Page 11 of A Midnight Kiss on Ever After Street
‘Can you imagine living here? Doing your cooking while looking at that?’
‘I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘Although I suppose the owners of somewhere like this would have servants to do the cooking for them, right?’
‘You’d be surprised. Most people who own places like this are struggling financially. A big old building of this level is a money sinkhole. It requires more maintenance and repair work than most people can afford. They buy castles for the prestige, but then the practical side kicks in and they’re forced to sell up. A castle is not just the initial investment, it’s everything that comes after it.’ He tilts his head, silently asking if it’s okay to put the light back on, and when I nod, he flicks the switch and steps into the kitchen. ‘Sorry, I’m spoiling all the fun of a fairy-tale ball and a “magical” castle.’ The intonation he puts on that one word leaves me with no doubt about his scepticism towards all things enchanted. ‘I’m too sensible for my own good.’
Sensible, like me. ‘Of course, we’re forgetting that anyone living here wouldn’t need servants because the cutlery comes to life and entertains you while you eat a dinner prepared for you by the household appliances.’
He gives me a tight smile, clearly not appreciating my affinity for Disney filmsormagical castles.
The private kitchen has stood still in time. It must be exactly as it was when the castle was abandoned in the early nineties, and the kettle he’s filled is boiling with a juddering burr that sounds not unlike a train speeding through the building. There’s a fridge freezer that’s got more rust on it than the white it once was, a microwave that would probably need a specialist harmful rays team if anyone dared to turn it on, an oven that definitely deserves some sort of listed status, and even though it’s been cleaned like everywhere else, the room pervades an aura of not being lived in for many, many years.
Despite that, it seems to be stocked with essentials, because he gets milk from the fridge and makes two cups of tea and carries them round to the unit in front of the window. He pulls two stools out from underneath it and I sit down gratefully, suddenly aware of how long I’ve been on my feet in unfamiliar shoes tonight.
‘Embarrassingly, there aren’t any biscuits in…’ He starts clattering around in the cupboards, opening and closing doors as though he’s looking for something. ‘So it’s either going downstairs and commandeering a plate of oyster and caviar tartlets or… birthday cake.’ He pulls a box from the cupboard and carries it across to the unit.
It’s a fondant-covered birthday cake with iced balloons on the top. I can’t stop a laugh bursting out.
‘What’s funny about that?’ He sounds mortally offended.
‘Nothing. It’s just my cous— a joke was made about birthday cake earlier. Is it someone’s birthday?’
‘No. Would you like to know a secret?’ He beckons me closer as though he’s going to reveal a previously unknown mystery of the universe. ‘One of the greatest pleasures of adulthood is the ability to buy a birthday cake even on the occasions when it’s not your birthday, and guess what? Nobody knows. You can go to any shop and buy a cake, and no alarm goes off if it isn’t imminently your birthday. No one questions you. Checkout staff and fellow customers simply assume that you have a friend or family member with an upcoming birthday, and no one is any the wiser.’
‘You are a genius, you know that? Birthday cake is one of my favourite things in the world, and it has never before crossed my mind that I could buy one for non-birthday-related reasons.’
‘Glad to be of service.’ He’s laughing as he gets the cake out and locates a knife and a cake server. He’s got a lovely laugh that’s as big as his smile, and I get the impression he doesn’t use either as often as he should. And he buys birthday cake just because he likes birthday cake. I’ve never thought that could be a top attribute for potential partners before, but from now on, I intend to judge every future boyfriend on their feelings towards birthday cake.
He crosses the kitchen to get two plates and comes back to cut the cake, and I can’t help watching the way he squints at it.
He must sense me watching. ‘Sorry, I usually wear glasses but I couldn’t get them on with the mask, and contact lenses…’ His mouth distorts as he pulls a face and shudders. ‘A bignopeto putting things into my eyes, so everything’s a tad fuzzy tonight. That’s my excuse for the massive slices. I have no restraint when it comes to cake.’
He serves up twohugeslices of cake, returns the box to the cupboard and comes back with two forks, and then sits down on the stool beside me.
He picks up his mug and holds it out. ‘Cheers to… um…’
‘Cheers to… random meetings. With fellow people who are graceless in the face of cake.’
We clink mugs and take a sip of tea at the same moment, and both let out a coordinated sigh of pleasure.
‘I don’t know why they bothered with all that fancy champagne and shredded lobster stuff downstairs. Tea and birthday cake is a million times better.’ I lean towards him. ‘To let you in on a secret, I was never in it for the fanciness of the ball. I only came tonight because I wanted to see the castle before…’ I stop myself mentioning the upcoming sale and dragging the mood down.
‘I thought I’d be the only person hiding away up here tonight. I’m… surprisinglygladthat I’m not.’ His eyes catch mine and there’s a tiny emphasis on that ‘glad’ that makes my knees feel weak.
‘Me too,’ I murmur, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. Butterflies? Over a guy I’ve just met? A guy whose name I don’t know and whose face I haven’t seen?
‘You can go back to the party whenever you want, you know. You don’t have to stay and hang out with the guy in the ill-fitting suit.’
Without thinking, I reach over and give his arm a squeeze. ‘There’s no place I’d rather be.’
He looks down at the spot where my fingers curl over his arm, blinking slowly, and I pull my hand back sharply. I don’t know why I did that. I force myself to look away and take another forkful of cake because I can’t keep staring at him, but it feels like something is sparkling is the air all around us, like Tinkerbell’s nipped in and sprinkled some fairy dust. Every time I look away, something pulls my gaze back to his. Every time I look at him, he’s got this tiny little smile on his face and I know mine mirrors it because there’s something about him that just makes me smile.
An easy silence falls as we finish off our cake and drink our tea. It would be easy to fill it with rambling or impersonal small talk about the weather, but there’s something very zen about him that makes me want to justbe. To appreciate the silence with someone who doesn’t make me feel like I need to fill it.
Eventually he gets up and takes our empty plates and cups over to the sink, and then turns back to me. He goes to speak, but then stops and paces back and forth across the kitchen a couple of times, as though he’s reconsidering it, and then his eyes meet mine, and his lips move like they won’t work properly, and eventually a question spills out in a jumble of words that roll into one. ‘Would you like to see something else?’
‘I’d love to.’ I’m intrigued by how nervous he sounds again, but at my yes, a smile breaks across his face that’s the widest one he’s given so far tonight, the corners of his lips curving up so much that they’re hidden by the edges of his masquerade mask.
