come sit, Ma.” Peter stood up to take the basket of freshly baked bread from her hands. He noticed her wince and rub her chest as she sat down. “Is everything all right?”

  “Och nae!” Steven said, carving the roast chicken. “Yer Ma’s indigestion is getting worse. She’s constantly making faces.”

  “Dinnae be an ejit, Steven,” Diana snapped. “It’s nothing to worry about, Peter. It’ll pass, as it always does. Now let me fix a plate for you, and you can tell me all about your visit to the village.”

  Peter didn’t dismiss his mother’s aches and pains, but he decided not to press the issue. He’d make an appointment on his next shore leave and take her to see doctor in Arbroath. He’d rent a car and drive her in style. No more bus hopping from Marywell for his Ma.

  “Did I tell you about the movie our team leader made us see last month? It was a corker! Jaws it was called, by some man named Steven something,” Peter said, changing the subject.

  “I think I heard of it on the radio,” his father chirped.

  “It’s about a killer shark plaguing a beach in America.”

  “What does your team leader mean by showing you such horrific movies?” Diana had grown pale. “You work in the middle of the sea!”

  Peter laughed. “That’s what makes it so thrilling.” Seeing the worried look on his mother’s face, Peter wanted to kick himself for choosing Jaws as a subject of conversation. “Anyway, I’ve never seen any shark fins in the sea, Ma. Actually, when I’m on late watch on the oil rig, and it gets foggy, I can hear, amidst the sound of waves breaking on the platform, a faint rumbling far away. It can get unsettling, and we end up telling ghost stories all night long… or watching a movie like Jaws. But the story isn’t only about a killer shark. It could all have been avoided if the mayor hadn’t been so greedy.”

  “What do you mean?” Diana asked, looking a bit less pale than before.

  “The mayor refused to shut the beaches off. He didn’t want to lose the business and all the money that would bring in. He was the main villain in my opinion.” Though Diana was less fidgety, Peter could still see that she was preoccupied, probably with the thought of sharks on the open seas.

  Steven cleared his throat. “Did you know that the Baird’s have bought a ploughing machine?” He glanced at Diana. “Lord knows how they can afford it.”

  Peter was grateful for his father to find a subject that would take Diana’s mind off sharks.

  “Linda’s a penny pincher, that’s how.” Diana sopped up gravy with some bread. “You could trust to see her children running about naked in the fields, because she couldnae be bothered to buy them clothes.”

  Peter laughed and took a sip of the strong beer he’d brought from Arbroath. “They probably took a government loan. They’re quite easy to come by, and then you get the machines at a considerably lower price. Not to mention the banks which are willing to loan you the money.”

  “Do you ken if we can get one?” Steven enquired, one brow raised in interest.

  “Why would we need one?” Diana asked, clearing the dishes.

  “It would be better than hiring laborers every season,” Steven countered. “I’m not a young man, Di, and I canae keep an eye on them roving bastards. They stole most of your cucumbers last year.”

  Diana nodded agreement. She put the kettle on, a wistful expression on her face.

  “Penny for yer thoughts, Ma?”

  “Och, nothing, just being silly.”

  “Go on. I’d like to hear.”

  Peter watched his mother’s face, the small frown between her eyebrows, her teeth chewing chapped thin lips. She looked distracted as she cut the cake into slices and served them with mugs of tea.

  “I was just thinking of this story I heard about a box that granted wishes.” Diana took a bite of the cake, and Peter saw her close her eyes in pleasure as she savored its sugary sweetness. “Mmmm, the custard would have gone well with this.” She laughed. “I’ve spent all my life in this small hovel, and now I want to spend my old age in a comfortable house where I can plant flowers in my garden, and maybe have a swing to sit on in the backyard.”

  Peter no longer felt the warm nugget. It had been eaten up by anxiety. His earnings were much more than he had expected starting out on an oil rig, but they were nowhere enough to buy his mother the house she so much desired.

  “You mean like the Monkey’s Paw story.”

  “The what?” Diana nearly choked on her cake.

  “Never mind. You don’t need a wishing box, Ma.” Peter placed a hand on top of his mother’s calloused one. “I will make all of your wishes come true, grand kitchen and all.”

  Diana beamed, tears in her eyes. Peter felt like a million dollars for making his mother so proud. Steven was looking his way, worry lines deepening on his forehead. Peter shook his head discreetly, placing a comforting hand on top of his father’s lined, and spotted one. The last thing he needed was his parents to worry about his concerns on money.

  ***

  There was only the one window in the room, and it was closed against the sudden storm that had hit the coastal village of Marywell. Diana and Steven lay awake in bed in the dark, listening to the whistling of the wind, and the boom of thunder; the room bathed in eerie blue after every flash of white lightening.

