Page 33 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
I don’t know why I bothered closing my mouth because it falls open in shock again. ‘Youtaught creative writing? Mr “Won’t Even Read A Damn Book”?’
I can’t see his face, but if I could, I think there’d be a pinched grimace on it because he’s definitely said more than he intended to. ‘Averylong time ago.’
His body language has gone so tense that he’d snap like a taut rubber band if a feather touched him, and I think a subject change is in order before he bolts from the shop for good. ‘Reading to kids was inspired byYou’ve Got Mail.’
‘What’s that? The film with Tom Ryan and Meg Hanks?’
I burst out laughing so hard that I might never stop. ‘I think you meanTomHanks andMegRyan,’ I say between gasps for breath. ‘Have you seen it?’
He shakes his head. ‘I’m not a romantic movie kind of person. People don’t get happy endings in real life; I don’t see the point in pretending fictional characters somehow do. It’s not worth the disappointment that inevitably comes with reality.’
I ignore his cynicism. ‘Meg Ryan’s character reads to kids in her bookshop, and it just seemed so magical. I said I’d do that if I ever had my own bookshop.’
‘And now you do.’
‘And now I do.’
‘You forget how amazing that is sometimes, don’t you?’
I bite my lip. No one has ever been able to make me go from crying to laughing to crying again as rapidly as Darcy can. Every time he speaks, his words seem able to say things that other people can’t or won’t say. ‘It’s not that I forget. It’s that I never expected to do it on my own and since losing Mum, it’s become more of a dread than anything else. I needed a reminder of how much joy books can bring.’
‘Maybe I did too.’ His voice is barely above a whisper.
‘Do you ever miss…’ I falter, searching for a way to put it. ‘I don’t know. Seeing people. Taking a class. Talking to kids.’
He goes to answer with what I’m fairly sure was going to be a swift ‘no’, but then he stops himself and thinks it over. ‘I never thought I did, but seeing that tonight, seeing how their faces were enraptured as you read, how much fun they had with the plasticine princess… If I’m honest, maybe. More than I thought I did.’
‘I’ve got a group of kids every week who’d love to have a change from me. You could do it again if you wanted to.’
The noise he lets out was probably intended to be a laugh, but it’s nothing like a laugh. ‘No, I couldn’t.’
In that moment, I would do anything to take the pain out of his voice. ‘You could dress up. Kids love costumes. You could be a tiger readingThe Tiger Who Came to Tea, or a bear readingWinnie the Pooh, or I bet they sell Gruffalo costumes, or…’
‘No, thank you. I’m not a part of this world and I don’t want to be. I’m fine with my life the way it is. And I’m too old for fairy tales of any kind.’
Try that without a wobble in your voice, matey. ‘It’s a sign of true adulthood when people are old enough to start believing in fairy tales again. When we’re young, we’re so keen to appear grown-up and reject anything that’s deemed childish, and I think everyone goes through a full circle in life and comes back to a love of fairy tales when they’re ready. As I’ve grown up, I find myself more and more drawn to those books of early childhood, those Disney-esque fairy tales that teach us valuable lessons and always have a happy ending.’
‘Like whereThe Little Mermaidturns into seafoam and dies at the end? OrThe Little Match Girlruns out of matches and freezes to death?’
‘No. It’s likePeter Pan. When we’re children, all we want to do is grow up. When we’re adults, we desperately search for that childhood innocence again and wish we could go back to simpler times. One way of doing that is re-reading old favourite books. What was your favourite when you were little?’
‘I have fond memories ofThe Faraway Treeseries. My mum sitting on my bed and reading it to me. Begging her for one more chapter even though I was already half asleep and inevitably wouldn’t hear much of it.’ His voice has taken on a soft and nostalgic tone, and I’m convinced there’d be a wistful look on his face too, if I could only see it.
‘I loved it too. Istillcan’t walk past a big tree without knocking on the trunk to see if there’s a Slippery-Slip inside or to look for Silky and Moon-Face, and if there’s anything wrong with a tree, I always wonder if there are trolls mining in its roots.’
‘The number one cause of all garden problems – trolls in the roots.’
I love that he makes me laugh just as much in person as he does from behind a hedge. It’s a relief somehow, especially after the other night when I wondered if I’d pushed him too farand blown it for good. He’s the same person, whether he’s a voice only or whether he’s actually here. I want to reach out and squeeze his hand. And mainly, I want him to stay longer. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’
He shakes his head and points to his visor. Unlike the scarf, it’s not something he can pull down a little bit. He’s either got to leave it down or show his whole face to me.
‘You could take it off.’
‘No, I couldn’t.’
‘Yes, you could, Darcy. I don’t now and never will care what you look like. Who you are is what’s important.’
At first, I think my words might’ve struck a chord and he’s thinking about it, but then he takes a step away and starts looking around the shop.
