Page 23 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
He must be leaning back against the hedge because the branches move when he shakes his head. ‘Have you sent anything yet?’
‘No. I wanted to take my time and think about what to say.Once Upon Another Timemeanssomuch to me. It changed my life and I want U.N.Known to know that.’
You wouldn’t think it was easy to communicate in non-verbal noises, but Darcy’s replying grunt clearly says ‘you’re an idiot’.
I leave Mrs Potts in his care, pick up the shears and carry on tackling the weeds. My forearms are aching from the repetitive force of the movement over the last few days, but it’s also starting to feel like I’m making progress. Bit by bit, the weeds are being hacked down and the garden underneath them is reappearing. Cracked concrete and overgrown borders. The roots that are left will need to be dug up, and Darcy has suggested a good dose of weedkiller to prevent them from regrowing in the spring. Tonight, the soundtrack of Mrs Potts’ purring accompanies the snick of the blades slicing together and the whoosh of tall weeds flopping down around me.
‘Did you ever have a favourite book?’ I ask Darcy, unable to give up on the opportunity to learnsomethingmore about him.
‘Yes.’
Here we go again. I ready myself for another round of Twenty Questions as I try to wheedle a title from him, but he surprises me.
‘You’re going to laugh.’
‘I’m not.’
‘It’sBeauty and the Beast.’
I laugh. ‘No, it’s not.’
‘It honestly is. The original 1740 unabridged version. It didn’t used to be, but since…’ He pauses, which again suggestssomethinghappened that changed his life, and then the words come out in a rush, making me wonder if he didn’t intend to say them. ‘I identify with the Beast and his feeling of loneliness and self-hatred and desire to shut himself away from the world. The language is so old-fashioned that you get lost in trying to decipher it – and I used to love studying the way words and their meanings have changed over the centuries and things likethat, but now it’s just a reminder of what my life has become. All books are.’
Earlier, it took all my willpower to stop myself marching round there and hugging him, but now, I feel like I could vault over this nine-foot hedge with sheer determination alone, so I could look into his eyes and quote that original version ofBeauty and the Beastto him, particularly one line that Beauty says to the Beast.Among mankind, there are many who deserve that name more than you.
At home that night, once Mrs Potts is fed and I’ve scarfed down a sandwich, I open my laptop and start composing an email to U.N.Known. Even though it’s unlikely he’ll read it, I can’t shake the good feeling I have, and I don’t want to mess up my first and probably only contact with my favourite author.
I introduce myself and try to do a non-fangirly, non-gushy appreciation of his book, but I want him to know how much of an impactOnce Upon Another Timehad on me. I tell him a short version of how I found the book, and then get onto the kicker.
Ever After Street is hosting a book festival, and I’d like to personally invite you to attend as a guest of honour. I know this is not what you’re known for, but there is so much love forOnce Upon Another Timein my little shop, so many people who admire and respect you, and would love nothing more than a chance to thank their favourite author in person.
Any concessions to retain your anonymity can be put in place. Please know this email is sent with love and respect, from someone who feels a little less alone in the world because of your gorgeous book.
Best wishes,
Marnie Platt, A Tale As Old As Time
I cross the fingers on both hands and hit send. I don’t expect to hear anything back, but it was worth a shot. I close the lid of the laptop to avoid the temptation to sit here staring at my screen all night. Within a few minutes, the willpower has gone and I’ve opened it again.
And there, right at the top of my inbox with a ‘new’ flag, is a reply from The Unknown Author.
‘Oh my God,’ I say out loud even though there’s no one to hear, apart from Mrs Potts, who’s curled up under a blanket on the sofa. My fingers are shaking as I click onto the email.
U.N.Known is dead.
I gasp in shock. No. No, no, no, no, no. It can’t be. He can’t be. This wonderful, inventive, mould-breaking man cannot be gone from this world.
It certainly explains his disappearance from the publishing industry. But how can no one know? I stare at the screen open-mouthed, trying to process the heartbreak I feel. A light in the universe has gone out, and the world feels smaller and darker knowing he’s no longer there. Despite the fact I never knew him, it feels like someone’s told me a family member has died. I know his words so well that it’s almost like I’ve come to know him too, and absolute devastation sweeps through my little house.
My fingers can’t stop shaking as I write back.
Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I’m devastated, as I know many of his fans will be. He leaves behind an unfillable hole in the book world.Once Upon Another Timeis a shining beacon for everyone who has ever felt lonely or like they don’t fit in. Providing a light in the darkness will always be his legacy. I’mso sorry for the loss of your friend… or relative. Do you mind me asking who I’m speaking to? I’d like to properly express my sympathy.
I send the email off with tears in my eyes, and lean my elbows on the table and stare at the inbox onscreen, hoping whoever it is will get back to me quickly.
Sure enough, within a few minutes, there’s another email.
This is his evil twin, LeaveMeAlown.
