Page 35 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
‘How’d you know?’
‘Because the world is not as it used to be. While that’s a good thing in some ways, a lot of the joy from when we were children has been replaced, but a place like this stands still in time. You can’t make books modern. All right, the words inside them can be different, the language has changed, but children reading in centuries gone by read exactly the same way as we do today. No tablet or phone with all-singing all-dancing updates, just good old-fashioned paper and words. That should be celebrated. I’m sorry I didn’t know that before. I didn’t realise how special you…’ He falters. ‘…I mean, this place is. I wouldn’t have…’
He doesn’t continue the sentence and carries on wandering, cradling Mrs Potts in one arm, the other holding her steady and scritching her ears while he takes in every detail of A Tale As Old As Time.
‘Pay-it-forward board.’ He reads aloud as he stands in front of the honeycomb-shaped board on the wall across from the counter and reads one of the book-shaped tags. ‘What’s a pay-it-forward board?’
I give him a brief explanation of the idea behind it. ‘People pay extra to put money on a tag, and the tags can then be used as payment for anyone who can’t afford a book but needs one.’
‘Seriously?’ He turns to face me, and I can once again imagine a soft look on a face I can’t imagine at all.
‘Yeah. You see it in coffee shops and places like that, so I thought why not with books too. Not everyone can afford to walk around a bookshop and buy everything they want. If parents are struggling to put food on the table and pay the bills, buying books for their child is the last thing on their mind, and libraries are few and far between now. No one should be deprived of a book to escape into.’
He’s quiet. Maybe I’ve hypnotised him because he’s absentmindedly stroking Mrs Potts, looking in my direction, and I think there’d be an entranced look on his face.
Eventually he shakes his head and I get the feeling he’s blinking rapidly behind his visor. ‘That’s amazingly lovely. I like your faith in people. The idea that anyone is generous enough to help out those less fortunate than themselves. To give something away with no recognition and for nothing in return. Does it get much use?’
I grimace. ‘It’s gone a bit wrong. No one’s used it for ages. There’s a sign on either end of the counter pointing it out, but people ignore it. Those two tags are ones I put up. Rick thinks it would only ever be used by greedy scammers who want something for free anyway.’
‘Rick’s a cynical twit who steals flowers,’ he says with a shrug.
I can’t help laughing. ‘You’re not wrong there. I also feel like I’m talking to the most cynical bloke on this side of the River Wye, and yet somehow,youlike the idea?’
‘The world would be a better place if more people did things like this.’
‘I was thinking of taking it down. It’s become nothing more than a cobweb holder. The tag idea was intended to bring people together, but lately the only thing it’s done is destroy what little faith in fellow humans I ever had.’
‘Don’t say that. You’re a shining light in a dark world. If you’re giving up on humanity, there is no hope for the rest of us.’
I’m not sure I’ve heard him correctly. A shining light? Me? I’m the dullest, most boring person in the universe, ever. I’ve barely existed in the past couple of years and A Tale As Old As Time has suffered because of my grief. The only thing about me that shines is my oily hair if I’ve got caught up in a book and forgotten to wash it. I want to ask him to clarify that remark, but he comes towards the counter and I’m not brave enough topush it. I most likely misheard, but if I didn’t, I want to keep that sentence just for me and hold onto it, always.
He puts Mrs Potts down on the counter. Mrs Potts isn’t allowed on the counter and immediately walks across the friendship questionnaire and leaves cat hair all over it. I lift her down onto the floor and shove a packet of Dreamies at Darcy.
I’m not even pretending to work now. Ican’ttake my eyes off him and it’s pointless to even try. There’s something about him that’s utterly magnetic, and I watch as he gets down on his knees to feed her a few of the turkey-flavoured treats and there’s that familiar groan of discomfort as he stands back up.
‘Hi.’ He takes a step back in surprise when he realises I’m staring at him.
‘Hi.’ Just having him here makes me smile. There’s something about his presence that’s reassuring. I feel less alone than I have in months, like I could turn to Darcy with any problem and he’d have a practical solution and words of comfort or advice.
‘I like…’ He takes that step back towards the counter, seeming to lose the thread of the sentence.
We’re staring at each other. He’s so close that I could reach out and touch him and I’m a little bit floored by how much Iwantto touch him. I wish I could bring my hands up and push that hooded visor up millimetre by millimetre, hold him against me, trace my hands over his face and feel every little imperfection he’s hiding. I want to tell him he’s beautiful because no one who speaks the way he does could ever be anything but.
I want to kiss him. The thought appears suddenly, but once it’s there, it’s like a flashing neon sign and I’m certain he can hear the electronical buzzing inside my head. My attraction to him has been gradually growing over the weeks but I’ve always dismissed it. You can’tlikea man you’ve never even seen, butstanding here, face to visor in front of each other, I realise you canvery muchlike someone you’ve never seen.
Somehow he’s gone from standing to leaning on his elbows on the counter, and if I reached out, I could tangle my hand in the front of his suit and haul him closer, drag his mouth to mine and smash my lips against his… visor. And the prospect of kissingthatisn’t particularly attractive, but there’s something about the man underneath…
He’s close enough that I can hear the way his breathing has sped up, and he must be able to see the sweat prickling my forehead. I can sense his eyes on me, and it’s a flutter I haven’t felt for a long time and didn’t think I’d ever feel again. Butterflies are flittering around inside me. He’s so near and yet his suit is like a wall between us. Even though it’s just material, it seems wider than the hedge that separated us at first, but now, right now, it also feels like it would melt away under my fingertips with just one touch. We’re so close. Breaths away. My forehead is millimetres from resting against his. He lets out a happy-sounding sigh. My tongue wets my lips and my fingers reach out for him, to touch his face, stroke away his disguise, prove once and for all that he’s not—
‘Apples!’ He bolts upright and takes such a large step back that he stumbles over Mrs Potts and grabs a display table to stay upright, sending a snowstorm of flyers cascading to the floor. At first I think it’s some kind of sanitised swear word, but then he clarifies. ‘Do you like apples?’
I feel like I’m wading through cotton wool as I try to process what just happened. ‘Apples?’
‘You know, the fruit? Round, green, tastes of apple? Best known for growing on trees and keeping the doctor away when consumed on a daily basis?’
‘As random questions go…’ I say with a bewildered shrug, trying to work out where this shift in conversation is going.
‘I’ve got an influx on my trees at the castle. I’ll get you some apples!’ He nearly falls over his own boots as he dashes for the front door, clattering headfirst into it because it’s locked and fumbling with the key until it lets him out, and I watch it swing shut in his wake.