  “Did you fix the crack in the living room window? I donnae want Peter to catch a cold.” Diana shifted on her side.

  “Aye.” Steven lay straight as an arrow, both hands resting on his broad chest. “He’s a good lad, our Peter.”

  “He is.”

  “Why did you have to talk about a house, eh?” Steven shifted to face Diana, even though he could only see her face in the intermittent flash of lightning. It was dark at the moment, but he felt her body stiffen as if she had been struck. “He’s just finished his probation period. The lad can only do so much on the pay he gets.”

  “I never said I wanted the house now.” Diana’s voice sounded petulant, and when lightning flashed Steven could see she was no longer lying in bed but sitting up very straight. Thunder rolled in the sky above their heads. “All I said was I was sick of living in this dingy little hole.”

  “Nae need to get so upset.” Steven sat up and extended a hand in the dark. Light flooded the room. Diana wasn’t in bed. “Diana?”

  A match flared in the dark. Diana stood by the small alcove in the wall where she lit a candle under the small wooden cross. Her face looked paler in the light, the hollows of her eye
s dark and brooding.

  “You know how sensitive our child is.” Steven spread his hands before him. “He is so proud of his progress so far. It is unseemly to put all of our expectations before him right now. Let time pass, and when he is able we will put our requests before him. He is only one man.”

  Diana’s mouth was set in a thin, unreasonable line. She hesitated, seemed to be chewing on words, tasting them on her tongue before rejecting them. Diana shook her head. “I have sacrificed my youth to bring him up with all the tools he needed to improve his station in life.”

  “That was our responsibility. You can’t demand he pay you back for it.”

  “Why nae?” She stomped her foot. “Is this what my life was to be then? Break my back under the toil of a poor life, and then die?”

  “You’re not dying, you crabbit woman. Acting like a bairn you are.” Steven scooted off the bed and took his wife in his arms. He could feel her tears through his thin tunic. “There is more to worry about before the house.” He caressed her hair. “We still have to return the money we owe for Peter’s last semester in college.”

  “Surely Ian won’t ask for it anytime soon. He knows harvest season is still a long way off.”

  “It’s still a debt, lass.”

  He felt Diana tense against him again. Her head held in such a way that suggested Diana was listening to some sound only she could hear, and Steven wondered what it was that plagued her so. Gradually she relaxed and was glad the antagonism had left her. She had become bitter in her old age, and it shamed him that he hadn’t been able to provide better for her. But then, that was the lot of farmers who were lucky enough to return from the second Great War.

  “Come to bed, dear. Peter leaves early in the morning, and I know you don’t want to miss that.”

  He was glad when his wife followed him to bed without protest.

  Chapter Two

  Marywell Village

  8th October 1976

  Steven scratched his head as he stepped out of the bank. The village square was small, but it had all the shops the area needed. Steven had spent the morning on High Street after seeing Peter off on the bus going to Arbroath, from where he’d take a small boat to the oil rig. Diana hadn’t come along which was just as well; pottering in her prize-winning pumpkin patch was an industrious way to drown her sorrow. Steven waved at several acquaintances as he walked to the bike rack in front of the pharmacy.

  “Steven!”

  He dropped the key to his chain lock. Bending down to pick it up, he turned around to see Ian Bray walking towards him, his flat hat doing a poor job of hiding his bald head.

  “Ian! Good to see you.”

  “It’s great to see you too. I’d feared I’d have to come up to the farm, so when Dougal told me you were in the village square, I came running.”

  “Is everything all right?” Steven pocketed his key. His friend looked worse for wear. Tall and lean, Ian was often ready with a bawdy joke, and had a ready laugh. Today he looked nervous. His florid cheeks were unusually pale, and his eyes were darting around the square as if he feared being spied on.

  “Can we talk in private?”

  “Of course.” Steven walked down the square till they were in a secluded area behind the local pub. “What’s the matter?”

  “Promise you won’t tell a soul,” Ian said, his face as white as a sheet. When Steven gave his word not to tell anyone, Ian swallowed. “It’s my Lily. She’s in the family way.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Steven blew air out of his nose. Lily had grown up in front of his eyes, a nice amiable girl that Steven had often hoped to catch Peter’s eye. “Who?”

  “That Baird bastard, Seamus!” Ian growled. “I asked him to do the right thing, but he says he’s too poor to marry. As if I’d be happy giving my only daughter to the dirt-poor family that breeds like rabbits.”

  “What is there to be done then? Do you want me to talk to the boy?”

  “Nae.” Ian licked his lips. “I wouldnae ask you if I didnae have a dire need. Could ye pay me back my loan? I’ll take Lily to Dundee to…” He made a sweeping motion with his hand along his abdomen.

  Steven understood what Ian meant. He didn’t envy the position his friend was in, nor the position it put him in.

