The Last Wish

5. The Wish

"Why do you think father wouldn't let me stay?" Paisley asked innocently from across the grey wooden table.

Mr Saunders lowered the newspaper to look at the young boy. He hadn't touched his peanut butter smothered toast, or his milk. It was the boy's favourite Mr Saunders had long ago noted. The untouched plate meant that the question needed his attention. The newspaper was folded up and placed on the table calmly.

"Because he needed to talk to Denise, Deacon, and Jamie in private. He has a serious matter to tell them about."

"I feel like he loves them more than me," Paisley confessed, dropping his head to look with tearful eyes at the toast. The suspicion had swollen in his stomach, leaving no space for food. Mr Saunders let out a single, flat 'Ha' that sounded most unusual in his voice.

"Mr Palistone loves you the most out of all of them. They are awful people – he knows that."

"They're not that bad," Paisley said, leaping to his siblings' defence. "Jamie's nice to me. He always plays when he's here."

"And how often is he here, Paisley?" Mr Saunders asked. The boy didn't look up at him. "Besides, he's just as bad as the others."

Paisley seemed unmoved by the accusation, his face starting to scrunch up in – what? Anger? Frustration? Mr Saunders rose from his chair and moved around the table towards Paisley. The boy thought for a moment that the giant would crouch down beside him and utter reassurances. Instead, he was offered his large paw once again.

"Come. I will show you," Mr Saunders said. Paisley accepted the offer and followed the manservant from the dining room and back towards the drawing room. Letting the sprawling, twisting corridors lead the way meant it took minutes to reach the room, but when they finally got there, Paisley suddenly felt the urge to stop and turn back, the same dread gripping him as had deterred Jamie's neighbours from snooping on his mail.

It was too late, however. Mr Saunders had grasped the brass handle with his free hand and turned it gently to open a gap between the two doors. He pulled the boy gently towards him, relinquishing his grasp on his hand and placing it on Paisley's back instead, either to let him feel supported, or to stop him from running away – Paisley was unsure. Through the gap in the door, Paisley was forced to watch events unfold.

Jamie was the first to lunge. He used his vantage point on the sofa closest to the table, paired with the leverage of being leaner than Deacon and not encumbered by heels like Denise. His hand missed, however, knocking the box and its contents off the table.

Deacon and Denise weren't far behind, both scrambling into the centre of the sofas to reach the discarded lamp and all the power it contained.

"Stop!" Frank yelled, though the command wasn't heeded.

The scramble became a brawl, Denise's hand scratching at Jamie's face, Deacon's meaty hands grabbing Denise's ankles to drag her backwards across the carpet.

Frank stood quickly and shouted louder this time.

"Enough!"

Still, nobody listened to him, each of them in turn coming close to the lamp, only to be pulled away from it by another rabid sibling. The last attempt by Jamie nudged the lamp under Frank's chair. The old man, lightheaded from his sudden rise and weak from the wasting in his muscles, leaned against his chair for support.

Unfortunately, this coincided with the ravenous trio colliding with each other and the chair. Frank fell to the floor, striking his head against the arm of the closest sofa as he went. At the sight of Frank crumpled on the luxurious crimson rug, Paisley bound into the room, pushing the doors open with all his tiny might.