Page 45 of A Midnight Kiss on Ever After Street
‘Not for a while yet. Maybe by that time, you’ll have soldloadsmore second-chance dresses and have room in your flat again.’
I remember what Lissa said the other day. ‘Maybe Lissa would display them in the museum. They are a part of Ever After Street’s history, after all…’
‘That would be a nice way for both your mum and the viscountess to live on.’ He looks at dresses with a muted smile and eyes that are distant. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Speaking of Ever After Street and history… did any other offers come through after the ball? Is thereanychance that it might not be a supermarket?’ I try not to sound too optimistic, but I’m hoping that he trusts me enough to let me in on what’s happening with the sale.
‘Is insider information all you want from me?’ He looks at me and a flash of something unreadable crosses his face before he looks away again. ‘I can’t share info like that, Sadie, so if it is, you’re wasting your time.’
He says it jokingly, but there’s a sharpness to his voice, a tone of resignation, as if it’s what he expected, and I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. I like him for so many reasons, and then I go and say something like that and it sounds like theonlyreason. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’
He brushes off my apology before I’ve even figured out the right words to say, but the atmosphere has become strained and I know I’ve put him on edge.
The tower makes me realise why he doesn’t like towers, and as much as I love seeing Mum’s old dresses, it’s a relief to leave it behind and get back into the main part of the castle.
As we retrace our steps back to the ground floor, I tell him some of the stories I can remember from my childhood, like the time the viscountess wanted a special dress for an anniversary and was determined to keep it hidden from the viscount – as determined as he was to see it. The ugly shirt she commissioned for him as a joke, but he wore to bed every night until it literally fell apart. The times they invited my parents over for tea and made it a running joke to serve the poshest and most eye-wateringly expensive food to be found, which was always followed up by my mum and dad’s humbler favourite – cheese on toast. How every time my mum made a dress for the viscountess, she also made a matching tie and pocket square for the viscount because they liked to colour coordinate when they went out together.
Witt goes to make us a cuppa while I wander around one of the ballrooms, which is so much better when it’s not full of people.
‘Do you think they threw so many balls that they really needed two ballrooms?’ I ask when he comes back in, carrying a tray with two cups of tea and a packet of biscuits. His footsteps echo on the hardwood floor as he crosses the room and puts it down on the closed lid of the grand piano.
‘It’s a nice thought. Kind of what you expect a castle to be used for.’
‘You’re so lucky to be staying here. To get the full castle experience before it’s gone for good.’
‘What, to be trapped in an ancient building, rattling around alone with a load of old ghosts?’
I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to lookthatsad while dunking a chocolate HobNob into a mug of tea. ‘Literally?’
‘No.’ He sounds as if he’s humouring me. ‘I just meant there’s a lot of sadness in these walls.’
I turn around, looking up at the chandelier glittering above us, the carved ivy leaves running down the ornate columns at the edges of the room, the wooden floor with strips of gold that catch and reflect every sparkle of light, the huge arched windows that look out onto the forest. ‘There’s a lot of happiness too, I wouldn’t wonder.’
‘Happiness?’ He sounds as though he’s never heard the word before.
‘They must’ve been so happy once. The viscount and viscountess. And not just them, but the generations who lived here before in the centuries since it was built. Families from years gone by. How many people must have lived and loved here? How many children have grown up here with the castle as their playground? How many people have danced with the love of their lives on this very floor? How many people have met someone they wouldn’t otherwise have met because of this castle?’ I go over to a window, the shadows of trees visible in the darkening dusk outside. ‘How many people have looked out of these windows and watched winter become spring or summer become autumn? Can you imagine that one day, many years ago, someone looked out of this window and those trees were saplings? This castle has stood here for so long and the world has changed around it, but it’s still exactly as it was over four hundred years ago. The only thing that changes about a building like this is the people who love it.’
‘It hasn’t had much love in recent years.’ His voice sounds thick and stilted.
‘No, but they’re all still here, aren’t they? The people who once loved it. Not in ghost form or anything…’ Hopefully… ‘I think people stay a part of the places they live. For whatever reason they can’t love it any more, it doesn’t mean it didn’t matter to them once. They’d still love it if they could, and now it’s up to us to love it for them. I don’t think anyone ever owns a place like this. It belongs to everyone who’s ever lived here and everyone who ever will live here. Everyone is just preserving it for the next generation. Saving it as a monument to the past. It’s living history – it should be valued for that, not sold on for profit.’
He doesn’t respond and when I turn around, he’s frozen in the middle of the dancefloor, and his eyes are glistening with unshed tears.
It’s like a punch to the gut. I had no idea I was upsetting him and the guilt needles at me. Here I am, going on and on about the castle without thinking about how he feels. He must think I hold him personally responsible for the sale. He must think I blame him because of his job. ‘Witt… sorry, I get carried away sometimes. Ignore me.’
He shakes his head, and I can’t ignorehim. I stride across the ballroom floor, slide one arm up around the back of his neck and pull his head down to my shoulder, one hand in his hair to hold him there, while the other one slips around his back and I hug him to me.
He’s stiff at first – he clearly didn’t expect to be hugged – but as I loosen my grip on his hair and stroke my fingers through it, he starts to relax.
His hands touch my sides and slide behind my back, crossing over and pulling me closer and he lets out a long sigh. ‘Sorry. You have a way with words. Your perspective is refreshing. I’ve worked with old buildings for years and I've never looked at one the way you do before.’
‘This castle is so special.’
His only response is a non-committal grunt.
He’s much taller than me and I release him after a few minutes when it seems like his back is protesting the bent angle, but instead of moving away, he straightens up and his hands find their way to my waist and he starts swaying us gently.
It takes me a few moments to realise I’m dancing with Witt again, but as myself this time, and I’m waiting for him to look down at me and realise I’m the same person. Hemusthave figured it out. He can’t bethatoblivious. Is hereallydancing with me again without realising who I am? It doesn’t seem like he can be for real, but when I tilt my head back to look at him, his eyes are closed and his chin is in my hair again.