  “I’ll have the money for you as soon as I am able.” Steven squeezed Ian’s shoulder. “I’ll phone Peter to see about an advance on his salary.”

  “I really donnae want to put you out.” Ian wrung his hands.

  “Och, pish posh. You helped me out when I needed the money. You’re only asking for it back. Nae need to feel guilty. I’ll ring you as soon as I know about the money. Give my love to Clara.”

  “Thanks, Steven. You’re a true friend.”

  Steven waved away his friend’s adoration and walked back to the bike rack, his head buzzing with worry. How was he to pay back the five hundred pounds he’d borrowed from Ian, as well as pay the first installment on the bank loan he’d just taken to pay for a ploughing machine?

  ***

  When Steven got home he found Diana sitting on the wooden bench in the front garden stroking her pocket and smiling to herself.

  “Found any laborers?” she asked.

  “Nae.” Steven dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and took a seat beside her. She offered him a cigarette, and he accepted gratefully. “I bought a ploughing machine.”

  “You what?”

  “Aye. It made sense to do so, and the installments are only a hundred and fifty pounds per month.”

  “Do you think you can afford that?”

  “I’m not so sure now, nae.”

  “What do you mean?” Diana’s cigarette glowed red as she pulled on it, her mouth pinched around the filter. Steven dabbed his forehead again.

  “When I took the loan, a hundred and fifty pounds per month didn’t seem so large an amount. I have about two hundred pounds in the bank, and with the money Peter sends it would have been easy to put some aside for the installments.”

  “So what’s the trouble now?”

  “Ian wants his loan back.”

  “What for? He knows you can’t pay it now. Why cannae he wait till after harvest?”

  “Lily’s in the family way.” Steven sighed. “The boy won’t marry her. Ian has no choice.” Steven spread his hands before him.

  “I always said that girl was an ejit.” Diana spat. “Going off and getting into so much trouble. I bet it was Seamus.” Diana raised an eyebrow.

  “Aye.” Steven nodded. “Whatever the reason, Ian has asked for his money back, as he has a right to do. I’ll call Peter tonight. He’ll be on the rig by nightfall. I’ll ask him to take an advance on his pay.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Diana stood up, her stance decisive. “Why should Peter have to take an advance? It will cut into his monthly earnings, and we need those for the future. Nae, I have a better idea.” There was a strange gleam in her eyes as she looked about surreptitiously, then motioned for him to follow her into the house.

  Steven followed, perplexed by his wife’s behavior. Had she been saving from the house money he gave her? A small flame of hope ignited in Steven’s mind, and when Diana pulled out an object from her pocket and handed him a small carved cedar box, it blazed brightly; only to be extinguished when he opened the box to find it empty.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a wishing box.”

  “What?” Steven looked at Diana as if she had gone mad. “What childish nonsense is this?”

  “I’m serious, Steven. An old Romani woman gave it to me. She said it would make any wish come true, for a small cost. Well, I wished for grapes yesterday and the Baird boy, Tim, brought me some today.”

  “Grapes in this season? Where did the Baird’s get grapes from?”

  “Who knows? All I know is, I wished for them, and it happened.”

  Steven wondered if Diana was making a fool of him, feeding him this tall tale so he would make a wish to an empty box, and then
she could laugh and make fun of him. If there had been grapes, he certainly hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them.

  “You donnae believe me.” Diana took the box from him, her smile tight. “Look, I’ll show you.”

  Diana placed the box on her palm, and when she opened it delicately, she could hear a gentle whisper in the distance. She stopped for a few seconds, but the sound was gone. Then she brought the box close to her mouth. “I wish the wildflowers in my back green will bloom again.”

  “In the fall? You must be out of your mind.”

  “We’ll see then, won’t we?”

  She beckoned him to follow her, and he did. As much as he didn’t believe that a small box could have the powers to regenerate flowers in the fall, he couldn’t help but feel curious, as if a part of him wanted the wish to come true.

  The back garden was as before. The patch of wildflowers that bloomed on one side of the garden was dead and shriveled in the fall chill. Steven felt relief he hadn’t anticipated. A loud laugh escaped his lips involuntarily.

  “You were saying?”

  Diana frowned first at the box, then down at the garden. She cocked her head as if she had heard something.

  “But the grapes…”

  “Could have been a coincidence.”

  “Grapes of all things?” Diana was still adamant to fight her point.

  “Stranger things have happened with the Baird’s, my dear. Come, I need a bite to eat. I’m famished.”

  He went back into the house, not turning back to see if Diana was coming in or not. He shook his head and laughed at the silliness of women.

  Chapter Three

  Marywell Village

  9th October 1976

  Steven was fast asleep when Diana woke him.

  “Steven, wake up! Wake up!” She shook his shoulder vigorously.