Page 22 of A Wonderland Wish on Ever After Street
There’s nowhere to sit, so I do the same. The light is on inside and it’s getting dark outside, so the reflections block a lot of the view, but I can see neatly mowed grass and flower borders filled with waving daffodils, and a lawn with crocuses growing in it. A bird feeder with birds flying back and forth to it, and a pond in the distance with a trickling water feature. The only thing it’s missing is a few grazing fawns and wandering peacocks to make it into a real country park.
‘It’s not mine, by the way.’
‘What?’
‘The house. If you were wondering how a magician can afford a place like this. It’s my father’s property. He bought it years ago, spent a lot of money making it over, intending to sell it for a huge profit, and then the market crashed and it wasn’t worth selling. People are less likely to break in if it’s occupied, so I live here as a burglar deterrent. I was living in a really run-down hellhole of a block of flats. There was one too many stabbings in the stairwell and my mum took pity on me and persuaded my father that it made sense for me to move in here so the place wouldn’t be standing empty.’
I didn’t realise how relieved I’d be to hear that. ‘Thank God for that. This house is so not you. It’s so scarily different from you. I was starting to think you’d stolen the place from anIKEA catalogue. That makes so much more sense. Iknewyou wouldn’t voluntarily live somewhere so un-colourful.’
‘I think there’s a compliment buried in there somewhere.’ He tries to hide his grin behind taking a sip of tea. ‘My ex thought I was an embarrassment for being basically a glorified housesitter.’
It’s the first time he’s mentioned an ex or a relationship of any sort, and I can’t help being intrigued by what sort of person Bram would date. ‘I live in a rusty, leaky caravan on my friend’s driveway. I judge no one when it comes to living quarters. Whatever it takes to get through each day, right?’
‘Right.’ His eyes flick to mine and he gives me a small smile that’s full of understanding, and Ilikehow different he is without his Mad Hatter walls up.
When we’ve finished eating, he puts the empty plates and mugs into an under-counter dishwasher, and pushes himself up to sit on the kitchen unit.
My veins are thrumming with nerves. I couldn’t bake in Marnie’s kitchen by myself the other night. Surely trying to do anything in an unfamiliar kitchen with Bram watching can only end in disaster.
There’s a couple of bookshelves on one wall, packed with beautiful recipe books, and he’s put out a pile of baking equipment, from mixing bowls to spatulas and measuring cups and cupcake cases, baking tins and oven trays, and keeps telling me to help myself to anything.
I brought a recipe with me, because I’m determined not to fail this time. A recipe for a batch of basic fairy cakes. The kind of recipe thatcan’tgo wrong.Childrenmake fairy cakes.Imade fairy cakes with my mum when I was about six. I cannot have been better at baking at six than I am at thirty-four.
‘It must’ve been nice to grow up with a family tearoom…’ It’s clearly a leading sentence, and I’m sure he can sense my nerves and is trying to distract me.
I’m not sure how to answer him, but I measure out butter and sugar and cream them together, and the noise of the electric whisk convinces me that he won’t be able to hear what I’m saying anyway. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Mum hosted an Unbirthday party for me – ironically on the day it actually was my tenth birthday. She invited all my school friends to the tearoom, and she’d made a real Unbirthday cake, exactly like the pink one with blue flowers the Mad Hatter gives Alice in the animated film. When I blew out the candles, I made a wish that life would always be as magical as it was then and that I’d be like my mum when I grew up too. That was the last birthday before she left and life changed drastically.’
I stir in eggs and vanilla flavouring, and then fold in flour. ‘I overshared the rest earlier. I thought that cosy family tearoom would be my life. Never really considered that I would do anything else, and then when Nan died and it had to be sold, I found myself adrift. I’ve been adrift ever since.’
When the batter is smooth, I spoon it into cake cases. ‘And when I heard about Lilith and the tearooms, it sparked something inside me, and Iwantedto bake again… and then I couldn’t.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says gently. ‘It sounds like you’ve had a rough few years. Enough to make anyone lose their spark…’
‘Alice has always been my comfort book. When I was little, my mum used to read it to me, and after she left, I was drawn to it again. I escaped into Wonderland. In my real life, nothing made sense, and reading a book where nothing made sense made it better somehow. Alice felt as lost as I was. I identified with her. I longed to wake up on a riverbank one day and discover it had all been a dream. Alice made me believe it was okay if things didn’t make senseand that things would be better soon, that one day I’d find the exit to my confusing, spiralling world too. I feel more likemethan I have for years at The Wonderland Teapot. I’m finally doing something that would make my nan and mum proud, something that was meant for me, I want to make the things they used to make using our family recipes, and…’ I trail off. There isn’t any point finishing the sentence. He knows as well as I do that this is only ever going to be temporary if I can’t pull myself together and actually remember what those family recipeswere.
The oven heats up in record time and I slide the baking tray into it while Bram loads the equipment I’ve used into the dishwasher and then invites me into the living room to wait.
‘I’m going to stay here and keep watch. Things go wrong when ovens are on.’
‘Okay.’ Without a moment of hesitation, he sits down cross-legged on the floor in front of the oven.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Keeping watch.’
‘Bram…’
‘There’s a David Attenborough documentary on the TV that I’ve seen several times before. This is far more interesting. It’s likeThe Great British Bake Offbut I get to be Paul HollywoodandPrue Leith, minus the interesting jewellery choices. All we need now is Noel Fielding making bad jokes.’
I can’t help looking at him as he sits there, his elbows on his knees, his hands steepled under his chin with his head resting on them. ‘You don’t need to?—’
‘You know what they say – good things come to those who…’
‘Wait?’ I offer.
‘…Make sizeable donations to the right politicians, but both are correct.’ He’s got a familiar cheeky grin on his face when he looks up at me with a one-shouldered shrug, and it makes me laugh much harder than it should do.
I sit down beside him and cross my legs under me. I’m intending to watch the cake batter start to rise in the lit-up oven interior, but I find my gaze being drawn back to the man beside me. I’ve sat close enough that my knee is touching his. Usually he smells of citrusy aftershave, but tonight it’s just shampoo and laundry fabric softener, and only the swish of the dishwasher and the fan of the oven fills the silence between us.
